sat next to me with his arm over my shoulder. “How would you like to participate in the school championship match? I know you're pretty good.”
“I'm not sure my political background would allow me to do so,” I said uncertainly.
“I'll take care of it. You just make sure to be there for the game.”
“Okay.” My heart leapt with joy.
As far as Ping-Pong was concerned, there was only one other boy who played as well as I. If I wasn't there to challenge him, he would take the title, hands down.
That evening, I borrowed my brother's paddle and played three games in the match at the school cafeteria, a temporary game room. I spun and struck. Within two hours, I had defeated all the other players. The next night, with Sen, Siang, Mo Gong, and Yi watching from the windows, I beat my enemy, Han, and another opponent to become the champion for our commune. When the results were announced the next day at the morning exercise break, the whole school turned and looked at me. After so many years, I felt once again as though I belonged there. Proudly I waved my hands and bowed my head to their cheers.
The gratitude I felt for Teacher Sing was beyond words.
“We'd like to hold a swearing-in ceremony among us five at Mo Gong's tomorrow,” Sen said one day. “What do you think?”
“You mean sort of like in ancient times, when the outlaws cut their fingers and let the blood drip into their wine and drank it together to become sworn brothers?” I asked excitedly.
“That's it,” Sen said.
“And say something like, ‘can't be born on the same day, but would like to die at the same moment.' ” Mo Gong quoted a phrase from a well-known classic about a bunch of outlaws hiding deep in the mountains, who became sworn brothers and fought the establishment.
“I'm in,” I said. “What do we need to do?”
“Prepare a banquet with some hard liquor.”
The next day I went to Mo Gong's house, a two-story place that was totally empty since his parents had taken off again to sell shoes in another county. Siang had bought two lively young ducks from the market with my five yuan, and brought three pounds of pork from home. Yi came up with some vegetables and the noodles, and Sen ventured back home and had us sit under his kitchen window while he passed out some much-needed lard. We all pitched in to buy the liquor and cigarettes.
During his apprenticeship days, Yi had learned to cook. He was the only one who knew anything about it. I had resumed my usual job of washing the vegetables, picking over scallions and cutting them to match the specifications of the chef. Mo Gong chased the ducks in the backyard, causing the dirt and dust to fly, and Siang sharpened a knife, ready to behead them.
“Da, I want you to write some rules for us to go by,” Sen said, squatting next to me.
“Let me think about it,” I said.
When the food was finally brought to the table, along with chopsticks, spoons, and plates, we couldn't help shaking our heads in surprise. The two ducks, well simmered with garlic, ginger, wine, and Yi's secret soy sauce recipe, lay on a large plate with their skinny heads on one side. Next to them sat a deep pot with steaming pork shoulders, succulent and juicy. A king's feast was about to begin, and our stomachs growled in anticipation.
It seemed more like a normal, happy family meal than a swearing-in ceremony for a bunch of self-proclaimed outlaws. What civilization had done to us since the time of thekings and dynasties! We sat in order of seniority—Sen, Mo Gong, Yi, Siang, and me—clockwise around a circular wooden table. Sen opened the first bottle of liquor, a locally brewed rice wine that gave out a pungent fragrance of grain, and poured us each a tall glassful.
Wearing a serious look in those famous cold eyes, Sen declaimed, “Fate has brought us together. From now on we are brothers, not by blood, but by spirit.”
“What happened to our swearing and all?” Mo Gong asked.
“That was the
“I'm not sure my political background would allow me to do so,” I said uncertainly.
“I'll take care of it. You just make sure to be there for the game.”
“Okay.” My heart leapt with joy.
As far as Ping-Pong was concerned, there was only one other boy who played as well as I. If I wasn't there to challenge him, he would take the title, hands down.
That evening, I borrowed my brother's paddle and played three games in the match at the school cafeteria, a temporary game room. I spun and struck. Within two hours, I had defeated all the other players. The next night, with Sen, Siang, Mo Gong, and Yi watching from the windows, I beat my enemy, Han, and another opponent to become the champion for our commune. When the results were announced the next day at the morning exercise break, the whole school turned and looked at me. After so many years, I felt once again as though I belonged there. Proudly I waved my hands and bowed my head to their cheers.
The gratitude I felt for Teacher Sing was beyond words.
“We'd like to hold a swearing-in ceremony among us five at Mo Gong's tomorrow,” Sen said one day. “What do you think?”
“You mean sort of like in ancient times, when the outlaws cut their fingers and let the blood drip into their wine and drank it together to become sworn brothers?” I asked excitedly.
“That's it,” Sen said.
“And say something like, ‘can't be born on the same day, but would like to die at the same moment.' ” Mo Gong quoted a phrase from a well-known classic about a bunch of outlaws hiding deep in the mountains, who became sworn brothers and fought the establishment.
“I'm in,” I said. “What do we need to do?”
“Prepare a banquet with some hard liquor.”
The next day I went to Mo Gong's house, a two-story place that was totally empty since his parents had taken off again to sell shoes in another county. Siang had bought two lively young ducks from the market with my five yuan, and brought three pounds of pork from home. Yi came up with some vegetables and the noodles, and Sen ventured back home and had us sit under his kitchen window while he passed out some much-needed lard. We all pitched in to buy the liquor and cigarettes.
During his apprenticeship days, Yi had learned to cook. He was the only one who knew anything about it. I had resumed my usual job of washing the vegetables, picking over scallions and cutting them to match the specifications of the chef. Mo Gong chased the ducks in the backyard, causing the dirt and dust to fly, and Siang sharpened a knife, ready to behead them.
“Da, I want you to write some rules for us to go by,” Sen said, squatting next to me.
“Let me think about it,” I said.
When the food was finally brought to the table, along with chopsticks, spoons, and plates, we couldn't help shaking our heads in surprise. The two ducks, well simmered with garlic, ginger, wine, and Yi's secret soy sauce recipe, lay on a large plate with their skinny heads on one side. Next to them sat a deep pot with steaming pork shoulders, succulent and juicy. A king's feast was about to begin, and our stomachs growled in anticipation.
It seemed more like a normal, happy family meal than a swearing-in ceremony for a bunch of self-proclaimed outlaws. What civilization had done to us since the time of thekings and dynasties! We sat in order of seniority—Sen, Mo Gong, Yi, Siang, and me—clockwise around a circular wooden table. Sen opened the first bottle of liquor, a locally brewed rice wine that gave out a pungent fragrance of grain, and poured us each a tall glassful.
Wearing a serious look in those famous cold eyes, Sen declaimed, “Fate has brought us together. From now on we are brothers, not by blood, but by spirit.”
“What happened to our swearing and all?” Mo Gong asked.
“That was the
Similar Books
