Read Online Shifu, You'll Do Anything For a Laugh by Mo Yan, Howard Goldblatt - Free Book Online Page A

now, he'd have been happy if his clients had locked themselves inside and slept for eight or ten hours. But with the wind chilling him to the bone and the pangs of hunger growing stronger, he wished they would finish their business quickly and come out. He passed the time by digging a little hole in the ground in front of him with his walking stick, then lighting up a cigarette. Always conscious of the fire danger in a wooded area, he carefully flicked his ashes into the hole.
    He'd been sitting under the tree for about half an hour when he heard muted sobs from inside the cottage. A gust of wind set the leaves rustling loudly enough to swallow up the sobs. But as soon as the wind died down, the sobs found their way back into his ears. He sighed sympathetically. This was the sort of romance lovers like that deserved; theirs was a classical, tragic love, like cucumbers in a pickling vat — all salt, no sugar. Young folks these days have gotten away from that. When they're in the cottage, they take advantage of every second, going at it hot and heavy. They scream lecherously, they moan, some of them fill the air with obscenities that make the birds blush. They all do the same thing, but the way they go about it couldn't be more different. By studying the intimate sounds of the men and women, he gained an understanding into changes in people's concepts. Deep down in his heart, he preferred a tearful love, which seemed more dramatic, somehow. As he listened to the sobs and whimpers, he thought about their story: it had to be a sentimental one, a romantic tragedy. For a number of reasons, marriage was not in the cards for them. Maybe, after being separated by a vast distance, this man and woman had come together to meet secretly. Viewed from that angle, he thought, I'm actually a good Samaritan.
    He let his thoughts ramble for another hour before getting to his feet to limber up his achy joints and massage his nearly frozen earlobes. It was time to pack up and go home. He decided that the only way to feel good about how things had worked out was to charge them a nominal fee, then stop at the Lanzhou Noodle Restaurant in town for a bowl of beef noodles. The mere thought of those noodles had his stomach rumbling and his teeth chattering. He was damned hungry, and damned cold. It was unseasonably cold, abnormally cold, ridiculously cold, colder than the coldest days of winter last year. The woman's sobs had stopped, leaving the metal cottage perfectly still, quiet as a graveyard. A crow with a piece of intestine in its beak flew up from some distant place and landed in its nest in a poplar tree.
    Another hour passed, and the little cottage remained still as death. The clouds kept gathering, and signs of dusk began to settle around the woods. What's going on? he asked himself silently. They didn't look that robust to me. Could they have fallen asleep in there? No, that's impossible! There's nothing in there but a slat bed covered by a straw mat. No mattress and no blankets. It's cold enough outside, even with a bit of weak sunlight; but once that door is closed, the cottage turns into cold storage. So what are they doing in there? He held off as long as he could before walking up to the door and coughing loudly as a signal for them to wrap things up and come out. No response from inside. Don't tell me they vanished into thin air like the goblins in Roll Call of the Gods? No, that's just some supernatural novel. Could they have turned into mosquitoes like the immortal monkey and flown out the window? Impossible, another supernatural story! They couldn't have. … A murky and utterly terrifying scene suddenly flashed before his eyes. His arms and legs began to quake. My god, not that! If that's what's happened, forget about my road to riches. I'll be lucky if I don't wind up in prison. All of a sudden, nothing else mattered. He raised his hand and knocked lightly on the door.
    Rap rap rap .
    Then he knocked harder.
    Thump thump