Free Life and Death are Wearing Me Out by Mo Yan

it. I knew they were unreliable, that all you had to do was pound the table to get them to reveal all our secrets. I’m willing to turn over everything I own, wealth that will astound you, enough for you to buy an artillery cannon, but you must give me your word that you will release Ximen Bai and won’t take my crimes out on Yingchun and Qiuxiang, since they know nothing.
    You don’t need to worry about that, Hong said. We’ll do everything by the book.
    All right. Untie my hands.
    The militiamen eyed me suspiciously, then looked at Hong Taiyue.
    Again, with a laugh, he said, They’re afraid you’ll fight like a cornered beast, that you’ll do anything to get away.
    I smiled. He personally untied my hands, even offered me a cigarette. I accepted, even though I’d lost feeling in my hands, and sat in my armchair, beaten down with dejection. Finally, I reached up and pulled down the scroll. — Break open the wall with your rifle butts, I said to the militiamen.
    They were dumbstruck by the sight of the riches they retrieved from the hollow, and those looks told me everything I needed to know about what they were thinking. They all wished they could walk away with that treasure and probably were already conjuring up dreams of wealth and leisure: If this house had been handed over to me and I’d stumbled upon this hidden treasure . . .
    While they were standing around dazed by the riches, I reached down, grabbed a revolver that was hidden under the armchair, and fired a shot into the tile floor; the bullet ricocheted and lodged in the wall. The militiamen hit the floor in panic. Only Hong Taiyue remained standing, the bastard, showing what he was made of. Did you hear that, Hong Taiyue? If I’d pointed this at your head, right now you’d be spread out on the floor like a dead dog. But I didn’t, not at you or at any of your men, since I have no account to settle with any of you. If you hadn’t come to struggle against me, someone else would have. It’s the times. All rich people are doomed to meet the same fate. And that’s why I haven’t harmed a single hair on any of you.
    You’re got that right, Hong said. You’re a man who knows what’s what, someone who sees the big picture, and as a man, I respect you. More than that, you’re a man I’d be happy to share a bottle with, even become sworn brothers with. But speaking as a member of the revolutionary masses, you and I are irreconcilable foes and I am obliged to eliminate you. This is not personal hatred, it’s class hatred. As a representative of a class that is marked for elimination, you could have shot me dead, but that would have made me a revolutionary martyr. The government would have then executed you, turning you into a counterrevolutionary martyr.
    I laughed, roared, in fact. I laughed so hard I cried. When I was finished, I said, Hong Taiyue, my mother was a devout Buddhist, and not once in my life have I been guilty of killing anyone or anything, carrying out my filial obligations to her. She told me that if I every killed anyone or anything after her death, she would suffer torment in the afterworld. So if it’s martyrdom you’re looking for, you’ll have to find someone else to make that possible. As for me, I’ve lived long enough. It’s time for me to die. But my death will be unrelated to your so-called classes. I accumulated my wealth by being smart, industrious, and lucky, and I never entertained the thought of joining any class. And I certainly won’t die a martyr of any sort. As far as I’m concerned, living on like this would fill me with all kinds of meaningless grievances. There are too many things I don’t understand, which makes me uncomfortable, so dying is better. I put my pistol up to my temple and said, There’s an urn with a thousand silver dollars buried in the animal pen. My apologies, but you’ll have to dig through animal dung to get to it, which means you’ll cover your bodies with a foul stench before you