by Yan Lianke
They were all dreamwalking.
While dreamwalking, everyone was eating, drinking, and chatting.
Several plazas were surrounded by fountains, with their lights glittering brightly. As the columns of water from the fountains rose and fell, they emitted a jade-white and crystal-yellow light. In a flower pond that was half a mu in size, there was an array of yellow, green, and white lights, and consequently all of the goldfish were hiding in the shadows of the pond’s rockeries. At the twenty or so round dining tables and square mah-jongg tables that surrounded the pond, people were eating and drinking, while others were playing mah-jongg. The sound of them clinking cups as they toasted one another resembled the chaotic music of an opera. The mah-jongg tables were covered with dozens of wads of cash, with each wad containing ten thousand yuan—meaning that there must have been several tens or even hundreds of thousands of yuan on the tables. The drinkers were enjoying the world’s best baijiu, including Maotai and Wuliangye, and the bottles and liquor cups were scattered everywhere. It was unclear whether they were dreamwalking or simply drunk, but after toasting one another they proceeded to lie down on the tables and fall asleep, and as they slept they kept mumbling, “Damn it, I drank too much! I really drank too much!” The wives and other women were wearing pajamas that revealed their jade-white skin. They stood next to the men, watching them play cards and bringing them more money. When the men won, their faces shone like flower blossoms, and when they lost they resembled dishrags. There were also large, fat children running around with faces like wooden boards—yet, unlike their parents’, the children’s faces resembled recently split wood or freshly baked bricks. Some of the children were sleeping on their front steps, against their mother’s chest, or on their father’s lap. Their pink faces were covered in sweat, as though they had been sitting in hot water.
They were all asleep.
They were all dreaming.
It also seemed as though they were dreamwalking, like my parents.
Because it was so hot, all of the rich residents of this residential compound had emerged from their houses and were chatting happily, at which point they all began to feel drowsy and started to dreamwalk. In order to enjoy themselves, they had taken their wine and cigarettes outside, and each family asked their maid to cook some food and take it out to the courtyard. It turned out that even when dreamwalking, they were different from the villagers and townspeople. When villagers dreamwalked, they went to harvest and thresh their wheat, while also stealing, robbing, and killing. For the residents of this compound, however, dreamwalking consisted of eating, drinking, and playing mah-jongg. Some of them had their eyes open, while others had them half-closed. Some of them played mah-jongg in their sleep exactly as they would have had they been awake. They had their shirts off, and were wearing only an undershirt. There was also a charcoal seller I knew, who had removed both his shirt and his pants, and was wearing only a pair of underpants. He looked as if he had just rolled out of bed after having been doing it with his wife, and in front of him there was an array of three wine cups and three empty wine bottles. One woman, after drinking with a man, had removed her shirt and was wearing a pink-and-white bra embroidered with flowers and with a gold lining. Under her bra, her breasts were as plump as freshly baked buns coated in a layer of flour. There was the smell of alcohol and women’s fragrance everywhere, as well as the smell of flowing water and the sound of snoring in the middle of the night. Some of the men were sleeping on the side of the road, and next to them were the foreign suits and ties that only they wore. One man was wandering inside the compound like a specter, and with each step he would lower his foot very carefully, as though afraid he might step on a needle, a nail, or a rock. “They are dreamwalking, dreamwalking. Everyone is dreamwalking,” he said as he walked around, as though he were the only person still awake. “I definitely can’t allow myself to fall asleep and dreamwalk, because then what would I do if someone were to try to rob me?” Then he proceeded to wander around the outside of the compound until he reached the main entrance. “Where’s the guard? . . . Where’s the guard? . . . I should go warn the guard that, no matter how drowsy he might become, he absolutely mustn’t fall asleep. He mustn’t permit anyone from outside to enter, nor permit any of the compound’s nannies or other outsiders to leave.”
As he said this, he wandered back and forth between the compound’s front and back rows of houses. As he followed the path, he discovered he was unable to find the main entrance, or the guard stationed there.
I went over, wanting to tell him where the main entrance was and where the guard was, but when I reached him I discovered I didn’t want to say anything. I saw that he was a man, but for some reason he was holding a woman’s floral bra in his hand, like a pig holding a flower blossom in its mouth. When he looked in my direction, it was as though he couldn’t even see me, and I distanced myself from him as though from an inanimate log. As I headed toward Uncle’s house, which was the sixth house in the third row, I turned and saw that the man had bumped into something and fallen asleep on the ground.
My inability to find Uncle among that group of people who were eating, drinking, and playing mah-jongg was like being unable to find a certain pig in a passel. I followed a path lined with cypresses to the third row of houses, and when I reached one with a courtyard, I saw a middle-aged nanny open an iron gate and walk out. She was carrying a sack and was pulling a large suitcase. When she saw me she took a step back, but then—realizing that I had already seen her—she simply stood in front of me.
“It’s obvious you’re not from here.
“Just take something and leave. If the guard catches you, you’ll be punished in place of the actual thieves.”
As she said this, she hurried along, avoiding the lights and heading toward the compound’s northern entrance. She walked so quickly, it seemed as though the soles of her feet were made of nails and the road was covered in fire.
I saw a guard hide a suitcase in a grove of trees, and when he emerged he was clapping his hands and looking as though he were making his rounds.
I saw someone’s dog standing at the edge of a lawn and barking urgently. Meanwhile, the dog’s owner was sleeping on the lawn, snoring like thunder.
I quickened my pace until I was nearly flying. I knew that the compound was about to be ransacked. Those people from the town and neighboring villages wanted to steal and plunder, and they knew the residents were likely to be asleep or dreamwalking, and they also knew where their heavenly bank accounts could be found. Without saying a word or stopping to look around, I ran to Uncle’s villa. I ran so fast that the several-hundred-meter-long forest path seemed as short as a chopstick. In some of the houses the lights were on, while in others they were off. The front doors of some houses were locked, while in others the key had been left in the keyhole, as though waiting for thieves, robbers, and relatives from other families to come and use it.
I finally reached my uncle’s villa.
I paused in front of the sixth house in the third row, and wiped the sweat from my face. I hopped up those four steps, and leaped over the stainless steel railing beside the steps. I stood in front of Uncle’s front gate and called out to him, then pushed the gate upon and went inside as though stepping into a dream. Uncle wasn’t upstairs in the room they called a bedroom. My aunt wasn’t upstairs in the room they called a bedroom either. Only their child was upstairs asleep in the room they called a bedroom. The area they called a living room was as large as three normal-sized rooms. The light was so bright that you could see ants crawling across the floor as clearly as though they were cars driving up and down the road. The television was on and the walls were snowy white. The sofa was empty, and the sound from the television was reverberating through the room. The tea table was so cluttered that it resembled a market. In the living room, the bamboo plant and two flowerpots were watching the people who were busily squatting there—my uncle and my aunt, who were both topless and were wearing only slippers and un
derwear. They didn’t look at all like people from a rich household, and instead resembled the town’s poor. My aunt had prepared four dishes herself, as well as two bowls of soup—one of three-flavored egg drop soup and the other of shrimp, shredded meat, and pickled vegetable soup. The dishes and the soups were all placed and piled and arrayed on the market-like tea table. Uncle was big and tall, and when he squatted down he resembled a collapsed wall. Aunt was thin and small, and when she squatted beside the wall she resembled a freshly planted flower or shrub. When I entered, they were in the process of pouring a bottle of something or other onto the vegetable dishes and the soups, as though they were adding salt or MSG. Uncle was pouring it and Auntie was using chopsticks to mix it in. When they heard the door open, they both turned and stared at me in surprise, their faces a mixture of white, yellow, and yellowish-white. But that yellowish-white hue quickly faded, and their faces returned to their previous murky-sleepy state. They became shiny and stupefied like porcelain under the lamplight. “Didn’t you lock the door?” Uncle asked Auntie in a recriminatory tone, but he continued pouring the bottle over the dishes and soups as though scattering sesame seeds over a field. “I did, but the wind must have blown it open.” As Auntie said this, she continued mixing the dishes with her chopsticks. They were both so busy with what they were doing that it appeared they didn’t even see me—it was as though I were but a gust of wind, a tree, or a dreamscape that disappears in the blink of an eye.
“Uncle . . . Auntie . . . What are you doing? Something has happened in this compound, don’t you know?
“The world is falling apart, don’t you know?”
The room was so quiet, it seemed as though there wasn’t anyone there. It was as though I hadn’t even entered. Uncle continued carefully pouring whatever that was over the dishes and the soups, and Auntie continued stirring it up. As the sugar-like crystals fell onto the dish of scrambled eggs and dissolved, the eggs developed a trace of gray, appearing as though the eggs were slightly burned. “Don’t add too much, because then it won’t taste right.” . . . “Don’t worry that we’ll add too much. If we do, then as soon as they take a bite that will be the end of them, and it knocks off the possibility that they might wake up again after a long night of many dreams.” Then Uncle proceeded to add some more to one of the bowls of soup. As Uncle was adding the substance to the soup, he switched to a different bottle, which contained what looked like muddy water. From this bottle he added one splash, and another. And another, and another. “Don’t add any more, don’t add any more. If you do, it won’t taste right . . . If we add too much, then these sons and grandsons will immediately collapse as soon as they take a bite.” After he added the final splash, Uncle lifted the bottle up to the light. He saw that the bottle, which had previously been full, was now half empty. Under the lamplight, the bottle appeared dark yellow, and the portion that still contained liquid was dark brown. The edges of the bottle’s label were slightly curled, and a black skull and crossbones appeared in the upper center of the label, as though a bloody fingernail were stuck to it. I immediately recognized the skull and crossbones, and the word “dichlorvos” beneath it. It was at this point that I realized that the most significant development was actually unfolding right here inside my uncle’s villa, and not out in the compound’s main courtyard. “What are you doing? Uncle, Auntie, it is the middle of the night. Why aren’t the two of you asleep?” A cold breeze blew toward me from the tea table, and from where Uncle and Auntie were squatting. Initially, it appeared to be merely a breeze, but then it developed into a major burst of wind, and was so cold that I began shivering. As soon as I started shivering, I broke into a sweat. My shirt stuck to my back, and my forehead and eyes became filled with the hot, salty scent of sweat. There was also a sweet scent in the air, like saccharine water. I knew that the more it smelled of sweat, the stronger the poison was—and that this was the smell of the insecticide dichlorvos. I realized that the room’s increasingly sweet odor was the smell of poison crystals in the food.
“Uncle, Auntie, it’s the middle of the night and you still haven’t gone to bed. What are you doing?”
“Don’t say anything. If you’ve come, you can just sit over there.”
“Outside, there are people looting and stealing, and soon they will come here.”
“Huh?” Uncle finally looked at me. “If they come to steal from me, I’ll simply invite them to have some scrambled eggs and drink a bowl of three-flavored soup.” He laughed, and then, with Auntie, focused on adding the dichlorvos crystals to the remaining dishes. “This once-in-a-millennium somnambulism is truly a gift from heaven. Tonight, everyone who usually looks down on me will die.” I saw that the chopsticks with which Auntie was stirring the food were turning black from the poison, and the smile that floated over Uncle’s face as he was speaking resembled a yellow cloud. He added the poison to the food as though he were sowing seeds.
“Niannian, it’s good that you came. You came at just the right time. In a little while you can help your uncle take these dishes out to the courtyard. Put them wherever I tell you, and take the soup to whichever table I specify. The county’s Mayor Miao lives in this compound, but he has never spoken with either me or your aunt. The director of the department of civil affairs also lives in this compound, and has visited everyone’s house except ours. They all resent the fact that I work at the crematorium, and are afraid of being contaminated with the air of mourning and death. Even the damned director of the coal mine, who is himself dark and dirty, tries to avoid me whenever we run into each other in the street. All of them fucking look down on the crematorium—but if they can manage it, they are welcome to simply not die, and not need to be cremated in the first place. One of our neighbors struck it rich while gambling in the county seat, and another did so while stealing in Luoyang. I don’t look down on them for gambling and stealing, yet they resent me as a neighbor for being inauspicious, and consequently they sold their houses and moved to the front of the compound. But that’s fine. If they resent me, then tonight I’ll simply cook them some vegetables and soup.
“I’ll send all of them to the western heaven!
“After they have wept to the point that heaven itself has no more tears, their relatives will have to beg me to cremate them, and reduce them to ashes.
“After I cremate them, their relatives will still need to come bring me gifts, and say that we all live in the same compound and affirm that we are neighbors. When someone dies, they’ll ask that I burn the body completely, and not leave behind any intact arm or leg bones.
“It’s not that I won’t report them for what they’ve done, but rather that it’s simply not time yet. When the time comes, I, Shao Dacheng, will certainly have no choice but to report them!
“Niannian, come here. Take this dish of three-flavored soup to the table next to the fountain, where Mayor Miao is sitting. You’ve seen Mayor Miao before—he’s the thin, bald man. You don’t need to say anything, just place the serving bowl on the table and then serve a bowl of soup to each of the people sitting there. If anyone asks, you can say that you are from the second house in the first row. Actually, it doesn’t matter which house you say you are from, since they will all die after they drink the soup. At that point, they won’t know anything, and their troubles will be over. And then there are those who are playing mah-jongg. No one knows what business they are in, but they have even more money than I. After you deliver the soup, you can take them these vegetable dishes, with some bowls and chopsticks. I don’t need to curry favor with those who have money. And after they get tired of playing cards, you can take them this soup. You don’t need to say a word. They will start eating and drinking, and once they start eating and drinking, it won’t matter how much money they have.
“There is also this dish of greens. The high school principal is vegetarian, so you should serve him this.
“This dish . . . Niannian . . . Niannian . . .
“Niannian . . . Niannian . . .”
&
nbsp; The night became deeper. Uncle’s voice swept the night’s darkness out of the room. It tumbled down the stairs, like water flowing downward. It followed my footsteps, as though trying to drown me.
4. (5:11–5:15)
As Uncle was mumbling to himself, I took the opportunity to leave his house. I ran toward the compound’s main entrance, and as I proceeded I heard footsteps pounding behind me like war drums. As I ran, I didn’t think about anything. In my mind, there was only one thought, which was planted there like a tree: “Daming and the others have to arrive soon. Daming, come quick and bring the others to rob my uncle’s place. Steal his money and his things. You can take whatever you want. All of Auntie’s jewelry is in the cabinet at the head of her bed, and Uncle’s money is hidden inside the wall on the other side of his bedroom. Daming, come quick. Come quick and rob Uncle’s villa.” As I ran, I shouted to myself, and the sound of my feet crawled up my throat like a snake. The sky was bluish-gray and the ground was murky-gray. The world would be dreamlike, if dreams themselves were so poisoned. The light across the street was burning brightly, as though the sun were still suspended there. The surrounding brick wall was three meters high, and the top of the wall was covered in barbed wire and shards of glass. Between the two marble gateposts there was a large iron gate, which was locked, and inside it there was a smaller door, which was also locked. Of the two night guards, one was asleep in the doorway, and I didn’t know where the other one was. When I reached the doorway, I saw Daming and the others arriving. It was unclear where they had left their motorized cart. Each of the four men was carrying a sack, and they were also carrying an assortment of iron and wooden poles. They stood in the entranceway, unsure of how to enter the compound. When they saw me standing in the entranceway to the compound, it was as though they had seen a monkey escaped from its cage. They stared at me with a suspicious expression.
