Gela ran outside, bent over at the waist, and dry heaved loudly a few times before a gush of sour water rose in his throat, only to stop half way and go back down to a place deep inside his body, where it continued to roil and eat away at something, though it wasn't clear what. Gela's tears began to flow, so to stop them, he threw his head back and looked up at the sky. Through the mist of a head rush, he saw stars blur to form waving, watery edges.
He slumped against the doorframe, unable to move, watching the spinning starlight fill up his vision. His mother was still stuffing her mouth by the fireside, her back turned to him. She truly was an extraordinary woman, without a doubt picked out by Heaven to live in an era of famine; when there was food, she could eat forever and never feel tired, never feel too full, but when there wasn't any food, she could easily pass two or three days without eating a thing. During times of hunger, even the biological fact that people must eat in order to live seemed totally lost on her. Within the sound of his mother's chewing, Gela heard his own heart saying something, quietly:
"I feel bad. I feel like I'm going to die."
These words murmured through his mind. He even gained a few moments of happiness from them. Outside, the entire village was silent and deserted in the starlight, just a huddle of inky black, cold, stone houses standing out there in the night.
Gela knew that his strange sadness would never find its answer in Ji village—at that moment he thought he hated the village. He hated his own mother. He hated her for wandering far away across mountains and rivers to suddenly just show up unannounced before the people of this village, for staying here and giving birth to him, for having him live in this cold, indifferent place. He wanted to ask her where she came from. Maybe there, people's faces were warm and full of life, like flowers blooming in the spring. Wherever that place was, that was his hometown, though it remained unknown to him. On a summer night, Gela lay under his stifling sheepskin blanket like an old man about to die, thinking:
"I'm going to die here, in a strange village."
He drifted off. Right up until the moment sleep took him, bright tears rolled down continuously from the corners of his eyes onto the pillow—he was a highly restrained little boy. He dreamed he saw spring flowers in bloom; rows of yellow primroses, blue gentians and irises, and red pomatosace. He ran towards the sea of flowers, because standing at its centre was his mother Sangdan. She looked tall and noble like a princess, robed in a billowing dress that flowed around her, and her eyes dark and deep as lakes. But it didn't last—a powerful flash of light stripped it all away, and he woke up to the sound of a scream; his mother's. The next moment, he was being hauled, kicking up into the air by the front of his shirt, and a flashlight's harsh beam shone directly in his eyes.
A voice came from behind the light. It shook with anger:
"Little bastard, you've done it now! You've done it now!!
Little bastard,
Little bastard,
Little bastard,
Little bastard!
Little bastard!"
Gela was awake now. He realised the voice belonged to Bunny's father Enbo, the de-frocked monk.
Gela pleaded with him as coherently as he could, given that he was scared out of his wits: "I'm a not a little bastard … but yes, yes, I am a little bastard, please uncle, please put me down."
Enbo's voice exploded: "I'll kill you!"
Gela's ears were ringing from the force of Enbo's roar, but he could still hear his mother screaming. She sounded terrified too:
"No!"
She sprang wildly forward like a deranged lioness, knocking Gela and Enbo both heavily to the ground. The flashlight rolled off to the side, lighting up people's legs. Weeping, Sangdan grabbed Gela's head and buried it in her arms. Gela could feel the round softness of her breasts.
"Gela, my son, is it you, oh my darling son!"
Gela lay in his mother's embrace, and said:
"Ah-ma, I'm here, I'm right here."
A beam from another flashlight snapped into being and lit up the mother and son lying together on the ground, as well as the former monk next to them, whose chest was heaving with rage.
"NO ONE is allowed to touch my son!" Sangdan screamed in response to the light. The flashlight shone on her bare chest, which caused the crowd to collapse into loud laughter. Still stunned, Gela clung to his mother's body, but the mob would have its way—mother and son were wrenched apart.
Four
That night, a huge full moon loomed monstrous in the sky, offset by shadows of distant mountains that blurred their distance. That night, the peace was broken. Ji village went mad. Every living person: men, women, children, all woke from their sleep and walked as one to the square, filling it with the heat of their bodies. A group of grown men were shoving tiny Gela, who was clearly far too terrified to comprehend what was happening, towards the edge of the village. A torchlight was spewing out an unsteady column of light that made a hole in the night's darkness, while some of the crowd were lighting torches under the gleaming moon.
Gela stumbled more than he walked, and when he faltered, rough hands smacked heavily into his back to keep him moving forward. Occasionally he fell down, but as soon as he touched the ground a hand would promptly materialise to haul back up by the collar of his shirt:
"Little bastard, walk faster!"
