Kill Zhangli
Zhaojing
To China’s one-child policy
When Zhang Li’s face was sliced off with a single stroke, the blood spilled like a sunset, red steam blooming across the surface of the sea. This was Zhang Island, and everyone who lived here was surnamed Zhang. Most of us looked almost exactly the same. So when Zhang Li’s face was cut away, my own face hurt too. I watched his blood drift farther and farther out, thinking it was my blood as well, and turned my head back.
The man surrounded by the crowd was Zhang Kai, the island’s butcher, and Zhang Li’s father. Because his wife, Zhang Huang, was going to have a second child, they killed Zhang Kai, as the rules required. This pregnancy had not come easily. They had waited fifteen full years.
Zhang Li’s face lay there on the ground. I leaned in for a look, thin threads of blood were still seeping through the skin. By the time I turned to leave, everyone behind me had vanished. I started walking home. Not far off, on the seawall, a line of people was moving forward, gliding in silence like a row of wild geese. At the front were Zhang Kai and Zhang Huang. My parents walked behind them.
I stood staring at that line until it split at the threshold of the first house, then the second, until it finally slipped into Zhang Li’s home at the very end.
That night I heard a baby cry. It was Zhang Li’s younger brother. Lying in bed, I could almost see the child’s face — the mole at the corner of his mouth, the crease between his brows, and the woman named Zhang he would fall in love with at eighteen.
Somewhere on the island there was a woman named Zhang whom I was in love with. She had a beautiful name: Zhang Wang — “to gaze.” In all the history of Zhang Island, I had never heard of anyone with that name. I was deeply taken with the precision of it, because besides their names, there wasn’t much to distinguish people here. I could picture her “gazing” — her smile, her gait, the way her hair moved, like the very last streak of a meteor I was desperate to hold onto.
I prayed her mother would never again be able to conceive. At the height of my love for her, I wanted to kill her mother, that short, ugly woman. I wanted to drive a knife into her chest, to make her scream that she would never be pregnant again.
One Zhang after another was killed, one Zhang after another was born. Their blood carried that of their dead brothers, the voice that came out of their mouths was their brothers’ voice. They spoke about their older brothers with their chins tipped up, as if the day their father sowed love would never come for them. When I wasn’t busy loving Zhang Wang, I spoke that way too.
One night I crept to my parents’ bedroom door and pressed my ear against it. My mother’s cries reached me, like black and white underworld messengers howling at my ear. The sea outside roared like my tears. I went back to my room and slapped my own face, again and again, as if each blow were the last, until my skin turned as red as that sunset of blood. Only when I realized that if my father didn’t kill me soon, I’d beat myself to death first, did I finally stop.
That was a Friday. Zhang Wang came to watch me die.
On the beach, my father sharpened the knife on a slab of black stone. He kept grinding until my tears were almost enough to drown everyone, then suddenly he raised the knife and held it above my head. I tilted my face upward and saw myself in the blade one last time. It was a face everyone here had. In that instant, I almost felt that dying wasn’t such a big deal. My younger brother and sister would grow up with the same face as mine.
I actually felt like a great Zhang, someone sacrificing himself so Zhang Island’s bloodline could go on forever.
But when I lowered my head, I saw Zhang Wang.
She was in the crowd, searching, gazing. I hadn’t had the chance to tell her I loved her. I hadn’t touched her black hair even once. I saw all those eyes burning in front of me, and suddenly I remembered Zhang Li. Not long ago, I had been just one of those burning eyes in front of him.
My nose stung, and tears ran like the sea behind me, and then my father’s cleaver severed my nerves in a single stroke.
My face fell to the ground and looked one last time at Zhang Wang. Just as my consciousness was about to be carried off by the tide, I saw her mother, that ugly woman, and I prayed she would never be pregnant again.
Then my blood scattered over the sea, blooming like red steam.
杀死张力
兆京
致中国的独生子女政策
张力的脸被一刀切下的时候，洒出的血像落日，红色的蒸汽瞬间扑开在了海面上。这里是张岛，住着的所有人都姓张。我们几乎有着一样的面孔。所以在张力的脸被切下的时候，我的脸也感到一阵疼痛。我看着那些血往远飘去，想着那些是我的血，所以我把头转了回来。
被人群围着的是张开，岛上的屠夫，也是张力的父亲。因为他老婆张皇要生第二个孩子，所以按照规定，他们把张开杀了。这一胎来的不易，他们足足等了十五年。
张力的脸就这样掉在了地上。我凑过去看了一眼，有些血丝在皮肤里渗，等到我掉头准备走的时候，后面竟然一个人都没了。接着我也往回走，不远的堤坝上走着一排人，好像一排野雁一样静静往前飘。打头的是张开，张皇，后面是我的父母。我呆呆地看着那条线移动，接着线在第一户开了缝，接着在第二户开了缝，直到线的末端缝进了张力的家。
那日晚，我听到了一声啼哭，那是张力的弟弟。我躺在床上，似乎能看到那个婴儿的模样，他嘴角的痣，他眉间的皱纹，和十八岁时他爱上的一个姓张的女人。
岛上一个姓张的女人正被我爱着，她有着美丽的名字，她叫张望。在张岛的历史上，我未曾听说有人叫过张望。我被这个名字的精妙深深吸引着，因为除了名字之外，这儿的人没什么区别。我似乎能看到她张望的样子，她的笑，步伐，她的发丝像是流星的最后一点被我珍视。我祈求她的母亲再也怀不了孕，最爱她的时候，我想杀了她的妈妈，那个矮小丑陋的女人。我想把刀戳进她的胸口，让她叫嚷不再怀孕。
一个又一个姓张的人被杀死，一个又一个姓张的人在出生。他们身上流着他们兄弟的血液，说出的话是他们兄弟的声音，他们会说他们的哥哥如何，他们说的时候昂着脖子，好像他们父亲播种爱的那一日永远不会到来。在爱张望之余，我也会这样。
一个半夜，我贴在父母卧室门前蹑手蹑脚偷听，母亲的啼叫声传入我的耳中，犹如黑白无常在我耳边呼号。那个晚上，海水像我的泪水一样流，我走回卧室狠狠拍打自己的脸，好像每一次都是最后一次那样打，打到脸变成了落日血色一样红。就这样直到我意识到没等我父亲把我杀死，我就会把自己打死时，我就停下了。
那天是星期五，张望来看我被杀死的样子了。在海滩边，父亲把刀在坚硬的黑石上磨，磨到我的眼泪快把人们淹没了，他就忽然一下把刀悬在了我的头顶。我仰头看着那把刀，在那把刀里我最后一次看到了自己的脸，那是一张人人都有的脸，在一瞬间，我甚至觉得死了也没什么大不了的，我的弟弟妹妹将长着一张跟我一样的脸。我居然觉得我是一个伟大的姓张的人，我为了张岛的生生不息，献出了自己的生命。
但当我把头放下来时，我看到了张望。她在人群中张望着，我还没来得及对她说一句我爱你，我还没来得及碰触她的黑色发丝。我看到所有的目光在我眼前燃烧，我突然想起了张力，不久前，我就是他眼前的一个燃烧的目光。
我突然一阵鼻酸，眼泪像身后的海水一样流，流到我父亲用砍刀一下子切断了我的神经。我掉在地上的脸最后深深地看了一眼张望，就在我的意识快要被潮水带走时，我看到了她的母亲，那个丑陋的女人，我祈求她永远不要怀孕。
然后我的血像是红色蒸汽一样扑开在了海面上。