new coat with my fingers, smooth and even. Every nook and cranny, of course. I'd bought this packet of grease at a little village near the airport. The villagers there, who'd steal anything, with the possible exception of an aeroplane, told me it was aeroplane-engine grease, and I believed them. A protective coat of that grease made it a very lucky mortar indeed.
My sister watched me while I tended to it. I didn't have to look to know that she was following my every move, wide-eyed. Every now and then she'd come up with a question: ‘What is that thing?’ ‘What's a mortar used for?’ ‘When will you fire it?’ and so on. I answered all of them because I was so fond of her. It also gave me pleasure to play the role of teacher.
I finished applying the grease but just as I was thinking of putting back the tarp, a pair of electricians from the village strolled into the compound. With startled faces and flashing eyes, they warily approached the mortar. Though they were in their twenties, their childlike expressions made them look like awkward little boys. They asked the same sorts of questions as Jiaojiao, but they were far less sophisticated. In fact, they were ignorant, ill-informed dopes, at least as far as weapons were concerned. Which is why they didn't receive the patient responses I'd given Jiaojiao. I either ignored them or teased them. ‘How far can this mortar reach?’ ‘Not far—about as far as your house. Don't believe me? No? Let's give it a try. I'll bet I can flatten your house with one shell.’ My teasing didn't get the rise out of them I'd hoped for. Instead, they bent over, cocked their heads and squinted down the tube, as if it contained a mysterious secret. So I smacked the tube with my hand and shouted: ‘Ready—aim—fire!’ They nearly fell all over themselves as they scuttled away, like frightened rabbits. ‘Scaredy cats!’ I shouted. ‘Scaredy cats!’ echoed Jiaojiao. They laughed sheepishly in response.
My parents came into the yard and rolled up their sleeves, exposing pale arms for Mother and dark for Father; if not for his swarthy skin as a contrast, I'd never have realized how pale Mother's were. Their hands were red from steeping in cold water. Unable to remember the men's names, Father hemmed and hawed but Mother knew who they were. ‘Tongguang, Tonghui,’ she greeted them with a smile, ‘it's been a long time.’ Turning to Father, she explained: ‘They're the sons of the Peng family, both electricians. I thought you knew them.’
The Peng brothers bowed respectfully to Mother. ‘Aunty, the village head sent us to instal electricity in your house.’
‘But we haven't asked for electricity!’ Mother exclaimed.
‘We're just following orders,’ Tongguang replied.
‘Will it cost a lot?’ Father asked.
‘We don't know,’ Tonghui said. ‘We just do the installing.’
‘Since the village head sent you,’ Mother said after a moment's hesitation, ‘go ahead.’
‘That's what we like, Aunty, someone who makes up her mind!’ exclaimed Tongguang. ‘Since we're doing this on the village head's orders, at most there'll be a modest fee for the material.’
‘Maybe not even that,’ Tonghui said. ‘It's the village head, after all.’
‘We'll pay whatever it costs,’ Mother assured them. ‘We're not the kind to abuse the public trust.’
‘Aunty Luo is a generous person, everyone knows that,’ said Tongguang with a smile. ‘People say she brings home bones found in scrap heaps and boils them to feed Xiaotong.’
‘Go to hell!’ snapped Mother. ‘Do what you came to do or get out of my yard!’
The Peng brothers giggled their way out onto the street and began moving a folding ladder, electric wiring, electric sockets, meters and other equipment into the yard. They were an impressive sight with their wide brown leather belts from which hung grips, shears and screwdrivers in a variety of colours. Mother and I once found a set of tools like that in a lane behind the city's fertilizer plant, but she took it to one of the hardware outlets behind the department store and sold it for thirteen yuan. That made her so happy she rewarded me with a meat-filled flatbread. The Peng brothers, tools at their waist, dragged the electric wire up over the eaves before going inside. Mother followed. Father squatted down to inspect the mortar.
‘It's an 82 mm mortar,’ he said. ‘Japanese. During the War of Resistance, the most outstanding service you could perform was to get your hands on one of these.’
‘You surprise me, Dieh,’