Straw Dogs of the Universe by Ye Chun

Author:Ye Chun
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781646220632
Publisher: Catapult
Published: 2023-08-23T00:00:00+00:00

THEY NO LONGER needed to talk about back-home now that they had their home right here and now. They continued to save. Now she had a new goal: pay off the loan so that the house became theirs entirely. Duofu who was born here would be growing up in this house that belonged to them alone.

The new autumn arrived early. A cooler rain swept through the trees and dyed them gold and amber. Then, a row of dry, brittle days came with cold mornings and quick sunsets and dense death chirps of mating crickets among the leaves. One night, closing the diner, Feiyan saw a half moon above the dark branches, quiet and glowing. A directionless sorrow rose within her: she felt as if she were only half here and half elsewhere. Even Duofu’s bubbling words and shrieking laughter as Feiyan gave her the routine bedtime tickle felt only half real.

Later that evening, with Duofu sleeping in the crook of her arm and Guifeng on her other side, she dreamt she was back in the kitchen of Red Peony, where Ah Gu was stirring the pot of steaming congee. Round and round her spatula went, and her face, which had never failed to shock Feiyan, was in red tendrils, as if old flames were reignited and burning her flesh once again. Feiyan could smell the dark smoke and feel the melting heat reaching toward her. She opened her eyes to red flames crawling up the walls and window frames. She thought of egg whites. Were there still eggs in the kitchen? Eggs she had planned to stir fry with cucumbers in the morning for one of the six dishes? She pushed Guifeng awake and grabbed Duofu in her arms and ran down the stairs. She was hacking when she ran out of their burning house. Theirs was not burning alone: the whole block was aflame. Smoke was pushing and billowing out of the entire row of roofs and windows. People were screaming and scampering out of smoke-choked doors. In the frenzy, Feiyan ran her fingers over Duofu’s face, which was wet from bawling. She looked at Guifeng’s face, clenched but unsinged. She then touched her own. At least they didn’t need egg whites, not for now.

But nothing could save their house. She looked at the four windows of fire. She could see all that belonged to them burning into char—the bed, the quilt, the pillowcases she’d embroidered, the clothes she’d sewn, the tables and chairs, the chopsticks smoothed by fingers, the wok she’d oiled every night. All including the walls and roof that were crumbling now in the punching flames. This home that had once been theirs was gone.

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