Big Breasts and Wide Hips by Mo Yan Page A

Examination,” he announced. “Big Paw,” they said, “the Manchu dynasty has fallen. There are no more
zhuangyuan.”
“Then she’ll marry a provincial military governor, and if not that, a county magistrate.”
    It was the summer of 1917. Upon taking office, the newly appointed magistrate of Gaomi, Niu Tengxiao, banned the smoking of and trade in opium, outlawed gambling, vowed to annihilate bandits, and prohibited foot binding. The sale of opium went underground, gambling continued unabated, and annihilating bandits proved impossible. That left only foot binding, which hardly anyone opposed. So County Magistrate Niu personally went down into the villages to promote the ban, which earned him considerable prestige.
    It happened during the seventh month, on one of those rare clear days. An open sedan drove into the town of Dalan. The county magistrate summoned the town head, who summoned the community heads, who summoned the neighborhood heads, who summoned the residents, all of whom were to gather at the threshing ground — men, women, young, and old. Nonattendees would be fined a peck of grain.
    As the crowd gathered, Magistrate Niu spotted the plaque above Uncle Big Paw’s gate. “I’m surprised to see such sentiments at a peasant’s house,” he said. “There is a perfect pair of golden lotuses at that house, Magistrate,” the town head said fawningly. “Depraved tastes have become a national illness. Those so-called fragrant lotuses were once nothing but stinky feet.”
    Eventually, the crowd settled down to hear what Magistrate Niu had to say. Mother told us that he was wearing a black high-collar tunic and a brown top hat. He had a dark mustache and wore gold-rimmed eyeglasses. A pocket watch chain dangled in front of his tunic, and he carried a walking stick. His voice was raspy, almost ducklike, but even though she had no idea what he was saying, she was sure he spoke with great eloquence.
    Shy and timid, Mother clung to her aunt’s clothes. Once the foot binding process had begun, she’d stopped going outside, spending nearly all her time weaving nets or doing embroidery. She had never seen so many people before, and was too frightened to look around. She felt that everyone’s eyes were on her tiny bound feet. Mother told us she was wearing a leek green satin jacket, with wide sleeves and borders of fine silk. Her glossy black braid hung down nearly to her knees. Her trousers were cerise, also with hand-sewn borders. On her feet a pair of high-heeled red-embroidered shoes with wooden soles peeked out from beneath her trousers from time to time and clicked on the roadway when she walked. Since she had trouble standing, she had to hold on to her aunt.
    During his oration, the magistrate singled out Fragrant Lotus Hall in his exhortation against the evils of foot binding. “It is a poisonous legacy of a feudal system,” he said, “a morbid aspect of life.” Everyone turned to gape at Mother’s feet; she didn’t dare look up. The magistrate then read the anti-foot binding proclamation, after which he summoned the women he’d brought along to perform the “Natural Foot Olio.” Six young women jumped spryly out of the open car, chattering as they showed off their fine figures. “Fellow villagers and elders, boys and girls, open your eyes wide and watch this!” the magistrate said. Everyone stared at the women, who wore their hair short, with bangs across the forehead, and were dressed in long-sleeved sky blue blouses with turn-down collars over short white skirts that showed a lot of leg. Short white socks and white sneakers completed the outfit.
    A breath of fresh air had blown into the bosom of Northeast Gaomi Township.
    After lining up and bowing to the crowd, the young women raised their brows and began to recite in unison: “We have natural feet, no abnormal fads, our bodies are precious,