through the human body: the oesophagus to the north, a large stomach in the centre and a long winding colon to the south. He’s now sailed through every polluted one of them. They are fed by clear streams that flow from a distant mountain, on whose summit stand an ancient temple, a bathing house and a convalescent home.
‘Drop me at Chen’s Nurseries,’ the man says. ‘I’m going there to buy rice seedlings. A county leader is visiting the township next week, and we need to plant rice on the barren fields along the road that he’ll be driven down. It’s only a temporary job, but they’re paying us fifty yuan a day.’
‘But rice only grows in paddy fields. How will you irrigate all that dry land?’
‘It’s only for show, you fool! We’ll plant the seedlings in the fields the night before he arrives, and with any luck they’ll stay upright until the next morning. He’ll be gone by the afternoon.’
‘So you’ve been here eight years? You must have made a fortune by now.’ After only three months in Heaven Township, Kongzi and Meili have saved four thousand yuan. Last week, they sent a thousand yuan to both their families. After he and Meili fled Kong Village, his parents and close neighbours were heavily fined. One neighbour was given a double fine, and when she was unable to pay it, her house was demolished. She took to the road, apparently, and is now begging on the streets of Kashgar.
‘These days, for a man to be considered wealthy he must have a nice house, a private car and a mistress on the side,’ the man says. ‘I’m a long way from that. I have made a lot of money, it’s true, but I’ve spent it all in the hair salons.’ He laughs broadly, showing his teeth like a monkey.
Kongzi smiles, and presses the accelerator. On the banks above, migrant workers are raking out red, yellow and green plastic granules over square bamboo mats, like farmers raking rice left out to dry in the sun.
‘Good idea of yours to start a water-delivery business,’ the man says. ‘The tap water in Heaven is disgusting. Someone tried digging a well once to see if he could draw clean water, but it came up as red as Oolong tea. I’ve heard that the groundwater’s polluted with toxic chemicals to a depth of ten metres.’
Kongzi proceeds up a river flanked by telegraph poles and empty fields. Casting a backward glance over the boat’s gurgling wake, he sees Heaven reflected in the green waters of Womb Lake, shimmering like a city of carved jade that appears more exquisite and unearthly the further it recedes.
THE INFANT SPIRIT sees Father perched on a plastic stool, sipping green tea and listening to Nannan chant a Tang poem in her high-pitched voice.
‘Terrible!’ Father shouts, rolling his eyes in frustration. ‘Recite it again, and if you forget one word this time I’ll slap your hand!’
‘Daddy’s so nasty,’ Nannan says, turning to Mother.
‘You know what they say, Nannan,’ Mother replies, ‘“Hitting means hate, cursing means love.”’
Father reaches down to pick some sleep dust from the corner of Nannan’s eye, and says: ‘All right then, just give me the two last lines.’
‘“Who knows how many . . . petals fell?”’
‘And the line before that?’
‘You only asked for the last two!’ Nannan says, stamping her feet.
‘But that was one line, not two. Never mind. Just start again from the beginning.’ Father is drinking Oolong tea in the Guangdong style. After steeping the leaves briefly in a small earthenware pot, he pours the tea into a thimble-sized porcelain cup and takes tiny sips.
‘“Spring Dawn” by Meng Haoran,’ Nannan announces, then throws her shoulders back and takes a deep breath. ‘“Slumbering in spring, I missed the dawn, / Everywhere birds are singing. / Last night in the clamour of wind and rain, / Who knows how many petals fell?”’
‘Wonderful!’ Mother says, spooning some deep-fried sparrows onto a serving plate. ‘Now come and finish your supper.’ Meili bought the birds from a stall this evening as the vendor was packing up and selling his produce for half price. When she chopped them up before frying them, she found plastic granules, screws and metal caps inside their stomachs.
The two front stilts of the metal hut are planted in the riverbed, so whenever a boat passes everything sways from side to side and bottles topple off the table. The interior