Big Breasts and Wide Hips by Mo Yan Read Free Book Online Page A

slow-flowing river. Fish frolicked there, while swallows skimmed the surface of the water. She stepped into the river and shouted, “Qiudi, you stay up there to catch the shrimp. The rest of you, into the water.”
    Giggling and squealing, the girls stepped into the river.
    As her heels, accentuated by the bindings she’d worn as a little girl, sank into the mud, and the underwater grasses gently stroked her calves, Laidi experienced an indescribable sensation. Bending over at the waist, she carefully dug her fingers into the mud around the roots of the grasses, since that was the best place to find shrimp. Without warning, something leaped up between her fingers, sending shivers of delight through her. A nearly transparent, coiled freshwater shrimp the thickness of her finger, each of its feelers a work of art, lay squirming in her hand. She flung it up onto the riverbank. With a whoop of joy, Qiudi ran over and scooped it up.
    â€œFirst Sister, I got one, too!”
    â€œI got one, First Sister!”
    â€œSo did I!”
    The task of retrieving all the shrimp was too much for two-year-old Qiudi, who stumbled and fell, then sat on the dike and bawled. Several of the shrimp were able to spring back into the river and disappear in the water. So Laidi went up and took her sister down to the water’s edge, where she washed her muddy backside. Each splash of water on bare skin resulted in a spasm and a shriek mixed with a string of meaningless foul words. With a swat on her sister’s bottom, Laidi let go of the younger girl, who nearly flew to the top of the dike, where she picked a stick out of some shrubbery, pointed it at her big sister, and cursed like a shrewish old woman. Laidi laughed.
    By then, her sisters had made their way upriver. Dozens of shrimp leaped and squirmed on the sunlit bank. “Scoop them up, First Sister!” Qiudi shouted.
    She began putting them into the basket. “I'll get you when we get home, you little imp!” Then she bent down, a smile on her face, and continued scooping up the shrimp, enough to wipe her mind clear of worries. She opened her mouth, and out came a little song — where it had come from, she didn’t know: “Mommy, Mommy, you are so mean, marrying me to an oil vendor, sight unseen …”
    She quickly caught up with her sisters, who stood shoulder to shoulder in the shallows, their rumps sticking up in the air, chins nearly touching the water. They moved ahead slowly, hands buried in the water, opening and closing, opening and closing. Yellow leaves that had snapped off the plants floated in the muddy water they left in their wake. Each time one of them stood up meant another shrimp caught. Lingdi, then Pandi, then Xiangdi, one after another they straightened up and tossed shrimp in the direction of their big sister, who ran around, scooping them up, while Qiudi tried to keep up.
    Before they realized it, they had nearly reached the arched footbridge spanning the river. “Come out of there,” Laidi shouted, “all of you. The basket’s full, we’re going home.” Reluctantly, the girls waded out of the water and stood on the dike, hands bleached by the water, calves coated with purplish mud. “How come there are so many shrimp in the river today, Sis?” “Has Mommy already given us a baby brother, Sis?” “What do the Japs look like, Sis?” “Do they really eat children, Sis?” “How come the mutes killed all their chickens, Sis?” “How come Grandma’s always yelling at us, Sis?” “I dreamed there was a big, fat loach in Mommy’s belly, Sis …” One question after another, and not a single response from Laidi, whose eyes were fixed on the bridge, its stones glittering in the sunlight. The rubber-wheeled wagon, with its three horses, had driven up and stopped at the bridgehead.
    When the squat wagon master flicked the reins, the horses stepped