ACOUSTIC METADATA

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• TIMESTAMP: Autumn, 1969

• LOCATION: Pocket Alley, Back Lakes (Shichahai), Beijing

• ACOUSTIC TARGET: Grandma Yang’s Cloth Buttons (Pankou)

• FREQUENCY: Infinitesimal zi-pa friction, muffled pa-pa release

 

 

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We had been forced out of the ministerial mansion in Compound No. 7 and moved into "Pocket Alley" in Back Lakes. A small yard deep in the lane, a row of crude red-brick rooms, low and rough like four matchboxes placed side-by-side. My father stood 180cm tall; I had never seen him bend his back. But to enter the matchbox, he had to bow his head.

 

“Oh, the Chief is back.” Grandma Yang’s voice slithered out from the eastern room like a wet snake.

 

She was our only neighbor, chosen by Gao Yong’s father—the man who had instigated the revolutionaries to oust my father. Grandma Yang was nearly sixty, yet she carried no revolutionary air. Instead, she was steeped in a thick, viscous scent of face powder.

 

She wore a tight, dark grey jacket. A row of cloth-bound buttons (Pankou) slanted across her chest down to her left armpit. In an era of shapeless Mao suits, her breasts were full and swaying. I found myself wanting to voyeuristically track the sway of her heavy hips.

 

The withered old man playing the Erhu at the alley entrance had whispered to me: “Kid, that old woman used to be a famous prostitute. You understand? Hahaha.” At ten, I didn't understand "prostitute," but I could hear it. As she twisted her waist, the friction of those cloth buttons against the rough fabric produced an infinitesimal, rhythmic zi-pa sound.

 

“Chief, the coal stove isn't hot enough. Shall I poke it for you?” Her voice was a blatant, falsetto tremolo.

 

My father struck another match. Scritch—whoosh. The match head flared up in a temper. I crouched by the wall in my room, using my White Crow hearing to capture the voiceprints from the other side.

 

Grandma Yang was undoing those buttons.

 

Pa. Pa. Pa.

 

The sound of cloth buttons breaking free from their loops—extremely soft, yet muffled and heavy.

 

I lay down, tossing and turning. Before my eyes, those heavy hips continued to sway in the dark.