written by XinLuan/LuoBing
translated by Xiaorong

In our old times, we exchanged dirty jokes, a.k.a. “pieces of yellow”, all the time. “We” referred to three persons, my buddies Old Biao and Old Yan, and me. Old Yan, a lofty woman, dressed just like a man. In those days, all personal managers of celebrities looked about the same, which was good because it made easier to negotiate money from those mafia-type concert organizers and ticket brokers.

Every day we slept on the plane, and kept rolling with the wheels, dozing at the back stage, and flirting with groupies. Old Yan didn’t like the latter one at all. Male fans were few, and they if they ever showed up were purely for the twin girls she managed. She didn’t, or couldn’t, care about other stuff. Look at her: boys were actually shaking when facing her. We always teased her, yet she thought herself a fine lady.

When I was a flowery girl…..Old Biao and I sneaked away as soon as she started.
In fact, our lives were not bad at all. From day to night, we ate, drank, while counting how much we made. We would stay right where those brokers were, their offices or homes, not leaving until we got paid. We did everything. After all, it was an exciting and exhausting job. Sometimes we flew twenty hours across the country, and I felt myself broken apart afterwards. While we were free, however, we were depressed and getting bored quite often.
That’s why we need tons of pieces of yellow.

There was a man who went out swimming in the ocean at midnight. He got tired, so he undressed and buried himself in the sands, except for the penis, which he left sticking out.
He figured it won’t hurt anything to get it tanned by the morning sun and then he felt into sleep.
Morning came. The sun was shining, which turned his penis really big and hard.
Another guy came by and bumped into it. He looked down, and was shocked:
“What’s the damn thing growing wild?”

Old Biao knew a lot of pieces of yellow. Old Yan would take out her notebook whenever Old Biao started telling his stories. Old Yan’s notebook was quite unique and famous inside the group. It had more than two thousands of pieces of yellow, amongst at least five hundreds was brilliant. This was my guess, because I could never ever read any word on it.

I asked once if it was stenography, but the answer was no. She invented it herself so only could she read it. What the hell was she doing? I was quite surprised. Nothing odd, Old Yan shrugged, I liked it as you always knew.

It was true. Old Yan was a nice and pretty lady when she was not negotiating money from those brokers. She had two dimples when she was smiling, deep at left and shallow at right. She looked nothing like a swallow as her name meant, but a horse, a shadow-fax. She refused a lot of guys when she was young. Years after, she was in her forties. Which kind of dirty thoughts would you have for a forty-year-old lady? There are luxuriant girls all around, how could we treat her as a woman? Neither did herself. That’s why she had to find out all kinds of odd games to please herself.　　

We didn’t treat her as a woman, but a blood-brother. It is not an easy thing to do. To be qualified, you must obey the following rules. First of all, you knew the game rules well. You can not behave like the little girl who was the manager of “the Rock Flowers Five”. She responded like we were going to rape her every time we flirted with her; neither could be that low-class moron who knew nothing about music but F words. Most important thing for sure was we had to get along with each other. This is a metaphysical definition, and gradually we three persons ganged together. We made money together, ran away together when things got out of hands, and made pieces of yellow together, or got dejected—when the jokes were not funny.

We were the best gang of making pieces of yellow in Beijing entertainment business. South China had another gang, who often competed with us.

A snake crawled up when a man and a woman were doing it on the roof.
The woman asked how came yours turned so big? It was crawling on my leg; such a chilly feeling.
No way. Mine was not ready yet. The man replied.
Damn it. The woman realized it might be that snake again.
The man got nervous. Not again, I wish it won’t get in.
Let’s see, how to finish the story. Old Biao stopped right there. He was such a disgusting jerk.

Our lives were quite vivacious. We had no choice because we were in the entertainment business. It became the ocean of jubilee wherever we were. No matter what we felt, others always viewed us as a whole bunch of joyous and mindless idiots. Better be this way. If they knew how much money we made per performance, I am sure they won’t think it this way anymore.
Luckily they didn’t know.
This was also a joke, but not dirty or yellow. Better be a good one, if it is not dirty.

Now you had to say it with the dialect in TianJin. Old Biao said.
Whoops, I wish it didn’t get in.
Yeah, cut off your mother fucker. You had told us this one before. Old Yan and I protested.
The woman said that she would get a pair of scissors to cut the mother fucker apart.
Cut the fucking one with two eyes, which is the snake; not the one with one eye, which is my dick.

Haha. Old Yan laughed, while writing it down on her notebook.
This piece was same as the above one, a little bit yellow but not much. Old Yan had a good temper. She could bear it no matter how yellow it was. We liked her a lot.　　　　　　

Someone did make it with Old Yan. Probably two brokers made it, but finally Old Yan sent them to the jail. It was a complicated story, not only due to the love-hate relationship among them. Half year later, she got herself in the jail too, not to look for them, but because of drugs.

Speaking of drugs, legends got wild in the group, much wilder than those pieces of yellow. It was not surprising; yet life is not all about pieces of yellow, otherwise all of us would be totally fucked up. We were loosed, because we had to, not wanted to, so we tried to behave a little bit.

It was not an accident. Half of the rock bands ended up there, and I can tell for sure that at least eighty percent of them smoke. Most were marijuana, some opium and even less weeds. I was still with a band at that time, but I seldom smoke. I believed I was much better than that. They claimed they only could work when they felt high, which I didn’t agree at all. I can write the genius work without it because I was a poet in college. I would become the greatest poet if I continued my writing after college, and be better known than those pioneer or porny poets.

I became famous in a non-poet group. One poet then scorned me as a rebel. Later he became quite famous, but I won’t tell you whom he is to save his face. We all understand what a fucking world we live in. I don’t believe that a great poet is better than a great lyricist. Speaking of the influence to people, I am sure that I have greater power than a poet.

Old Yan didn’t smoke herself; it was the twins. The twins were perverts lusting for guys to jump onto their beds. Old Yan spoiled them as her own babies, but we just can’t criticize her because we had to follow the game rules, even we were blood brothers. After all, it was her own business of being the singers’ nursemaid.

Old Yan contacted a record company in Taiwan for the twins. The company interviewed the twins, and the results were quite satisfactory. The twins were young, pretty, and they were good singers with adequate performing experiences. They were almost twenty-years old, but they still had chance to become hot and popular. Therefore, the company decided to sign with them and produce an album. They found me. At that time I was not only singers’ manager, but also a famous music producer. It was a good chance to make some good money. I got very excited whenever I thought about that I could make two hundreds thousands dollars.　　

Neither Old Yan nor I had good luck. The day before to formally sign with the record company, the twins were desperately beaten by the dope demand. I knew what it looked like. Several years ago I worked for a female singer, who was a junkie. I was her producer, not her nursemaid, nor lover. However, I had to accompany her all the way through, during which I almost lost my virginity.
Mother fucker. I cursed to Old Biao.

You deserved it. Should not sleep her. Old Biao commented.
Not yet. That’s why I was so innocent.
What happened next?
Her passionate winding love stayed with me for about a week, so I had to find other girls to kick it out of my house.

The twins could not perform unless they got the weeds. There was nothing Old Yan could do but to get help from local people. The person who promised to find some weeds for them disappeared after he got the money. Old Yan wasted her whole morning waiting for him until the twins got desperate. Old Yan rushed out, took a taxi and asked the driver to the underground market where she could get some weeds. The taxi driver instead took her directly into the local police station.

Number one of the serial stories in an isolated island:
A boat was broken down in the storm. The captain Old Biao, the chief mate Old Tu, the third mate Old Yan (suppose they were all males) and some crew members survived and landed onto an isolated island.
They had been starved for two days, investigating possible ways to get out of the island. They found there was one kind of small sharks swimming around the island. These sharked would bite anything they found sticking out.
So people got scared and they asked Old Biao for help. They only had one lifebuoy, and one empty can, which could protect them from the shark bites. The question was how these people all swim out safely with only these two things?　　　　
Old Biao thought about it and got an idea. He showed them what to do and used the empty can to shield his own penis. They worked as a group and all got back safely.　　
The question was:
What kind of idea did Old Biao have to protect all of them from the attacks of those sharks?

For more than a year, I had been working really hard to make myself less popular so that those female singers would not harass me anymore. That was the real situation that I had been trapped in. I never fell in love with any singers, and I would run away if I can not stop their harassments. It was too expensive to get involved with those love affairs. Think about it this way: the singer would not pay the producer if the producer slept with her. The producer’s work became payless, and nobody could afford it this way.　　　　

In addition to singers and models, the other person that I did not want to get romantically involved with was Old Yan. Old Yan became sexier somehow for unknown reasons. We made lots of money at that time. Old Biao jumped back into his old life style right after we came back from those business trips, and it was me who gave Old Yan a ride back home. Old Yan invited me to her house to watch a porno movie together. I didn’t want to stay, but Old Yan would feel hurt because of my rejection. Therefore, I had to stay. I didn’t think there was any difference between telling a dirty joke and watching a porno movie, so Old Yan didn’t make a move during the movie, but I knew she would accept whatever I would do. But I didn’t do anything, so she started telling me pieces of yellow.　　　　

Hey buddy, I just learned a new one, but you had to tell me first what you hated most.
Don’t even ask. It was the same answer as before, Old Biao.
Alright, can’t you make something new?
No way. He deserved it since he left first and I had to accompany you back home and stand your harassment.
I didn’t harass you at all.
I shivered when Old Yan leered at me.

Old Biao met Old Tu in a bathing house.
Oh my God, yours was so big. Old Biao was surprised.
It is a secret. Old Tu looked down at Old Biao’s.
Tell me tell me the trick. Old Biao asked with a great anxiety.
It purely depends on whether you can make it or not.
For sure I could.
Ok. Come over. Old Tu murmured next to Old Biao’s ear. Go back home and knock your bed frame with your dick every night. Bang! Bang! Bang! One month later, your dick will be much bigger, and a year later, it will become a super.

You are so bad. I sighed to Old Yan.
Old Yan was shivering in my arms. Say it again?
No, finish your story first.

Old Biao rushed home. Nobody was around, and he decided to try it. His wife would be happier tonight if it works.
Old Biao took out his dick, and knocked the coffee table three times.
He heard something from the bedroom. So his wife was home. Suddenly, his wife’s voice came out,
--Dear God, is that you, Old Tu? Welcome back.

We tried different ways to rescue Old Yan after she got jailed, but nothing worked. It didn’t make sense since Old Yan didn’t smoke herself; neither made money out of it when she was looking for weeds for the twins.

Yet she stayed inside. When we asked the jail officers, they told us that Old Yan wanted to stay there. She learned drawing pictures, speaking English, and even organized a band and gave several vital performances there. It happened once before when those famous band members got in and they contributed a lot for the entertaining life in the jail. After all, that was their major.

Making pieces of yellow were getting less attractive in our group. People were busy making money without a life. More people started telling jokes with their bodies. The gang from GuangDong came to visit us twice, and each time we hold a party in a hot-pot restaurant in Beijing. After a couple bottles of alcohols, they started flirtatious chit chat with the sensual voice, half naked, and caressing their breasts with tender fingers. Yet I was not impressed at all. The competition of making pieces of yellow didn’t work anymore. I thought nothing would become better even if Old Yan was around.

The twins came out soon. The record deal was gone, but they were still performing in different cities. They got a new manager, who looked like a bully with yellow teeth. He treated the twins like dirt, but it worked.　　

Old Yan’s life would be over if she really sold weeds. Old Biao said. She was such a nice lady with a pair of firm breasts and a great round ass.
Tell me the truth. I asked Old Biao if he even climbed to her bed.
Fuck you. Maybe it was you.
What? She told you that I did? I was so surprised.
We were getting closer to the truth. Old Biao was satisfied.
Get out. Use your brain, like you didn’t know what I like.
Ha-ha. Maybe you were too hungry to try any thing feminine.
I was not like you. Sometimes I just could not find what I like at all. I said with great resentment.
Yeah, just like Old Yan.
Shit. She was always hungry. Whom could she sleep with?
This is the life. Maybe she wanted to stay inside the jail. She didn’t want to continue her old life with us anymore.
Maybe you got tired.
Maybe. I agreed. One person I knew jumped from the top floor, one hanged himself, and the other pravrajed. Anything could happen.
It is not because of money. Old Biao nodded.

Number two of the serial stories in an isolated island:
The airplane that Old Biao and Old Tu took crashed and these two parachuted onto a barbarian-land.
The Chieftain told old Biao to look for ten round things otherwise they would eat them.
Old Biao and Tu rushed out. Old Tu was smart so he found ten chest nuts soon.
The Chieftain pushed the chestnuts into Old Tu’s asshole while his people hold him tightly.
How could you guys do such a cruel thing to me. Old Tu protested.
Let me finish it and you better hold them there tightly; otherwise we would eat you.
His asshole was torn apart and bloods were everywhere. Old Tu could not bear it anymore and burst into laugh. The chestnuts pumped out.
Not far away, Old Biao was running back with ten big coconuts.

I was depressed.
Half year after Old Yan got into jail, I learned some news about her. She came out once, but we didn’t know. It didn’t mean the police didn’t know either. Old Yan became a junkie, and had to take a couple shots everyday. There were not many underground markets selling marijuana in Beijing, and XinJiang Village was one of them.　　
Bizarre things happened. Every time old Yan visited the market, the following police men seized the property of people who sold drugs to her. Old yan was the informant.
I didn’t understand why she became an informant. She was a good celebrity manager and producer. The twins were trained solely by her. I read the agreement before and she could make millions of dollars out of it. The twins were unable to escape even if given wings.
However she became an informant. Therefore, she got in soon after. She would not want to come out even if given the opportunity. She would only be safe when she stayed inside; otherwise, she could be stabbed to death.
It was fun staying inside. I heard tons of pieces of yellow. It was the pure wisdom of working class. Old Yan rhapsodized.

There was a president of a Chinese opera performing company, who joined the revolutionary army thirty years ago, and had a good business record with a happy and big family. It was time for him to retire, yet things happened. He developed a unique taste for young baby-sitters. He made it with young girls at his home, in his apartment complex, even outside on the street. It went out of control and nobody could stand it anymore.

His wife finally divorced him. His wife was a housewife who took care of him for her whole life, so she didn’t have a place to live. They reported the condition to their superior. Finally, their home was divided into two parts, and each one took half of it. Their children still lived in the same apartment complex, so they could take care of each other as before. His wife played Ta-Chi every day, and he played with his young baby sitters everyday. Everything worked out fine.　　

One day his wife found out he was doing something really disgusting. He shortcut two wires, so it was she who paid all the utilities in the last several months.

She called a family meeting and complained with deep grief and indignation.

He felt uneasy, when thinking about her merits in the past. He huddled and caressed her. The babysitter went out when she realized everyone in the home was against her. All family members suggested them getting back together. He felt a little bit regretted too.

Only with one condition. His wife requested.
What condition?
No more making out with the babysitters.
He was stunned. He stood in the center of the living room, falling into deep thinking. Suddenly, he yelled out,
What about my life? My great fucking life is over like that?　　

At that time, you should speak with SiChuan accent. Old Biao stressed.
Let it out with a fast speed. I understood.

Speaking of Old Yan, she didn’t get married ever. What did she do with all those money?
Shit. Don’t ever touch her stuff, nor think about it.
Fuck you. You were not her husband. You think she ever liked people younger than her like you?
I threw out a pillow to Old Biao in Old Yan’s apartment.

Another true story.
It was in the middle of the summer with strong sunshine, hot and dry. The basketball court was quiet.
The asphalt road was melting, and some old piles of bricks were almost burning.
Several people were carrying the bricks around. From far away, you still can tell that they looked quite nervous because there were other people sitting at the four corners of the court, under the shelter of umbrellas. Each one had one pile of bricks in front of him. When you get closer, you would see that each brick had been marked with circles, honor tiles with winds and dragons; or cracks. They were Mahjong.　　

You guys liked gambling? So let’s have some fun. One guy sitting underneath the umbrella said.
We swore to Chairman Mao that we would never play again. One carrying the bricks replied.
What did you mean? You didn’t want to play with us?
No, that’s not what meant.　　　　　　
Oh shut up. Be honest. We will get new players to carry the tiles for us unless you didn’t want to be replaced.
Great. Thank you so much, Mr. Captain.

Where did it happen? Old Biao asked.
Where could it be? The house of detention, of course.
Yeah, the one where Old Yan stayed?
Who knows? I replied.
It was terrible. Old Biao laughed.
Shit. That’s what happened when you get caught for gambling. Did you know what the worst situation was? A Pung! When it happened, you had to carry the bricks from one side to the other to line them together.
Old Biao burst into laugh.
Things could be even worse. I sighed.

Eight Bams. One sitting under the umbrella said.
A Pung. The one sitting the opposite side requested.
The one carrying bricks was sweating, but had to continue to carry them to the other side.
Three circles. The one who punged minutes ago discarded one tile of three circles. So the one carrying bricks for him was lucky that he didn’t have to run around the court.　　　　
My Goodness. I won!
What were you waiting for? Go to build the wall! Others who lost in the last game yelled to those who were carrying bricks for them.
They needed to take all bricks to the center of the court, put them face down, and mix them with tremendous clatter. One hundred forty four bricks were almost smoking under the sun burn, and the asphalt court turned soft, so did all these poor people.
Finally they build a wall for next game when they almost collapsed.
Mr. Captain smiled approvingly. Was it fun?
Sure, sure. They adulated.
Okley dokley. Do it one more time. Mr. Captain smiled even more gently.

Yes. You have to treat them this way. Last time I lost my whole year income in Macau. Shit, it was one million dollars!
You deserved it.
I missed Old Yan. Old Biao confessed.
I knew it. You fell in love with her.
Nonsensense. She was such a poor baby.
She was fine. She even organized a band, and she was the leading vocal. I replied.
Yeah. It was all because of the twins who were still jerking around in the drug rehabilitation center.
It was true. The Taiwan record company was looking for me again. Next album I will produce would be all historical songs in praise of Mao with an naïve baby-talk manner.
You were such a bastard.
You were even worse. Don’t yell me like that.
Oh yeah. It seemed like we ran out of pieces of yellow recently. Old Biao laughed.
I nodded. We didn’t have time, and we lost our appetite.

I have one more piece of yellow. One of my buddies accidentally swallowed his artificial eye during sleep. He went to see doctor, and got transferred in different departments, while the artificial eye was getting deeper along his intestine. He finally ended up in the department of proctology. The doctor asked him to kneel down for the inspection. Suddenly the doctor yelled out,　　
Holly fucking shit. I have inspected assholes for my whole life, and now the asshole inspected me with one eye!

I really wanted to laugh. I was telling pieces of yellow for my whole life, and finally it came back to me. We were working hard to make money, traveling around the world, flirting with male and female groupies, fucking the world with alcohols, and being fucked by the world with such a gracious, boring, and natural manner.

Maybe Old Yan is right.

Nothing is yellower than our lives.