Brothers by Other Mother - Wang Zifu Novel Collection

Author: Wang Zifu
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-02-01
Features: In the first volume, a farmer doesn't put as much thought into naming his child as someone from a cultured family. Since he was born in the year of the dog, they called him Big Dog; I was born in the year of the snake, so they called me Little Dragon, because the snake is also called a little dragon. Of course, these were all nicknames. After starting school, we got our official names: he was called Qi Dongsheng, and I was called Qi Dongping. We won't call each other by those names yet—it's too early! He's seven years older than me, so I should call him older brother, but I don't. Like my parents, I always called him Big Dog. When I was just starting to understand things, I felt he wasn't really part of our family. More like an unwanted cat, a dog that could be beaten at will, or an ox whipped and scolded into working hard. He never did anything right; no matter what he did, it was never good enough. Gathering firewood or cutting grass, if he came back early, Mom would say he was a reckless fool, waiting to get beaten; if he came back late, she'd say he must have been fooling around with wild children. Sitting at the table drinking porridge, if he drank too fast, Mom would say he was reborn from a grandmother ghost, starved to death in his previous life; if he drank too slowly, she'd say he was a leftover rice eater, destined for a life of suffering. At home, if he said a few more words, Mom would call him a man-mad person, saying he'd be dead by tomorrow after today's joy; if he kept his mouth shut, she'd say he was like a fatherless child, just waiting to be buried. When Mom started lecturing, her words came in a endless stream, like singing "Lianhua Luo," never repeating herself. Grandmother Zheng San said her mouth was sharp, but I actually admired her "language skills." Later, I started writing novels. Using language to tell stories and earn a living—it probably had a lot to do with the influence of her sharp tongue on me. Of course, that's off-topic. Dad, however, was a simpleton with a thick tongue, unable to even speak in complete sentences. He was broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, with a square face, big eyes, and a full beard, looking. But he didn't dare be tough with Mom or me. Even if I peed on his head, he wouldn't dare touch me with a finger. With Mom, he was even more obedient, always smiling and making things easy for her. P3-4