Frog

From that day forward, the image of the bullfrog-breeding pond has often invaded my dreams. Mate-seeking bull-like bellows from the inflated white throats of male bullfrogs spout from the murky surface of the pond, which is some four hundred square feet in size and three feet or so deep, drawing females slowly to them, their extended limbs afloat. Coupled frogs can be seen all over, moving across the surface, males on the females’ backs, front legs holding on, rear legs constantly thumping her on the sides. The females eject transparent eggs to be fertilised by sperm ejaculated by the males. Frog fertilisation occurs outside the body — someone, either my cousin or Yuan Sai, said — with as many as ten thousand eggs laid by each female — they’re so much more advanced than humans — and croaks fill the air above the pond, which is warmed by the April sun and gives off a nauseating stench. An arena for mating, it is also an arena for producing the next generation — we add stuff to the feed to increase the production of eggs — wa wa wa — frog croaks — wah wah wah — babies’ cries…

With the croaking of frogs ringing in our ears, and visions of bullfrogs crammed into our heads, we were taken into a luxurious restaurant.

A pair of girls clad in pink would serve us.

Everything on today’s menu comes from frogs, Yuan Sai said.

I picked up the menu and read the list of entrees: salt and pepper frogs’ legs, fried frog skin, frog meat with green peppers, sliced frog with bamboo shoots, tadpoles in vinegar sauce, tapioca and frog’s egg soup…

I’m sorry, I said, but I don’t eat frogs.

Me either, Little Lion said.

Why? A surprised Yuan Sai asked. They’re delicious. Why don’t you eat them?

I tried to put the sight of those bulging eyes, sticky skin, and the cold, putrid smell out of my mind, but couldn’t. I shook my head as I suffered.

Not long ago a Korean researcher succeeded in extracting a valuable peptide from the skin of frogs that is an effective antioxidant that eliminates free radicals, a natural anti-ageing compound, my cousin, Jin Xiu, said with a meaningful look. Naturally, it has a number of other fascinating effects, including drastically raising the odds of a woman giving birth to twins and more.

How about a small taste? Yuan Sai offered. Don’t be a coward. You have no trouble with scorpions, leeches, worms or venomous snakes, so why not a bullfrog?

You haven’t forgotten that my pen-name is Tadpole, have you?

Oh, that’s right, Yuan Sai said to the serving girls. Clear the table and tell the chef to cook up a new meal — no frogs!

The new meal was served, the three rounds of toasts were completed.

How did someone like you come up with the idea of raising bullfrogs? I asked Yuan Sai.

The only way to make big money is to come up with new ideas, he said proudly as he blew a smoke ring.

How talented you are, I said, imitating the tone of a sitcom actor, with a sarcastic edge. You’ve been different ever since you were a child. Raising bullfrogs is fine, but doesn’t it bother you to have to give up your arcane skills of removing nails from cows’ stomachs and telling fortunes in the marketplace?

Tadpole, you stinker. Don’t hit a man in the face in a fight and don’t expose his shortcomings during a reprimand.

Not to mention using steel tongs to remove women’s IUDs, Little Lion chimed in coldly.

Aiya, dear Sister-in-law, why bring that up? My awareness was at an all-time low then, and I was too soft-hearted, no match for women who caught me in their crazed demand to have children. A third reason? I was broke.

Would you do it today? I asked him.

Do what? He glared at me.

Remove an IUD.

To hear you say it, I have no memory. I’m a new man after those years in the reform-through-labour brigade. These days I walk the straight and narrow, earning a legitimate income. I wouldn’t think of doing anything illegal, not even if you put a gun to my head.

We’re a law-abiding, public-minded, municipally recognised and outstanding enterprise that pays all its taxes, my cousin said.

Little Lion had her hand on the clay doll throughout the meal.

That damned Qin He, Yuan said, is a bona fide genius. As soon as he started making the dolls, Hao Dashou was out of business.

Xiao Bi, who had sat by quietly with a smile, joined the conversation: All of Master Qin’s creations are crystallisations of his emotions.

Are emotions really important in crafting clay dolls? Yuan Sai asked her.

Of course they are, she replied. Every artistic creation is the artist’s child.

Then that big bullfrog must be your child. Yuan Sai pointed to the sculpture.

Not another word from the red-faced girl.

Your wife must really be fond of clay dolls, my cousin said to me.

It’s not clay dolls she’s fond of, Yuan Sai said. It’s real babies.

Let’s team up, Jin Xiu said excitedly. My cousin can join us.

You want us to be part of your bullfrog farm? I asked. Just looking at those things gives me goose bumps.

We don’t farm bullfrogs exclusively. We also…