Ocean of Words Read Online Free PDF

into the town, he was selling ravioli by the roadside. A Russian soldier walked out of the procession, grabbed Mu’s basket, took out some ravioli, and ate them. Then came the Russian Army Police, who wore red stripes. Mu complained to the police. Can you guess what those officers said?”
    “What did they say?” Jia asked.
    “They said they were going to open the Russian soldier’s stomach. If there was ravioli inside, it was all right. If there was no ravioli inside, they would shoot Mu on the spot. Mu knelt down, begging them to forget it. Who would think a few ravioli worth a man’s life! The police refused to listen. One officer grabbed a carbine and shot the man, who was trying to escape. They cut his stomach open and found the food in there. They raised their thumbs to us and said, ‘Holashao!’ It means ‘good’ in Russian.”
    “They are Tartars,” Jin Hsin said.
    “Yes, they’re beasts. That’s why we welcome you to stay here, to fight the Russians and defend our homes and land.”
    We were moved by his last sentence. Raising our cups, we drank up the last drops. Mrs. Piao cleared away the cups and dishes, and she brought out a large teapot and some small bowls. We began drinking tea and eating peanuts. Uncle Piao summoned his daughters to dance for us. What an embarrassing idea. But the two sisters didn’t hesitate at all and started wheeling before us so naturally. They enacted “The Korean People Love Great Leader Chairman Mao,” a sort of Loyalty Dance. Their long silk skirts waved around while their mother clapped her small hands, crying, “Chaota! Chaota!” That means “wonderful” in Korean. The flame of the kerosene lamp was flickering with the women’s movements. Their shadows were flowing on the floor and the walls as if the whole house was revolving.
    When they finished, they bowed to us, and we all applauded. Shunji looked like a young bride in her loose, white dress.
    Guzhe and Guhua, Uncle Piao’s grandsons, began to set off firecrackers outside. I went out to join them. They dared not light the big ones, so I helped them. With a burning incense stick, I launched the double-bang crackers into the skyone by one. It was snowing lightly. The air smelled of gunpowder as clusters of explosions bloomed among the dim stars.
    I heard somebody approaching from behind; before I could turn around, a heavy slap landed on my back. “Fan Hsiong, you son of an ass,” Jia Min said out loud. “You didn’t want the dumplings and had them put in my bowl. You’re a smart fox. Oh, I had to eat them all before I could eat rice.”
    “What’s wrong with you?”
    “There’s no meat in the dumplings, only chili and peanut oil. Damn you, they gave me a lot of blisters inside my mouth.”
    I laughed. Jia kicked my legs and wanted to whack me again. I fled, running around Uncle Piao’s house. He chased me around and around until I hid myself in a haystack.
    “Fan Fox, get out of your hole,” Jia shouted. I kept quiet.
    He searched about in the yard and around the house but couldn’t find me. Meanwhile, the two small boys each held high a string of tiny firecrackers tied to a bamboo pole, and Jin Hsin lit both strings. At once the successive explosions joined the rumbling of the large battle of fireworks that was seething throughout the village. The hay smelled so fresh it reminded me of the Spring Festival’s Eve when I had played hide-and-seek with my pals at home.
    Shunji began singing in the house. From the window lattices covered by plastic film, Uncle Piao’s and Squad Leader Han’s laughter rose and fell, echoing in the cold night.

LOVE IN THE AIR
    After the political study, Chief Jiang turned on both the transmitter and the receiver and started searching for the station of the Regional Headquarters. Half a minute later a resonant signal emerged calling the Fifth Regiment. Kang Wandou, who had served for two years, could tell it was an experienced hand at the opposite end. The dots