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"Let's go! Old Guo's wife has fermented-bean-curd-and-oil fritters waiting for us."
They crossed the bridge, heading north, their footsteps sounding like an avalanche. The rock flooring, creaking and shifting, could have come crashing down at any moment. Or so it seemed to me.
The quiet returned.
Father nudged me. "Don't stand there like an idiot. Let's do it."
I looked around me, but nothing made sense. Even my own father seemed familiar, but I couldn't place him.
"Huh?" I'm sure that's all I managed to say: "Huh?"
"Have you forgotten?" Father said. "We're here to get a cure for your grandmother. We have to move fast, before the body snatchers show up."
The words were still echoing in my ears when I spotted seven or eight wild dogs, of a variety of colors, dragging their long shadows up off the riverbed in our direction; they were baying at us. All I could think of was how they had turned and fled at the first gunshot, accompanied by their own terrified barks.
I watched Father kick loose several bricks and fling them at the approaching dogs. They scurried out of the way. Then he took a carving knife out from under his coat and waved it in the air to threaten the dogs. Beautiful silvery arcs of light flashed around Father's dark silhouette. The dogs kept their distance for the time being. Father tightened the cord around his waist and rolled up his sleeves. "Keep an eye out for me," he said.
Like an eagle pouncing on its prey, Father dragged the women's bodies away, then rolled Ma Kuisan over so he was facing up. Then he fell to his knees and kowtowed to the body. "Second Master Ma," he intoned softly, "loyalty and filiality have their limits. I hate to do this to you."
I watched Ma Kuisan reach up and wipe his bloody face. "Zhang Qude," he had said with the trace of a smile, "you will not die in bed."
Father tried to unbutton Ma Kuisan's leather coat with one hand but was shaking too much to manage. "Hey, Second Son," I heard him say, "hold the knife for me."
I recall reaching out to take the knife from him, but he was already holding it in his mouth as he struggled with the yellow buttons down Ma Kuisan's chest. Round, golden yellow, and as big as mung beans, they were nearly impossible to separate from the cloth loops encircling them. Growing increasingly impatient, Father ripped them loose and jerked the coat open, revealing a white kid-skin lining. A satin vestlike garment had the same kind of buttons, so Father ripped them loose, too. After the vest came a red silk stomacher. I heard Father snort angrily. I have to admit that I was surprised when I saw the strangely alluring clothing the fat old man-he was over fifty-wore under his regular clothes. But Father seemed absolutely irate; he ripped the thing off the body and flung it to one side. Now at last, Ma Kuisan's rounded belly and flat chest were out in the open. Father reached out his hand but then jumped to his feet, his face the color of gold. "Second Son," he said, "tell me if he's got a heartbeat."
I recall bending over and laying my hand on the chest. It was no stronger than a rabbit's, but that heart was still beating.
"Second Master Ma," my father said, "your brains have spilled out on the ground, and even the Jade Emperor couldn't save you now, so help me be a filial son, won't you?"
Father took the knife from between his teeth and moved it up and down the chest area, trying to find the right place to cut. I saw him press down, but the skin sprang back undamaged, like a rubber tire. He pressed down again with the same result. Father fell to his knees. "Second Master Ma, I know you didn't deserve to die, but if you've got a bone to pick, it's with Chief Zhang, not me. I'm just trying to be a filial son."
Father had pressed down with the knife only twice, but already his forehead was all sweaty, the stubble on his chin white with icy moisture. The damned wild dogs were inching closer and closer to us-their eyes were red as hot coals, the fur on their necks was standing straight up, like porcupine quills, and their razor-sharp fangs were bared. I turned to Father. "Hurry, the dogs are coming."
He stood up, waved the knife above his head, and charged the wild dogs like a madman, driving them back about half the distance an arrow flies. Then he ran back, breathless, and said loudly, "Second Master, if I don't cut you open, the dogs will do it with their teeth. I think you'd rather it be me than them."
Father's jaw set, his eyes bulged. With a sense of determination, he brought his hand down; the knife cut into Ma Kuisan's chest with a slurping sound, all the way to the hilt. He jerked the knife to the side, releasing a stream of blackish blood, but the rib cage stopped his motion. "I lost my head," he said as he pulled the knife out, wiped the blade on Ma Kuisan's leather coat, gripped the handle tightly, and opened Ma Kuisan's chest.
I heard a gurgling noise and watched the knife slice through the fatty tissue beneath the skin and release the squirming, yellowish intestines into the opening, like a snake, like a mass of eels; there was a hot, fetid smell.
Fishing out the intestines by the handful, Father looked like a very agitated man: he pulled, and he tugged; he cursed, and he swore; and finally, he ran out of intestines, leaving Ma Kuisan with a hollow abdomen.
"What are you looking for, Father?" I recall asking him anxiously.
"The gall bladder. Where the hell is his gall bladder?"
Father cut through the diaphragm and fished around until he had his hand around the heart-still nice and red. Then he dug out the lungs. Finally, alongside the liver, he discovered the egg-sized gall bladder. Very carefully, he separated it from the liver with the tip of his knife, then held it in the palm of his hand to examine it. The thing was moist and slippery and, in the sunlight, had a sheen. Sort of like a piece of fine purple jade.
Father handed me the gall bladder. "Hold this carefully while I take out Luan Fengshan's gall bladder."
This time, Father performed like an experienced surgeon: deft, quick, exact. First, he cut away the hemp cord that was all Luan Fengshan could afford for a belt. Then he opened the front of his ragged coat and held the scrawny, bony chest still with his foot as he made four or five swift cuts. After that, he cleared away all the obstructions, stuck in his hand, and, as if it were the pit of an apricot, removed Luan's gall bladder.
"Let's get out of here," Father said.
We ran up the riverbank, where the dogs were fighting over the coils of intestines. Only a trace of red remained on the edges of the sun; its blinding rays fell on all exposed objects, large and small.
Grandma had advanced cataracts, according to Luo Dashan, the miracle worker. The source of her illness was heat rising from her three visceral cavities. The cure would have to be something very cold and very bitter. The physician lifted up the hem of his floor-length coat and was heading out the door when Father begged him to prescribe something.
"Hm, prescribe something…" Miracle worker Luo told Father to get a pig's gall bladder and have his mother take the squeez-ings, which should clear her eyes a little.
"How about a goat's gall bladder?" Father asked.
"Goats are fine," the physician said; "so are bears. Now if you could get your hands on a human gall bladder… ha, ha… well, I wouldn't be surprised if your mother's eyesight returned to normal."
Translated By Howard Goldblatt