The Garlic Ballads

Gao Yang sighed again. Okay, here it is. Deputy Yang is no good either. Remember his nephew Cao Wen? Well, he jumped down a well, and his family decided to arrange an underworld marriage.”

“A what?”

“You don’t even know what an underworld marriage is?”

Gao Ma shook his head.

“It’s where two dead people are united in marriage. So after Cao Wen died, his family thought first of Jinju.”

Gao Ma jumped to his feet.

“Let me finish, Cousin,” Gao Yang said. “The Caos wanted Jinju’s ghost to be the wife of their dead son, so they asked Deputy Yang to act as matchmaker.”

Gao Ma gnashed his teeth and cursed, “Fuck his lousy ancestors! Jinju belongs to me!”

“That’s what makes me so angry,” Gao Yang said. “Everybody in the village knows that Jinju belonged to you. She was carrying your child. But the Fang boys jumped at Deputy Yang’s proposal and sold Jinju’s remains to the Cao family for eight hundred yuan, which they split between them. Then the Caos sent people to open Jinju’s grave and deliver her remains to diem.”

Gao Ma, his face the color of cold iron, didn’t make a sound.

Gao Yang continued: “My wife said that the ceremony outdid any regular wedding she’d ever seen. They hired musicians from somewhere outside the county, who played while the guests enjoyed a huge spread. Then Jinju’s and Cao Wens remains were placed in a bright red coffin and buried together. Villagers who came to watch the festivities cursed the Cao family, and Deputy Yang, and the Fang brothers. Everyone agreed that the whole affair was an insult to heaven and a crime against reason!”

Gao Ma remained absolutely silent.

Gao Yang looked at Gao Ma. “Cousin,” he quickly went on, “it won’t help to brood over this. They committed this crime against heaven, and the old man up there will punish them.… It’s all my fault. My wife told me to keep quiet, but this stinking mouth of mine can’t keep a secret.”

A chilling smile spread across Gao Ma’s face.

“Cousin,” Gao Yang blurted out fearfully, “dont get any wild ideas. You re a veteran, so you can’t believe in ghosts and things like that.”

“What about Fourth Aunt?” Gao Ma asked softly.

Gao Yang hemmed and hawed for a moment, then reluctantly said, “The day the Caos came for Jinju’s remains she … hanged herself.”

An anguished roar tore from Gao Mas throat, followed by a mouthful of bright red blood.

4.

A major snowstorm fell shortly after New Year’s Day.

Prisoners shoveled the snow into piles and loaded it onto handcarts to be deposited in a nearby millet field.

Gao Ma, the first to volunteer, pulled a snow-laden handcart out the main gate. Extra guards had not been posted, since only a few prisoners were let out the gate. Instead, one of the camp officers stood watch at the gate, his arms folded as he chatted with a tower guard.

Old Li,” the guard said, “has your wife had the baby yet?”

The officer, worry written all over his face, replied, “Not yet. She’s a month overdue.”

“Don’t worry,” the guard comforted him. “As the saying goes,? melon drops when it’s ripe.’ “

“Don’t worry? How would you like it if your old lady was a month overdue? Talk’s cheap.”

Gao Ma, sweat-soaked, returned with an empty cart.

The officer looked at him sympathetically. “Take a break, Number Eighty-eight. Somebody else can wresde with the cart for a while.”

“I’m not tired,” Gao Ma said as he passed through the gate.

“That Number Eight-eight’s a pretty good guy,” the guard remarked.

“A veteran,” the officer said. “A little too high-spirited is all. Well, nothing surprises me these days.”

“Those shitty Paradise County officials went too far, if you want my opinion,” the guard said. “The common folk don’t deserve all the blame for what happened.”

“That’s why I recommended that this one’s sentence be trimmed. They came down too hard on him, if you ask me.”

“But that’s how things go these days.”

Gao Ma approached the gate with another load of snow.

“Didn’t I tell you to take a break?” the officer asked him.

“After this load.” He headed toward the millet field.

“I hear Deputy Commissar Yu is being reassigned,” the guard said.

“I’d like to be reassigned,” the officer said wistfully. “This job stinks. No holidays, not even New Year’s, and miserable wages. I’d get out in a minute if I had someplace else to go.”

“You can always quit, if it’s that bad,” the guard noted. “Me, I’ve decided to become an entrepreneur.”

“In times like these, if you’re smart you’re an official. But if you can’t manage that, make some money any way you can.”

“Hey, where’s Number Eight-eight?” the guard asked with alarm.

The officer turned toward the field, where the sunshine made the snow sparkle with extraordinary beauty.

The watchtower siren wailed loudly.

“Number Eight-eight,” the guard shouted, “halt or I’ll shoot!”