The Explosion Chronicles

by Yan Lianke

  Although Kong Mingyao would never leave his name after rescuing someone, all those he rescued ended up with him engraved in their memory and searched frantically for this mysterious hero. Eventually, one day, as he was saving a college student who was trying to kill herself because she couldn’t afford to pay her tuition, his army ID card fell out of his pocket and onto the riverbank. In this way, everyone finally learned that his name was Kong Mingyao, that he had been in the army for most of his life, and that he was an enlisted soldier in the eastern provincial infantry battalion. One weekend thousands of ordinary citizens and people who had been rescued all marched up to his barracks and demanded that he be issued a commendation for exemplary service.

  In the blink of an eye, the news spread through the entire barracks. The company, battalion, and regiment commanders hurried to the entrance of the barracks to receive letters of commendation from the people assembled outside. They used two enormous cardboard boxes to collect those gifts and letters of commendation. That evening, when the people’s calls on behalf of the formerly anonymous hero Kong Mingyao finally subsided, the provincial governor called up the barracks to say that he wanted to erect a bronze statue of Kong Mingyao at the same bridge where Mingyao rescued seven people from drowning in a single month—which would serve to encourage everyone to learn from Mingyao’s heroic actions, but also to warn others not to take their own lives. The lesson was that those people happened to jump when there was a hero nearby, but what would have occurred if no one had been there to rescue them? Before the governor had even finished his call, the general, from his own phone in front of his war map, had already called the office of Kong Mingyao’s division commander.

  “A true hero!” the general exclaimed. “If we were still in wartime, then Kong Mingyao would have been promoted to general at an even younger age than I was.”

  The division commander then called up the regiment commander’s office and said, “Call upon the entire regiment to learn from Kong Mingyao. Also, please immediately send me a copy of the announcement of his receipt of a first-class commendation.”

  The regiment commander immediately drove to Kong Mingyao’s former barracks, where he summoned Mingyao’s battalion and company commanders, then proceeded to smash a teacup on the floor and exclaimed, “Such an extraordinary individual was sitting under your eyes, and you didn’t even realize it. If an enemy spy had infiltrated the barracks, would you have noticed?”

  That night, the company commander once again summoned Kong Mingyao to his room. It was after the call for lights out, and the other soldiers, who had spent the day in a state of feverish excitement, had already gone to sleep. Kong Mingyao had responded to so many greetings and congratulations that his lips were numb.

  Following the company commander into his dormitory, Kong Mingyao noticed that the dormitory had changed from when he last saw it a few months earlier. For instance, as soon as he walked in, the map on the wall began making a grinding sound of paper being cut, as countless strips of confetti rained down. In the blink of an eye, the map became a paper-cut image celebrating Explosion’s pursuit of prosperity, while statistical records relating to the military company’s training also became celebratory announcements that the regiment and the division were about to release. The bedding folded neatly on the cot no longer resembled old bricks from the blockhouse or the town wall but rather now resembled a modestly sized garden where countless plants and flowers were growing. There was a smiling, naked woman standing among the flowers. She waved at Kong Mingyao, then mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out.

  Mingyao stood there in the middle of the room.

  “This has become a big deal,” said the company commander, who was standing next to him. “Maybe they’ll give you a special commendation and promote you directly from being an enlisted soldier to an officer.”

  Mingyao smiled.

  “My prophecy has come to pass… . As long as you are willing, you should be promoted to company commander in a few days’ time,” the company commander said with some embarrassment.

  Mingyao pulled over a chair and sat down. He let the commander make him a cup of tea and drank it as the commander himself remained standing in front of him, until finally he also took a seat. That evening, Mingyao told the commander many things, to which the commander repeatedly nodded in agreement. They talked from ten at night until four the next morning, and when Mingyao was about to leave he showed the commander the photograph he was holding. As the commander looked at the photograph, the room’s table legs, chair legs, washbasin stand, and rifle stand all started sprouting flowering vines, and the entire room began to resemble a chaotic greenhouse. The flowers’ scent was so strong that for a long time the commander felt he could barely breathe.

  2. A HERO’S RETURN

  After accepting the special commendation certificate from the higher-ups, Mingyao withdrew from the army and returned home. This was the dead of winter and the barracks were covered in snow, but on that particular day the trees, the walls, and the training field were covered in red, yellow, and purple blossoms. The flags posted on either side of the road cast a gentle light against the cold sky and the snowy ground, so that every soldier who passed by felt as though he were walking through a spring day. The general had wanted to go in person to the barracks to award Mingyao that certificate of commendation adorned with a bright military flag, five stars, and the national emblem. He also wanted to organize a parade, where he would read the directive from Beijing instructing the soldiers to all learn from Mingyao and follow his example, at which point the cold barracks would be thrown into a fit of fiery excitement. In the parade, Mingyao and the general stood side by side on the observation stand, as one squad after another marched in front of them, like so many embers blowing past. From those squads, they heard thunderous chants that were so loud that the snow fell from the roofs and branches, and the birds were so frightened that their feathers fell off. But after the parade, as the general and Mingyao were speaking to each other in private, Mingyao disappointed the general.

  The general said, “You have brought glory to our army. What would you like now?”

  Mingyao considered for a moment, then said, “I want to withdraw from the army.”

  The general looked at him in surprise and said, “What are you talking about? It has already been decided that you will be promoted.”

  Mingyao gazed at the general, as though trying to decide whether or not this was true. Once he decided that the general must be lying, he laughed and said. “I really do want to return home. I want to return and earn some money, because I have discovered that with money, you can accomplish anything.” The general was surprised and gazed regretfully at this underling who was obsessed with fame but was nevertheless not very bright. The general paced back and forth, then paused in front of Mingyao and asked,

  “Did you think that I was only promoting you to the position of platoon leader?”

  The general gazed at Mingyao and asked, “What about if I make you deputy company commander?”

  After a while, he added, “Forget it; how about we simply make you company commander?”

  Eventually, he asked very earnestly, “Could it be that you want to be promoted directly to battalion commander? If so, then I can indeed make you battalion commander.”

  But Kong Mingyao kept repeating the same thing. “I want to withdraw from the army and return home. I’ve discovered that with money, you can accomplish anything.”

  Even in the face of thousands of entreaties that he stay, Mingyao insisted that he wanted to withdraw from the army. The day he left the barracks, all of the commanders and soldiers, as well as local civilians from the town, came to see him off—forming a line on both sides of the street that stretched for more than ten li. They were all holding plastic flowers and colorful flags, which the army had issued them or which they had made themselves. Their shouting and drumming was so loud that it sounded as if a national leader or a foreign head of state had come to v
isit. After he was jostled onto the train, Mingyao gazed out the window at that cheering crowd and the sea of colorful flowers. Not until the whistle sounded, signaling that the train was about to depart, did he finally sit down and relax, thinking, Spending a little money has had enormous results. Just think what I’d be able to accomplish if I were willing to spend millions and millions of yuan.

  3. THE GENERAL’S TEARS

  The day Mingyao returned to Explosion, after the celebration of his return had subsided, something occurred that made him realize his decision to withdraw from the army had been a huge mistake. Explosion and Mayor Kong gave Mingyao a welcome that was far more magnificent than the army’s ceremony had been. Although Explosion’s welcome did not feature as many fresh flowers and colorful flags, or as much applause, as the departure ceremony hosted by the army, the county’s newspapers, television, and other media nevertheless all trumpeted the news that he had returned. The local television station even made a live broadcast from the moment he got off the train to when his escorts led him home and he embraced his mother. The mayor’s underlings knew that his younger brother had returned from the army, and they arranged to invite him to come eat and work in their bureau or department. Every bureau and department chief declared, You can have your pick of jobs, even being appointed deputy bureau (or department) chief. If you just give the word, then even if you want to be appointed bureau (or department) chief, I’d be happy to step down and give you my position. On behalf of the county mayor, the mayor’s secretary gave Mingyao a dinner invitation from every county unit, with the list of invitations running fifteen pages. Even if Mingyao had eaten all three of his meals out every day, and each meal had fulfilled one of his dinner invitations, he would still have needed a year and five days to work his way through the entire list of invitations.

  It was already dusk by the time Mingyao returned home. As soon as he arrived, Mingliang immediately called him to welcome him back but said that he was too busy with county business and couldn’t return to see Mingyao until later that night. Mingliang’s wife, Zhu Ying, also sent a message to say that she was currently in the middle of her prescribed postpartum month of rest and couldn’t leave the house, but invited Mingyao to come visit her at home. On the pretext of going to visit Zhu Ying, Mingyao went out into the street. Carrying a bag full of badges to use as presents, he proceeded to where Fragrance had told him she worked, but when he arrived he discovered that this was not a cultural organization, as Fragrance had claimed, but rather an enormous construction site with a forest of steel scaffolding reaching into the sky. He asked someone where the cultural company had relocated, but the people at the construction site said that there had never been a cultural organization; rather there had just been a handful of hair salons and foot-massage stalls, together with scores of call girls and streetwalkers. Mingyao wanted to show someone the sweat-soaked photograph of Fragrance he was always carrying in his pocket, but since she was naked in the photograph he couldn’t simply take it out, and instead continued gripping it tightly as though it were a bubble that was about to float away. He asked some people doing business along the street whether or not they had heard of someone named Fragrance, describing what she looked like and what kinds of clothing she liked to wear. However, they said they had not seen or heard of this person, and asked if perhaps she was a prostitute from the former entertainment district. They noted that the girls there were particularly fond of giving themselves names like Fragrance, Sweetness, and Little Rouge.

  Everyone stared at Mingyao in surprise, as though he were a john who had been caught in the act.

  Confused, he proceeded from Explosion’s main street to one of its back alleys. He simply couldn’t accept the possibility that he might not find Fragrance. However, the words streetwalker and call girl echoed ominously in his ears, and he felt as though a fish bone had gotten caught in his throat. As he walked to where he and Fragrance first met, he brought his hand to his face, and only then did he notice that he had crumbled the photograph into a ball, and his sweat had made it dissolve into a pool of muck. When he extended his hand, the ink-colored water dripped through his fingers, and all that remained were stains on his palm.

  At that moment, he vaguely realized he had done something wrong—that he had treated a dream as though it were reality. The girl called Fragrance had made him fall into a reverie, but he had mistaken that reverie for reality. He returned home and, for dinner, his mother prepared him the sort of meal he normally couldn’t eat while working away from home—including salted vegetables with meat and chicken stew with mushrooms, as well as winter leeks and scrambled eggs with tossed cucumber. As the entire family sat around the dining table watching television, he was confronted with another completely unexpected event. It was as though a noxious object had flown in from somewhere and struck him in the face. The object’s stench immediately entered his mouth, stomach, and lungs. The television, meanwhile, suddenly cut away from its regular programming, and instead there appeared an anchor dressed in black with a white flower on her chest, announcing in a sorrowful voice that early that morning the Chinese embassy in Yugoslavia had been attacked by an American B-2 stealth bomber, and four laser-guided bombs had entered the building through the roof—of which three had detonated while the fourth had not. There were three Chinese fatalities and more than twenty wounded. The announcer reported that the reason US forces did this was that China had been supporting Yugoslavia’s resistance to American and NATO forces. The anchor’s voice was low and hoarse, full of indignation and sorrow. When Kong Mingyao heard her report that the embassy had been bombed, his chopsticks froze over his rice bowl, and when he heard that there had been three fatalities and over twenty wounded, he spat out the food in his mouth. Finally, when the anchor observed that this was utterly unbearable, Kong Mingyao stood up from the table and announced to his mother and his brothers,

  “War has broken out. I have to return to the barracks!”

  Mingguang looked at him, then turned back to the television. Pointing to the television screen, he said, “Quick, look! … Quick, look! These are students from our school dancing.”

  Minghui turned toward the television and now saw an ox plowing a field. Because it was so hot, the ox’s tongue was hanging out and mucus was dripping from its mouth. Meanwhile, the gray-haired cowherd grasped the plow handle while wiping away his sweat, his sunburned skin flaking off like cicada wings. “He doesn’t even let the ox stop to drink some water,” Minghui thought indignantly as he looked away. Then he reflected, “I should tell Second Brother that they should issue that peasant a tractor.” Then, he and Mingguang saw that Mingyao was hurriedly packing his bags, taking off his civilian clothes, and putting on his military uniform. Mingyao moved very quickly, and in a few seconds he had put on his uniform, shoes, and cap. When his mother entered with the food, she said, “Mingyao, it’s dinnertime. Where are you going?”

  “I have to go fight,” Mingyao replied, “after having been a soldier for so many years. This is the day I’ve been waiting for.”

  His family stared at him. They watched as he put on his munitions belt, then kicked aside his gray civilian clothes and his dusty leather shoes. Just as he was about to walk out the door, however, the telephone suddenly started ringing. The rings sounded like gunshots, and he immediately dropped his luggage and ran forward to answer it. He listened for a second, then screamed into the receiver, “What kind of fucking commander do you think you are? The nation has reached this crisis point and must go to battle, yet you’re still talking about wanting to go eat and drink?” Then he listened as the person on the other line said something, whereupon Mingyao lowered his voice and said fiercely, “I have no interest in listening to your explanations. As long as I’m not dead, if I don’t try to overthrow your hedonistic ass after the war is over, then not only do I not deserve to be called a Kong, I will even shoot myself in the middle of the public square.” With this, he slammed down the phone, picked up his bags, and rushed out into t
he courtyard.

  His mother followed him, shouting, “Mingyao, you just got home. Where are you going now?”

  Mingguang ran up to him and grabbed both his arm and his luggage. He blocked Mingyao’s way and shouted, “You’ve already changed careers, don’t you realize that?”

  He then reminded Mingyao, “Don’t you realize that your uniform doesn’t even have any medals or badges?” As he was saying this, he grabbed Mingyao’s hand and placed it on his empty collar.

  Mingyao’s hand froze on his collar, as he stood there in the courtyard. At this point, it finally occurred to him that he might have made a huge mistake. He bit his lip as though biting the finger of that girl named Fragrance. Some rays from the setting sun wafted over from the west, as if long dyed hair were waving in front of him like a gauze curtain. The old hen was preparing to go back to her nest with her chicks, and, clucking away, they walked over, half-stumbling and half-dancing. Just as they were about to pass in front of him, he leaned down and grabbed one of them, then hurled it to the ground. He stood there and watched as the chick convulsed a few times, then died without a sound. Meanwhile, the old hen continued leading her remaining chicks to the nest, as Mingyao suddenly squatted down and began wailing,

  “The nation is in crisis—how could I possibly have picked this precise moment to withdraw from the army?

  “… How could I have picked this moment of national crisis to withdraw from the army?”

  As he tried to cover his face, tears poured from between his fingers like a mountain spring gushing out of a crevice in the rocks. Soon, it seemed as though his tears had drenched an area of the ground half as large as a tatami mat and his leather army boots were completely soaked. That night, the entire family was watching television, with everyone watching his or her own program. When Mingyao saw the US military and that asshole president named Bill Clinton claim that the bombing of the Chinese embassy was a result of faulty GPS data and that mistakes are inevitable in wartime, he stopped thinking about that girl called Fragrance. Instead, he got out of bed, got dressed, put on his shoes, and proceeded from the old streets of Explosion to the new square that had been constructed in the county seat. He saw the new skyline to the north, while the streets of Explosion were full of peasants from the mountains. In the middle of the night, these peasants were using oxcarts, horse carts, and even wheelbarrows to haul away bricks, stones, and other construction materials, which they took to countless other construction sites. When an ox or a horse defecated in the middle of the road, however, these same peasants would stop and collect the excrement into a bag they had brought for that purpose, so as to maintain the square’s cleanliness and sanctity.