"Interesting! Any particular sect?"

"Fighting monks!"

"Really? I don't believe that there are any fighting monks left in China anymore. Do they have a name?"

The old woman said, "They do, but it's slipped my mind. The only thing I remember about them is that they all have Joy Sticks three feet long and they're great fighters."

Her daughter turned pink-faced and exclaimed, "Mother! Please!"

"Please!" said Uncle Ma. "You're obviously an educated and sophisticated woman. That's an old peasant's fantasy."

"It true," she said strongly. Looking at her daughter she added, "When your granduncle, Fat Fong, couldn't make any babies, he went to the monks. Nine months after he returned home, his wife gave birth to twin boys."

"Are you sure it was the monks, or the man she consoled herself with while he was away?" asked Uncle Ma with a smile.

Henan was just a whistle-stop on the road to Burma. The one building in sight, if it could be called that, was the railway depot which was nothing more than a large shed set among terraced fields of wheat. Uncle Ma was the only pa.s.senger to debark at the station, and he felt very alone as the train proceeded on its way north, leaving him standing by the tracks on a cracked concrete ap.r.o.n, luggage in hand. A cold, dry mountain wind cut through his clothes, chilling him. "s.h.i.t!" he thought. "Why didn't I bring an overcoat?"

For some reason, it was even colder inside the little station office. It was staffed by three uniformed attendants, although it was obvious that the traffic was so light that one, on a part-time basis, would do. None of the railway workers paid any attention to him, and he had to say, "h.e.l.lo," twice in Mandarin before the oldest, a stringy-haired ancient, looked up from his newspaper.

He replied, "You're wasting your time! There are no monks."

"How do you know I'm looking for a monk?" asked Uncle Ma.

"That's the only reason anyone other than officials come here!"

"Do many people come to see them?"

"Lots," said one of the younger railway workers, a man with a protruding, clefted chin. "We had two last year. Foreigners like yourself. I don't think they had much luck. Monks are parasites. Don't you read Chairman Mao?"

"Is there a monastery up in the mountains?" asked Uncle Ma with authority.

"There's lots of old monasteries in the mountains. n.o.body lives in them. Parasitism is against the law!"

The older one remarked, "If you want to waste your time and money, no one will stop you," and returned to his newspaper.

"Do you have a telephone?" asked Uncle Ma.

"Yes," replied the younger man, proudly pointing to an old-fashioned device on the wall.

"Good!" said Uncle Ma with a nod. "Can you get me a taxi?" All three men laughed. "Taxi?" asked the oldest, removing his gla.s.ses. "This isn't Shanghai."

"How am I supposed to get to town?" asked Uncle Ma. "You can't even see it from here."

"Like we all do! Walk! It isn't far. Just follow the road up over the ridge."

"I'm sure there's someone in town with a private car who can use some extra money."

"This is a socialist state," said the youngest of the men. "There is no such thing as a private car!"

"A cart then?"

"The communes have trucks! We're not behind the times."

"Well, call a commune for me and I'll make some arrangement," said Uncle Ma.

The cleft-jawed one replied, "None of them have telephones yet. It's in the next five-year plan." His eyes found that of the older man, whose nod was barely discernable. Rising, he reached down for Uncle Ma's two-suiter and said, "Come on, Honorable Oldster. I'll give you a hand. Follow me. It isn't much of a walk."

As they trudged up the road away from the station, the young man said, "I hope you brought cigarettes. Kents?"

"Yes, I did in fact. A couple of cartons."

"Three packs would be appreciated!"

"Would American dollars be even more appreciated?" asked Uncle Ma, glad that he was now able to talk in terms that he could understand.

"Not really! There's not much you can do with them up here. A pack of Kents are good for things you can't buy with six months' pay. In fact, there are some things in the mountain that you can only buy with Kents."

"I'm glad you're not as dogmatic as your fellow workers. I thought you were one of those Red Guards."

"You won't find any Red Guards up here, and those country b.u.mpkins I work with aren't dogmatic, just careful. I asked for three packs. One for each of us."

"There will be a lot more in it for you if you can get me up to see the monks," replied Uncle Ma.

"I've been here three years and I haven't seen one! I don't think anyone in town under fifty has, either. You'll have to ask around."

"Didn't you ever go to the monastery?"

"I thought about it, but it's too far."

"Just how far?" asked Uncle Ma.

"Fifty miles straight up the mountain."

"s.h.i.t," said Uncle Ma.

"Somebody will give you a lift, once they know you have cigarettes. There's nothing to worry about, old man, I'll put you into good hands."

Young Jut Jaw stopped when they reached the ridge of a long mountain finger and gestured down the opposing slope. "Henan! Not much, is it? We're getting our second red brick building next spring."

Uncle Ma hurried up to him and looked down to view a rather unimpressive collection of mud brick houses cl.u.s.tered around an old city wall of the same material. He said to himself, "Communism? Things haven't changed here in the last hundred years."

"Everyone has electricity and radios, and within ten years all will have a television, if not an automobile." He then said with extreme politeness, "I'd appreciate the cigarettes now. No reason for anybody in town to know our business."

"Oh, yes!" said Uncle Ma thinking, "I was wrong! Things have changed. In the days of the warlords he would have slit my throat for my wrist.w.a.tch." He took his overnighter from the young man and zipped open a side pocket from which he removed a carton of Kents. Ripping it open, he held it out to his guide. The railway worker gingerly removed three packs and buried them out of sight in his pockets. "Take another one," Uncle Ma offered.

"I said three and that's all. You'll need the rest to get where you're going. A driver doesn't come cheap up here."

"Good man!" said Uncle Ma. He replaced the open carton in his bag and they started on their way again at a much faster pace as Henan now lay downhill. By the time they reached the little "city," they had acquired an entourage of curious, happy-looking children, one of whom insisted on carrying his over-the-shoulder with the money in it. Uncle Ma thought, "No matter how little, if that kid was a Kee and he had any idea what was in that bag, he would be off like a racehorse."

Pa.s.sing through the old brick wall, they stopped at a small house which had a "noodle shop" sign outside. The boy carrying the shoulder bag handed it back to him, and he followed the railway worker inside. The children remained outside, gawking. The place was only big enough for three tables and a counter. The inviting aroma of steaming wheat noodles and northern dumplings reminded Uncle Ma that he hadn't eaten well since he'd entered the motherland. "Ho!" called the railway worker. "Auntie Fu! We have a visitor from overseas!" He indicated a chair which Uncle Ma sank into, exhausted by the walk from the station. An old woman wearing the tight red cap of the region emerged from the rear of the shop, wiped her hands on her white ap.r.o.n, and looked Uncle Ma over carefully.

"Ah," she said loudly. "You're young. Why do you want to go to see a monk?"

"What makes you think I want to see a monk?"

"n.o.body from overseas comes here for any other reason!"

"It's for an old relative of mine."

She laughed, "Then why didn't he come? A monk can't do anything for him long distance." She crossed the room and patted him on the shoulder with gusto, "Don't worry! They'll fix you up."

The subject of the conversation filtered out to the children who packed the door and windows of the small shop, and they were all soon engulfed by what seemed to be a contagious fit of laughter. The woman turned to the railway worker. "What's this southern gentleman's name?"

Young Cleft Jaw shrugged. Uncle Ma stood and said, "Ma!"

The woman took his hand into both of hers and shook it vigorously. "I'm Mrs. Fu! Ma and Fu! Horse and lion! Fire and water! We can't mix. Stay out of my bed." She then winked and added, "Unless you brought Kents!"

Uncle Ma winked and said, "Yes, I did."

"You must be starved!" said Mrs. Fu. "Let me put together some of our northern specialties. I'll slaughter a chicken just for you!"

By the time the meal was served, it seemed as if almost everyone in the immediate neighborhood had gathered outside the shop to watch Uncle Ma. After he had eaten his fill--broad white noodles, chicken in garlic sauce, and pork filled buns--he asked his hostess, "Then there are actually Shar Yips here in Henan?"

"You wouldn't be here otherwise," she replied with some caution.

"Do they wear yellow robes? Are they easy to spot?"

"I wouldn't know," replied Mrs. Fu. "I've never seen one. I don't know anybody in town who has. But they're supposed to be here, up on the mountain."

The young man added, "n.o.body has seen a Shar Yip for years."

"I think we're confusing Mr. Ma," said the woman. "The state doesn't believe in them and looks down on all forms of religion. Everyone in Henan is a good Communist. If we saw a monk, we would have to report him to the authorities, but none of us ever has."

"Shar Yips have the power of invisibility, so it's not our fault if we've never spotted one."

"I understand now," said Uncle Ma.

"I don't think you understand completely," said Mrs. Fu. "They can be invisible if they want to. There's probably one sitting at that very table checking you out!"

"Then why doesn't he have something to eat?"

"He will, when we go upstairs to see your room. We always leave food out for them."

"My room?" said Uncle Ma. "I didn't plan to stay overnight."

"You have to," said the young man. "You can't make arrangements for transportation until this evening, and you have to start early. It's an all-day trip."

"Yes!" said Mrs. Fu. "Plan on staying at least three days. You'll be too tired to do anything but sleep when you return from the mountain, and the train doesn't pa.s.s through every day."

"But it's only fifty miles," said Uncle Ma."

The railway worker replied, "The roads aren't very good, and you'll have to walk the last ten miles!"

"s.h.i.t," said Uncle Ma. "I don't even have a warm coat."

"A pack of cigarettes will see you to a fine new one," said Mrs. Fu.

After the meal, she escorted him out of the shop and up a flight of stairs into a small room with a single bed. "This," she said, "is our official guest house."

"Haven't you anything better?" asked Uncle Ma.

"This is the best. The State-set rate is seventy yuan a day, including all meals."

Uncle Ma smiled and thought, "Thirty cents! If there were some long-legged, blonde coeds around, I'd retire here." He unzipped the side pocket of his two-suiter and removed the open carton of Kents. Mrs. Fu took three of the packs and said, "One for each day you are here!"

"Take another, please," he insisted.

She answered, "How many cartons do you have?"

"Two!"

"No! Transportation is expensive. One will get you up to the monastery and back,"

"I have some hard currency."

"There's nothing much to buy here." She bit her lip and then said, "It gets very cold at night. The fire isn't enough."

"I'll manage! The old-fashioned quilts look like they can do that job."

"I was thinking of something warmer and more comforting." Mrs. Fu didn't even have to wink. Uncle Ma was able to read between her words readily.

"You're very attractive, but that was quite a walk from the station. I'm not in shape. I'd better rest."

But Mrs. Fu had something different in mind and she started taking off her clothing, much to Uncle Ma's astonishment.

"Not often that nice-looking young man come through here," said Mrs. Fu, slipping out of her seemingly oversized bloomers. "Been so long since I had my p.u.s.s.y licked. Would you?"

"I'm really tired," complained Uncle Ma, not at all turned on by the older woman's suddenly nude body. He didn't want to insult the woman, but also didn't want to engage in s.e.xual activities with her.

"Just suck a little, then you sleep," she said, sounding like she was making a command, rather than request. Before Uncle Ma could protest, the woman grabbed his wrists and handcuffed them to the bed.

"I do all the work, you just lick," she told her captive, and then maneuvered her body onto his and began to move her Mystic Place up toward his lips. Then she changed her mind and flopped her ample breast into his mouth. "Suck t.i.ttie to make Mystic Place wet," she said. "Suck hard."

Uncle Ma obliged, taking the pendulous t.i.t into his mouth and sucking the nipple, flicking his tongue back and forth in a way that he knew turned women on. If he was going to be handcuffed and raped, he figured he might as well enjoy it. So he sucked on each t.i.ttie until he could tell Mrs. Fu was ready to have her Mystic Place licked out.

She crawled upward on his body, her c.u.n.t getting ever-so-close to his lips. Her hands went to her p.u.s.s.y and she spread the lips very, very far apart, exposing to Uncle Ma a mature, yet pleasantly tight Mystic Place. It was a pale pink, and very smooth. The pubic hair around it was dark in color, but light and silky in texture, which he liked, and the outer lips were small in length but very pouty, the kind of p.u.s.s.y lips a man could suck right into his mouth and gnaw at like pork.