by Yan Lianke
2. The Celebration Finally Arrives
The event unfolded as slowly as an old ox pulling a broken-down cart, and even more slowly than my progress on the tunnel of love. I had thought that the county head would take his soldiers back to the county seat and promptly appoint me as a national cadre—this being a key step in my advancement to town mayor, county head, district commissioner, and finally, provincial governor. But after the county head left, three days and then a week passed, but there was no news of my promotion. Half a month passed, but still there was no news of my promotion.
I was somewhat disappointed. After writing several self-criticisms, Wang Zhenhai remained town mayor, while I was still patiently serving as village branch secretary, which—together with being a town Party committee member not released from production requirements—is truly China’s lowest level of rural cadre. Needless to say, as an experienced revolutionary, I couldn’t appear overly anxious every time I encountered a setback, nor could I be easily infected by irritability. Instead, I acted as though nothing were amiss and that winter continued attending meetings, participating in struggle sessions, reading Chairman Mao’s proclamations, and pursuing the manure-collecting campaign. In this way, I continued to act like the foolish old man who moved mountains, working every night without fail to slowly dig my tunnel.
That spring, I finally finished digging the underground nuptial chamber and even finished making the three air holes and the earthen bed. On that day, the sky was high, and clouds were sparse. It was a beautiful spring day, and the dawn light was bright and clear. I dumped my final load of soil into the irrigation canal and was about to sleep all day, whereupon Secretary Tian from the county government suddenly woke me up.
“Secretary Gao, you have a guest.”
I rubbed my eyes and sat up.
“Revolution is not a dinner party, nor is it painting and embroidery.”
Secretary Tian laughed.
“That is true, that is true. I know that serving as deputy mayor is merely the first step in your ten-thousand-li Long March. Snowy mountains and grassy fields still lie behind you.”
As I rolled out of bed, my drowsiness immediately faded. Facing the mysterious-looking Secretary Tian, I asked, “What did you say?” He replied, “You are now Chenggang’s deputy mayor, and your document has already reached the town government.” I almost couldn’t believe it. At that point I wanted to turn somersaults and scream. However, my mother was out in the courtyard feeding the pigs, and my children were about to leave for school. I assumed that it was just after breakfast time, so I suppressed my excitement and told Secretary Tian, “I’ll treat you to lunch. If you want to have pig’s head or ox entrails, we can go buy them.”
Secretary Tian said, “Lunch? Everyone has already eaten lunch. What were you doing last night? You slept so long that now you’re confused.”
When I walked out of my room, I saw that the sun was indeed directly overhead, and the courtyard was full of yellow warmth and the fresh green smell of budding grass. As my mother put feed in the pig trough, she said, “Aijun, there is rice in the pot. Go have some.”
I looked at my mother, with her headful of gray hair, and said, “Mother, my letter of appointment to serve as deputy mayor has arrived. As of today, your son is a national cadre!”
My mother stood there for a long time examining me—as though she no longer recognized her own son.
I spent the remainder of the day summoning all the members of the Chenggang production brigade and having them gather inside Cheng Qinglin’s house (because Cheng Qinglin’s father could cook well). From a state-owned restaurant, we bought some cooked beef, cooked pork, pork offal, winter turnip, cabbage, and yam-jelly sheets and noodles, as well as several jin of melon wine. In all, we prepared nine dishes and three soups. With Secretary Tian, we drank from the afternoon into the evening, and from evening we drank until dawn. Holding up a glass of wine, I announced to everyone, “I’ve been appointed deputy mayor. (Given that I haven’t been released from my regular responsibilities, for the moment I still have a rural residency permit.) This is a result not of my maturation and advancement but rather thanks to the collective struggle of the Chenggang production brigade. It is a triumphant symbol of everyone’s collective effort. I urge everyone that from now on you must be even more unified and—in the shortest possible amount of time—find a way to remove Wang Zhenhai from his position as mayor. After I become mayor, I’ll appoint Secretary Tian to serve as the deputy secretary of the town’s Party committee, I’ll appoint Hongmei to serve as deputy mayor and director of the town’s women’s federation, and I’ll appoint Cheng Qinglin to serve as both town Party committee member and as the Party branch secretary of the Chenggang production brigade. As for the other Party branch members, they’ll all be similarly promoted by one or two ranks. At that point, if any family encounters any difficulties—such as their younger brother or sister needing a job or their wanting to transfer their rural residency permit into a non-rural one—we can easily address them.”
Everyone toasted me to celebrate my new appointment and eagerly awaited my promotion to either town mayor or Party secretary. Of course, the best thing would be to be appointed both mayor and Party secretary, since that way I would hold both political and administrative power. Everyone was excited and in high spirits, and after finishing five jin of 112-proof melon wine, we were all completely drunk. In fact, Secretary Tian was so inebriated he fell under the table, then grasped my hand and said, “Deputy Mayor Gao, after you are promoted to mayor or Party secretary, I don’t dare hope to become deputy mayor, but you must at least help me transfer my residency permit. I don’t want to have to spend five years working as a secretary, with my household residency permit still assigned to my family’s original mountain district.” I pounded my chest and replied, “Relax! If I, Gao Aijun, were not true to my word, could I be a true Party member? Could I be a true Party leader? If I were not true to my word, then how could I pursue true revolution?”
With tears streaming down his face, Secretary Tian drank another bowl of wine.
Then he collapsed.
I don’t know whether Hongmei and I were actually drunk, but at the very least we were certainly a bit tipsy. From the moment I heard that I had been appointed deputy mayor to when the alcohol-soaked moon rose, my blood had been surging through my body like the Yangtze or the Yellow River flowing through the Chinese countryside. Succulent seedings sprouted in the spring rain, and sunflower blossoms opened toward the sun. In the north there was endless ice and snow, but around the Great Wall there was soft rain. Above and below the Yangtze River, a torrent flowed through the mountains like silver snakes! What else has the Jade Emperor provided? Look at that landscape with the red sun and white snow and the extraordinarily beautiful mountains and rivers. A bit of literary talent is passed down from the first emperor of the Qin to Emperor Wu of the Han, and a tad of literary excellence is passed down from the Tang and the Song dynasties. Genghis Khan, the son of heaven, only knew how to shoot his bow. All that is now in the past, and to see great men you must look to our contemporary era. Every drop of blood and every ocean spray is flowing and burning. Whenever Hongmei and I see each other, we can’t resist peeking at each other over the dining table, and our gazes produce sparks when they collide in midair, so the white-colored scent of wine becomes filled with our peach-red yearning, and the many smells of the table become covered with our pink desire. Beneath the table at which everyone was toasting and congratulating me, my and Hongmei’s feet were restless, and when she wasn’t gently stepping on my foot, I was gently nudging her with mine. When she wasn’t removing her shoe and placing her bare foot inside my pant leg, I was sticking my own foot inside her pant leg and pinching her calf with my toes.
After the wine was finished, we would stop at nothing.
I asked Qinglin’s parents to look after those fellow revolutionaries who had followed me into battle. I said, “You should relax. After I’m appointed mayor,
Qinglin will be appointed deputy mayor; after I’m appointed county head, Qinglin will be appointed deputy county head; and after I’m appointed provincial governor, Qinglin will be appointed either district commissioner, county head, or county Party committee secretary.” Qinglin’s mother and father couldn’t believe their ears, and they remarked that if only their son could one day become deputy mayor and Party branch secretary like me, they would be content and would know the assistance they had granted me would not have been in vain. I told them that their aspirations were entirely too modest, the same way that a tiny sparrow cannot possibly understand the ambitions of a great roc. Then, before their dumbfounded eyes, I took Hongmei’s hand and led her out of Qinglin’s house. At that moment, the moonlight was shining down on us, and we were unimaginably content. As soon as we walked out the front door, Hongmei immediately fell into my embrace and stuck her tongue in my mouth. (My soul, my flesh—she always knows when I need her most!) Her tongue danced around for a while, then retreated again, leaving my mouth and my heart bereft.
“Tonight we need to be together, even if it kills us,” she said. “But later, when half of this town government is yours, we won’t have to sneak around like thieves anymore.”
At that moment, I heard footsteps coming from Center Cheng Street. (How can you not pay attention to such things? Does the revolution let you not pay attention to everything? You give yourself over to blind emotion and are incredibly immature!) Without a word, I led Hongmei toward Rear Cheng Street. She said, “Where are you going?” I replied, “Don’t ask any questions. Just follow me.” I wanted to show her my great tunnel of love. I wanted to treat that great construction as a token of my love and give it to her (my soul and my body!). I had already been appointed deputy mayor, and although I hadn’t been released from work requirements, I was nevertheless a national leader and a Party leader. My tunnel of love was now almost complete, and what better time than tonight was there to present it, celebrating my promotion, our success, and my inseparable revolutionary comrade?
We proceeded through the quiet night back to my home.
I heard my mother’s voice through the window saying, “Aijun, are you hungry? If you want to eat, I’ll cook you something.”
I replied, “Go back to sleep, mother. If I want to eat, I’ll cook something myself.”
She said, “You’ve been running around all day. If you’re tired, don’t dig anymore. Just go to sleep.”
I said, “Don’t worry about me. Just take Hongsheng and Honghua, and go to sleep.”
(Ah, mother! My great mother! One night when I had recently begun my project and had dug only about twenty meters, I emerged from the tunnel and found her standing in the opening, holding a lamp. She said, “Aijun, tell me the truth about what you are doing. I’ve already gone down and looked several times.” Startled, I said, “Although we aren’t in a state of war, the current situation is actually even more complicated. Does a month ever go by that you don’t hear about someone being killed? That you don’t hear about some anti-revolutionary being executed? Your son is a revolutionary leader, and how many people are watching me? … Even Chairman Mao called upon us to dig escape tunnels, so how could our family not do the same?” I added, “Mother, you don’t understand revolution. Once you get on this ship, you can’t get off, because if you do, that would make you a counterrevolutionary. We have to dig this tunnel, because with it we’ll be able to boldly pursue revolution—and I’ll be able to strive to become town mayor, county head, district official, and provincial committee Party secretary … Yes, your son has a chance to achieve all of this.” My mother stood there silently. That night, after I went to sleep, she sat in the entrance to the tunnel for a long time. At dawn I found several more bundles of cornstalks in the pigsty, such that the path to the tunnel entrance was hidden even more effectively.)
Now, someone new was finally entering my tunnel, and she would become the tunnel’s matron and its raison d’être. I lit a lamp and led Hongmei toward the entrance.
The moonlight was flowing like water. The courtyard was cold and damp, and Hongmei’s hot hand rested in mine like a cooked fish. As we were heading toward the pigsty, Hongmei poked my palm, and I squeezed her finger. I told her that the great, divine moment had finally arrived, and that all of our attention had been for the sake of this moment of irreverence and transgression. When we opened the pigsty’s wooden gate, the two white pigs looked up as usual, but when they saw me they lay down again. When we reached the southwest corner of the pigsty, I put the lamp on the ground, moved the cornstalks out of the way, and the path to the tunnel opening popped into view in the moonlight.
The clouds over Hongmei’s face fluttered like window curtains. In the deathly silence of the village, you could hear the breathing of each family’s dogs and chickens, like a spring emerging in the middle of a desert. Hongmei stared at the tunnel opening—noting the wooden frame, the pulley, and the rope extending into the tunnel, as well as the soil baskets and assorted tools scattered around the entrance. She fixed her gaze on my face.
I said, “Go down with me.”
I took the lamp and stepped into the tunnel, then led her inside. Once we were standing inside the tunnel, I kissed her face and said, “Hongmei, if you are able to find someone else who loves you as much as I do, I’ll die right before your eyes.” As I said this, I extended the lamp deeper into the tunnel, and in the lamplight the straight, warm tunnel resembled an enormous cloth bag fluttering in the wind.
The cloud that had previously hung over Hongmei’s face had now gone, to be replaced by a reddish-purple look of astonishment, visible in her forehead, eyes, eyebrows, nose, and puckered chin. Her mouth was half-open, as though she wanted to close it but was unable to, and on her lips was a smell of steel and catkins. She appeared to have been struck by some kind of magic, captured by a mysterious force. She stared in astonishment. She forgot whether it was daytime or nighttime and didn’t even know whether she was in heaven, hell, or the mortal world.
I said, “Follow me inside.”
She continued standing there, her face frozen.
I stepped further into the tunnel and said, “When it is completed, the tunnel will be 550 meters long.” I added, “After several dozen more meters, it will reach your house. Then, whenever we want to do that thing, we won’t need to go anywhere, we won’t need to worry that someone might see us, nor that the revolution doesn’t permit this kind of love. Instead, I’ll enter the tunnel from my house, and you can enter from yours. In the middle, there is a room with a bed. That way, we’ll be able to enjoy a conjugal relationship without fearing a thing.”
She continued staring in shock.
She simply couldn’t believe that anything could happen to our love—that our love could undergo a process of change, becoming even more beautiful. She couldn’t believe that the person standing in front of her was not only a great revolutionary figure but also an exceedingly rare kind of romantic. The lamp I was holding flickered, and the mud-like light shone onto her startled face. Appearing in relief against the tunnel’s mud walls, her white face began to flush. Her half-open mouth made it seem as if she wanted to say something but wasn’t able to get it out. She simply stood in the entrance, staring at me and gazing down the arrow-straight tunnel. It felt like she remained motionless for a year and stayed silent for a lifetime.
I once again bowed down and began to lead her forward. Although autumn had just ended, and the earth’s warmth had already begun to recede, the tunnel was filled with the warm and fragrant smell of earth, like the scent that people along the riverbank enjoy just before the wheat ripens. Hongmei followed me, stroking the tunnel walls and ceiling with her hand. Every ten steps or so, I would have her stop and stand up straight below one of the air holes. I told her where each air hole opened up: under whose courtyard walls, which hollow tree, or which millstone. I told her about the air hole that opened under the wall where Cheng Tianqing’s bed was located. I explained why the tunnel need
ed air holes, and why the air holes had to open into the cracks between the stones of the foundations of other people’s houses. I explained how I had been digging this tunnel for two years and a few days, how many baskets and shovels I had destroyed in the process, and how many loads of dirt I had dumped in the irrigation canal behind the village. I told her that if anyone were to come and inspect the canal, they would notice that many of the water plants had been covered in dirt. Fortunately, no one ever looked that closely, and the water plants grew quickly, soon emerging from under the soil that I dumped on them. I said, “Hongmei, listen! Every air hole is like a flute, and through them sometimes you can hear someone moving a bed or a table around, chopping wood or crushing stones, or the boisterous sound of family life.” I placed my head beneath the seventh air hole and said, “Hongmei, put your ear here and listen. We are now directly below Cheng Qinglin’s house.” However, Hongmei did not place her ear next to the air hole. Instead, standing in that space that was just barely big enough for two, but where it was possible to lift one’s head and straighten one’s back, she just stared at me in confusion. Her eyes tearing up like mountain springs, she said, “Aijun, let me see your hand.”
I extended my right hand, which was the one that wasn’t holding the lamp.
Hongmei used her fingertips to caress my callouses, as tears dripped from her eyes. (So beautiful and deep was my love, that even if it had just been for the sake of these tears, I would have felt that my tunnel had been worthwhile.) Her tears fell onto my wrists, like bugs crawling through my heart, making me feel as though my heart had been soaked in warm water. At this point, I found it difficult to control myself, and my veins were pounding as though they were about to explode. I wanted to proceed immediately to that eight- or nine-square-meter nuptial chamber with its earthen bed. However, when I tried to lead Hongmei further down the tunnel, I bumped my head against the ceiling, and pain washed over my feverish brain like a bucket of ice water.
