He stops like a radio being abruptly switched off. We are both quiet for a while, chasing other rabbits to pet. Fourth sits on the floor, with a gray rabbit in his arms. He keeps rubbing the rabbit’s belly. “When will your father come back from desert? Come back from desert?” He asks without looking up.
I have told him that my father went to some place in the Gobi Desert to help build medical clinics. Fourth has a habit of repeating many things, and this question is one of them.
“I don’t know when my father will come back. Soon,” I answer him the same way I always do. “How did your father die, Fourth?” I ask to divert his attention.
His father’s death is something he loves to talk about. His mother dictated to him the story of his father and he repeats it to everyone. He’s been doing it since he was a child so that he can recite it like a recorder without much stuttering.
“Father died a glorious death,” he says, releasing the rabbit in his arms. “Father was a PLA general. Fought in the Pingjin War against Guo-Min-Dang troops, Dang troops. He used two pistols at the same time. Right before victory he was wounded. Bad wound. When he was surrounded by three enemy soldiers, he set off the grenade and died with the enemies. He sacrificed his young life for the Communist cause, cause. He was only forty-nine-years old. Very young, young.” He wipes the drool from his chin after he finishes.
“Your father was a hero,” I say.
He grins, showing his jagged teeth.
I need to check on VeVe, so I get up to leave. Before I open the shed door, Fourth suddenly says, “Fox crying, fox crying.” He grins with his mouth wide open. “Fox nymph, my Ma said. Fox nymph. Your VeVe—Aunt Rain, fox nymph.”
I know women in the alley gossip about VeVe. They talk about the male recipe seekers who—willingly—chop wood for us, install the stove pipes, and change the ceiling lamps. Men who make coal paddies, and bring loads of cabbage in winter—VeVe and I can’t pull a heavy wood cart like that in snow. The gossiping women who gather in the alley say that some men pretend to be sick just so they can come to see her. They call her “Fox Nymph,” comparing her to a nine-tailed fox spirit who disguises herself as a beautiful woman to seduce men.
“Don’t ever say that again,” I yell at Fourth. “You hear me?” I slap his face.
He touches his cheek, looking like a boy being punished for a reason he can’t understand.
I turn around and run out of the rabbit shed. Crossing the courtyard towards the house, SanNe sees me from inside her house and peers out of the window. She is shockingly obese, and so she doesn’t leave her house much. But she knows everything that happens outside her house.
“Hey girl, is my dumb boy still playing with the stinky rabbits?” she shouts.
“Fourth is in the shed. But he is not dumb,” I reply.
SanNe says something else, but worried about VeVe, I don’t bother to reply.
~~~
四儿戛然止住，就像一个收音机被突然关上。
我们俩都不说话了，去逮兔子玩儿。四儿坐在地板上，在玩一个灰兔，不时的挠一挠兔子的毛茸茸的肚子。“你爸爸什么时候从沙漠回来?他突然问，从沙漠回来？”
我曾经告诉他我爸爸去很远的戈壁滩沙漠去开诊所了。“我不知道我爸爸什么时候回来，快了吧。”我说。他每次问我，我都这样说。为了转移他的注意力，我问，“四儿，你爸爸怎么死的?”
四儿最喜欢讲他爸爸。他把她妈妈交给他的故事一字不差的重复给别人。他讲了那么多遍，现在可以一气儿讲完，而且一点不结巴。“爸爸是光荣牺牲的，他说，把兔子放下。爸爸是个将军。打了好多仗。他同时用两把手枪。从来没受过伤。有一次，他被敌人包围。他就拉开了手雷和敌人同归于尽。他是为国家献身的。”
讲完后，四儿用手背擦了一下嘴角的哈喇子。
“你爸爸是个英雄，” 我说。
他咧嘴笑了，露出一口参差不齐的牙。
我忽然想起了微微，不放心，站起来要走。走到门边四儿忽然又说，“狐狸精昨晚哭了，狐狸精哭了。”
说这几个字的时候，他的嘴张得很大。“狐狸精，我妈说的，你妈妈是狐狸精。”
我知道里弄的女人们都喜欢挤搅舌头说微微。他们说来向微微讨中药方的男人自愿的为我们砍木头，装烟筒，或换灯泡。还说有的男人来送煤，冬天的时候送大白菜来。这些都是真的，微微和我推不动地排车，更不用说在雪地里。嚼舌头的女人还说有的男人装病来讨药方就是为来来看微微。她们背后叫她狐狸精，说她是有九条尾巴的狐狸，装扮成一个漂亮的女人去引诱男人。
“再也不要说那几个字。” 我转身走到四儿跟前，扇了他一个耳光，“你听见了没有？。”
他捂着脸看着我，像一个被惩罚又不知道犯了什么错的小男孩儿。我转身走出了小木屋。我在院子里走时， 三奶隔着她家窗子往外看。她身体很胖， 胖到不易出门。 但是外面的事她什么都知道。
“姑娘啊， 我那傻小子还在那里玩兔子吗？”她嚷。
“四儿是在小木屋里，” 我说， “但一点都不傻。”
三奶又说了几句， 但我没心思和她聊。 心里惦记微微，她是不是已经停止了研墨。
~~~
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