Just as arranged, Uncle Xu showed up at two-thirty in the morning of the day Little Horse was to begin his term of military service; moreover, just as Little Horse had requested, he showed up in a transport truck stolen from the shipping yard. Little Horse asked him if he wanted to hop in and go for a spin, but Uncle Xu said he was tied up, he still had a few things to take care of for Horsefly.
“Moreover, I’m going to need a few hands.” Uncle Xu let out a yawn, turned to Ahzhi, Old Bull, and Little Xinjiang, and motioned them over with his index finger. “All of you come with me!”
At first everybody ignored Uncle Xu’s order, nobody even wiggled a toe, but then Uncle Xu let out another yawn and cursed, “Motherfuckers! Has it been that long since my boot went up your asses? It seems like you already forgot what size shoe I wear!” By then Little Horse had already climbed into the driver’s seat of that transport truck and waved me over. Only then did he call out to that trio of sullen, long-faced guys, “It’s cool, you guys go ahead. Little Bull-boy’s going with me.”
Annie rolled down the window in the rear compartment of the tour bus, stuck out her hand, and waved to us.
“So what is it you guys have to do?” I asked Uncle Xu before getting into the truck with Little Horse.
“One of the members of the Legislative Yuan hasn’t been a good boy. We’re going to lock him up in a dog cage,”* Uncle Xu responded as he rubbed his eyes.
“There he goes again,” Ahzhi and Little Xinjiang said simultaneously, with a sigh. They then squatted down on the ground and took turns yawning.
Only Old Bull suddenly turned and sprinted like mad toward the heavy-duty crane. As he ran he shouted, “I’ve got it.…” He went on to say some other stuff, but nobody paid any attention to him. However, all of us knew that he was probably going to run off again.
There was nothing Little Horse or I could do about this. He started the engine. The thunderous sound of the truck’s engine was like an airplane getting ready for takeoff as it approached the end of the runway. At first I covered my ears, but then after I thought for a second I realized that it was a shame to shut out such an awesome sound! And so I let down my hands and let that unbridled sound, more raw than thunder, a rainstorm, rock ’n’ roll music, or the explosive sound of firecrackers on National Day, funnel in through my ears, filling my chest and blood vessels.
We didn’t step on the brakes once the whole way; the pavement beneath our wheels was swallowed up by the front of the truck like it was meeting head on with a large, black curtain. The lights that illuminated both sides of the street flew backward one after another—you could say they resembled an army of fireflies or a meteor shower from outer space, but no matter what you called them it would be too late, for in a flash they were gone.
As the transport truck dashed past the entrance to Ma Jianren Hospital, Little Horse veered sharply to the right and then quickly turned to the left, driving into the opposite lane—we didn’t see, nor did we care, if there were any cars coming the other way. We were too focused, our sights set on the three columns outside the entrance to Ma Jianren Hospital, which appeared in our rearview mirror. Do you believe me? Well, if you had been in the truck at the same time, you’d have done exactly the same as us.
And then at that moment, the side of the transport truck met perfectly with the first cement column, sweeping it over. Then came the second column, and the third—they all collapsed. It was a shame we couldn’t hear the sound of the front section of the first four floors collapsing; it was drowned out by Little Horse tearing open his throat screaming a string of blasphemous words unlike anything I had ever heard emerge from his mouth: “Fuck you! You despicable dickhead!”
In case God was still asleep, I hope the devil blessed and protected all those derelict losers who were lying in their sick beds when the hospital collapsed! From this second onward, you needn’t live another day as losers, nor do you need to spend the energy to become gang bosses, because you’re all dead!
After that we discovered that our truck windshield was bathed in splattered blood. Little Horse almost went crazy doing everything he could before he finally turned the windshield wipers on, but no matter what, they couldn’t wash away the tracks of blood left on the windshield. Little Horse and I looked at each other and then suddenly burst out laughing. That’s because from the beginning those worthless windshield wipers couldn’t wipe away shit—the blood came from inside the car, it came spurting out from our own bodies. But Little Horse and I just kept laughing at those stupid windshield wipers—they kept at it so diligently, so uniformly, back and forth, back and forth, but they couldn’t wipe away a damn thing. Those stupid windshield wipers were really just too ridiculous.
Moreover, we couldn’t stop laughing hysterically like that. When you get to that point you realize—it was that hysterical laughter that was keeping our blood from continuing to gush out, and was keeping our truck moving forward.
“Six thousand revolutions in a minute!” I yelled.
“Six thousand revolutions!” Little Horse, who had absolutely no conception of what a number was, repeated.
After that, did the truck slow down or not? Did it speed up? Or did it finally come to a stop? We couldn’t care less. But our conversation was just like it was at any other time, always bouncing back and forth on an unclear glass surface.
“Do you love Annie?”
“Yeah.”
“But she’s already really old.”
“She can’t be much older than us.”
“By the time we’re twenty…”
“What do you mean ‘we’? You’re going into the military today, you’re already twenty; but I’ve still got a good couple years to go!”
“Anyway, you know what I mean. By the time we’re twenty how old will Annie be?”
“I guess around thirty.”
“How much is thirty?”
“Thirty is… it’s about the age when her tits will start to sag.”
“By then she’ll already be an old lady. Do you think you’ll still want to do her?”
“Probably?”
“Really?”
“Uh huh.”
“Now I understand.”
“What do you understand?”
“Numbers.”
I glanced at Little Horse and saw that he was still laughing. It was the kind of laugh that lingers on the edges of your lips but never gets stale, like when you’re with a bunch of friends gleefully celebrating your birthday. Fuck! I thought. As of today Little Horse is already an adult, but what about me? My twentieth birthday is still so very far away; just thinking about it makes me want to cry.
