Hard Like Water

by Yan Lianke

  That winter, Hongmei became a zombie in the revolution, a live clay figurine in our love, and a true sympathizer of the Chenggang villagers. That is to say, she contracted a case of revolutionary depression. As her leader, as her revolutionary guide who had vowed to die with her, as her comrade and lover who had endured hardship with her—I had a responsibility to rescue her from this depression. I knew that for sick revolutionaries, the best medicine was more revolution, and if she had stumbled in revolution, she would get back to her feet in revolution. During a non-wartime period, the primary mode of revolution is struggle, and the primary mode of struggle is attending meetings. Whether or not one is permitted to speak at meetings, whether one is permitted to criticize others or be criticized by others—this kind of struggle may help eradicate the revolutionary’s symptoms.

  To this end, I repeatedly encouraged Hongmei to attend meetings—arranging for her attend as many as possible in my stead, while also pushing her to the podium on all the occasions where she was permitted to speak on my behalf. During the second lunar month, at the end of winter, the county issued the town some cheap urea fertilizer. This was Japanese-produced urea, and it came in nylon sacks. In accordance with custom, the town distributed the urea to each production brigade, which in turn distributed it to each production team. After all the urea had been distributed, the town collected the empty sacks and distributed them to the relatives of soldiers, revolutionary martyrs, and elders covered by the five social guarantees. We had already drawn up a plan for distributing the urea and the empty sacks. Apart from the relatives of soldiers and revolutionary martyrs, and the Five Guarantees households, every family’s urea sack was just large enough to make a pair of pants or a dyed shirt. The plan was to distribute the remaining sacks to Party cadres, those who were the backbone of the revolution, and to other active participants in class struggle. But just at that moment, the town convened a grassroots expansion meeting, which was enlarged to include every production team’s leader. At this meeting, Mayor Wang, without waiting for Party committee investigation, decided on his own accord to announce the previous year’s average summer and autumn grain-production figures, writing them on an enormous white sheet of paper that he then posted in the town’s meeting hall. On this sheet, it was reported that, the previous year, the Chenggang production brigade had produced only 210 jin of wheat and 290 jin of corn per mu (we relaxed the manure-collection movement that year), which averaged out to an annual production of 190 jin per capita, making every daily work-point allotment (ten points) worth only seventeen cents. That is to say, if a laborer worked for a full day, he would earn only seventeen cents and would be issued only a total of six liang of coarse and refined grain. (Our Chenggang production brigade was the socialist collective that consumed the most returned grain—or grain resold by the state back to the site of production.)

  Our bridgade had the lowest productivity of the entire town, while the brigade with the second-lowest reported that it had yielded an average of 320 jin of grain per mu, paying thirty-five cents per work point. The highest productivity could be found in the Wangjiayu Village production brigade deep in the Balou Mountains, which produced 427 jin per mu and paid fifty-one cents per work point. The Party branch secretary of the Wangjiayu production brigade was none other than the Zhao Xiuyu whom I mentioned previously, and Wangjiayu Village was also Mayor Wang’s home. I let Hongmei represent the Chenggang production brigade at this meeting. The meeting was initially scheduled to run for a day and a half, with participants’ room and board organized by the town government. During the first half-day, participants would study political documents; during the second half-day Mayor Wang would summarize recent revolutionary activities and production levels; and during the third half-day there would be a general discussion. In the afternoon of the first day, when it was Mayor Wang’s turn to offer his summary, he posted the tally sheet in the meeting hall, whereupon the cadres of the other production brigades all exploded. When they saw that although the “New Yan’an” revolution was already in full swing in Chenggang, its average per capita grain allotment was only 190 jin and its average daily work-point allocations were worth only seventeen cents, everyone stared intently at Hongmei. More importantly, after Mayor Wang finished reading from the chart, he announced, “In order to realize Chairman Mao’s directive to pursue revolution and promote production, this spring everyone should take half of their fertilizer and their relief grain and donate them to the production brigades and production teams whose grain productivity exceeds 350 jin per mu, while those production brigades whose productivity exceeds 400 jin per mu will be awarded at least sixty jin of relief grain and fifty bags of cheap urea.”

  The meeting hall erupted in excitement, as everyone gazed jealously at Wangjiayu’s Secretary Zhao Xiuyu.

  During the rest break, Hongmei left the meeting hall.

  “Wang Zhenhai is openly insulting our Chenggang production brigade,” she announced.

  Hongmei had returned to the production brigade and found me (why did I go to the production brigade department that day?), and said, “Wang Zhenhai announced to all the other production brigades that we are a false model—like an inedible image of a fried pancake reflected in a mirror or a lusterless reflection of the moon in a pool of water.”

  Because of the fervor and subsequent decline of our love, we had already placed the struggle to displace Mayor Wang on the slow track, for we had never expected that, during the busy autumn period, he would give me and Hongmei an additional storm to contend with. This confirmed the saying that in revolutionary struggle, if you don’t defeat your enemy, your enemy will defeat you, and if you give your enemy an opportunity to breathe and grow out his feathers, he will lunge at you like an eagle. If we are given less fertilizer, how will we ever be able to engage in production in the spring? If we are given less relief grain, how will our people eat? As Hongmei was giving me these updates, I was folding up a sheet of paper. While doing so, I told her coldly yet firmly, “Class conflict cannot be reconciled, and struggle definitely cannot be halted.” Hongmei replied, “This is a case of ‘Wang Zhenhai giving us a new road to follow.’ We have already distributed urea sacks to all the commune members, and if now the higher-ups don’t issue us more fertilizer, how will we be able to explain it to the poor and lower-middle peasants and to the class activists?!”

  I can’t recall exactly why I went to the production brigade that day, but in any event, I sat down at the table and began slowly folding up the papers that were sitting there, as though I couldn’t hear a word Hongmei was saying.

  Hongmei said, “Gao Aijun, why don’t you say something? You used to go on and on every day about how you wanted to topple Mayor Wang, and how you yourself wanted to be released from production, like him. However, the past two or three years I haven’t heard you mention any of this. Mayor Wang dares to behave tyrannically toward you, pissing and shitting on your head, yet you don’t dare respond with even a fart.”

  I continued staring at the papers in my hand, folding them even after they couldn’t be folded any more (I was studiously attempting to present the appearance that everything was OK). I continued until I had folded a sheet of paper into a perfect cube.

  Hongmei became anxious. She grabbed the papers I was holding and threw them down onto the table, and said, “Gao Aijun, don’t you call yourself a revolutionary and political genius? Now you must go out and engage in revolution. You have to go out and give advice to the masses. You have to go out and declare war against Wang Zhenhai. So, why are you sitting here without saying a word? Is it because you don’t dare to come forward? Are you afraid that you wouldn’t be able to defeat him? Is it because you feel helpless?”

  As Hongmei said this, her face began to regain its earlier brightness and agitation, and once again had the restless excitement it used to have whenever we discussed revolution. I could see how the revolutionary medicine was having an effect on her—and particularly on the depressive state into which she had sunk wh
en the revolutionary struggle encountered a setback—or perhaps she, as a young and attractive female Party branch secretary, felt humiliated by Wang Zhenhai. I stood up and, grinding my foot in the ground, said, “Damn it, it turns out that different classes cannot be reconciled with one another. If you don’t put him to death, he will eventually aim his gun at you.”

  I added, “Hongmei, it’s not that those acts will go unanswered but rather that it’s simply not time yet. When the time is right, we’ll definitely take action. At the moment, Wang Zhenhai is once again shooting bullets at our Chenggang production brigade, precisely when you and I are upset. But you’re right—we can’t just sit here and act as if nothing is happening, turning a blind eye toward his callousness.”

  I added, “Hongmei, you should return to the meeting hall and carefully observe Wang Zhenhai and Zhao Xiuyu. I simply can’t believe that there isn’t something going on between them. Wang Zhenhai’s wife is paralyzed and is unable to do it. I simply can’t believe that, under those circumstances, that bastard Wang Zhenhai could be such a saint.”

  Hongmei stared at me without moving.

  I said, “Go on. You should eat lunch at the meeting hall. The most important thing right now is to observe Wang Zhenhai, because if we can find any evidence that there is something going on between him and Zhao Xiuyu, we’ll be able to bring him down for good.”

  Half-skeptical, yet energetic, Hongmei walked away.

  The next time Hongmei returned from the meeting hall, it was in the afternoon. We once again met up in the production brigade, and sitting at the table with elm legs and a willow top, which on several occasions we had used as a bed, I asked, “How’s it going?” She responded somewhat mysteriously, “There have been some unexpected developments. While we were eating lunch, Mayor Wang took several pieces of meat from his own bowl and placed them into Zhao Xiuyu’s. Zhao Xiuyu said, ‘I don’t want any, I don’t want any,’ but Mayor Wang said, ‘Don’t worry. People like me who are able to leave the commune have more opportunity to eat meat than those of you who remain here in the mountains.’”

  I asked, “Did Mayor Wang give anyone else any meat?”

  Hongmei said, “I didn’t see him do so.”

  I became rather excited, and asked, “Was there anything else?”

  Hongmei said, “When the meeting concluded, Mayor Wang stood in the entrance to the government building and bid farewell to each production brigade’s Party branch secretary. I feel that he shook Zhao Xiuyu’s hand particularly firmly and held it for an unusually long time.”

  I asked, “When they were shaking hands, did Zhao Xiuyu blush?”

  Hongmei replied somewhat regretfully, “At the time, I was standing behind her and couldn’t see her face clearly, but I felt that Mayor Wang’s eyes were particularly bright.”

  I said, “Fuck his ancestors! I’m two hundred percent certain that they’re having an affair.”

  She replied, “They aren’t necessarily having an actual affair, but it’s clear that Mayor Wang is unusually affectionate with Secretary Zhao.”

  I said, “You don’t understand men. They’re definitely having an affair.” Then I asked, “What did they say when they departed?”

  Hongmei reflected and then said, “Wang Zhenhai held Zhao Xiuyu’s hand and said, ‘Xiuyu, you should still proceed with that matter as I instructed, and if you run into any problems, you can simply put the blame on me.’ Zhao Xiuyu replied, ‘Mayor Wang, where we live, the mountains are high and the emperor is far away, and if I run into any problems, I won’t drag you in.’”

  I pounded the table with my fist, knocking the only empty water bottle onto the floor. “And what is ‘that matter’? If it isn’t a sexual relationship, then what else could it be? This clearly reveals that Mayor Wang’s relationship with Zhao Xiuyu is out of the ordinary.” I added, “Hongmei, Chairman Mao put it well when he said that the only thing the Communist Party fears is conscientiousness. As long as we are conscientious, there is nothing that we can’t accomplish. Chairman Mao also said that anti-revolutionaries appear in disguise, giving people a false appearance. However, given that they are anti-revolutionaries, they are unable to completely conceal their real appearance, and inevitably the day will come when they will reveal their fox tail. If we are conscientious, then as soon as Mayor Wang reveals his fox tail, we’ll have no choice but to seize it and pull him off the political stage.”

  Hongmei said, “Aijun, in order to catch an adulterer, you have to catch the pair. At the very least, someone will need to write us a disclosure letter.”

  I smiled and grabbed Hongmei’s hand.

  “Fuck his grandmother! Tomorrow you should borrow ten yuan from the production brigade’s accountant. As Yang Zirong said, ‘If you aren’t willing to enter the tiger’s lair, how do you expect to capture the tiger?’ The two of us should pay a visit to Mayor Wang’s home in Wangjiayu Village, and there we’ll be able to get the material for a disclosure letter.”

  The next day, we went to Wangjiayu Village, deep in the Balou Mountains, where we proceeded to carry out an even deeper and broader class struggle.

  Chapter 10

  The Great Victory

  1. Going behind Enemy Lines (I)

  To eliminate the devils, we went behind enemy lines.

  In a class-based society, revolution and revolutionary war are unavoidable, because otherwise there would be no way to make the leap of societal development or to overthrow the reactionary ruling class and let the common people gain political power.

  The revolution is the People’s revolution, and only by mobilizing the masses will it be possible to carry out a revolution.

  (Hongmei, did you bring enough money?

  (I brought fifty yuan, which should be enough. If I want to build a house, I should be able to build a tile-roofed one.

  (This time we’ve burned all our bridges. If we purchase anything, we should buy back several copies of Mayor Wang’s certificate.

  (This is such a long trip, and we don’t even know whether or not the people of Wangjiayu Village will denounce Mayor Wang.

  (Relax! I don’t believe it’s possible for someone to never commit a mistake and never betray anyone, but as long as you have money, you needn’t worry about inciting the masses.) What is the true iron bastion? It is the masses—the millions of masses who truly support the revolution. This is the true iron bastion, which no force can topple. Anti-revolutionaries cannot topple us, because we will topple them. Millions of people will gather around an enlightened revolutionary leader and help promote the great revolution, thereby allowing us to seize political power and claim victory.

  China’s revolution is, at its essence, a peasant revolution.

  In using this foundation to pursue a long-term revolutionary struggle, we cannot ignore the perspective of the remote rural districts that are currently serving as revolutionary bases. The more remote a rural village is, the easier it will be to mobilize the peasants. This is the particular advantage of China’s villages and villagers. However, it would be incorrect and unfortunate for us to ignore the perspective of the peasants who are actually doing the difficult work.

  From 1927 to the present, our emphasis has been on the countryside, and we have used the countryside to surround the cities, such that we’ll finally be able to seize the cities and their political power.

  (Aijun, my legs are exhausted, and I’m dying of thirst.

  (I’ll get you some water. Just wait here.

  (Why don’t you carry me for a while? There’s no one else around.

  (Carry you?! Did Jiang Qing ever dare to have Chairman Mao carry her? Did Ye Qun ever dare to have Lin Biao carry her?

  (Then just kiss me.

  (It’s been a long time since you asked me to kiss you. It seems your revolutionary depression has finally been cured.

  (Mayor Gao, you should shave.

  (If I grow a beard, then maybe when I see Zhao Xiuyu she won’t recognize me, since we’ve only seen each other o
nce or twice before.

  (I don’t believe your per-mu grain production could possibly reach five hundred jin. Are your fields piled high with fertilizer?

  (If the soil is good, it’s not impossible to have a good harvest.

  (If only we could mobilize Zhao Xiuyu, we wouldn’t worry about not being able to overthrow Mayor Wang.

  (Last night I dreamed I was able to knock down a tree with a single punch, and with another punch I was able to knock a hole in Cheng Temple’s rear courtyard wall. Today, we’ll definitely achieve success at the Wangjiayu Village meeting. We’ll definitely achieve great success.

  (Did you dream of me?