The Day the Sun Died

by Yan Lianke

  We stared at one another through the iron gate for several seconds.

  Then, I went and pressed a button in one of the columns, whereupon the gate swung open. The two worlds became one.

  “Brother Daming, my uncle doesn’t live in the second row; he lives in the sixth house in the third row.

  “My uncle’s money isn’t kept in a chest or a cabinet; it’s kept in an iron safe that is hidden in the wall of his bedroom on the second floor.

  “My aunt’s jewelry is in a red silk pouch that she keeps in the third drawer of the cabinet at the head of her bed.

  “Brother Daming, hurry up and come in, then go to my uncle’s villa, which is the sixth house in the third row. You can take advantage of the fact that my aunt and uncle are both dreamwalking, and tie them to chairs the same way you did my parents. Then, you can steal whatever you want.

  “Come in, come in! What are you staring at? It was precisely because I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to enter that I took a shortcut and hurried here so that I could open the gate for you.”

  A look of surprise and delight fluttered like a piece of silk fabric over the faces of Daming and his cousins, who were still standing outside the gate. It was only after I finished what I had to say and stepped out through the gate that they finally attempted to come inside. As they brushed past me, I looked again at Daming’s face. He pressed a flashlight into my hand, and I turned and shouted to them,

  “It’s the sixth house in the third row. You must go only to my uncle’s villa, and not anyone else’s!

  “Brother Daming, remember you absolutely mustn’t taste any of the food or soup that my uncle and aunt prepared, because if you do, you will die!”

  My shouts hovered like a song in the night air over my head. The footsteps of Daming and his cousins accompanied my shouts like rhythmic music. I returned to town, while the others headed into the compound. “Regardless of what we end up finding, we’ll make sure to set aside a portion for you and your family. I, Sun Daming, can personally guarantee this, so Niannian, you can rest easy.” This was the last thing Daming said as he entered the compound, and even today, when I remember this, I feel delighted and thrilled—as though Brother Daming’s shouts were a bucket of ice water dumped over my head in the middle of summer.

  BOOK NINE

  Post-Geng: The Birds All Die in the Heart of the Night

  1. (5:16–5:30)

  The night became deeper and deeper.

  The birds all died in the heart of the night.

  It seemed as though I had spent the entire night running around. I suddenly became a bit drowsy and felt my legs swell up. The night road was murky, and its stern face unfolded at my feet. The heat in the fields was replaced by coolness, as the earth’s final traces of warmth gradually dissipated. It was like the aftermath of a tantrum: a kind of dissipation unfolded across the villages and throughout the vast silence.

  I could see the streetlamps in distant villages.

  I could hear the rumbling of cars in distant streets.

  That night, a smell of unease continued to pervade the entire land. But that smell seemed both weaker and stronger than before. I knew that people always feel sleepiest just before the sun is about to come up, and it is precisely when people feel sleepiest that they are most likely to dreamwalk. I walked away from the western wall of this scenic compound. The original road was still waiting for me, and the dark was also still waiting for me. I went to the riverside to wash my face and drink some water. As I was passing over the bridge, I gazed out at the river, and saw the water’s bright light and heard its clear sound. I remembered how, earlier, a couple were doing couple things under a tree on the river’s opposite bank, and I was oddly reminded of Juanzi, the young woman responsible for cleaning the crematorium. If only she were pretty. If only she didn’t have buckteeth. If only she could read . . . I began walking faster. As I thought about her, I no longer felt sleepy. So, it turned out that Juanzi was capable of dispelling sleepiness and providing energy. I thought about Juanzi in a deep, remote area. I imagined the two of us doing that sort of couple thing, and doing it in this night’s vast wilderness. I imagined this until my hands, forehead, and entire body were covered in sweat, as though I were really embracing her. The couple were no longer where I had seen them. They weren’t on the side of the road, nor were they under the tree. When I reached that location, I looked under the tree and listened, and the stillness rushed toward me, such that it seemed as though I could see and hear the bare footsteps of the silent night. I shone my flashlight on the matted grass where the couple had been lying. There was a box of matches, as well as a woman’s hair clip.

  I was once again reminded of one of Yan Lianke’s novels. This work was as rough as one of Gaotian’s early adobe houses, but this was precisely the sort of novel I liked to read. In fact, I had already read this particular work countless times, and could even recite many passages from memory.

  At this point, he again removed his clothes and quickly put them away in her cabinet, as though putting them aside forever. Completely naked, they locked the front gate as well as the house’s front and back doors. It was as if they had entered a different world. There was an unprecedented sense of relaxation, which made them feel an unprecedented sense of happiness and freedom. They embraced each other. She wanted to stroke him down there, so she continually reached down, like a mother tenderly caressing her baby. He wanted to kiss here down there, and she permitted him to do so, as though he were kissing a statue. They pursued their hearts’ desires, without any inhibitions or restraint. Whenever they began to get tired, they would sit down to rest, and she would either sit down on him or else he would rest his legs on her thighs. They would either sit or lie on the ground, or else he would rest his head on her waist or her belly. He had just gotten his hair cut short, and when the stubble brushed against the tender parts of her inner thighs where the sun never shone, it gave her a pleasurable tingling sensation that she couldn’t put into words, and whenever he slightly moved his head, that tingling sensation would increase. Because of this, she would produce a mature woman’s crisp laugh. Her laughter grew louder, then faded, and finally it would arouse his hidden male instinct, and he would once again begin caressing her body. Acting as if she were a child again, she ran around the room, and when she began to tire and he caught her, she would be taken by him, as he would endlessly do that sort of couple thing on her body. She permitted him to plow clouds and sow rain on her body, fornicating crazily like a goatherd running crazily through the fields.

  As I remembered this passage, my steps grew lighter. I felt the sun was about to come up, and the great somnambulism was about to end. As soon as the sun came up, temporal order would again be restored.

  But the sun didn’t come up.

  It really didn’t. The night was as deep as a dark well, and we remained as far from daybreak as the Qing dynasty was from the Tang dynasty.

  That night’s catastrophe seemed to have just started. It seemed as though the world had only just fallen into a state of somnambulism. For all of the earth’s villages and towns, the chaos had only just arrived. When I turned from the path onto the main road, I saw many cars and tractors taking people from the mountains to the town. The headlights of both the cars and the tractors resembled columns extending into space, and their rumblings resembled a hammer shattering stones. In the lamplight, I could see that the people inside those cars were holding hoes, shovels, pitchforks, and axes, and hanging from the hoes and shovels were an assortment of burlap sacks, cloth bags, and sheets and bedcovers that could be used to carry bundles—as if they were going somewhere to fight a battle and, in the process, clean up the battlefield.

  The people were having an uprising.

  The people were dreamwalking.

  While still asleep, the people were driving cars and heroically heading into town. Their faces were bright red, and they didn’t look at all drowsy. As for the passengers in the cars, they were mostly strong, young men
, but there were also some young women in the group. The young women were carrying baskets and crates, as though they were going to divide up the grain harvest. I knew that the world was in tumult, and had been turned upside down on this night of the great somnambulism. Those who were not dreamwalking took advantage of the general somnambulism to make trouble, and there were more people pretending to dreamwalk than there were actual dreamwalkers. Everyone was using the general somnambulism as a pretext to rob and steal—the same way that people might take advantage of a popular uprising to wage war, or take advantage of a war in order to make a profit.

  I thought I must be only a few steps away from town, and from home, but after having carried me back and forth along this road all night, my calves felt as heavy as lead and my legs felt as if they were dead. I trudged toward home, and when I reached the intersection at the edge of town, I saw that the cars, tractors, and motorized carts were stopped there. People had gotten out of their vehicles, and they were holding flashlights and lanterns. They were grouped based on their village or clan, and each group was in animated conversation while waiting for instructions. Some people were stomping their feet and cursing the others, saying, “Hurry up, Hurry up! Let’s go into town. If we don’t go into town, the others will wake up and we’ll lose our chance to steal anything.”

  The sound of voices flowed, like water through a newly opened sluice.

  The sound of the crowds walking back and forth was like water flowing through a newly opened sluice.

  I walked through those vehicles and crowds like a mouse running under people’s feet. I saw that the weapons everyone was carrying were not ordinary farming tools, but rather real knives, large hammers, and even hunting rifles. One large group came running over, followed by another. When I reached the entrance to the town, I saw that the townspeople had stopped dreamwalking and were now sound asleep. The streets were quiet, the houses were quiet, and even the shops that had been robbed and left with their windows and doors wide open were quiet. Some people walked over from the main street, but it was unclear whether they were awake or dreamwalking. They walked very slowly, appearing to have no inkling that the town was on the verge of a great calamity. All of the visitors had gathered at the town entrance. They exclaimed:

  “A battle of thievery has surrounded the town, and is about to overtake the town itself.”

  “A murderous war is anxiously waiting just outside town.”

  I was no longer sleepy, and my eyelids no longer felt unbearably heavy. I had already returned from the dreamworld to a state where I could see the world very clearly. My calves, which had fallen asleep, regained sensation. I walked briskly through the town entrance, and began to run as soon as I was through it. By the time I reached the main road, I was sprinting so fast it was as though I were flying through the air.

  “Outsiders have come to rob our town!

  “Outsiders have come to rob our town!”

  I shouted as I ran, with my shouts echoing like the cries of an ox about to be slaughtered—as though the blade were being held to the ox’s throat. But not a single person in the town’s houses and streets woke up in response to my screams. The people had already died—they had died in their sleep. After awakening from their dreamwalking, they were pushed back into sleep and died. Or else they heard my shouts and assumed they were the crazed shouts of a dreamwalker. Continuing to shout as I ran, I dashed through the deep night until I reached my home. Upon seeing the light in the doorway of the New World funerary shop, I came to a stop and, facing the street, shouted frantically:

  “Outsiders are coming to rob the town!

  “Outsiders are coming to rob the town!”

  After shouting this twice, I decided there was no need to continue. I simply couldn’t continue. A voice emerged from my family’s store: “Fuck your grandmother, what is all this shouting about?” Then someone kicked me in the rear, almost lifting me into the air. As I was still reeling from the kick, someone pulled me into my house, where I saw a group of men in a configuration similar to the one in which I had found Sun Daming and his cousins. There were several half-filled bags and sacks, and the men were standing unhappily in the center of the room. My parents were kneeling in the center of the room, and behind them were two burly young men. The floor was covered in shredded wreaths and floral ornaments. My parents were kneeling in the middle of all of those blossoms and pieces of paper as though kneeling in a funeral hall. The men standing behind them were as expressionless as funeral directors, their faces betraying neither joy nor sadness. They appeared to be awake, and their eyes were open. One young man—who had a fierce look and a mole on his shoulder, and whose face became dark when he was upset—came into the room screaming and shouting. It was his foot that had kicked me in the rear, and it was he who had pulled me inside. He pushed me toward my parents. “This is your son, isn’t it?” My parents stared in alarm, then nodded and said the same thing they had said to Sun Daming: “He’s still a boy, you mustn’t hurt him.” My parents were about to plead, but were cut short by the men standing behind them.

  “Where are your family’s valuables?”

  It was this question again.

  “Where do your parents hide their money?”

  It was this question again.

  Like Sun Daming, the man with the mole on his shoulder used his left arm to put me in a choke hold, while grabbing my shoulder with his other hand. “If you tell me where they are, I’ll let you go. If you tell us where they are, we’ll simply grab some things and leave.” Unlike Daming, however, these men weren’t wearing masks, nor did they choke me while waiting for me to speak, nor had they tied my parents to chairs. They were outsiders, and weren’t worried that other townspeople might recognize them. While waiting for me to speak, they even patted my shoulder, like brothers, to express a friendly warning.

  So, I spoke.

  I had no choice but to speak.

  What I said pleased them, but alarmed my parents.

  “My uncle’s villa has many things.

  “My uncle’s villa has money and jewelry, but someone has already gone there to rob it.

  “All of the residents of my uncle’s compound are very rich. Every family has lots of money. Given that their compound is so close to this town, if you don’t go there after having come here, you will have wasted a trip.”

  The men stared in surprise, as if I had woken them from their dream. My mother and father also stared at me, as though I had been talking in my sleep. The atmosphere in the room became tense. They were all so surprised that the delight on their faces was replaced with a look of shock. “Where the hell is this place you are talking about?” . . . “I’m talking about the scenic compound. If you don’t go steal from there, you will have wasted your trip. My uncle lives in that compound. His is the sixth house in the third row, and anything you take from his house is guaranteed to be worth a lot more than anything you could possibly find here. His television is as large as a table, and his tables and chairs are all solid mahogany. You know how valuable mahogany is, don’t you?”

  There was no response.

  Not even a peep.

  The house was so quiet that you could even hear the breathing of the funerary flowers. Father’s face was as pale as the paper in the wreaths. Mother’s face was also as pale as the paper in the wreaths. My parents stared at me as though I wasn’t their true son, but rather an unfilial son or grandson. The man with a mole on his shoulder gestured toward the others, and they all gazed at him, waiting for him to speak.

  “Why didn’t we think of this?”

  As the man with the mole mumbled to himself, he released his grip on my throat and shoulder, then gently pushed me forward. In doing so, he indicated that everything was OK—that it was all over, and they were going to leave. Then he nodded, and the others picked up their sacks and headed for the door. It was over. It was indeed all over. The robbery had concluded. But at this moment, the man with the mole suddenly remembered something. He stopped, tu
rned around, and looked at me.

  “What is your uncle’s name?”

  “Shao Dacheng.”

  A look of alarm flickered over the man’s face. He stood in front of my parents. “You must be Li Tianbao, Shao Dacheng’s brother-in-law? And you are Shao Dacheng’s crippled sister?”

  My father nodded.

  My mother also nodded.

  And that was that. The situation no longer continued along the path it had been following. The situation suddenly started all over again. The man threw down the sack he had been carrying, and viciously kicked my father in the chest. “Motherfucker, I’ve finally found you!” He stomped on my father’s legs. “So, it was you who harmed my father and my entire family! It’s your fault that for the past several years my family has experienced nothing but misfortune.” Roaring and stomping his feet, the man slapped my father’s face. Then, without waiting for my father to process what was happening, he slapped my mother’s as well. “Your brother is a pig, a dog. He isn’t even human. And since you are his sister, you’ll have to be slapped several times as well.”

  He slapped her like crazy.

  He cursed her like crazy.

  I stared in astonishment, and just as I was about to beg him to stop hitting her, the others grabbed me, as though they, too, realized what was happening. My sense of filial duty became frozen with fear, and I simply stared in alarm. Without resisting, I permitted the other young men to pin me to the ground. Everything happened as quickly as a car running over someone’s head and splitting the skull open, such that the person dies without even making a sound. The man with a mole on his shoulder continued slapping my mother and kicking