The Explosion Chronicles (9 page)

Their father, Kong Dongde, suddenly began weeping and, his shoulders shuddering, he exclaimed that he would be willing to spend another decade in prison if it meant he could have a son like Mingliang. Everything then changed, to the point that Kong Mingguang and Kong Minghui had no idea what was happening and simply stood there blankly in front of the window of the restaurant as the red rays of sunlight continued to stream in—making it appear as if they were blushing with embarrassment, like clay statues in the sunlight. There were some youths from the village who also stood in shock, like clay statues that had just been struck by lightning. They stood there expressionless and immobile.

Kong Mingliang, however, remained as lively as before, since he understood what was going on. He looked with disdain at his brothers and glanced mockingly at the other villagers. Then he walked over and patted his father on the shoulder and said,

“Dad, take it easy … you will be able to see everything.”

His father stopped weeping, and Mingliang gazed at those village youths, explaining that they should endeavor to learn some things out in the world, and after the village was transformed into a town, a county seat, and a capital city, they would all become senior figures
in the industry and would be appointed section, bureau, and division chiefs. The last thing they wanted was to reach that point and find that they had no skills—that they couldn’t speak, make appointments, approve documents, or even schedule meetings. He concluded, “When the time comes, don’t blame me if I’m not generous and don’t give you responsibility for any big business or important administrative duties!” As he said this, he expected to hear complaints, but instead as he was speaking the restaurant owner brought over some dishes. The stir-fried vegetables were steaming hot and the steam enveloped her face. Mingliang shouted through the steam,

“Twenty-four dishes are not enough. We need at least thirty-six, or even seventy-two. You should prepare at least ten banquet tables’ worth of food… . I intend to invite the head of every household in Explosion to come dine with me; I intend to invite everyone in the entire village to come dine with me… . I want everyone to know that within a few short years, Explosion will become a town, then a county, and finally a wealthy and prosperous metropolis!”

V.

By the time the men of the Kong household finished their meal and headed home, the moon was already high in the sky. The streetlamps and the moon combined to light up the scene as brightly as though it were daytime. The street was filled with the smell of sulfur from newly built tile-roofed houses; there was also a midnight quiet. The father and sons took home the leftover food, and on the road Mingliang asked Mingguang,

“Did you get a receipt?”

Mingguang replied, “Yes, and I even had them add an extra thousand yuan to the total.”

“You could have added more, and I would have signed for the reimbursement.” When they got home, Mingliang and the others saw
with surprise that of all the gifts they had given away that afternoon, nearly half had been returned to them in the middle of the night and left piled up next to their front door. The gifts had not been returned directly to the Kongs, and instead they had been deposited anonymously on their doorstep. In the moonlight, the gifts looked like a pile of pumpkins and other vegetables. The father stared at that stack of returned gifts without moving. Mingliang and his brothers also stood looking at the gifts. Under the moonlight, they could hear the light passing through the doorway. Suddenly, the entire family began cursing, “God …” Minghui leaned over to pick up a bag but then put it back down again and said, “In that case, our family can enjoy everything that was returned.” Mingliang stared at him coldly, then kicked the pile of gifts and smelled the rich cookies and pastries. The first thought that came into his mind was, “Do you fucking want to die? How dare you return our gifts?!” Then he remembered that Third Brother, when he was in the army, had been issued a gun, and it occurred to him that if only he could borrow it for a day, everything could be sorted out. When he looked over at his father, Kong Dongde said something that was completely consonant with what he himself was thinking:

“Why don’t you send a telegram to Third Brother, and see if he can bring his gun back for half a day?”

Mingguang and his brother Minghui stared at their father in confusion, but Mingliang saw he had a look of evil excitement that even the dim moonlight couldn’t conceal.

5. KONG MINGYAO

Kong Mingyao returned from the army.

He was now much taller and stronger than before, and was as powerful as a galloping horse. When he entered the village, a
yellow travel bag in hand, he walked down the street with an excited expression. He nodded to everyone he saw, and handed out cigarettes and candy. He gave cigarettes to the men and candy to the women—as was customary in Balou for people who had left the village and then returned in glory. The quality of the cigarettes and the candy was taken as evidence of one’s relative success or failure while away. When Mingyao returned, the cigarettes he distributed were the most expensive ones available at the time, and it was said that only national leaders could afford to buy them. These were the cigarettes that Mingyao distributed to the villagers. As for the candy he distributed to the women and children, the villagers didn’t feel this was necessarily the best or sweetest candy available, and in fact they found it rather bitter. However, the writing on the tinfoil wrappings of the round, rectangular, and triangular candy was definitely not in Chinese, and instead was in some foreign script. From this, everyone realized that the chocolate must be a foreign delicacy, and therefore Kong Mingyao’s return became even more legendary. When he walked over from the village street, the spring sun had flowers bloom for him and enveloped him in tints of tender green and fresh red. The scholar tree to the north of the village was covered in flowers in his honor, including red roses and white peonies. The air was filled with a fresh aroma, as the flowers glittered brightly in the sunlight.

It had been several years since Mingyao last returned, and now he was wearing a blue uniform and black leather shoes. As he strode along the main street, he spoke to everyone he knew. After he passed by, some villagers thought how excellent it would be if their daughters could marry him!

Kong Mingyao returned to the Kong family home, to the south of the village square.

With this, all that was left was rumor and speculation, together with the sound of footsteps running to and from the Kong household.
By afternoon, however, everyone’s feverish speculations had begun to fade. The villagers saw Mingyao reemerge from his home, followed by countless other members of the Kong clan—including men and women, young and old. None of them retained their earlier look of excitement, and instead they each had a barely concealed expression of murderous rage. The men followed immediately behind Mingyao, while the women and children came after them.

When Kong Mingyao emerged from the Kong home, he was no longer wearing the same blue uniform he had worn when he first returned to the village. Instead, he was wearing the military fatigues he had worn while in the army, together with a red leather munitions belt. In his hand, he was carrying a jet-black pistol—the likes of which the villagers had not seen for decades. The villagers did not know what Mingyao and his family had discussed while he was inside, but when he emerged the air in the village was tense with anticipation. Like his face, the atmosphere was also somewhat cloudy. The two badges on his collar were bloodred and reminded people of a decapitated head. Neither his father nor either of his brothers dared walk behind him. Meanwhile, Minghui was studying in the city and had no idea that Mingyao had returned to the village.

When Mingyao emerged from the house, he proceeded directly to the village square, where he looked at all of the people gathered there and said with a smile, “I hear that the village is going to vote on a new village chief. Democracy is good. Whomever you want to elect, that is your right, which no one can take away from you.” He took out his pistol, looked at it, wiped it with his handkerchief, and casually aimed it toward the sky. Then he said to himself with a smile, “I hear that Liu Gully and Zhang Peak have become so wealthy that they have replaced all of their houses with new ones. Shall we go take a look?”

The people of Explosion all cheered, “Let’s go to Liu Gully! Let’s go to Liu Gully!” The crowd grew larger and larger, forming a black
mass that pushed and shoved the young soldier Kong Mingyao, while at the same time opening a path for him, as they left the village and surged toward Liu Gully a couple of
li
away.

At this point the sun was directly overhead, and the mountains were warm and indolent. By the time the tide of several hundred residents of Explosion had surged to the entrance of Liu Gully, the news of their arrival had already preceded them. Therefore, the people of Liu Gully had closed their windows and locked their doors, as though fearing a bloodbath. But in the end they discovered that the situation was not as they had feared, which is to say that Kong Mingyao had simply returned home from the army to visit his family, and he gave away cigarettes and candy. Then he opened his door, and everyone saw he was wearing his military fatigues and was holding a pistol. By this point he had already walked out of his family’s house, and people surrounded him as he stood in the doorway of a new three-story house. He then aimed his gun into the sky, and with a
Hu!
he opened fire. After waiting for all of the birds in the trees to fly away, he blew the muzzle, wiped down the gun with his handkerchief, then tucked it under his belt and proclaimed, “Democracy is good. You should vote for whomever you wish!” Then he proceeded from Liu Gully to Zhang Peak.

After Mingyao left, and as the sound of his gunshot reverberated through the air, all of Liu Gully’s green leaves suddenly wilted and the spring flowers died. The villagers were left speechless.

Zhang Peak was actually right next to Liu Gully, with a dirt path connecting them and a river separating them. The Kong family didn’t have any relatives in Zhang Peak, so Kong Mingyao didn’t need to visit their houses to socialize and distribute gifts. Instead, he just said he had a small matter to attend to there, and he also wanted to see how Zhang Peak had changed and how its new buildings were sprouting up like mushrooms. He took a group that quickly grew
from one hundred to two hundred, and then again to three hundred, and together they proceeded from Liu Gully to Zhang Peak. When they reached the middle of the village street, as everyone was crowding around, Kong Mingyao stood on a millstone that had been left in the village and looked at those new houses and other buildings. He asked to whom each house belonged, and what the owner had done to be able to build it. He asked in particular about a house with a roof made of glazed tiles, saying it was pretty good and was just like the villas he had seen while he was away. Then, he took out his pistol and aimed it at a gray tile pigeon on the roof of the house, then closed his left eye and placed his index finger on the trigger. There was a
Bam
! and the tile pigeon was shattered. The tree leaves all fell to the ground and the grass dried up. Then the villagers heard Mingyao shouting in the street, saying, “Democracy is good. You should vote for whomever you wish.” At that point, it began half-raining and half-snowing in Zhang Peak, and everything quickly froze over.

After Mingyao left, Liu Gully and Zhang Peak both suffered a devastating drought and a hard freeze. The trees wilted and the sprouts died, and the villagers were not able to harvest even a few
jin
of grain. In Explosion, which was separated from them by only a single mountain ridge, however, the weather was fantastic that spring and the villagers had more grain than they could eat.

1. THE ELECTION

I.

Democracy mixed with a thunderstorm, leaving Explosion completely soaked.

Zhu Ying returned from the provincial seat the day before the election. By this point the rain had stopped, the sun had come out, and the air was fresh. A sedan brought Zhu Ying to the entrance of the village, where she saw the enormous stele the town mayor had erected in her honor. Then she strolled into the village.

When Zhu Ying entered the village it was ten in the morning. The muddy road had been washed clean by the rain, and hovering over the street there was a cold mist, which made the stones and bricks along the road look like grayish-white chunks of ice. Because of the election, the peddlers didn’t go into the town or county seat to sell their goods, and neither did the peasants go into the fields. Instead,
everyone gathered in the village streets, under the sun, waiting for an unprecedented exercise in democracy to unfold in Explosion.

One of the candidates—the young Zhu Ying—returned from the provincial seat with a bang. Her return this time was completely different from the last. Before, she had returned to help refurbish the new house that her family had just built, but which they felt was already out of date. That time, she had been dressed unlike the other villagers. She had worn lipstick and mascara, and had plucked and penciled in her brows. Her hair had been dyed red, so that the villagers, and even the village sparrows, couldn’t take their eyes off her. She had looked as though she wasn’t from Explosion at all but rather was an enchantress from the city. This time, however, she was returning for the elections and looked like all of the other villagers. Her hair was black again, and she was wearing low-heeled shoes. She had a short wool skirt and a red sweater, and resembled not so much a city dweller but rather a villager who had struck it rich. The first person she encountered when she entered the village was a boy. She held the boy to her chest and slipped a hundred-yuan note into his clothes. She told him that she had been busy working and had not had time to buy him a gift, and he should use this money to buy himself something tasty to eat. She then ran into a teenage girl. She took the girl’s hand and slipped her two hundred-yuan notes, saying that she hadn’t had a chance to buy her a dress, but when the girl went into the city she should buy whatever caught her eye.

In this way, Zhu Ying walked through the streets distributing money in amounts ranging from one hundred to several hundred yuan. Her behavior resembled that of Kong Mingyao, though the weaponry she was carrying was somewhat different. Cash was her weapon—fistfuls of hundred-yuan bills, which she distributed to the villagers. She proceeded from one end of the village to the other, giving away who knows how much money along the way. Eventually,
she reached her father’s grave in the village square, and immediately knelt down and began kowtowing. She burned real bills as though they were fake funeral money and mumbled to herself. Then she proceeded back up the street distributing money, before disappearing into an alley. In the end, all of the villagers were left wondering what had just happened in Explosion, what was happening now, and what would happen in the future.

In a moment of quiet after Zhu Ying disappeared, one of the several hundred villagers who had gathered in the square cried out, “Zhu Ying has returned … Zhu Ying has returned, and has given money to everyone in Explosion!” With that, everyone began surging toward the Zhu family’s new house. It was on that day that the people of Explosion first glimpsed the possibility of a twenty-four-hour bank from which they could withdraw money whenever they wished. They discovered that although Zhu Ying wasn’t wearing new clothes when she returned to the village, in her house there was a cape made from an assortment of red, yellow, and blue bills. Moreover, that money was not simply printed on the fabric; rather, the cape was made from real hundred-yuan bills that had been pasted on. This had been done so skillfully that they looked like part of the fabric itself. In Zhu Ying’s living room hung her other clothing, including sweaters, undershirts, underwear, coats, socks, and shoes—all with real hundred-yuan bills pasted on them. Two decades later, when Explosion would be transformed from a county seat into a city, the most valuable possession of the newly established Explosion Development museum would be Zhu Ying’s money clothes.

It was because Zhu Ying had been busy having this new clothing made that she was delayed in returning to Explosion.

Eventually, the living room of the Zhu family’s three-story house would be transformed into a gallery. Men and women, young and old, including those people who previously had been on good terms
with the Kong family and who regarded themselves as the enemies of the Zhus, all took the opportunity to visit the Zhu home to see the various articles of clothing—which featured cut-up hundred-yuan bills arranged into images of flowers and trees, bees and butterflies—suspended on clothes hangers and displayed along the wall of her living room, or else they were being passed around from hand to hand. Unlike the Kong family, who brought a tractor-full of gifts and distributed them to everyone in an attempt to buy votes, Zhu Ying didn’t go to anyone’s house; instead she simply waited for everyone to come to her. On that day, the road in front of her family’s house, together with the mountain ridge behind the village, was full of people talking about Zhu Ying and her money clothes, as well as the election for village chief.

People whispered to her, “It would be best if you were village chief.”

Zhu Ying waved them away and said, “You should vote for Mingliang. I’ve declared my candidacy only because the town and county mayors required that I return.”

Everyone complained, “You’re as rich as a stallion; how can you leave us to live like fat sparrows?”

“Then who would look after my business in the city and the provincial seat?” Zhu Ying asked, unwilling to sacrifice something valuable for something inferior.

Everyone was quite disappointed, but then became even more determined to elect her. Zhu Ying proceeded upstairs and downstairs, to the living room and the courtyard, pouring tea for the villagers and chatting with them. For those households that were still rather poor, she offered three or five hundred yuan to help them out. Those young women who, like her, had gone out into the cities to work—including those from Liu Gully, Zhang Peak, and other villages in the Balou mountain range—all came to Zhu Ying’s
home for her to take care of them. They said, “Sister Zhu Ying, you absolutely must not become the new village chief, because if you do, what will happen to us? Would not every factory, every store, as well as the region’s largest and best amusement park—would they not have to close down within days?” Later, after the first group of observers left the Zhu household, another group entered and said the same thing. At midday, the Zhu family prepared a lot of home-cooked food, and Zhu Ying invited everyone who had come to see her money clothing to come in and eat. This continued from the afternoon into the evening, and only then did Zhu Ying take her money clothing and carefully fold it. It was then that she turned around and saw Kong Mingliang standing in the doorway, smiling coldly. He resembled a stone statue as he stood there, with the light from the setting sun shining on his face. The pomegranate trees planted in the courtyard sprouted apple blossoms, and there was a peach tree that sprouted not only pomegranate blossoms but also crab apple blossoms and camellias. Some flower blossoms fell on the bricks and tile floor, like a poem in which people were like miswritten words. Kong Mingliang looked around and, with a mocking expression, asked,

“You’ve returned?”

Zhu Ying also laughed, and replied, “These money clothes were not put on display for you.”

Mingliang’s smile evaporated. “Money is more powerful than munitions.”

Zhu Ying said, “If you aren’t going to come inside and sit down, then you should just leave.”

It was hard to tell whether they were quarreling or merely chatting. When they parted, Mingliang headed toward the entrance to the courtyard and Zhu Ying accompanied him—both to walk him out and also in order to close the outer gate and lock out the entire
day’s tumult. Just as Zhu Ying was about to close the gate, however, he turned around and said,

“You whore, do you still want to marry me?”

After a shocked pause, Zhu Ying said quietly, “I may be a whore, but tomorrow I’ll be the new village chief. You can then come kneel down and beg me.”

“Do you really think the villagers are going to pick you?”

“They aren’t going to vote for me, they’re going to vote for money. Right now, I’ve got a lot of money.”

Kong Mingliang didn’t say anything. His heart was pounding and he bowed his head; then he suddenly rushed back into the courtyard. Zhu Ying tried to keep him out, but he continued to force his way in. They struggled, until finally Mingliang succeeded in pushing Zhu Ying aside. By this point dusk had fallen, but the courtyard seemed to be full of the scent of spring combined with the warmth of summer. The air was full of birds chirping, as a flock of sparrows alighted on the pomegranate tree and the peach tree in the courtyard. The two of them stared at each other coldly for a long time.

“You should leave,” Zhu Ying said. “If you continue standing here, soon you’ll have to beg me.”

Kong Mingliang stared at her intently. “You should withdraw from the election—and leave the position of village chief for me!”

Zhu Ying laughed. “Are you begging me?”

After a pause, Mingliang laughed as well. “If you don’t withdraw, then after I’m elected I’ll have you killed!”

Zhu Ying, still laughing, asked, “When you were sleepwalking that night, apart from running into me, what else did you find?”

Mingliang didn’t reply, and instead he just stood there until eventually he turned and headed back out. He walked toward the village board building. The entire day, he had been in the village board building, watching the gate to Zhu Ying’s home, but now,
as he was preparing to head back there, he heard Zhu Ying shout behind him, “You once again missed your chance to ask for my hand in marriage… . You have now twice missed your chance, and you will regret it to the point that you will want to bash your brains out against the wall.”

After that, he heard the sound of Zhu Ying slamming her gate.

II.

That night, footsteps echoed through Explosion like hailstones. Some people went to the Kong household, others went to the Zhu household, and still others went back and forth between the two. These would be village chief elections with national consequences and would be the topic of a major report that the county mayor would give to the provincial city, before he was promoted to city mayor. The residents of Explosion didn’t know how many reports the county mayor had filed and how many preparations he had made, all so that he could take this election as a gift up to the city and offer it to the entire province.

So they prepared to elect their new village chief.

At ten in the morning on the day of the election, the residents of Liu Gully and Zhang Peak, both of which were under Explosion’s jurisdiction, were summoned to the riverbank in front of the village. There, they used an assortment of house doors to construct a stage, and on the stage they placed a table. The table was covered by a new, red tablecloth, and the stage was draped with a large banner, on which was written
EXPLOSION VILLAGE
’
S FIRST DEMOCRATIC ELECTIONS
. In this way, the proceedings were granted a degree of solemnity. There were reporters and police cars, as well as more than a dozen spectators from the county and the town. The officials placed a ballot box in the center of the stage and then issued each villager (or citizen) over the age of eighteen a ballot printed with the names Zhu Ying and
Kong Mingliang, and asked the voters to make a check mark after the name of their preferred candidate. Then, each villager would go up onstage and insert the ballot through the slot in the ballot box. The result would be democracy, and their responsibilities would be over. After this, they would only need to wait for the ballots to be counted and tabulated, and then it would be announced how many votes each candidate received.

The candidate with the most votes would thereby be elected village chief.

There was nothing particularly extraordinary about any of it. Explosion had already experienced this sort of thing many times before. The only difference was that previously the voters had been electing battalion chiefs, but now the battalion had been replaced by the village and everyone was now electing a village chief. Previously, they would simply drop a pea into the bowl of the candidate they wanted to elect, but now they had to use an anonymous ballot box. In the past, the villagers organized the elections themselves, but now it was the police and the town and county mayors who had come to organize and observe the elections.

The county and town mayors arrived in the village at the crack of dawn. In order to avoid the appearance of impropriety, they didn’t go to the house of either of the candidates for breakfast, and instead they brought their own soy milk and fried dough sticks, and ate in their cars. After breakfast, the villagers (citizens) started heading toward the meeting site. They arrived one group after another, each carrying a small stool as though they were going to the theater. By ten o’clock, thousands of people had gathered along the riverbank, where a loudspeaker announced that the election was about to begin. The former county mayor served as election mobilizer and said a variety of things about the earth-shattering nature of democracy and elections. The town mayor then announced the general rules of the
election, and also what was improper and illegal. Next, the candidates gave their speeches. Kong Mingliang stood onstage and read aloud the text that his brother Mingguang had written for him a couple of weeks earlier, though it wasn’t clear whether the audience was listening or not. There was a droning sound, as though there were thousands of flies buzzing around the meeting site; the entire area came to resemble a cesspool in the middle of summer—becoming a performance stage for the flies. Mingliang glanced down at the audience in surprise and saw that in front of him there was a mother holding her child while he relieved himself. The mother was using that stiff, yellow ballot as toilet paper, and Mingliang couldn’t resist going down and slapping her. While the county mayor was speaking, the audience had been completely silent, but once the town mayor began speaking, the audience had started mumbling, though it was impossible to make out what they were saying.