"Wait a second" , Er Chiang called from over the hedge. She walked, a little unsteadily, into the house. She returned a moment later with a strip of cold jellied beef, which she placed in his hands. Her movements and the air around her had become those of a very old woman.
A younger Gela would have wolfed the meat down the moment it was in his hands, but now he just stood perfectly still, staring at Er Chiang. Exjiang smiled, revealing gums newly bereft of incisors.
"Are you looking at how old I've got?" she asked.
Gela took a bite of the beef.
"I'm a grandmother now. You don't get to be a grandmother without getting old too!" Er Chiang laughed, partly in recognition of her fate, and partly because she was content with life.
Gela's next bite was bigger. Too big, in fact—he choked. His eyes bulged, his neck with its dappling of blue veins stretched out painfully, and with a forceful wrenching movement he dislodged the meat from where it was stuck in his throat, swallowing it whole.
Seemingly overnight, Er Chiang had transformed from a robust matriarch into a doddering old lady. Actually, this kind of transformation was a common phenomenon in Ji village. It worked like this: some completely unremarkable event would happen in the life of a man or woman who seemed firmly still in their healthy years, and they would immediately and inexplicably morph into an old fogey. It was easy to tell when this happened; the old men could be spotted sitting around puffing at acrid-smelling tobacco pipes, spitting mouthful after mouthful of tobacco phlegm onto the ground. As for the women; a fire-breathing family matriarch's ramrod-straight posture would hunch and shrink in an instant, at the same time as the light dimmed in her aging eyes.
This was how generation upon generation of Ji villagers met their old age. Face to face with Er Chiang, Gela for the first time in his young life learned a truth that frightened him. Not allowing him to dwell on fear, his attention shifted rapidly back to the beef in his hands. It had been boiled just the night before, and it was coated with a shiny layer of congealed fat from the rich broth in which it was cooked. Gela walked homewards, inhaling the surface jelly as he went. Lumps of congealed stock and fat melted in his mouth, filling his world with the buttery aroma of meat and spices. The boy felt as if he were receiving a benediction from the heavens.
Because of the succulence of that congealed fat, Gela was able to hold off eating the whole piece of meat before he got home. Thus, his mother was able to share in his good fortune, and it became a family affair.
Three
A piece of meat that big naturally left a deep impression in Gela's memory. So deep, in fact, that he made sure to walk by Enbo's hedge-ringed courtyard several times a day. After many fruitless days, Er Chiang finally appeared to him again.
She was sitting down carefully on the golden courtyard straw, cradling her tiny baby grandson in her arms. The swaying of her old body gave the impression she was no longer a person, but a big cradle, one that could swing without anyone pushing it. The lucky baby lay within. The old woman raised her head, eventually wrenching her gaze away from her grandson to swivel towards Gela. Gela flashed an ingratiating smile, but he didn't keep her attention long—her eyes quickly turned back to the baby. She pulled a lump of butter from a pocket, broke off a small piece, and put it in her mouth for a second to soften it. Then, she smeared it on the baby's forehead. As she worked the butter into Bunny's skin, she made a string of nonsensical noises with which she expressed the boundless love she felt for her grandson:
"oh, oh, tch, tch, ah, ah, ah" , and so on.
Gela pushed open the courtyard gate and walked up next to Er Chiang, who was still absorbed in her noises. His eyes followed her hand as she absent-mindedly put the lump of butter down next to her. It was starting to melt slightly under the sun, infusing the straw with its fragrance. Gela's hand shot out with incredible speed. He put it in his mouth and rotated it several times with his tongue, before extending his neck and gulping it down.
"That's strange, the butter's gone" , the old woman said to herself, when she made to pick it up.
Gela was already on the other side of the hedge.
The sweet taste was too much to keep to himself, so he opened his mouth wide and chuckled. The old woman was facing away from him and didn't hear, but the sound of his laughter was enough to startle a crow perched on the hedge, which flapped into the air with a perfunctory 'caw'.
"Oh, that crow got away with our butter" , she told the baby.
Gela walked back into the courtyard. Er Chiang saw him, and passed on the news about the butter:
"A crow came and stole the butter."
"Come over here and take a look at our little Bunny" , she added.
Gela reached out a hand. Just as the tip of his finger made first contact with the baby's buttery forehead, he whipped his hand back as if he'd been burned. He'd never felt anything so smooth and delicate during his four years in the world. Life as he knew it had a very rough texture, which explains why he was frightened—this level of softness was totally alien to his senses.
Grandma Er Chiang smiled. She took hold of one of Gela's fingers and guided it towards the baby, who grabbed on to it tightly with his tiny, greasy hand. Gela didn't know how strong and warm a baby's grip could be. Again, he freed his finger with a jerk. The baby began to cry, making a sound much like the yowling of a forlorn cat.
"Quick, give him your hand! See how much our little Bunny likes you?" Er Chiang encouraged Gela. But in vain—he was gone, like smoke in the wind.
For the remainder of that winter, and the entirety of the following spring, summer and autumn, Gela didn't once set foot in Enbo's courtyard. The next time he visited, he was almost a whole year older. Winter was on the doorstep once more.