Spring should have been full of the odor of spring, of flowers and grass. There should have been blue, shallow scents wafting over the town, deep green odors that assaulted the nostrils like wine in a dark alley. But what the people of Wujiapo noticed under the setting sun was the stench of blood. Dripping red and drifting down from the ridge, one purplish-brown wave after another, like autumn persimmons in the midst of a green spring forest. What in the world is that? someone shouted. People carrying their dinner to the canteen stopped with their rice bowls held mid-air, lifted their heads and sniffed.

Butcher Li’s family slaughtered another pig, someone observed.

After a moment of silence, everyone went back to their food and drink. The next day was the end of March, it was market day – naturally the butcher’s family would slaughter a pig. But usually Butcher Li woke up early to slaughter his animals, so the meat was still fresh when he arrived in town. Why, then, was he slaughtering at dusk? And why was the stench so much more pungent than usual? The villagers didn’t give the matter much thought. Spring had come, the wheat had woken from winter with a surge of growth, the grass was thick. The fields needed to be hoed and fertilized, and, for those who had access to water, irrigated. Everyone was scurrying around like ants. No one had time to waste thinking about anyone else.

Butcher Li lived up on the ridge by an intersection. When he gave up farming for commerce, it turned out to be fortunate that he lived near the road. He was now in the slaughter business, but still needed a way to transport his goods to market. It was also convenient when families in nearby villages were planning weddings or funerals and wanted to bring him a pig to slaughter. He had built himself a two-story tile-roofed house surrounded by a brick courtyard. The family used the first floor to slaughter pigs, and to sell sundries, food and drink. They lived on the second floor, which also had two small guest rooms. When someone passing by happened to be tired, they might stop and have a bite to eat or drink. If they became tipsy they would proceed upstairs. By the time the sun came up they’d have sobered up, and would drowsily pay their bill and head off.

Even though these small rooms only had a bed and a desk in them, a fifteen-watt bulb and half a candle for when the electricity went out, it turned out that even the County Party Committee’s Party Secretary had slept in one of them. Someone claimed this was only because the Party Secretary’s car had broken down, and that he’d had no choice. You’re farting out of your mouth, Butcher Li retorted. Could anyone really believe that the Party Secretary’s driver would let his car break down? The real reason Party Secretary Zhao stayed, Butcher Li insisted, was because he wanted to visit an ordinary citizen’s house – to see how they were getting by, and to have a chat with a man like Butcher Li.

The Party Secretary did in fact stay at Butcher Li’s for a night, in the east-side guest room. After this, Butcher Li’s business thrived. The table, bed, bedding, slippers, and face-washing basin were carefully cleaned and preserved exactly as they had been left by Party Secretary Zhao. As a result, the room’s price increased 50 percent, from ten to fifteen yuan a night. Everyone wanted to stay in that room. Even long-haul drivers would keep their foot on the gas, determined to spend a night where the Party Secretary had slept.

Just as fine wine cannot be watered down, so Butcher Li’s house still stank of meat. The people of Wujiapo all knew this to be true. And now whenever something extraordinary happened to Butcher Li’s family, the villagers were not surprised. If the county’s Party Secretary had slept in the house, anything could happen there. When, as market day approached, Butcher Li slaughtered a pig in the evening instead of before dawn, filling the spring evening with the stench of blood, no one thought it unusual. After slaughtering and butchering the pig, Butcher Li took two slabs of pork, rinsed them and covered them in plastic wrap. That way no one would be able to tell that it wasn’t fresh pork when the meat was taken to market.

Everyone was still idly eating and chatting in the village canteen. After emptying their bowls, some went home for more rice. Others didn’t want to go home, and tried to send children on their behalf. The children had just emerged from the houses with their own bowls, and didn’t want to turn around to fetch more rice. The parents complained that their children lacked filial instinct, saying that even after they had gone to the trouble of raising them, they were too lazy to return home to get them rice. The parents said that if they had known their children would turn out this way they would never have had them in the first place. The children were aggrieved. They had never actually said they wouldn’t go, and were being yelled at just for hesitating. Who asked you to give birth to me? they said. The parents were stunned, then grabbed the shoes they were sitting on and started hurling them, filling the canteen with dust. The other patrons quickly covered up their bowls to prevent their rice from getting dirty. Through the commotion came a shout. What is everyone arguing about? Is it wrong for parents to ask their children to go home to fetch them rice?

The canteen fell silent. The children realized that they were at fault.

As the villagers drank, they gazed at the road leading to the ridge and saw Butcher Li descending into the village.

–

Liu Genbao left the canteen feeling uneasy, like he was leaving the freedom of the open fields for an examination. When he got home, his father had already finished eating and was smoking in the courtyard, his cigarette flickering in the twilight. Genbao’s mother was in the kitchen washing up. The clanking sound of pots and dishes was drowned out by the sound of running water.

Genbao stepped into the kitchen, took a rice bowl still half full of rice, and pushed it to the edge of the kitchen table. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but instead he just gazed at his mother, then bowed his head and walked outside.

He squatted down in front of his father.

What’s wrong? his father asked.

Nothing.

If something’s wrong, just say it.

Father, Genbao said, I want to go to jail.

His father looked at him in astonishment. Through the glow of the cigarette Genbao watched the old man’s face lose its soft, multi-hued expression and become like hard stone. The father removed his cigarette from his mouth and stared at his son as though he were a total stranger asking for directions.

Genbao, what are you saying?

Because it was getting dark, Genbao couldn’t see the surprise in his father’s eyes. What he saw was a mass of darkness. He removed one of his shoes and sat down in front of his father. He sat quietly with his arms on his knees and his hands interlocked, the way you might sit while peeling beans.

Genbao, his father said, what were you saying just now?

Father, I need to discuss this with you. If you and Mother agree, I want to spend a few nights in jail on someone’s behalf.

Damn it, boy, are you crazy?

Father, Genbao bowed his head, I’m trying to discuss this properly with you.

There was a pause. Then his father asked, On whose behalf do you want to do this?

On behalf of the mayor.

His father laughed. And why would the mayor need you to do this?

Just now, in the canteen, Butcher Li said that the mayor ran over a young man in his twenties, someone from Zhangzhai village. Butcher Li said that someone needs to take responsibility for the mayor’s actions. The mayor is the mayor. Who can make him take responsibility for anything? So someone else needs to go to the county’s transportation division and claim responsibility. They need to say, I’m the one who ran that person over – I had too much to drink at Butcher Li’s, and then I ran over the young man in my tractor. We won’t need to worry about what happens afterwards, because the mayor has already taken care of everything. Butcher Li said that the family of the man from Zhangzhai has already been given money. But whoever claims responsibility for the accident will need to go to the Public Security Bureau’s squad room and stay there for a week or two.

The moon had risen in the sky. Wujiapo was so quiet it was like there was no village there at all. Genbao’s mother seemed to have heard everything he’d said. She didn’t immediately respond, and instead she brought a small flower basket and a stool outside. She placed the stool between her husband and her son, then placed the basket on the stool. She sat down in front of the flowers and looked at her son and her husband. She sighed, and joined the silence that was extending between them.

By this point Genbao was already twenty-nine, but he had yet to find a wife and establish a family – and in this respect the Liu family was different. Not because they were poor, since they no longer were all that poor. They were just different. When the drought came, every other family in the village built tile-roofed houses, while the Liu family stayed in their original thatched-roof house. Genbao was a timid, honest man. When the family’s crops were being eaten by another family’s livestock, Genbao would lift his shovel to beat the animals like anyone else, but as soon as he did he’d remember that the livestock had an owner, and slowly he’d put the shovel away. Who would dare marry someone as cowardly as that? The family had tried several matchmaking sessions, but whenever a young woman came to the Liu house, she would take one look at Genbao and promptly leave without a word. Now Genbao had to struggle to set up meetings with women looking for a second marriage, much less a first.

Half a year earlier, a relative offered to introduce Genbao to a widow. They didn’t specify what the widow looked like, but they did say that she was twenty-six and already had two children. Genbao was reluctant, but the relative said, Why don’t you meet her before deciding? Genbao agreed.

To his surprise the first thing she asked was, Do you have any brothers?

I’m an only child, Genbao replied.

Does your family share a surname with any of the other families in the village?

Ours is the only family in the village with the surname Liu.

Do you have any relatives currently serving in a village or township cadre?

Genbao shook his head.

Sighing, the woman stood up. Then why in the world did you have me come all this way to see you? she said, angrily. Didn’t the matchmaker tell you that my first husband got in a fight with someone over land and water, and hung himself because the other person got the better of him? Didn’t the matchmaker tell you that I’m not looking for money, but for a man with power – someone who doesn’t need to bully others? At the very least I need a man who can avoid being bullied. The woman walked out of the house. She looked around the courtyard, then turned and stared at Genbao. Today is market day, she said, and I’ve wasted the entire day traveling twelve or thirteen li for you to see me. I could have gone into town to sell vegetables instead, and I would have earned seventy or eighty yuan. Instead you tricked me into coming here. I’m not going to ask you to compensate me for the entire eighty yuan, but don’t you think that at the very least you should give me fifty?

What are you talking about? Genbao asked in surprise.

You tricked me into wasting an entire day, so you should compensate me fifty yuan.

Genbao ground his teeth. How can you be so shameless?

Yes, I am shameless, the woman said. I won’t leave until you beat me or give me fifty yuan. If you won’t do either, I’ll start screaming. I’ll say that you fondled me as soon as you saw me.

Genbao had no choice but to go back inside and fetch a fifty-yuan bill. He thrust it into her hand. Get out of here, he said. I don’t ever want to see you in Wujiapo again.

The woman took the money and looked at it. If you dare to slap me right now, she said, I’ll marry you.

Get out of here. I’ve given you the money, so go ahead and leave.

You’re ill, the woman said, mentally ill. You should go to the clinic and get treated. The woman threw the fifty-yuan bill at Genbao and walked away. After taking several steps, she turned around and said, You’re a spineless wimp. Whoever marries you is guaranteed to be bullied for the rest of her life.

To tell the truth, no one ever did bully Genbao’s family. But because their home only had a single door and a single courtyard, and they didn’t have close relatives or belong to a larger clan, Genbao was unable to find a wife. He was already twenty-nine, and in the blink of an eye would be thirty, which is to say that he’d lived half a lifetime. For Genbao to be almost thirty without a family or career left him unable to lift his head in the village, and made his parents feel a deep sense of regret, like they had let their son down.

Genbao’s father finished one pack of cigarettes then picked up another. He didn’t immediately light a new one, and instead placed the pack at his feet. He took a handful of peanuts and began peeling them, but he didn’t eat them. He gazed at his son in the moonlight. Genbao was still sitting on his shoe with his head bowed, like a soft bundle on the ground. The father gazed at the family’s thatch-roofed house, which they’d never been able to afford to renovate. The house was short and dilapidated. On the slope was a grass pit that was near collapse. In the moonlight it resembled an open grave. There was the windowless kitchen, in the doorway a broken water jar. The pigsty, mud wall, door frame, and stone trough were all very sturdy, but for some reason the family had never succeeded in raising pigs. Whenever they tried, the pigs died. Then they tried sheep, but the sheep died. In the end the family turned the pigsty into a chicken coop. But even during the peak egg-laying season in summer the hens could go three to five days without laying. None of their hens could lay an egg every other day, much less every day, like some families’ hens – some even laid two eggs a day, or at least three eggs every two days. This is how the Liu family lived, and at that moment Genbao’s father seemed to be able to see it all laid out before him. He shifted his gaze away from the moonlight, ate some of the peanuts he was holding, and complained that they were dry and tasteless. Have some of these, his wife said, Uncle brought them down from the ridge today. Genbao’s father took a handful of peanuts and proceeded to peel them. Genbao, he said, eat up!

I don’t want any.

How do you know that if you plead guilty on behalf of the mayor, you’ll only get a week or two in jail?

That’s what Butcher Li said.

And who did Butcher Li hear it from?

Why would he need to hear it from anybody? said Genbao. The mayor killed the man in front of his place. The Party Secretary even spent a night there once.

So what will you do after you complete the mayor’s sentence? his mother asked.

Give it a rest, the father said. You ask what Genbao is going to do after he gets out? What do you think he’ll do? Who asked the mayor to be mayor, or to make our son go to jail on the mayor’s behalf ?

With that he turned and looked at his son. Genbao, if you really want to do this, then go ahead. Tell Butcher Li you are willing to go to jail for the mayor. But remember, Butcher Li’s real name is Li Xing, so call him Uncle Li Xing. Don’t call him Butcher Li to his face.

It was hectic at Butcher Li’s. The family had added a couple of 200-watt lightbulbs to the courtyard, which drowned out the moonlight. One of the region’s mines was having a celebration, and many people had arrived with pigs for Butcher Li to slaughter. But the next day was market day, and Butcher Li couldn’t neglect his regulars. Butcher Li had to remove his regular cutting board and set up a larger one. He did the slaughtering himself, but had hired two young people from a neighboring village to help.

There was a crowd in the courtyard – miners, village children, customers from local villages. Genbao could hear the bloody screams coming from the slaughterhouse all the way up from the village. He shuddered, but controlled himself. They were only pigs, not people. As he stepped through the courtyard gate, which was large enough for a car, there were already two slabs of pork hanging from the rack. A shirtless Butcher Li was dousing them with water. He dished out one scoop of water after another, and red blood flowed over the muddy ground and through a ditch to the back of the house. The stench of blood permeated everything. One of the young men helping Butcher Li was boiling a pot of water to scald the pig’s hide, while the other was shaving off the remaining hair. Pig hair has a peculiar stench, like animal hide roasting in a fire. Butcher Li’s house was filled with this smell all year round, and Genbao couldn’t imagine how the Party Secretary put up with it. But the Party Secretary had. There was a bright sign on the door of the east-side guest room that read: the county party committee’s party secretary zhao slept here. Genbao noticed that the west-side room had a sign now too, which read: the county’s mayor slept here. Genbao was confused. He hadn’t heard that the mayor had stayed at Butcher Li’s, but he figured he must have, because otherwise Butcher Li would not have put up a sign.

Genbao squeezed through the crowd and went over to Butcher Li. He waited until Butcher Li had finished rinsing the slab of pork, then quietly greeted him: Uncle Li.

Without turning around, Butcher Li wiped the drops of bloody water from his shoulder and used his forearm to wipe sweat from his brow. Then he started rinsing another bloody slab of pork. Is that Genbao? he asked.

Yes, Uncle Li, it’s me.

Butcher Li tossed a scoop of water into the pig’s abdominal cavity.

Are you here to accept punishment on the mayor’s behalf ? This is a great opportunity. People burn incense for a chance like this.

The bloody water splashed onto Genbao’s face, and he took a step back.

I’ve discussed it with my father, and I’m willing to do it.

Butcher Li tossed another scoop of water.

It’s not simply a question of whether you are willing. Go inside and wait.

Inside, Genbao found three other villagers sitting in the dining room. One was Wu Zhuzi, from the west side of the village. Zhuzi was in his forties, but his wife had recently run away with her children to a neighboring village, where she was staying with the younger brother of a village cadre. Another was Zhao Quezi, or ‘Cripple Zhao’, from the south side of the village. Quezi had been living a good life until a brick kiln collapsed and injured him. His life imploded, and he’d gotten into debt with the credit union. Then there was Li Qing, who had a business in town, and whose family had bought a GAZ car to transport goods to market. Genbao knew Zhuzi and Quezi were there to try to serve the mayor’s jail time, just like he was. But he wasn’t sure what Li Qing wanted.

Li Qing’s head was bowed in embarrassment. He looked as though he had just stolen something. My younger brother graduated from the teachers college this year, he said, and I was hoping the mayor would be able to help arrange for him to return to the village to teach.

Zhuzi gazed coldly at Li Qing and said, You’re already doing well for yourself.

Li Qing bowed his head even further, his face redder than the bloodstained snow on the ground outside.

Genbao sat down on the empty stool. Outside, a pig was crying out, rough and scary – like a train whistle, only shorter and the tones uneven. Mixed in with the cry was the sound of breathing and people shouting. After a while, everything fell quiet again. The blade had moved from the pig’s neck to its internal organs. All that remained was the sound of Butcher Li instructing his assistants to shave one pig and disembowel another – and the voices of those commenting on which pigs were lean and which were fat. It was warm inside, and Butcher Li, busy earning his money, seemed to have no interest in the young men waiting for him.

Butcher Li’s wife and children were upstairs watching television, and the sound of martial arts descended from the rooftop like bricks and tiles. Genbao gazed up at the ceiling, as did the other three.

It’s the middle of the night, said Li Qing.

If you’re in a hurry you can leave, Zhuzi replied.

I’m not in a hurry, Li Qing said. I’ll wait until sunrise if I need to.

Quezi turned to Genbao. Brother, don’t make the same mistake as us. You don’t have a family, and you’re educated. If you end up going to jail for the mayor, your reputation will be ruined. Then how will you ever manage to marry and raise a family?

Genbao wanted to respond, but he couldn’t think of what to say. As he was struggling to respond, Li Qing answered for him. It’s only by doing this on the mayor’s behalf that he’ll ever be able to establish a family. Genbao looked gratefully at Li Qing, and Li Qing nodded.

Because Li Qing and Butcher Li were relatives, Li Qing was more at ease in the house than the others. He looked around, and even went upstairs to watch some television. When he came back down he went out to Butcher Li to ask him to make up his mind. But after a long loop through the house, Li Qing came back and said, Uncle Li’s busy. He told me we have to decide among ourselves which of us goes.

Choose among themselves? But how could they choose? This was no solution, since none of them would choose anyone but themselves. The four of them stared at one another, but seeing that no one showed any hint of backing down, they all turned away.

Time trudged forward like a rhinoceros. By this point the night was as dark as a bottomless well. They all sat there until the television upstairs fell silent. Butcher Li slaughtered five pigs in a row, and Zhuzi and Quezi fell asleep leaning against the edge of the table. Genbao assumed Butcher Li had completely forgotten about them. He wanted to go ask Butcher Li to let him claim responsibility for the mayor’s crime. If he was selected, he would head off right away; otherwise he could at least return home to sleep.

Just then someone started pounding on the door.

It wasn’t Butcher Li, but one of the young men who’d come to help him. He was pounding on the door with the knife he used for the pigs, and the fresh blood on the blade trembled like soft tofu and fell to the ground. Seeing that everyone was awake, the young man tossed four balls of paper onto the table. It’s already late, he said, and Uncle Li says that you shouldn’t keep waiting. Here are four lots – one of them contains a black pig hair, while the other three contain white ones. Whoever gets the black hair can be the mayor’s benefactor.

Suddenly, the four guests were wide awake. The answer was before them. The lots had been made of paper from a cigarette pack, cut into four pieces. From the outside each was red and florid, festive and auspicious, but three contained white pig hairs. The guests all stared at the lots, their eyes large and bright. None of them wanted to make the first move.

Take them, the young man said. Go ahead and take your lots, so that I can get back to the pigs.

Without speaking, Li Qing picked up one of the pieces of paper.

Everyone else followed.

Genbao took the final lot. But before he had opened his, he heard Zhuzi burst out laughing. Mine is the black pig hair! My wife and child will finally be returned to me! He placed his lot in the middle of the table. A horrible smell radiated up from the black pig hair.

Well deserved, said the young man in the doorway. You go be the mayor’s benefactor. Now everyone else can go to bed.

Quezi looked at the white pig hair in his hand. Damn it, he said, I should have left ages ago!

Li Qing looked at the black pig hair on the table, and without a word got up and walked away, kicking the door frame on his way out.

Genbao also left without saying a word.

Outside, a cool breeze was blowing down the mountain ridge road, and from afar wafted the green fragrance of the wheat seedlings. Genbao took a deep breath and discovered that he wasn’t in the least bit tired.

When Genbao got home his parents were out. Entering the courtyard, he smelled baked buns. In the middle of the room there was a stool with a blue package on it. He opened the package and found the clothing his mother had purchased in anticipation of his jail time – pants, shirts, socks, and shoes. His mother had even packed a few summer shirts and shorts. The package also contained cloth shoes and three pairs of new military-style liberation shoes that his mother had somehow managed to purchase. Genbao had no idea why his mother had packed him so many different pairs of shoes. Even if he had been able to go to jail, he would still have returned within a week or two, so why so many pairs of shoes?

By this point it was the middle of the night, and apart from the pig cries drifting down from Butcher Li’s house up on the ridge, there wasn’t a sound in the village. The room was permeated with the soapy-rotten smell of new shoes and old clothing, combined with the sweet noodle-paste smell of the shoe soles. Genbao stood for a while in front of the package, then went to the kitchen table. His mother had prepared him some dried food. The scent of baked buns mixed with chopped scallions and sesame oil flowed like water, dripping down from the table onto the floor. Each bun had been baked until it was as large as a griddle, and then cut into quarters. Each yielded twelve pieces, stacked neatly in the middle of the table.

When Genbao saw the baked buns he began to weep.

He went back out and stood in the middle of the courtyard. To the west he could see the entire sleeping village. In this array of tile-roofed houses, all glowing blue in the moonlight, his own family’s house was like a pile of dead grass. Genbao felt an acute sense of sorrow. As he started back inside, his neighbor’s sister-in-law arrived.

Brother Genbao, she said, I heard what’s happened. Your parents were at my place, and we were all very anxious. Fortunately for you, my younger cousin just got divorced, and she came to visit me today. When she heard you were going to jail on the mayor’s behalf, and that you were single, she immediately agreed to marry you. Your parents are taking her back to my house now. You should go meet her. She is as tender as though she had never been married. Genbao, why don’t you hurry up and go? she asked. What are you staring at?

The neighbor’s sister-in-law was originally from a town forty li away, and she was svelte and smart. She took Genbao’s hand and tried to lead him back to her home. He felt the cotton-softness and warmth of her hand, and smelled the feminine scent of her hair, like the smell of summer wheat suddenly wafting through a cold, winter’s day, and a hot excitement went through his body. His head buzzed, and he had to struggle to extricate himself from her grasp. He wanted to say that he wasn’t going to jail for the mayor, that Zhuzi was the one who had drawn the correct lot. But what he ended up saying instead was, Please don’t pull me.

What’s wrong? the neighbor’s sister-in-law said. Won’t you marry my cousin?

I’m going to jail, Genbao said. That’s not a good thing.

But you’re going to jail on behalf of the mayor.

The sentence might not be just ten or twenty days. Someone was killed. The sentence could be six months or a year.

The neighbor’s sister-in-law laughed. Did you see the three pairs of liberation shoes in your packet? My cousin went to the neighboring village’s supply and marketing depot in the middle of the night to buy them. She said people in jail all need to work in a brick factory making bricks, and it’s hard on their shoes. Whenever someone is sent to that sort of labor camp, they need to serve at least a year.

So I might need to serve two or three?

My cousin cherishes affection, the sister-in-law replied. She divorced her husband because he was always looking for mistresses in the city. She isn’t worried about you serving jail time. She’s just afraid of men who have money to spend on city hotels and bathhouses.

In that case, tell me – if I go to your house to meet her, what should I say?

Take a few pieces of the scallion buns your mother baked for you and say that you’ve brought her a midnight snack.

The neighbor’s sister-in-law left. She walked briskly, like a goat hopping through a grassy field. As Genbao stood watching her, she turned and said, Act quickly. If you delay, the sun will come up and she will melt into the night.

Genbao did not return to the kitchen for the baked bun pieces as his neighbor’s sister-in-law had urged him to do. Instead, he continued standing in the courtyard, reflecting for a moment. Then he followed the neighbor’s sister-in-law out the courtyard gate. He did not go to her house, but headed for the west side of the village. He went to Zhuzi’s house. Zhuzi’s house was tile-roofed. Even the house’s gate tower had a tile roof. The building was large and tall, and it obviously belonged to a well-off family. But even though the family was wealthy, the wife had run off with another man – a carpenter, the younger brother of a village party secretary.

Through the gate, Genbao could see that the lights were still on. Naturally, Zhuzi had not yet gone to bed. The next morning, after breakfast, he would need to go with Butcher Li into town to meet the mayor. After meeting the mayor, he would need to be driven to the county seat’s public security bureau. Then he would be detained and taken to jail to await trial, after which it would be many days before he’d be able to return home. Needless to say, Zhuzi would need to spend the entire night preparing for his trip to jail.

Genbao knocked lightly on the gate.

The gate was made of solid elm wood, and Genbao felt as though he was knocking on stone. By that point the moon had set, and in the darkness, the knocking flew down the village street like small stones. No sound emerged in response.

Genbao knocked harder.

Finally, Zhuzi answered. Who is it?

Brother Zhuzi, it’s me.

Oh, Genbao. What’s the matter?

Open the gate. There is something I need to tell you.

Zhuzi came out of the house to open the gate. As he did so, Genbao knelt down in front of him.

Genbao, Zhuzi said, taking a step back, what are you doing? What does this mean?

Brother Zhuzi, let me go to jail on the mayor’s behalf. You, for better or worse, have already established a family, and you know what it’s like to be a man. But I’ll be thirty soon, and I still don’t know what it’s like to be a man. If you let me go to jail on the mayor’s behalf, he will surely ask me if there’s anything he can help with, and the first thing I’ll ask is that he help return your wife and child to you. OK?

Zhuzi stared at Genbao in the lamplight.

Genbao kowtowed and said, Brother Zhuzi, I’m begging you.

If I let you go, you’ll speak to the mayor on my behalf ?

If I don’t discuss your problem first, and fail to ask the mayor to help return your wife and child to you, then let me, Genbao, have even lower status than your great-grandson.

Then stand up, Zhuzi said.

Genbao kowtowed to Zhuzi three more times before standing up.

The next day, spring-morning sunlight rained down like a river of gold. The mountain fields, ridges, forests and villages glimmered. When the residents of Wujiapo woke up on that spring morning, everyone knew that an auspicious event had occurred in Genbao’s household. Genbao was going to go to jail on behalf of the mayor. His travel bundle was packed, his bedding was folded and tied, and his baked scallion buns were ready in his dry-food bag.

Genbao was going to be the mayor’s benefactor.

He drank a bowl of Sichuan millet soup, ate some pickled vegetables and fried buns, and when he walked out the door with his bags, he saw several villagers standing in front of his house – a crowd that included Li Qing, Quezi, Zhuzi, his neighbor’s sister-in-law, and the sister-in-law’s cousin. Genbao and the cousin had become engaged overnight. Even if you are jailed for a year or two, she had told him, I’ll still wait for you. The next morning, she accompanied her elder cousin to come see Genbao off. Most of the villagers didn’t yet know that the two of them were engaged, and assumed that she had simply come with her cousin to watch the commotion.

Genbao’s father was standing behind him, holding Genbao’s bags and bedding. He looked proud, like his son was leaving home to accomplish something big. He had set aside his regular cigarettes and was smoking filter tips. But he wasn’t really smoking, he was merely using it to produce swirls of smoke. Genbao’s mother was holding the dry-ration bag, and when she stepped outside and saw the sister-in-law’s cousin, her face brightened as she walked toward her. Genbao couldn’t hear what his mother said to the woman, but he could see them talking. The cousin took the bag of rations from his mother, and supported her as though she were an elderly person crossing a bridge. In this group of people who had gathered to see Genbao off, the sister-in-law’s cousin resembled a summer flower blooming on a grassy hill. She was from the town, and her family’s home had been separated from the town government compound by only a single wall. When she was young, she would often run into the town government’s courtyard holding her rice bowl. Like her elder cousin, she was unusually worldly, and her clothing, speech, and behavior were quite different from the other Wujiapo residents. When she took Genbao’s mother by the arm, everyone who saw the gesture felt their hearts brighten, and they looked on with surprise and envy.

The crowd had originally consisted of ten or so people, but after Genbao and his family emerged, it grew. When people on their way to work in the fields heard that Genbao was going to be the mayor’s benefactor, they hurried over to congratulate him and to see him off. Brother Genbao, one said, as you advance, make sure you don’t forget us! What do you mean, as I advance? Genbao said. I’m going to jail! But on whose behalf ? the other person said. For the mayor. You’re going to be the mayor’s savior and benefactor. I once thought of you as a brother, and never imagined that you had such great prospects before you.

Genbao smiled, but did not respond.

Genbao slowly walked among the crowd that had gathered. Someone tried to take his baggage for him, but he said there was no need. He took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and handed one to everyone. If anyone declined, Genbao stuffed a cigarette directly into their mouth. He wanted to approach where Zhuzi, Quezi, and Li Qing were huddling peacefully by the roadside, as though the previous night’s struggle had never happened. But so many people were crowding tightly around him, struggling to speak to him, that in the end he had no choice but to simply wave and nod. It had been a long time since the villagers had seen someone off in such a festive fashion. Even when a villager’s son left to join the military, people didn’t turn out like this. Pleased, Genbao walked toward the village entrance, and when he reached the canteen he stopped and waved to the crowd, saying, Go home, go home! I’m going to jail, not joining the military.

Everyone followed him all the way up the hill toward Butcher Li’s house.

From the sunlit ridge, Butcher Li was gesturing to the crowd. Genbao quickened his pace, but the faster he moved, the more Butcher Li seemed to gesture. It looked like he was holding his hands up to his mouth and shouting. But because he was so far away no one could hear him clearly. Everyone guessed that he was trying to tell Genbao to hurry up.

Genbao jogged forward in front of the crowd. He didn’t want Butcher Li to have to wait too long up on the ridge. But as Genbao was leaving the crowd of villagers and running up the ridge, one of the young men who had been helping Butcher Li slaughter the night before ran part of the way down toward him. As he approached, the young man stood on a stone by the side of the road and shouted to Genbao, Uncle Li says for you not to come up, he shouted. The mayor sent over a message this morning saying that he doesn’t need anyone to claim responsibility on his behalf.

Abruptly, Genbao came to a stop. He stood in the middle of the road like a telephone pole, staring at the young man. What are you saying? he shouted. My God, what are you saying?

There’s no need for you to go to prison, the young man shouted back. The parents of the man the mayor ran over are reasonable people. They don’t blame the mayor for what happened, and they didn’t report him. They didn’t even want compensation. All they asked was that the mayor accept the dead man’s younger brother as his godson . . .

Genbao’s legs began to feel weak. He struggled to channel strength down to his ankles to prevent himself from collapsing. He gazed up at the top of the ridge, where Butcher Li was directing several people to load a car with fresh pork. Butcher Li had his back to Genbao. He was dancing back and forth. His shoulders were as wide as a door, and his strength defied description.

The villagers were approaching, talking and laughing. The sun rose higher in the sky – bright, bright red.

Photograph © Yan Sheng, Pig Voice – Youth, 2023