“Have to do what?”

  “Repay them properly. After all, they did raise me.”

  “Properly?” The tone of Ahan’s voice was at once both joking and annoyed. His expression was also odd, making it difficult for Dengmei to guess what he was really thinking. Ahan had no sense of gratitude even for the sake of his wife and son. He had changed so much in the months he had been away. He used to be shy and timid. Now he walked with his head high and his back straight. His eyes were proud, and when he spoke, the words that rolled out! But something had not changed, regardless of whether he was laughing or sighing, and that was the look of loneliness that would appear and vanish again just as swiftly.

  There was something else that was new. He got a piece of wood and asked Qiu Mei to write some words on it, then made an incense burner by cutting a short piece of bamboo and putting some sand in it. He put both objects in a small basket, which he hung on the wall of their house. It was probably meant to be an ancestor tablet for the Lius. But strangely, soon after he hung the basket at noon, he began to look worried. That evening he took down the basket and tossed the contents into the fire.

  “Where is your mother now, Ahan?” asked Dengmei. She recalled that he had mentioned her several times after their marriage.

  “My mother is dead,” replied Ahan, breathing with difficulty. “From now on you are not to speak of her; I can’t bear it.” Indeed, even years later, when they had a brood of children, his parents were never mentioned.

  Aside from that one instance, Ahan always seemed very happy after they had moved into their new house. He busied himself catching shrimp and crayfish and hunting pheasants and foxes, none of which required any money. Dengmei was constantly busy: she had borrowed a hoe from Aling, and apart from grubbing wild potatoes, she had without a word begun to clear a patch of weedy ground in the woods. When Ahan saw this, he happily lent a hand. They had only one hoe, so Ahan cut the grass with the aboriginal knife he had brought back. Then they took turns turning the soil and holding Mingqing in their arms. Although they were poor, life had never been so good for either of them.

  “Ahan, I think it is really nice like this,” said Dengmei, trying her best to express herself.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that even though life is not easy, it is still good.”

  “Oh.”

  “At least you don’t have any worries now.”

  “Oh.” He smiled ruefully.

  “But it’s hard on you.”

  Ahan looked at their son in her arms. “You musn’t say that. It’s hard for him.”

  “It doesn’t matter. If one has a hard life as a child, it will be better later.”

  “I once wanted lots of kids, but I wouldn’t dare under these circumstances.”

  “As long as we work hard, we’ll do fine.” She suddenly blushed.

  “Living like savages? Like wild pigs? How will we ever improve our lot?”

  It was obvious that the life they were leading was too difficult for Ahan. Although he came from a humble background, no one had ever really looked after him. He was accustomed to a life of restless wandering, doing as he pleased, with long spells of ease. There was nothing more difficult for him than clearing weeds and digging the soil. Even dangerous jobs were easier. But Ahan never complained.

  Dengmei tried her best to do as much of the work as possible. She was always the first to tackle the heavier jobs, as she had been her entire life. Although she was small in stature and she had to feed Mingqing, she still felt that she had enough energy to work from morning till night. Something bright was burning within her.

  “Dengmei, don’t wear yourself out.” Ahan knew there was no alternative, but he looked embarrassed.

  “I’m fine, really.”

  Later, Ahan borrowed some money to buy a mattock, an earthenware rice pot, and a medium-size cast-iron pot. Dengmei wasn’t entirely pleased about laying out so much money; but it was a nice feeling to be the owner of a metal pot.

  One evening before going to bed, she heated a pot of water in which to soak her feet. Bathing her feet in the hot water, she was filled with a beautiful sense of ease and comfort. She lifted one foot from the water and gently rubbed it. Then she noticed how dirty it was. She set to scrubbing away the dirt, but it seemed never to end; it just kept coming off. She was surprised and felt strange. Maybe her whole body would be stripped away if she went on scrubbing. She was a little uncomfortable but also vaguely pleased. The soil was life, and life came from the soil. Life was not the same as the soil, but ultimately life was the soil. Life could be free and active, but it was also lonely. The soil was the lowest thing, but it was firm and steady.

  She woke from her reverie. “What am I doing thinking such wild thoughts?”

  She heard Ahan’s soft voice. “Who are you talking to?”

  “You frightened me,” she said, slightly annoyed.

  “Oh, you are in a temper!”

  Ahan, who was so shameless, had actually taken her in his arms just like that. She was so ashamed she scarcely had the strength to struggle.

  “Let go! Let go of me! I want to put on my sandals.”

  “No way!” Ahan didn’t let her go and even went so far as to carry her over to the new bamboo couch, where he wiped her feet dry.

  “What are you doing?” She was surprised and ashamed to the point of tears.

  “I want you.” Ahan hugged her even closer.

  “No, don’t! Aming is still awake.”

  “Aming will look away. Ha ha.”

  “You’re mad.”

  He was a dog. No matter how hard she struggled, he refused to let her go. He was completely out of control; no wonder he got on so well with the men from Tabeilai village. Not only had they not cut off his head, they had actually fed and sheltered him for several months. What really frightened her was that when he set his mind on something he was like a mountain dog that, once it had sunk its teeth into someone, wouldn’t let go short of being struck by lightning. Was this tenacity a virtue or his stubborn temper? He could ruin his whole life as well as that of his wife and son.

  “Who were you talking to just now?”

  “I was talking to my lover!” she said. Her own words surprised her.

  “Oh? Where is he, I’d like to meet him.”

  “My damn bully of a lover is right here beside me,” she swore, surprised at her own audacity.

  “Not true. So who is he?”

  Ahan would never let go of anything. She decided to tell him the strange thoughts she had had while scrubbing her feet.

  “Man was made from the earth,” said Ahan adamantly. “He is made from the earth and so cannot leave the soil. He loves it, lives by it, and can’t live without it. Man is always trying to wrest a living from the soil. And he’ll return to it.”

  “I never dreamed you understood so much about the soil, you bumpkin.”

  “I’ve come to realize that the soil is something that men both love and hate. Right? Farming is awful, but it’s also the most reliable occupation.”

  She understood some of what he was saying.

  “The soil is also the source of the greatest suffering.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When there’s a lot of people and not very much land, the landowners live well from the rent, but those who have no land can only meekly beg from their betters and work like beasts.”

  Suddenly Dengmei felt afraid. “Ahan, you’re strange and you frighten me.”

  Ahan began to laugh.

  “That’s the way life is, but you can accept it. Look at you, look at how you are clenching your teeth.”

  “The way it is? Everyone comes into the world naked. Then why are some born to be called ‘master’ and others born to be called ‘dog’?”

  “I don’t want to hear your nonsense.” Suddenly she thought of something else. “Are we going to have problems because of the land we’re clearing on the hillside?”

  “Isn’t everyone saying that it’s government land?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, the Jap officials will show up sometime and fine us and make us stop. But do you think we are the only ones?”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “What can we do? We’ll just wait and see.”

  “Stop trying to upset me.”

  “I’m not trying to upset you,” said Ahan, becoming impatient. “It’s just that we have no control over the situation. We’ll do whatever the officials tell us. If we can’t pay the fine, then we’ll leave.”

  “Leave?”

  “Yes. We’ll just go deeper into the mountains and clear some land, only to be driven deeper into the mountains again in three years.”

  “But won’t they …”

  “Sure, but they can’t cut all our heads off. We’ll just have to go deeper and deeper into the mountains. That’s the way life is.”

  “How long do you think we’ll be able to stay here?”

  “Who knows? Five years, three years, or maybe a few months.”

  Ahan’s words were like hot irons that branded her heart. But more annoying was that they came true in less than two months. The people were notified by the government that the survey of government lands would be completed in six months, at which time all who had cleared land they did not have title to would have one month to appear and complete the paperwork to continue working the land. Those who failed to do so would not be allowed to continue and would also be subject to severe punishment.

  Dengmei was on the point of tears. “What are we going to do?”

  “What are you scared of? We’ll go report our barren cesspit of a plot, get processed, pay some taxes, and that will be it.”

  She hadn’t expected Ahan to be so law-abiding. “Then you’ll go?”

  “What else can we do?”

  He was right. In Fanzai Wood cases like Ahan’s were easily handled. He and Aling had no trouble, but the cases of all the other residents of Fanzai Wood who had voluntarily reported were dismissed because, as they were informed, they were working land owned by Ye Atian. The people had never obtained a patent certificate for the land, and the title was still in the hands of Ye Atian. The people of Fanzai Wood protested, saying that they had an agreement of transfer with Ye, and presented the receipts for the payments made to him. Ye Atian, however, countered by producing the loan agreements for money borrowed from him, the records of interest charged, and the receipts for the taxes he had paid on the land. Although the people had all paid their share of the taxes, Ye Atain had remained the taxpayer of record, and he had all the receipts in his possession.

  The people of Fanzai Wood were livid with rage. Then Ye Atian made them an offer: in light of the situation, he was willing to transfer title to the land if they could clear their debts with him and pay all interest within three months. For those who did not pay in full, he would draw up tenancy agreements and, failing that, would prosecute.

  Only Xu Shihui and Chen Afa had been able to pay off a portion of their debt; the others had just tried to keep up with the interest payments. Eventually, tempers cooled, and the people of Fanzai Wood acknowledged the hopelessness of the situation. They decided to ask Ye Atian to return the interest they had already paid—which had vanished without a trace—and sign tenancy agreements. Ye Atian refused to return the money, saying that the interest had been accepted in lieu of rent and that government fines had to be paid.

  That summer, the sky was often cloudy and the long days were hot and humid. After getting up in the morning, Peng Aqiang sat, lost in thought, on a pile of stones under the eaves.

  “Dad, we’re going up into the mountains,” said Renxing.

  Renjie was also standing there, looking worried. Sadly, his tanned and wrinkled face made him look forty or fifty rather than thirty-six years old.

  “What about Renhua?” asked Peng Aqiang, looking for his second son, who never looked like a farmer.

  “Here I am,” said Renhua with his mouth full of potato. “What’s up?”

  “You boys take off,” he said, glaring at Renhua, “but make sure you fill in the taro patch first.”

  “Dad, it’s …”

  “Let’s go, Renhua!” said Renjie, glaring at him.

  Watching his sons depart, Peng Aqiang sighed. He had always disliked men who sighed, but that’s just what he had become in the last two years. He was sixty-five, and if he had been rich he would be enjoying his wealth right now. Lanmei, his wife, was sixty-one. He recalled how just the day before—on her birthday—he had announced that they were going to celebrate. But the very same day, Ye Atian had notified them that their interest payments were overdue and that Peng Aqiang had to appear at his house within ten days to sign a tenancy agreement or face prosecution. Renxian, Ye Atian’s steward, had personally delivered the message to Fanzai Wood.

  “Now listen carefully!” said Renxian. “The Japanese are not like useless Qing officials. When they say they will prosecute, they mean it, and they won’t waste any time.”

  “What will they do?” asked Renhua.

  “They’ll tie you up, take you to the yamen, and cut off your head under the banyan tree. That’s what they’ll do.”

  Peng Aqiang cleared his throat. “And can’t allowances be made?”

  “We’ve been making allowances for years, and you want us to keep on doing it?”

  “No, we’ll go to Master Atian’s house and plead on our knees,” said Peng Aqiang to himself.

  “You can forget that!” said Renxian in a rage. “I’m telling you that if anyone shows up they’ll be reported as bandits.”

  Bandits? Who was the bandit? The word was like a nail driven into the foreheads of all those at Fanzai Wood. For three days, the heads of all the Fanzai Wood households, with the exception of Chen Afa, met together. Even Ahan and Qiu Mei were there. Since Xu Shihui was now seventy and had lost some of his vigor and sharpness, Peng Aqiang was naturally pushed forward as the leader.

  Peng Aqiang was still in favor of trying to reason with Ye and to inform the Japanese. If no results were forthcoming, then they’d fight Ye Atian to the end.

  “All right, let’s ask Master Xu to go,” said Peng Aqiang.

  “No way,” said Xu Rixing. “I don’t want to be tied up and taken to the yamen and have it said that I’m a bandit.”

  Qiu Mei, who was standing in the corner, stooped to whisper something to Ahan; then he stepped forward.

  “The way I see it, why not let an outsider like me have a try?”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “I’ll go in secret to have a talk with Ye Atian, and if it doesn’t work, I’ll deal with him.”

  They all looked at each other in silence; they knew that Qiu Mei was an expert at martial arts.

  “That might be a good idea, let someone of experience …” said Peng Aqiang, deep in thought.

  “No,” said Aling suddenly.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” said Xu Rixing. “It won’t work.”

  “Why not?”

  “There are too many people who know Ye Atian’s connections with Fanzai Wood, and if someone loses their life, we’ll …” said Xu Rixing.

  “What’s more, as someone from Changshan living in Fanzai Wood, Qiu Mei will be suspected.”

  “After it’s done, I can always slip away and never come back,” said Qiu Mei.

  “It won’t work, Brother Qiu Mei,” said Ahan, whose words were probably not audible to everyone.

  What were they to do? They were back to where they had started. The people of Fanzai Wood were convinced that nothing could be done. Peng Aqiang had no idea what to do, but he couldn’t just give up. He felt he had been pushed to the edge; his mind was a blank.

  The people were torn between fighting and peace. The ten days allowed by Ye Atian slipped by, and they still did nothing. This time Ye Atian seemed a little kinder and sent Renxian to warn them of the possible consequences. His steward also brought along the tenancy agreements as he had done before. No one was willing to sign them. It was said that Chen Afa had long since signed his. Xu Shihui and Su Ajin, the two oldest residents, favored admitting defeat and signing the agreements, but their children were against it, which created a lot of conflict between generations.

  “If you don’t respond within ten days, don’t blame the master,” warned Renxian.

  “What will happen?” someone asked timidly.

  “He’ll prosecute. He’ll ask the police to arrest you,” said Renxian. After a moment’s thought, he added, “He’ll take you to court. He’ll have you arrested and locked up in Taizhong.”

  “Taizhong? Where is that?”

  “Taizhong is the district capital where the court that handles Miaoli cases is located. It’s far, far away, to the south. If you end up there, don’t ever expect to see your wives and kids again.” Renxian left these frightening words as a parting shot.

  Sure enough, on the very day the Big Snow period of the traditional agricultural calendar began, the weather turned cold. It was also on that day that Peng Aqiang and the heads of six other households at Fanzai Wood received summonses to appear at the Office of Rural Affairs in Great Lake village. They were to appear to resolve the problems of tenancy and rent. They learned that Chen Afa’s and Xu Shihui’s and Su Ajin’s families had already signed tenancy agreements with Ye Atian. Liu Ahan had been exempted because he had cleared government land. But Huang Aling had also been named. The six families felt isolated and powerless. However, Xu’s sons and Su’s sons had torn up the tenancy agreements and had informed Ye Atian that they would not abide by them.

  The following day was bitterly cold. Peng Aqiang rose before the sun and sat in the main room of the house preparing to go to Great Lake. Lanmei tried to persuade him to stay and let Renjie go. But he insisted upon going himself because it was his name that was on the summons; he couldn’t very well have his son go in his place.

  “I think it would be best if I were to go,” said Renhua. “Father’s temper is too quick and big brother is too much of a country bumpkin. I’ve seen a bit of the world, and I won’t get in a fight with the officials. It would be best if I went.”

  “In that case, let us brothers deal with it,” said Renjie.