Chapter 1

When I was little, a lame man named Chen Liu lived in our village.

His son had died young.

His yard was full of drying meat.

The villagers whispered, “He must have eaten his own child.”

One bitter day, with snow falling thick and the cold cracking our skin, he collapsed outside our gate.

Grandpa saw him and hurried over to carry him inside.

Grandma stopped him, her face hard.

“Why save him? Let that beast freeze to death!”

“He’s still a person,” Grandpa said. “Let him die at our door, and everyone will curse us.”

She snorted and kicked the man curled in the snow.

“Get up! Can you hear me?”

He didn’t move. He was unconscious.

“Help me,” Grandpa said. “Or he really will die.”

Reluctantly, she helped carry him onto the kang, our heated earthen bed, and cover him with a thick quilt.

He was tall and thin, his skin gray, his breathing no more than a thread.

Grandma stood beside him in contempt.

“Why be so kind? Save him, and he’ll cling to us. A man who butchers his own child doesn’t deserve to live!”

“Have you forgotten?” Grandpa sighed. “When we built the storeroom last year, he gave us money and helped with the work. Chen Liu isn’t a bad man.”

“Not bad? Then why was his son made into dried meat? The whole village knows!”

Before she finished, Chen Liu opened his eyes.

Grandpa signaled for silence.

“Xiao Liu. You’re awake?”

He struggled upright, his voice hoarse.

“Uncle… my boy… someone killed him…”

“Who else could it be?”

Grandma cut him off, each word sharp.

“You killed him! Everyone says you got drunk and chopped your son into sixteen pieces to dry. You’re worse than an animal!”

“Enough,” Grandpa said quickly.

Chen Liu’s eyes reddened.

“He was only six. How could I kill him?”

“I drank, but I only fell asleep. When I woke, my wife said I’d killed him and butchered him. I’ve been wronged!”

His wife, Xiulan, had a tongue so vicious that the whole village feared her.

Grandma sniffed.

“Everyone knows. Would your own wife lie?”

“Stop pretending to be pitiful. Get out of my sight!”

She yanked away the quilt and threw it on the floor.

Grandpa lowered his voice.

“We’re all from the same village. You’re awake now. Go home. Try not to dwell on it.”

Chen Liu looked up, despair in his eyes.

“How can I not?”

“I think someone in this village is eating white meat.”

Grandpa stared.

“Human… human flesh?”

“What nonsense! There’s no famine now!”

“Stop talking like a lunatic!” Grandma snapped.

Tears filled Chen Liu’s eyes.

“When we buried my son, we found only ten pieces.”

“He’d been cut into sixteen.”

“Six were missing.”

“Who do you think took them?”

He broke down, sobbing until he could hardly breathe.

Grandma went pale but kept her voice hard.

“Get out! No one here believes you. Even your wife says you killed him. Madman!”

She grabbed his arm, dragged him outside, and pushed him into the yard.

He staggered, then turned to Grandpa.

“This village isn’t safe. Watch your boy.”

“Don’t let him disappear.”

Grandpa’s son—my father—was still a child then.

His name was Qiu Fu.

Hearing him mentioned, Grandma turned white.

“Get out! Nothing but ill omens from that mouth!”

Chen Liu limped away into the wind and snow.

Grandma spat after him.

“Walking curse!”

Then she turned to Grandpa.

“Have nothing more to do with him.”

Grandpa was silent for a while.

“But he didn’t sound as though he was lying.”

“What do you mean? The dead are dead. Don’t let him fool you!”

Grandpa sighed and lit his pipe. White smoke thickened like fog.

Then Grandma turned to me, still only a small child.

“Qiu Fu. Take some eggs to your Third Uncle.”

Third Uncle Shun was her younger half-brother, born to the same father. He lived in the next village and was rich, with four tall, fierce sons.

Everyone feared them.

I obeyed, taking the basket of eggs.

The snow fell heavily. The cold went to my bones.

After a long walk, I finally reached his yard.

And stopped.

Strips of glossy red meat hung along a drying line.

More than a dozen pieces, at least. Fat glistened on them.

I had never seen so much meat.

My throat went dry. My mouth watered.

A deep, rough voice sounded behind me.

“Boy. Whose child are you?”

I spun around.

Two enormous men stood there, almost identical, broad-shouldered and fierce-eyed.

They were Third Uncle’s twin older brothers.

“I’m Sun Dafu’s grandson,” I said politely. “Grandma sent eggs.”

The bigger man laughed.

“Oh, little Qiu Fu! I thought you looked familiar.”

Da Qiang, the eldest of that family. A giant with a fleshy face and a booming voice.

Beside him stood his twin, Er Qiang.

He narrowed his eyes, half joking.

“Those strips look good, don’t they? Want some?”

I shook my head, my heart pounding.

He laughed and pointed toward the east room.

“Come in. There’s more inside.”

Before I could react, he took my hand and pulled me along.

Da Qiang followed slowly. He glanced around and smiled in a way that chilled me.

The east room door opened.

Its wooden threshold was so high I had to stretch to step over it.

The smell of meat hit me.

Glossy red strips filled the rafters, interspersed with lengths of dried blood sausage.

Hundreds of pieces.

I felt dizzy.

Da Qiang sat on the kang and slapped his thigh.

“Sit here. Pick whichever piece you like. I’ll have my brother cut it down.”

Then he rose and went out.

Only Da Qiang and I remained.

He stared silently up at the beams, his head tipped back, the hanging meat reflected in his bloodshot eyes.

I swallowed.

Our family had always sent things here. We had never received anything in return.

Surely one piece would be all right.

I gathered my courage.

“Where’s Third Uncle?”

Da Qiang turned, smiled faintly, and pointed up.

“There.”

I froze.

There was nothing in the rafters but drying meat.

No person.

Before I could make sense of it, Er Qiang came in with a gleaming knife.

He struck Da Qiang’s head with the handle.

“Shut up!”

A heavy thud.

Blood seeped from Da Qiang’s forehead. He lowered his head and said nothing more.

Er Qiang turned to me, his eyes narrowed, his smile horrible.

“Qiu Fu. Which piece do you want?”

He came closer, gripping the knife.

I trembled. My throat closed.

Then Grandpa called from the yard.

“Qiu Fu!”

Both men turned.

I seized the chance, jumped down from the bed, and ran.

Grandpa caught me in his arms, his face full of worry.

The men came out behind me with strained smiles.

“You’ve come to visit! Come in. Have a drink.”

Grandpa frowned.

“Where’s your father? I haven’t seen him.”

Er Qiang scratched his head.

“Our youngest brother took him out for a walk. Come in. They’ll be back soon.”

Grandpa shook his head.

“No. We have things to do.”

Er Qiang’s eyes narrowed.

“Wait a moment, then. Let me give you some good liquor.”

Grandpa had always loved drinking, though he had recently quit.

At the mention of good liquor, he hesitated.

Er Qiang fetched a small jar sealed with red wax.

“This is rare stuff. Try it at home. Even drunk, you’ll still smell how fragrant it is.”

After a few seconds, Grandpa nodded.

“All right. I’ll taste it.”

The brothers smiled broadly.

Something strange shone in their eyes.