Free Chronicle of a Blood Merchant by Yu Hua, Andrew F. Jones Page B

pushed him a few steps forward. But as soon as Xu Sanguan had released him, Yile backed himself once more against the wall.
    When Xu Sanguan turned and saw Yile pressed flat to the wall, he lifted his hand menacingly in the air. But just as he was about to slap him, he thought better of it.
Damn. Yile isn’t even
my own son. I have no right to hit someone else’s child.
    As Xu Sanguan began to walk away, Yile’s voice rang out, “I’m not going. He Xiaoyong’s not my dad. My dad is Xu Sanguan.”
    “Bullshit,” Xu Sanguan commented to the neighbors. “Look at this little bastard. He thinks he can implicate me, but I had nothing to do with him.”
    At this point Xu Yulan once again burst into sobs. “What did I do in my past life to deserve this?”
    By now Xu Yulan’s litany had lost much of its interest for the spectators. She went through the changes several more times, but her voice had begun to weaken with fatigue and, lacking its original bite and elasticity, became dry and gravelly. She waved her handkerchief back and forth with less and less force, and the gasps she took for air between sentences became lower, heavier, and slower. Her neighbors picked up and left, like theater patrons after a show. Even her husband left. Xu Sanguan had long ago become accustomed to her litanies on the doorstep. She might as well be sitting there knitting a sweater, for all he cared.
    Only Yile was left standing there, glued against the wall, with hands behind his back scraping up against the whitewash. When everyone else had left, Yile approached his mother.
    Xu Yulan’s body was propped against the door frame. She was no longer waving the handkerchief in the air. Her chin was cupped in her palm. When she saw Yile approach, the tears that had already ebbed once again began to flow.
    Yile said to her, “Mom, don’t cry anymore. I’ll go over and call He Xiaoyong my dad.”
    When Yile arrived at He Xiaoyong’s door, he saw two girls a little younger than himself playing with rubber bands. As they stretched out their hands and hopped back and forth, their braids bobbed back and forth behind them. “You’re He Xiaoyong’s daughters, right?” he asked. “That means you’re my little sisters.”
    The two girls stopped jumping up and down. One of them sat on the doorstep, and the other sat down next to her sister, and together they stared in Yile’s direction.
    When Yile saw He Xiaoyong and his skinny wife emerge from inside, he called to him, “Dad.”
    He Xiaoyong’s woman said to He Xiaoyong, “Your wild oat is here. What are you going to do about him?”
    Yile called out again, “Dad.”
    He Xiaoyong said, “I’m not your dad. Why don’t you go home now? And don’t come around here again.”
    Yile called out once again, “Dad.”
    He Xiaoyong’s woman said to He Xiaoyong, “Why don’t you just get rid of him?”
    Yile called out once more, “Dad.”
    He Xiaoyong said, “Who’s your dad? Get out of here!”
    Yile stuck out his hand to wipe the snot from his nose. “My mom said so. My mom said if I called you my dad and you didn’t answer me, then I should say it a few more times. I’ve called you my dad four times now, but instead of answering me, you just told me to go away. I’ll be going home now.”

CHAPTER TEN
    Blacksmith Fang came to Xu Sanguan and demanded that he bring the money to the hospital immediately. “If you don’t bring the money,” he said, “they won’t give him any more medicine.”
    Xu Sanguan said to Blacksmith Fang, “I’m not Yile’s dad. You’ve got the wrong man. You ought to go after He Xiaoyong.”
    Blacksmith Fang asked, “When did you stop being Yile’s dad? Before Yile injured my son? Or just after?”
    “Of course it was before,” Xu Sanguan said. “Think it over. I’ve been cuckolded for nine years now. And I’ve taken care of his son for nine years despite all that. If I were to pay the hospital bill for your son in addition to everything else, then