boiling water. Although the pot contained only water and no oil, and was seasoned with only salt, pepper, anise, and MSG, those tofu strips were so fragrant they could be smelled from miles away. A balloon seller arrived, as did a whistle peddler. People selling candied apples and poached pears also arrived. Someone selling clay Buddha and fat boy figurines set up a water basin on a tall bench, and after the figurines were dunked in water, they turned bright red. Because the water was hot, when the peddler pulled out the fat boy figurine, its little pecker stuck straight out and a thin stream of liquid flowed from it, as if it were a real boy peeing into the air. Everyone laughed at this, and someone even forked over money to buy it and the Buddha figurine that was still sitting in the water. The field was raucous, with more and more people arriving at every moment. It was like a temple ceremony in the mountains. Even incense and paper money sellers arrived.
The livening ceremonies that Grandma Mao Zhi typically hosted were also intended to celebrate the year’s harvest. After working hard all year, the villagers were permitted to relax, to gather together for three days to eat and drink. But this year the ceremony was hosted by the county chief, and for this reason people came surging in like the tide. They not only filled the one-armed man’s field on the slope but also lined the sides of the field.
The sun rose another pole-length in the sky.
The percussion troupe and musicians were all set up on the eastern side of the stage.
Jumei and Mao Zhi didn’t come to watch this livening festival, but Jumei’s daughters were dispersed throughout the field. The sun was searingly hot. A man standing in one of the sunlit areas had taken off his shirt and gown, and his sweat-covered head and back shone in the sunlight. Someone demanded impatiently, “Why haven’t things started yet?” Someone else replied, “The county chief and his secretary have not arrived yet. How could we start without them?” Half-crazed under the blazing heat of the sun, even the goats grazing on the distant mountains were startled by the tumult, as they stared down in surprise at the crowd.
In the cobalt blue sky, there were a few traces of white clouds. The clouds were as white as cotton, while the sky was as blue as a deep pool of water. The entire world was a boundless reservoir of calm, and only the field at the entrance of the village was bustling. It was very hectic, but at the same time very solitary. It was like a pot of boiling water in the middle of a field of calm. The children who had climbed the trees along the side of the road were waiting, and began shaking the tree branches, causing the twigs and leaves that had been damaged by the hot snow to fall to the ground. Someone shouted out sharply,
“The county chief and his secretary have arrived! . . . The county chief and his secretary have arrived!”
The crowd spontaneously parted to open a path for them. The cripples and the people who were missing an arm or leg all crowded up at the very front of the stage. The deaf and mute people sat down behind the cripples. The blind people, meanwhile, could hear but couldn’t see, and therefore they didn’t compete with anyone for space and instead just tried to find a secluded spot from which they could listen to the Balou tunes. Of course, the ones who really crowded up to the stage were the half-deaf old-timers. Given that they were only partially deaf and could hear loud voices quite clearly, the villagers pushed them right up to the edge of the stage. In Liven, there was always a strict set of rules dictating who at any meeting, performance, or livening festival should be in front, and who should be in back.
A blind man crowded forward, and some people said, “Given that you can’t see, why do you need to crowd your way forward?” The blind man laughed and walked instead to the back of the field.
Most of the mutes were also
The livening ceremonies that Grandma Mao Zhi typically hosted were also intended to celebrate the year’s harvest. After working hard all year, the villagers were permitted to relax, to gather together for three days to eat and drink. But this year the ceremony was hosted by the county chief, and for this reason people came surging in like the tide. They not only filled the one-armed man’s field on the slope but also lined the sides of the field.
The sun rose another pole-length in the sky.
The percussion troupe and musicians were all set up on the eastern side of the stage.
Jumei and Mao Zhi didn’t come to watch this livening festival, but Jumei’s daughters were dispersed throughout the field. The sun was searingly hot. A man standing in one of the sunlit areas had taken off his shirt and gown, and his sweat-covered head and back shone in the sunlight. Someone demanded impatiently, “Why haven’t things started yet?” Someone else replied, “The county chief and his secretary have not arrived yet. How could we start without them?” Half-crazed under the blazing heat of the sun, even the goats grazing on the distant mountains were startled by the tumult, as they stared down in surprise at the crowd.
In the cobalt blue sky, there were a few traces of white clouds. The clouds were as white as cotton, while the sky was as blue as a deep pool of water. The entire world was a boundless reservoir of calm, and only the field at the entrance of the village was bustling. It was very hectic, but at the same time very solitary. It was like a pot of boiling water in the middle of a field of calm. The children who had climbed the trees along the side of the road were waiting, and began shaking the tree branches, causing the twigs and leaves that had been damaged by the hot snow to fall to the ground. Someone shouted out sharply,
“The county chief and his secretary have arrived! . . . The county chief and his secretary have arrived!”
The crowd spontaneously parted to open a path for them. The cripples and the people who were missing an arm or leg all crowded up at the very front of the stage. The deaf and mute people sat down behind the cripples. The blind people, meanwhile, could hear but couldn’t see, and therefore they didn’t compete with anyone for space and instead just tried to find a secluded spot from which they could listen to the Balou tunes. Of course, the ones who really crowded up to the stage were the half-deaf old-timers. Given that they were only partially deaf and could hear loud voices quite clearly, the villagers pushed them right up to the edge of the stage. In Liven, there was always a strict set of rules dictating who at any meeting, performance, or livening festival should be in front, and who should be in back.
A blind man crowded forward, and some people said, “Given that you can’t see, why do you need to crowd your way forward?” The blind man laughed and walked instead to the back of the field.
Most of the mutes were also
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