Militia Vow-Taking Ceremony The Commune hosted a vow-taking ceremony for the Militia Due to the Lin Biao issue, we swore our fidelity to Chairman Mao The villagers said I looked like a German foreigner With my Type 50 assault rifle at my chest, wiry and on-edge We paraded on the deserted dirt road through the village Our steps in unison, stirring dust that hung in the air Big roosters and old hens ran away at the sound In loud voices we sang songs of the revolutionary proletariat The brown ox didn''t know how to yield way It stuck out its horns as if glowering at the people''s militia We solemnly marched around it Not bothering to notice, it squeezed out a heap of manure On barren ground we shouted slogans and sang revolutionary songs The sparrows flew off, the frogs all jumped in the water Later, we fell out of step, and one day that can''t be recalled clearly We proclaimed ourselves disbanded A Bayonet in the Night Most people know that the life of sent-down youths was quite simple Doing farm work, earning work points, trying to fit in with the farmers On long nights we drank and gambled and discussed the attributes of women We had hubris that surpassed the merry men of Liangshan Marshland One night I bet I could walk alone through the graveyard by the river Taking a military bayonet in hand, I charged off into the darkness The Yellow River at night was creepy and foreboding Moonlight touched the water in flecks like the eyes of ghosts A fox was so busy hunting rats, it lost its urge to consume its mate Under my footsteps there were subliminal sounds of wailing A black cat that hunted sparrows was hanging from a tree branch On all sides were fireflies, blinking and hiding in darkness Chilly wind sobered me up, my heart palpitated crazily Right then my ears caught a nameless moaning sound In the pitch dark I stumbled into a pond in the graveyard Later, I went back carrying a skull; it still had a patch of hair Seeing it on the bed, the boys turned pale and girls squealed The next day I went back to the graveyard to find my bayonet That was a key item supplied to junior cadres in the militia It lay in the underwater stillness, its shape distinctly visible A heap of white bones beside it sent a shiver through me I thought the owner of those bones would want it for protection What the heck, I''d tell the sergeant it was carried off by the black cat Thirty years later, I returned to that spot at the riverbank The place had turned to a bleak, featureless alkali marsh But a dry willow stood there, half sunlit and half in gloom I knew that was my youth, keeping the bayonet company Prosperity Ma Prosperity Ma came from a good background of low-to-mid-level farmers In middle school he was the red guard who escorted me to denunciations He used to press a mock rifle roughly against the back of my head These days I think that must be why I often have a sore neck After being sent to a production team, our fates were reversed I was bookkeeper for a brigade; he was just a sent-down youth He was bull-headed and found fault with everything I said I sent him to dig ditches or harness donkeys to a manure wagon Perhaps due to bull-headedness, a gaping sore grew in his left ear Day after day he stuffed wads of paper or cotton in his ear canal Once when he asked for sick leave, I suspended his work points He couldn''t bear to lose points, so he insisted on going to work Finally he got over his stiff-necked attitude toward me He sat on my bed''s edge, drinking and looking miserable He told me his parents were getting old and had many ailments His little sister was weak; his little brother had no interest in studying He needed to earn more points, to buy more medicine for his parents He had only denounced me to get merit points and stay in the city Since we were drinking, my tears started falling as well The two of us forgot our animosity toward each other The next day coal miners were being recruited; I recommended him When setting out he lost composure and broke out sobbing Many years later, I went home for a school dropout reunion I didn''t see him at the gathering and heard no news of him Someone said he made foreman and ran the mine with brisk efficiency Others said he was at home convalescing from silicosis After getting drunk, I gazed out through the barroom window I felt long-buried regrets, and thought he shouldn''t have stayed away I saw a man with haggard features under a street light His pose seemed stiff-necked as he stared into the barroom Spring-Guard Duan Spring-Guard Duan had a pale, white face Out walking it looked like a leaf drifting in a stream He was number two tractor driver in our brigade He was afraid of ghosts and darkness and walking alone He swears he saw a ball of wildfire creeping toward him Which caused him to drive the tractor into a ditch He said our production brigade was built on old graves He was right, I used to see foxfire flitting about at night As time went by I started waking up late in the night Something was scratching my foot soles; it was only a rat On a night when the moonlight was like water A wild cat was howling on my windowsill I stoked up courage and drew near with gun in hand It darted away, scrambling onto things then jumping down It jumped on the blacksmith''s stove, and I nailed it with one shot Under the moonlight, its eyes looked like little green lamps The next day I went to check that spot, but it was empty There was nothing there, no sign of anything being killed Spring-Guard said it was a ghost and warned me to watch out Because my brick bed was on a spot that had been a grave Not until my quilt was ignited by coals under my bed Did I think it was time to sleep in a different place But Guardspring Duan also said, "Don''t bother But make sure to wash your feet before bedtime" I thought I definitely needed to wash my feet before bedtime But I didn''t like going to the stream behind my room at night Because I felt fearful being alone in the dark So even now, in the city, I fear being alone in the dark.