Chapter 13

EARLY IN THE MORNING THE PIGS AND NEW Year cakes, carried in baskets dangling from flat-poles, were sent off to the Village Public Office. At home the house seemed empty and forlorn, like after a daughter's wedding when the guests have gone and all the hustle and bustle come to nothing. Moon Scent found that she could not settle down to her daily chores. She went next door to ask if Big Uncle had returned yet.
"He is not back yet," answered Big Aunt. And she leaned over to whisper, "I told him to smile nicely when they file in there with their flat-poles to hand over the presents. If you give ungraciously, you lose your things anyway, and get criticized on top of it."
"I hope Gold Root remembers to smile," Moon Scent said worriedly.
They chatted while waiting for the men to return.
"I hope he didn't pawn his wadded jacket and go off to gamble," said Moon Scent. "He's been feeling rest-less lately. Maybe I should go down to the teahouse and see if he is there."
"Don't go and look for him yourself. If you catch him there he'll feel embarrassed in front of all those people and there'll be another quarrel. Send Beckon."
Moon Scent shouted for Beckon and looked for her all over the place, but there was no trace of her.
"The little imp," said Moon Scent. "I saw her walking after her dad's load. Must have followed those rice cakes all the way to the temple!"
They were talking in the courtyard when Big Uncle scurried in excitedly.
"Close the door quick!" he said. "Bolt it quick! Come on-hurry! Where are the children? All at home? You people go inside at once!"
"What has happened?" asked Big Aunt.
Big Uncle finished bolting the door, then turned and whispered, "They are making a row."
"Who?"
"Where is Gold Root?" Moon Scent cut in.
"Don't mention Gold Root to me! This Gold Root with his temper! I always said one day he would get into serious trouble. Just now, when the New Year cakes were being weighed, Comrade Wong said that his con-tribution was underweight, so he started yelling. The others were also at fault-they all took it up. And they're all making a big row about it. Luckily I got away fast. Lost my flat-pole and baskets, though Moon Scent felt sick. "Big Uncle, have you seen Beckon?"
Big Uncle froze and then suddenly pointed a finger at her. "Hey, hurry up! Go and get her. Followed her pa all the way to the temple."
Then he complained fretfully of the necessity of un-bolting the door now to let her out and then unbolting it again when she came back.
Moon Scent ran as fast as she could toward the tem-ple. Her heart was curiously light and blank, an empty thing suspended in mid-air. From afar she could see the pink walls and hear the faint hubbub of shouting. She ran straight into the temple gate. The sun shone bright in the huge courtyard, which was quite empty. Spar-rows twittered under the eaves. But suddenly a militia-man dashed out of the eastern wing with an arm out-stretched, holding an archaic lance, the tuft of red hair under the blade fluffed out by the wind. It was a dream-like, fantastic sight hauled down off the stage and thrust into the noonday sun. Moon Scent stood rooted to the spot while he charged past her and disappeared through the gate.
She padded up the stone steps and peered into the high-ceilinged gloom of the main hall. There was no-body to be seen. She turned and ran out of the temple. This time she could tell that the angry hum of the crowd came from the direction of Shen Ta Lumber Company, which had been requisitioned and was now the govern-ment storehouse. She rushed there, shouting, "Beckon! Beckon!"
The lumber company was a low building and once its name had been written in big black characters eight or nine feet high on the white wall. After the government took over the characters had been washed off, leaving big gray blotches. A dense crowd swarmed black against its door.
"Beckon, come home! Come home, Beckon's dad!" she cried.
Two militiamen brandishing red-tufted lances at the edge of the crowd also shouted, "Go home! All right, now—everybody go home!"
"We want to borrow some rice for the New Year!" someone called out.
"A good harvest and spend the New Year empty-bellied!"
"Not against the law-to borrow some rice!"
"What do you mean-'borrow'? It is our own grain!"
In the swift rise and fall of voices she could not tell which was her husband's. A strange excitement flooded over her that almost drowned out her anxiety and she was ashamed to call out, "Go home, Beckon's dad."
"Kinsmen," Comrade Wong's voice rose above the din, "whatever you have to say, we can talk it over. Whatever problems you have, we can settle it together. Everybody go home first and I guarantee—" The rest of his words were lost in the banging of carrying-poles against the door.
A child whimpered in fear and Moon Scent shrieked, "Beckon! Beckon!" as she pushed into the heart of the crowd.
"M-ma! M-ma!" yelled Beckon.
The militiamen began to thrust out tentatively with their lances and rods and someplace a man cried out in pain and swore, "Damn his mother! Somebody'll get killed!" as if surprised at the idea.
The carrying-poles continued to ram against the door. It creaked and then gave way with a crash.
"Kinsmen! Everybody keep cool. This is the People's Property! The People's Property cannot be touched!" Wong shouted hoarsely. "Let us all protect the People's Property!"
A carrying-pole struck him at the back of his head. Then the three militiamen who carried rifles pointed their guns at the crowd. One of the T'an brothers grabbed for one of the guns and the militiaman who held it shot him in the stomach. The other militiamen fired and the crowd was stunned into silence. Then the militiamen backed up, working the bolts of their rifles to reload, and the mob growled and surged toward them.
"Go up on the roof, you fools," yelled Wong, who had some experience in guerrilla warfare. "Shoot from the rooftop."
"M-ma! M-ma!" Beckon went on screaming flatly, with never the slightest variation in tone.
"Beckon! Beckon!" She was not far off but Moon Scent could not move an inch toward her, jammed tight in the stampede. In that nightmarish moment it was as if they had been calling to each other throughout eter-nity.
Comrade Wong grabbed Small Chang's gun from his terrified orderly and, holding the gun at his hip, fired blindly into the peasants pushing in past the shattered door. He reloaded rapidly and fired again. Desperately, he charged into the opening his shooting had created. Hands clutched at his clothes, but he swung the rifle back and forth and broke free. Badly bruised, his face doubly pale with the blood on it, his clothes torn and his cap lost, he ran to his quarters in the western wing of the temple. Ku was in his room. He had been working on a "Glorious Family" poster when the riot broke out. Now he stood behind the table looking trapped.
"Where did they get the guns?" he quavered.
Wong made no reply as he slumped into a chair, his rifle across his knees and his chin embedded in the greasy, full bosom of his uniform.
"Are you hurt, Comrade?" Ku asked with belated solicitude.
"I'm all right," Wong answered dully.
"They have guns," Ku whispered.
"That was our militia defending the storehouse," Wong said stiffly.
"Oh," Ku said in some confusion.
The distant hubbub had died down but they could still hear scattered shots banging away. Wong drew the towel from the back of his waistband and wiped the sweat from his face and neck.
"We have failed," Wong said heavily, and then again, as if saying it for the first time, "We have failed. We have had to shoot at our people."
Ku avoided looking at him. In his present overwrought state Wong probably did not realize that this admission of failure in a moment of weakness and lack of faith amounted to a virtual betrayal of The Party and could be brought up against him in any purge. But sooner or later it would occur to him. And it would be only natural if he should want to dispose of the sole witness of his crime. Humble as his rank might be, within this village his power was absolute. And what was one more cas-ualty amid all this shooting?
Wong stood up abruptly, and Ku jumped as the rifle in his lap fell clattering to the ground.
"There must be spies behind this," Wong said. He turned an excited, animated face and unseeing eyes toward Ku. "There must be. Otherwise the people would never rise up like this. We'll have to get to the bottom of this."