“Dengmei,” he whispered cautiously. She did not reply and sat there motionless. This woman is my wife, he thought. He wanted to protect her and love her properly. He wondered if Dengmei felt the same way. He was confident that she did. She too was a lonely, vulnerable person.

  “Dengmei, you must be tired.”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Dengmei, go ahead and sleep.”

  “No.”

  “Do you dislike me?”

  “No.”

  “Then, do you …” He could not bring himself to ask her if she liked him. She looked at him in surprise. “I will work hard, and not let you suffer.”

  “Ahan …”

  “I will do my best for our family. I will keep you warm and fed.” He had more to say but didn’t know where to start. Suddenly he felt the silver ring in his pocket. He summoned up his courage and gave the ring to Dengmei.

  “Oh, Ahan.”

  “I could only buy you a small ring; you must not despise it.”

  “Thank you, Ahan,” said Dengmei, breaking into tears.

  “One day I’ll buy you a gold one.”

  “Yes. No. This one is enough; just this one. It will be enough for all my life.”

  The wind outside picked up. It was stronger than usual. The oil lamp flickered.

  “It’s getting late. You had better get some sleep.”

  “What about you?” she replied weakly.

  “I’m going to sit up a while before going to bed.

  “Then I’ll stay up too,” Dengmei said decisively.

  “Good. Then we’ll sit a bit longer.” Saying the word “we” made him feel warm all over.

  “The sound of wind and rain at night scares me.”

  “I don’t like it when it’s too strong, because it makes me feel lonely.”

  “That’s the way I feel,” said Dengmei excitedly.

  “From now on you won’t have to be afraid.”

  At some time, the lamp was blown out. He suggested again that Dengmei get some sleep, but she made no reply. He could imagine her embarrassment because he himself was so excited. Dengmei seemed to get up and move. He so much wanted to take hold of her pitiable little hand, but he couldn’t move. Dengmei walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. In the darkness, everything in front of him seemed as clear as at noon. He felt he could see Dengmei’s every move, even her expression. He was glad that the lamp had gone out. He walked over to the bed, telling himself that he must not be shy. He sat down on the edge of the bed next to Dengmei.

  SIX

  •

  Death and Disaster

  Soon after the Double Fifth festival, the mountainous areas of central Taiwan were filled with the sound of cicadas. Three days after the marriage of Ahan and Dengmei, the people of Fanzai Wood sent the land patent application in the name of Xu Shihui, with the supporting documents for appointing Liu Ahan as captain of the guard, to Great Lake. The officials at Great Lake passed the application on to the local land office.

  The settlers at Fanzai Wood continued to lose no time in clearing land. They began at the break of day and left off only after nightfall, sometimes working even through the night. Aling and his wife cleared a plot of land near the river at Little Southside. Ahan, as part of the Peng family, went to clear land with the Peng brothers at Upper Fanzai Wood.

  Clearing land and plowing were new to Ahan. As a child he had herded cattle and gathered fodder for them. He had also looked after ducks, but using a machete to clear vegetation or a hoe or other farm implements such as a mattock were all new to him.

  Renjie and Peng Aqiang wielded the mattock quickly and efficiently, as if it were a lightweight bamboo pole. Seeing them the first time left him astonished and feeling quite weak.

  “Weakling! What good are you?” complained Renhua. Renhua wasn’t much better himself, but for some reason he had taken a dislike to Ahan.

  “I’ve never done this kind of work before,” said Ahan, gritting his teeth. “I’ll learn.”

  “That’s right,” interjected Peng Aqiang, “strength will come as you work. Take it slowly.”

  “Everyone else will have grabbed all the land, and you still talk about going slowly.”

  “Don’t forget that Ahan is captain of the guard and he is just helping out now.” What Peng Aqiang said was as much for Ahan’s benefit as anyone else’s. “As soon as our land patent comes through …”

  Ahan knew exactly what the people of Fanzai Wood expected of him and what the Pengs wanted from him. He knew now what it was to eat at someone else’s table; he was a weakling. But he had never done heavy physical labor in the past. At first bean-sized blisters appeared on his hands. He should have stopped working, but he couldn’t. He went on, steadily wielding the hoe but not daring to change his grip for fear of breaking his blisters. But break they did, with a stinging pain. He gritted his teeth but could not help groaning. He kept at his hoeing even as the blisters broke. Exposed to the air, his tender pink flesh stung. One of the broken blisters began to bleed, staining the hoe with wet, red blood.

  He put down his hoe and stared at his palms.

  “Hurt your hands?” Renjie smiled. “It happens.”

  “So quickly?” asked Peng Aqiang. “Just ignore it. It always happens. You just have to keep on hoeing. The blood will dry and when they heal, calluses will form.”

  “But it hurts.”

  “Is that what all the noise is about?” said Peng Aqiang, clearly displeased.

  True, a bleeding blister wasn’t much. But why had he been willing to give himself over to such torture, ignoring the pain, the cold, and even the discomfort of his own flesh just for a bowl of rice? He was an orphan fated for a hard life. He was a stranger in another man’s home, brought in to risk his life fighting the natives. It was ridiculous that such a little bit of pain troubled him.

  “Chop, slash, and kill. This is all pointless.”

  The old man stopped working and stared at him. Renjie also cast a surprised glance in his direction. Renhua seemed to be smiling; no, he was sneering.

  “Take a rest, Ahan,” said Renjie.

  Renjie was the oldest son and the kindest member of the Peng family. Ahan thought for a moment, then grunted. He wanted to stop but was not willing to do so. There was really no way he could stop. He carried on hoeing.

  “Stubborn young fool.”

  “It’s hard for him. He has never done this kind of work before.”

  They stopped working when the sun fell behind the hills. Ahan went to put down his hoe, but it was stuck to his hands. The old man and his sons started off down the hill, but Ahan remained behind, saying he wanted to rest first.

  When he looked up, it was dark all around. His hands were still stuck to the hoe and at the slightest effort to remove them he broke out in a sweat at the pain. What was he going to do? He had to get back or he would be scolded. He struggled to his feet, but lost his balance and fell. His tears flowed.

  “Ahan! Ahan, where are you?” Someone was calling him from the lower fields. Dengmei’s small form appeared before him. In the dark he could only see the outline of her slim figure and the movement of her eyes.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as she reached out to take the hoe from him.

  “Nothing. Leave the hoe alone, you might hurt yourself.”

  “Is something wrong?” asked Dengmei. “Why are you holding the hoe that way?”

  “I can’t get rid of it.”

  “What?” Dengmei reached toward the hoe that he was unable to let go of. Dengmei gripped his hands. They were both at a loss. Dengmei didn’t even come up to his shoulders. She leaned against his chest and groaned.

  “What are we going to do, Dengmei?” he said, snuggling against her.

  Dengmei was the first to straighten up and step back. She gently stroked his hands as if she were thinking about something. Then she bent toward one of his hands and began to lick it.

  “No Dengmei, you mustn’t do that.” He stepped away from her, but she stubbornly clung to one of his hands. Again the soft tip of her tongue licked at his hand. He couldn’t bear it, but he was grateful. Finally, he ripped his right hand from the handle and felt a bone-piercing pain.

  He yelled as he wrenched his left hand from the handle. The hoe fell to the ground.

  “Ahan, are you all right?”

  “I’m okay. Let’s get back.”

  Dengmei remained standing there, as did he. The two of them embraced. It was love, fondness, the embrace of life itself. Their faces were wet with tears, their hearts full of sweetness and love.

  “Let’s get back.”

  “Yes, it’s late,” said Dengmei, picking up the hoe.

  Dengmei strode off, and he rushed to lead the way. Dengmei claimed she knew the way better than he; he said he knew it as well as she. She claimed to have better eyes; he said his were up to the task. She cautioned him, saying they’d get a scolding; he said it didn’t matter. She said it would be bad for him; he said he didn’t care as long as she was nice to him. She gave no reply. The two of them made their way, each one trying to lead. They squeezed close together as they went down the narrow mountain path in the dark.

  There had been no word regarding the land patent application or the one for appointing Liu Ahan as captain of the guard. One morning, as Peng Aqiang and his family were taking a break in the fields, they heard the alarm gong ringing. Renjie, Renhua, and Ahan picked up their tools and descended the slope together. They saw all the other men of Fanzai Wood leaving their fields and hurrying toward the temple. By the time they arrived, the temple was already crowded.

  Before them stood six strangers. Two of them were middle-aged. One was tall, the other short; both were thin and pale. The short man was wearing a bright blue gown and a black velvet waistcoat. He wore a skullcap and held a long, thin pipe that gleamed with gold. The tall man was whispering something in his ear. Behind the middle-aged men stood four young men, who, judging from their clothing, were laborers or hired hands from a large estate.

  It was Ye Atian and his steward, Renxian. Although the people had never seen them before, they recognized them from Xu Rixing’s descriptions. Ye Atian was a big landholder, and he had been awarded a patent for the land at Fanzai Wood. That was the reason for his visit.

  Peng Aqiang, flanked by Xie and Fan, stood facing them. Their faces were expressionless; they were all still holding their hoes. Xu Shihui, who had always been regarded as the village headman, stood to the left. He carried a pitchfork. Half concealed to the right was Chen Agu, who was carrying a rifle.

  Glancing around him, Ahan noticed that with the exception of Chen Afa, all the grown men of Fanzai Wood were present. The Xu sons, a burly bunch, stood behind their father. Some of the women were also present, standing next to their husbands. Was it to be a struggle that might end in bloodshed? Ahan trembled. Were the people of Fanzai Wood doing the right thing?

  But a land patent was just a piece of paper. How could Ye Atian own the land without having shed his own blood and sweat? He was the legal owner, and that meant that the people at Fanzai Wood were squatters. How could the law work in such a way? How could it be so arbitrary? The law itself was lawless.

  Renxian the steward cleared his throat and addressed the people of Fanzai Wood: “As everyone can see, before you stands Master Ye Atian, your new landlord.”

  “We’ve never had a landlord.”

  “You have all been living as squatters, which is against the law.”

  “We have never broken the law.”

  “We are not concerned about the past.”

  Ye Atian whispered a few words to his steward and pointed to the parcel he carried under his arm. Renxian quickly opened it. Inside was a pile of documents.

  “Here, these are your rental agreements,” said Renxian, handing the documents to Peng Aqiang. “There are two copies for each tenant. After you have affixed your seal, return one copy to the master.”

  “We can’t accept them,” said Peng Aqiang, refusing to take the documents.

  “You will regret this,” said Renxian.

  “Master Atian,” said Peng Aqiang, taking two steps forward and pushing the steward away.

  “Give the agreements to Chen Afa,” said Ye Atian.

  Renxian handed the pile of papers to Chen Afa. Peng Aqiang turned and snatched them away, saying, “Master Atian, can’t we work something out?”

  “I as landlord have nothing to discuss with tenants about conditions, especially those who are armed.”

  “I have no weapon.”

  “Then what do you call that in your hands?”

  “It’s a hoe. I use it to clear the mountains and earn a living.”

  “Why do you need it right now? Are you trying to intimidate me?”

  “Put your tools down,” said the steward to all those assembled.

  Peng Aqiang turned to give his hoe to someone behind him; Renjie stepped forward to receive it. When the others saw Peng Aqiang lay aside his hoe, they also laid theirs down. Someone breathed a long sigh of relief.

  “Master Atian, great men forgive their inferiors their mistakes. Let us discuss the matter.”

  “If you have anything to say, you can say it to my steward.”

  “No, I must beg that you yourself …”

  Ye Atian turned his back to them.

  “We beg you not to ask rent of us for the land we have just cleared.”

  “Where in the world can you find land for which rent or taxes do not have to be paid?”

  “We will, of course, pay the taxes on the land.”

  “I am the holder of the land patent, and I have the right to demand rent from you,” said Ye Atian, laughing.

  “What we mean is that you can’t just come and ask us for rent for nothing.”

  “Who said it was for nothing? I had to pay in silver to get the land patent. Now I will have to establish a guard post for the protection of my land from the natives. I will have to pay a lot of money to hire guards.”

  “We beg you. We entreat you,” said Peng Aqiang, sounding ever more submissive. “Master Atian, you have scores of paddy fields and hundreds of acres of land. Do you really care for this little bit? Please be generous and let us have the land we have opened.”

  “No! And that is final,” Ye Atian firmly refused.

  “Can’t we discuss this?” said Peng Aqiang, his voice quavering. “Do you really mean what you say?”

  “I said no, and I mean what I say.”

  Ye Atian walked about twenty yards down the slope to where his sedan chair was waiting. It was a wonder that the four bearers had been able to carry him up the winding mountain path.

  “Heroes are made of those who know their duty,” said Renxian as he walked away. “You must plow well. All tenant farmers in the world are in the same position. You have to accept your fate. You were born for it.”

  “Stay where you are,” said Peng Aqiang, as if he had just awakened from a dream. He turned for his hoe, but Renjie refused to give it to him. Instead Peng snatched a machete from Fan’s hands, and clutching the rental agreements in the other hand, he took off down the slope, brandishing his weapon. Immediately, Renjie and his brothers, along with Ahan and Aling, rushed after him. Grabbing him by the waist, they wrested the machete away and held him back.

  Only after Ye Atian’s sedan chair had disappeared around the bend at Blind Man’s Pool did Renjie release his father. Chen Afa had slipped away. Everyone else just stood where they were, rooted like trees. It was as if they had sprouted from the ground and would one day die there.

  The sun had long since been obscured by the clouds. A warm rain had begun to fall, but still no one moved. The rain gradually grew heavier, and it looked like a real tempest was on the way. Then it poured. Everyone was soaking wet; even the women and children came out to see what was happening. Were the people of Fanzai Wood accustomed to the wind and rain, or did it just not matter anymore? Once again the sun appeared, hotter than ever. It was as if the sun also wanted to escape the storm and dry the land.

  His head lowered, Peng Aqiang silently stared at the sopping-wet rental agreements. The anger that burned within him suddenly erupted, and he tore the documents into pieces.

  “You’re crazy.” Xu Shihui sighed. “There is still Heaven; we must just leave it to Heaven.”

  “Heaven? Who can Heaven help?” snorted Peng Aqiang.

  The sun vanished again and a burning wind sprang up, raising goose bumps on everyone’s skin. A black cloud arose from the cliff, followed by an unpleasant cawing—a flock of crows.

  It was another scorching day. The weak sun wore a halo. Near and far, a pale yellowish mist floated over the hills and woods. The air was filled with huge, yellow-winged ants. They scurried aimlessly, rushing around falling over one another, but looking weak and exhausted. Still they fluttered about. No one knew why the ants were fleeing. Rows of termites also appeared on the thatched roofs. They were smaller and more frail that the winged ants, but they too were fleeing. No one could explain why.

  Red and yellow dragonflies were seen hovering above the paddy fields below the temple and above every threshing ground. Their numbers continued to increase until it looked as if half the sky were filled with them. They formed a funnel that rose and sank, shrinking and expanding.

  No one went up the slope to work that afternoon. The village was silent; not a peep was heard from the children, who seemed to have vanished.

  By dusk a fine drizzle was falling. The eerie shrieks of gibbons were heard from the cliffs above Fanzai Wood. Gibbons were generally only heard in the winter, when they were suffering from cold and hunger. But now they were complaining in midsummer.