Ferocious Dog of Old

Notes from Nande, the translator
1. Sorry about the huge-ass fanart at the top of the page, I’m not sure how to stop WordPress from doing that. The link is at the bottom of the page.
2. Link to main page: Ferocious Dog of Old (Not Asking If It’s Three or Nine)
3. No schedule for this, but I’ll aim to have a chapter out each Friday. No bearing on the release of Hope You’ve Been Well — I’ll keep to my schedule for that novel.
4. This chapter hasn’t yet been proofread by anyone other than myself.

It was too cold.

Tao Huainan lay curled up under his older brother’s jacket in the back seat of the car. In the midst of the noise outside, he could hear his brother talking to someone.

The doors and windows of the minivan were poorly sealed, the air leaking in. Tao Huainan tugged at the coat, covering half his face. His brother’s clothes had the scent of smoke and ashes.

For the past two days, they had burnt many, many papers. His brother carried this stifling smell with him the whole time. So did Tao Huainan himself.

The car door opened. Tao Huainan opened his eyes wide, though he could see nothing at all.　　

He opened his eyes to show that he was awake.

——He was blind.

“You’re up?”

It was his brother’s voice.

Tao Huainan felt more secure. He sat up, his arm extending and handing the jacket over.

“Keep it,” said his brother.

Tao Huainan continued to stretch his arm out. “You wear it.”

Tao Xiaodong1 wore only a woollen jumper; his body was freezing. He didn’t sit down, simply taking the jacket from his hand and pulling it on. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

“No,” said Tao Huainan.

Tao Xiaodong waited till he was a little less cold before sitting over and patting his little brother on the head. Tao Huainan heard his brother say, “Since you’re awake, get down and bow2 to Mum and Dad in a bit.”

Tao Huainan nodded. “Okay,” he said.

For the past two days, Tao Huainan’s brother had led him to touch his head to the floor so many times that he’d lost count. He could see nothing. All he knew was that there were many people around them all the time, and that they were always sighing.

Tao Huainan had sharp ears. People nearby said that his life was hard, that from now on things would definitely be difficult for both of them, that this blind little boy was going to be a burden on his brother for the rest of their days. Tao Huainan heard it all. He held tight to his brother’s hand; his brother’s palm was always warm.

They had come back here the day before yesterday to bury their parents’ remains. Tao Huainan lost his parents half a year ago. All he had left was his brother.

His brother was a lot older than he was, and doted on him.

Their family had many traditions; the whole funereal process was long and complex, so they had to stay for a week. Tao Huainan had never been here. He wasn’t born here, nor had he lived here before. This place was too foreign to him, the people here strangers.

It was too cold here. Tao Huainan wore a woolly cap with a snap fastening that went over his face; when he put it on, it covered his whole head and face except his eyes. Even so, Tao Huainan was so cold that the bridge of his nose ached. The little bit of bone between his eyes felt a needling pain every time the wind blew. 

It was the heart of winter. Even the chatter of people outside seemed to carry with it the stiff chill of the season, as if their lips and tongues found it hard to be lively.

Tao Huainan spoke in low and muffled tones, coughing occasionally. He had caught a cold on the first day he arrived. It didn’t improve even after taking medication. Tao Xiaodong couldn’t take care of him all the time; he had many things to do.

It was then that Tao Huainan met that child, in front of his parents’ funeral marquee, on a winter’s day that chilled to the bone.

At the time, he was standing outside, sipping on a cup of milk. His cap was unfastened, with the cloth that had covered his face pulled down to his chin. The steam rose from the milk in his cup and covered his face.

Behind him was the ever-clamouring funeral marquee, but the cup of hot milk in Tao Huainan’s hands made him feel a little less cold. His palms were warm and he was a little reluctant to drink up.

——When the cup in his hand was suddenly wrested from his grasp, Tao Huainan started with fright, so shocked that he drew back instantly. He couldn’t see anything, so such a sudden turn of events in so foreign a place terrified him.

Some milk had splashed over his cap and lapels. Briefly flustered, Tao Huainan yelled out for his brother.

The boy was nude. He was a little shorter than Tao Huainan, so thin he appeared to be a bag of bones, each of his ribs protruding. His entire body was black and blue, his face swollen with an unhealthy red hue.

He held Tao Huainan’s cup with both hands and gulped down the milk. The skin of his hands was raw and chapped, as well as dirty.

One of Tao Huainan’s uncles shouted. The sudden noise sent Tao Huainan into another fit of shivers.

Tao Xiaodong walked over and hugged him. Instantly, Tao Huainan glued himself tightly to his brother. 

Their uncle said that the kid was from the Chi family, and that he was always naked. His father was a mad drunkard who beat his child whenever he had one drink too many.

“The Chi family?” asked Tao Xiaodong. “Chi Zhide3?”

“That’s the one. You remember him?”

Tao Xiaodong was only a few years apart from the drunkard. They fought when they were little; he had even broken the Chis’ window before. Every generation of Chis was filled with drunkards who raised their fists to their wives and kids whenever they drank too much. When Chi Zhide was little, his father beat him till he was deaf in one ear. Tao Xiaodong never did want anything to do with the Chis, crossing the street to avoid them if he could.

“He has a son this big?” Tao Xiaodong looked at the child. He was completely nude from head to toe, without even a scrap of clothing. The wounds and scars across his body were clearly inflicted by beatings. Tao Xiaodong couldn’t bear to look. He put Tao Huainan down, then took off his coat and covered the child.  

The child swayed back and forth. As if he had lost control of his body, he began to shudder violently, his teeth clacking loudly as they chattered.

The warmed coat covering him, the boy still clutched Tao Huainan’s cup, which held some residual heat. He raised his head and looked at Tao Xiaodong.

Tao Xiaodong looked right back. The boy took after his father——rather ugly and not very likeable. But no matter how little Tao Xiaodong wished to be involved in other people’s affairs, a naked, barefoot child running about on such a cold day was apt to freeze to death if he wasn’t careful.

Tao Xiaodong looked at the little spot between the boy’s legs, purplish and shrunken from the cold. After freezing outdoors for so many hours, even if it hadn’t fallen off, it was surely damaged. He was considering asking the boy to come indoors and warm up, but before he could open his lips, the child turned and ran away.

The coat and cup were both thrown to the ground, stained with dirty snow and mud. Their uncle cursed aloud and picked them up. “Best not to step into their mess of a family life. His father’s a madman. When he gets mad, he’ll beat anyone.”

“And the mother?” asked Tao Xiaodong.

“He beat her so much she ran away. Who could stand living with a madman? She’s long gone!”

Tao Xiaodong put his coat back on, not minding the dirt on it. He squatted down and picked Tao Huainan back up. Tao Huainan’s hand was still warm from the milk; a hot little palm pasted itself against Tao Xiaodong’s neck.

“Gave you a scare, huh?” Tao Xiaodong asked him.

Tao Huainan nodded, his voice small. “Gave me a scare.”

So Tao Xiaodong stroked his head forcefully over his cap. “Hush-a-bye, don’t you cry,” he comforted.

Back then, Tao Huainan’s brother protected him like a baby. The little blind boy was too weak. Tao Xiaodong all but tied him to his side every day, watching over him constantly.

At this age, boys were meant to be running about causing trouble, so much trouble that their parents would give them a beating and still be fuming. That was how Tao Xiaodong himself grew up.

But not everyone was like that. Here was a blind little boy who had no parents and couldn’t fend for himself. And over there was a dirty little puppy who had parents but was probably better off without them.

At the end of the day, people led very different lives. Those with good lives differed in what was good about their lives; those with awful lives had different types of awfulness too.

Tao Huainan drank the fresh new cup of warm milk that his brother gave him. The child was well kept, drinking a large cup of milk every day, so much that he was pale and milk-coloured and smelt of dairy from head to toe.

After finishing his milk, he took a long afternoon nap. His brother put him over the heated bed and covered him with his little blanket. In his dreams as well as outside of them chimed the occasional singing of the mourners; the chief mourner’s sudden shouts sent his shoulders shrinking in on himself, even in his sleep.

Because of this nap, he couldn’t sleep at night.

Even if he couldn’t see, day and night were still different to him. The weak rays of light before his eyes helped him to distinguish day from night.

Tao Xiaodong didn’t sleep at night. Over his padded jacket, he wore his uncle’s heavy green-and-khaki army coat, with the collar popped to cover his ears and face. He squatted by the fire pit as he kept the ritual watch4 over his parents’ souls, occasionally lighting a fire in the pit to burn joss paper for them.

He went indoors to check on Tao Huainan. Tao Huainan heard him come in and reached out to touch him. “I’ll go with you,” he said softly.

His brother tapped his hand with the back of his own. “It’s too cold outside,” he soothed.

“I’ll wear a padded coat.”

“It’s still too cold. Sleep inside.” Tao Xiaodong sat down and kept him company for a few minutes, then went out after a while.

Tao Huainan couldn’t sleep for the longest time. He had slept too much in the afternoon. The glass windows of the village hut were not tightly shut; the wind whistled through at night. The fire-heated brick bed beneath him was burning hot, but his hands and face were very cold as they peeked through his blanket, the tip of his nose frosty.

Occasionally, Tao Huainan would lift his hand to pinch his nose. His palm smelt of firewood from the heated bed.

Tao Huainan was bundled up in his blanket when an old lady’s cry came howling from a distance.

Though an old voice, her howl was sharp, making Tao Huainan feel even colder. As it approached, he could hear the sound of a man grumbling and swearing too. Footsteps and voices melded together, the noises getting closer and closer.

A man was calling someone a “snot-nosed brat”, and declaring that he was “gonna fuckin’ beat you to death today, see if I don’t”.

The old lady was crying as she begged him to stop chasing, interspersed with a “quick, run!” every now and again.

Tao Huainan lay quietly, listening. His eyes stared meaninglessly into the night. He wanted to look for his brother; he always felt insecure without his brother by his side.

The funeral marquee was set up in the front yard, so the gates were open to the elements for this period of time.

When the gate slammed with a bang, Tao Xiaodong was in the middle of a smoke as he sat cross-legged before the fire pit. He raised his eyes and looked over. It was the Chi kid from earlier that day.

The butt-naked child tried to hide behind the walls. His father was giving chase, with an old lady pulling on his arm, trying to stop him. But her pulling was ineffectual; instead, she was dragged along, staggering as she ran to keep up. 

“Stop it! You’re gonna kill him! Zhide!!” The old lady screamed through tears, beating the man’s back as she shouted.

The man reeked of alcohol, swearing as he headed towards the boy.

Tao Xiaodong hadn’t finished his cigarette. He stayed sitting where he was.

“Zhide! That’s your son!!” The old lady’s voice had long grown hoarse from yelling, rising a pitch higher with hysterical desperation.

An old lady, a child, and a drunkard spread out across the yard of the funeral marquee like actors in a tragic farce.

Tao Xiaodong watched them indifferently for a long while, amazed at their lack of fear as they stood before the remains of two dead people. Once again, Tao Xiaodong lit a flame and continued to burn the stack of joss paper in the fire pit.

Tao Xiaodong had grown up here; this yard and its two buildings were his childhood home. He had run wild and raised the roof here, but even when his father scolded him and spanked him a few times, he was always careful not to put much strength in his smacks.

Back then, the number one drunkard in the Chi family was still Chi Zhide’s father, who beat his son whenever he drank too much. Chi Zhide too used to run about when his father’s beatings were particularly brutal. If Tao Xiaodong’s dad came across them, he would be sure to stop the man and tell him to take it out back if he was so tough—what was so tough about being drunk and hitting a child? Whenever Chi Zhide saw Tao Xiaodong’s dad, he would hide behind him and shout “Uncle Tao” through his sobbing.

Now Chi Zhide was the one beating his son, and the child looked far more pitiful than Chi Zhide had been when he was little. “Uncle Tao” was gone, his remains in a casket. The child who had been crying and begging for mercy back then had become the drunk ghoul of the next generation, the glare of his bloodshot eyes completely inhuman.

How laughable, how tragic. The dramatic comedy before him seemed to carry an air of karmic predestination that somehow skipped a generation.

After he finished the cigarette, Tao Xiaodong chucked the butt into the fire pit and stood, grabbing a large stick from the woodpile next to him.

The child ran without any clear plan, his frozen legs beginning to fail him. He tried to run around Tao Xiaodong, but couldn’t manage it, his head thumping into Tao Xiaodong.

When Chi Zhide came over, cursing and swearing, Tao Xiaodong gave his neck a violent blow with the stick, knocking him flat on the ground.

“Get lost.” Tao Xiaodong gazed apathetically at the drunkard howling on the ground, cringing and massaging his neck. He pointed out the door with the stick. “Don’t make a scene in front of my parents.”　　 

Author notes:
Another story, childhood friends, slowburn. This time, we’ll follow these kids as they grow up.

Translator notes:
@断流- is a prolific fan artist for this novel on Weibo. E.g:

This is Tao Huainan. Click here to see more.

1 “Xiaodong” is pronounced something like the words “she-ow” and “dohng”.
2 The bowing here is kowtowing, where you kneel and place your forehead on the ground. Common in Chinese rituals.
3 “Chi Zhide” is pronounced something like “chr”, “jr/zhir”, and “duh”.
4 During a wake, someone stays up to keep watch over the souls of the dead, sometimes with a candle (we kept a candle lit throughout my grandmother’s 5-day wake, along with a constantly burning trail of joss paper).