Frog

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Authors: Mo Yan
Tags: Fiction, General, Historical
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slobber and phoenix blood aren’t worth that much. Wheat sells for eighty cents a jin. Can one bottle of liquor be worth ten thousand jin of wheat? I could work like a dog all year and not be able to afford half of one of these bottles. He handed the bottle back to Gugu. You keep it, he said. I can’t drink liquor like this. I’m afraid it’d shorten my life.
    I gave it to you, so you drink it, Gugu said. It didn’t cost me anything. You’d be crazy not to enjoy it. Like back in Pingdu city. I’d have been crazy not to eat the spread the Japanese devils prepared. Don’t be crazy. Drink it.
    I understand what you’re saying, my father said, but I ask you, can a bottle of peppery liquor really be worth that much money?
    Eldest Brother, you don’t get it. Nobody who drinks this stuff ever pays for it. People who have to pay for their liquor can only afford to drink this – Gugu held out her glass and drained it. You’re over eighty years old, she said. How many more years do you have to enjoy a good drink? Patting herself on the chest, she said dramatically: I’ll make you a crazy offer in front of all these members of the younger generation: I will supply you with Maotai from today on. What’s there to be afraid of? I used to be scared of my own shadow, and the more scared I was the worse things got. Pour some more! Do you people have no vision? Feel sorry for the liquor?
    Of course not, Gugu, Father said. It’s for you to drink.
    How much do you think I can manage? she said, a note of melancholy creeping into her voice. Back then, I held my own with those bastards from the People’s Commune. A bunch of guys who figured they could easily make a spectacle of me wound up under the table barking like a pack of dogs – come on, you youngsters, down the hatch.
    Have something to eat, Gugu.
    Something to eat, you say? Your great-uncle could drink half a jug of sorghum liquor with only a leek to go with it. Real drinkers don’t need food. You people are eaters, not drinkers.
    Warming up from the alcohol, Gugu unbuttoned her blouse and patted Father on the shoulder. If I tell you to drink, Elder Brother, you have to drink. You and I are the only two left from our generation. We should be eating and drinking anything we want. What’s the point in saving money? Money is just paper until you spend it. I have a skill, so I’m not afraid I’ll ever be short of money. You can be an official, high or low, but you’ll still get sick, and then you’ll have to come see me. Besides, Gugu roared in laughter, I have that special talent to change a foetus’s gender. People would happily shell out ten thousand for the complicated technique of turning a female foetus to male.
    But what if they still got a baby girl after taking your gender-bending potion? Father asked anxiously.
    You don’t get it, Gugu said. What’s traditional Chinese medicine anyway? All practitioners of traditional medicine are adept at fortune-telling, and fortune-tellers are adept at going round and round when telling someone’s fortune without ever getting themselves tangled up.
    Xiangqun managed to slip a question in when Gugu paused to light a cigarette. Can you talk about the pilot, Great-Aunt? Maybe one day on a whim I’ll fly to Taiwan to see him.
    Stop that nonsense, my elder brother said.
    You’re out of line, his wife said.
    A seasoned smoker, Gugu puffed away, sending clouds of smoke up through her uncombed hair.
    When I think about that now, Gugu said after draining the liquor in her cup, I can say he destroyed me, but he also saved me.
    She took a couple of deep puffs before flicking the butt away with her middle finger. It described a dark red arc before landing on a distant grapevine trellis. I’ve had too much to drink, she said. The party’s over and it’s time to go home. She stood up, looking stoutly clumsy, and swayed her way towards the entrance. We hurried over to steady her. Do you really think I’m drunk? she asked. You’re

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