Read Online The Garlic Ballads by Mo Yan - Free Book Online Page A

word as she set the pail down, ladled out some water, and splashed it on his chest; involuntarily he tucked his neck between his shoulders and uttered a strange muffled cry. She grinned, her pretty, even teeth sparkling in the light, then scooped out some more water and dumped it over his head. No shudder this time, since he knew it was coming, and after the cool water ran slowly down his back and chest it left gray streaks on his legs. Suddenly revitalized and uncommonly clear-headed, he sensed that the cool water was the greatest source of joy he had ever known. Now as he gazed at the policewoman’s lovely mouth, it was with an enormous sense of gratitude.
    She doused him only twice before moving on to the horse-faced young man, who stood deathly pale, one eye swollen shut, the other opened wide; his lip curled in a grin for the policewoman’s benefit. Insulted by the look, she scooped out a ladleful of water and hurled it into his pallid face with all her might. He, too, tucked his neck down between his shoulders.
    “What do you say to that?” she snarled angrily.
    He shook his drenched head. “Nice and cool,” he replied, still grinning. “Just wonderful.”
    She scooped out another ladleful and hurled it in his face, not caring where or how forcefully it struck him. “I’ll show you nice and cool!” she screeched. “Well see how wonderful it is!”
    “Nice and cool feels good nice and cool feels good … ? he was screaming, twisting at the waist, kicking out with both feet, and jerking his head back and forth.
    Tossing the ladle to the ground, the policewoman picked up the pail and dumped it over his head. But even that didn’t exhaust her anger, so she rapped him several times on the head with the rim of the pail, as if to make sure that every drop of water wound up on him. Then she flipped the pail to the ground and stood in front of him, hands on her hips, her chest heaving. -
    To Gao Yang, the sound of the pail banging against the young man’s head was muffled and wet, and it set his teeth on edge.
    The young man, sputtering now, rested his long head—which seemed to swell and turn a mahogany color—against the tree trunk. Gao Yang heard the man’s stomach growl and watched his neck stretch forward until the tendons seemed about to pop through the taut skin. Over and over he tried to close his mouth, but couldn’t. Then, all of a sudden, it gaped wide, and a gusher of filthy water spewed out, hitting the policewoman full in the chest before she could scramble out of the way.
    She shrieked and hopped around. But the horse-faced young man was too busy puking to pay any attention to her chest.
    “Okay, Song,” Zheng said, looking at his watch. “It’s nearly dinner. We’ll finish up here after we eat.”
    Whiskers Zhu picked up the pail and ladle, then fell in behind old Zheng and Song Anni.
    Gao Yang heard Whiskers Zhu shout into the office phone to speed up delivery of the stuffed dumplings they had ordered, and felt total revulsion; he had to clench his teeth to keep from regurgitating the three badly needed bottles of water he had just finished. The horse-faced young man was still puking, though by now it was just dry heaves. Gao Yang noticed a frothy string of bloody sputum at the corner of his mouth and felt sorry for the sharp-tongued fellow.
    The setting sun had lost some of its sting; that and the fact that he had no feeling in his arms instilled in Gao Yang a sense of well-being. A slight breeze rose to cool his scalp, which had been sun-baked, then doused with water until it tingled. All in all, he still felt pretty good—so good, in fact, that he wanted to talk. The horse-faced young man’s dry heaves were getting on his nerves, so Gao Yang cocked his head and said, “Say, pal, can’t you stop that?”
    It had no effect. The heaves just kept coming.
    A couple of trucks and a blue minivan were parked at the far end of the township compound, where a boisterous gang of supervised men