“No, I know otherwise.” Miss Sun was gently stubborn. “It was you who reminded Mr. Chao about it. When you were on the boat—” She realized she had said half a sentence too much and blushed. The sentence was chopped at midpoint.
Hung-chien suddenly remembered the conversation on the boat. So the girl really had heard everything. Seeing her like this, he too felt embarrassed. Blushing from shyness, like yawning or stuttering, can be infectious. It’s sticky, like walking through mud in rubbers. You can’t set your foot down; then when you do you can’t pull it out.
He covered up with a joke, “Well, now that you have your traveling expenses for the trip home, you’d better go home while you still can. This place is a bore.”
Pouting like a child, Miss Sun said, “I really do feel like going home! I miss home every day. I even wrote my father saying how much I missed home. Next summer vacation is so far away; I get nervous just thinking about it.”
“It’s always like that the first time away from home. You’ll get over it after a while. Have you talked with your department chairman yet?”
“I’m scared to death! Mr. Liu wants me to teach a section of English. I really can’t do it! Mr. Liu said four classes of English have to be held concurrently, and since there are only three teachers in the department including himself, I’ll have to take over one section. I really don’t know how to teach. The students are all older than I, and they all look so tough.”
“Just try teaching a little and you’ll learn. I’ve never taught before either. The students can’t be very advanced. Prepare your lessons thoroughly, and when you start teaching, you’ll find your preparation is more than enough.”
“The section I’m to teach had the worst scores on the English entrance examination. But, Mr. Fang, you don’t know how miserable I am myself. I thought I’d come here and study hard for a year or two. They won’t let the foreigner here teach and instead they want me to teach and lose face!”
“Who’s the foreigner here?”
“You mean you didn’t know? The wife of Mr. Han, who is the chairman of the History Department. I’ve never seen her, but Miss Fan says she’s so thin she’s nothing but bones and very ugly. Some people say she’s a White Russian, but others insist she’s a Jew who became a refugee after Austria was annexed to Germany. Her husband claims she’s American. Mr. Han wanted her to be a professor in the Department of Foreign Languages, but Mr. Liu refused. Liu says she’s not qualified because she can’t speak any English, and now there’s no need to teach German or Russian. Mr. Han was furious and said Mr. Liu isn’t qualified and can’t speak English either, saying further that Liu had put out a few middle school textbooks and muddled his way through a summer session abroad to get a certificate. He wondered who Liu thinks he is—the remarks really get nasty. Mr. Kao finally managed to break it up, but now Mr. Han is threatening to resign.”
“No wonder he didn’t show up the other day when the president had his party. Ai! You’re really good. Where’d you get all that news?”
Miss Sun said with a laugh, “Miss Fan told me. This school is like a big family. Unless you live off campus you can’t keep anything secret. And there’s so much bickering going on. Yesterday Mr. Liu’s sister arrived from Kweilin. Apparently she has a B.A. in history. Everyone’s saying now Mr. Liu and Mr. Han can come to terms by trading a teaching assistant in the History Department for a professor in the Foreign Languages Department.”
“But a sister is not as close as a wife, nor a teaching assistant as high as a professor,” declaimed Hung-chien. “If I were your Mr. Liu, I would never accept such a rotten deal.”
While he was speaking, Hsin-mei came in and said, “OK, I’ve seen those people out—Miss Sun, I knew you wouldn’t leave right away.”
He had meant nothing by this remark, but Miss Sun blushed. Hung-chien quickly told him about the affair involving Mrs. Han, adding, “Why are there so many political intrigues in a school? It’s not even as straightforward as officialdom.”
“Wherever you have a group of people living together, you’ll have politics,” said Hsin-mei, as though propagating a doctrine.
Miss Sun stayed for a while longer, then left.
Hsin-mei remarked, “I’ll write her father declaring that I’ve turned my responsibility as guardian over to you, OK?”
“I think that subject has been ‘worked to death’ as the composition teachers would say,” replied Hung-chien. “There’s nothing more to be said about it. How about finding some new topic for a joke?”
Hsin-mei laughed at him for talking nonsense.
After the first week of classes, Hung-chien gradually became acquainted with some of his colleagues who lived in the same wing. Lu Tzu-hsiao of the History Department had paid him a very cordial, neighborly visit, so one afternoon Hung-chien returned the call. Lu was very meticulous about his clothes and always kept his hair slick and shiny. Afraid of having his hair buried by a hat, he would not “share the same sky with a hat”4 and went bareheaded even in the dead of winter. His nose was short and wide, as though it had originally come straight downward but had received a head-on punch in the nostrils and, unable to come down further, had retreated by fanning out on both sides. Because he had never married, his attitude toward his age inevitably fell behind the times. At first he would give his full age according to the Western way of reckoning, but as the years went by, he secretly bought a translation of the book Life Begins at Forty and would simply not tell anyone his age nor give the animal sign of the year of his birth,5 merely saying, “Oh, quite young! Still just a little kid!” and then acting lively and mischievous the way a little kid should. He liked to mutter furtively under his breath as though every remark he made were a military secret. Of course, he did know a few military secrets, for didn’t he have a relative in the Executive Yüan6 and a friend in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs? His relative had once sent him a letter. On the large envelope with “Executive Yüan” printed in the upper left-hand corner was written “Mr. Lu Tzu-hsiao” in large letters, making it look as though the Executive Yüan was all set to give him the major position at the center. Though the envelope for the letter he wrote to his friend in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs was not very big, the seven words “Ministry of Foreign Affairs, European-American Bureau” of the address were written in such bold, black, neatly penned characters that an illiterate should have been able to make them out at a single glance in the depths of night. These two pieces of incoming and outgoing mail alternately adorned his desk. Two days ago that morning the damned errand boy, while straightening up his room, had accidentally knocked over the ink bottle, making a blackened mess of the Executive Yüan. Too late to save it, Lu had jumped about screaming curses. Meanwhile, preoccupied with the nation, the relative forgot about his family and never wrote again. Caught up with foreign affairs, the friend had no time for domestic matters, and never sent a single reply. From then on, Lu could only write to the Executive Yüan, so the two letters on his desk were both outgoing mail. That day was the day for the letter to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Lu waited until Hung-chien had seen the envelope on his desk, then hurriedly put it away in his drawer, saying, “It’s nothing. A friend is asking me to work at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and so I’m answering his letter.”
Assuming this to be true, Hung-chien could not but express his reluctance to see him go and urge him to stay, saying, “Oh! So you’re moving up! Will the president be willing to let you go?”
Lu repeatedly shook his head, saying, “None of that! I’m not interested in being an official. I’m replying with a flat refusal. The president treats people very well. He sent several telegrams urging me to come. Now that you all are here, and the school is gradually getting on its feet, how could I pull out and leave him in the lurch?”
Recalling his own talk with Kao Sung-nien, Hung-chien said with a sigh, “The president of course gives you special treatment. People like myself—”
Lu spoke so softly there was a
ir produced but no sound, as though his thoughts were breathing. “Yes, the president does have that shortcoming. He doesn’t keep his word. I know your case was very unfair.” This was said confidentially as though all four walls had ears secretly listening in.
Hung-chien had never thought that other people already knew about his case. Coloring slightly, he said, “My case was nothing special, but, Mr. Kao—I guess I learned a lesson.”
“You can’t say that! Associate professor is a little low, of course, but among associate professors, your salary is the highest.”
“What? You mean the rank of associate professor is divided into grades?” Hung-chien was of a mind with Dr. Johnson of England in not distinguishing between the rank of a louse and a flea.
“It’s divided into several grades. Take your traveling companion and our department colleague Ku Er-chien, for example. He’s two grades lower than you. Or our department chairman, Mr. Han. He’s a grade higher than Mr. Chao, while Mr. Chao is a grade higher than Liu Tung-fang of the Foreign Languages Department. There are quite a number of grades. This is your first job since returning from abroad, so you’re not familiar with it.”
It all suddenly became clear to Hung-chien. When he heard that he was higher than Ku Er-chien, he felt somewhat better and asked casually, “Why’s your department chairman’s salary so high?”
“Because he’s a doctor, a Ph.D. I’ve never been to America, so I’ve never heard of the university he graduated from, but it’s supposed to be quite famous. It’s in New York, called Carleton University or something.”
Hung-chien sat up in astonishment. It was as though someone had uncovered a secret of his, and he cried out, “Which university?”
“Carleton University. Do you know Carleton University?”
“Yes, I do! Humph, I also—” Hung-chien wished he could have bitten down on his tongue, but two words had already slipped out.
When Lu Tzu-hsiao realized that there was something more behind all this, like bamboo sprouts just barely revealing their pointed tips in the earth, he wanted to get right to the bottom of it. When Hung-chien wouldn’t say, he grew even more suspicious and just wished he could have adopted the torture tactics of the special services to force out a confession.
Hung-chien returned to his room, angry and amused. Ever since the time Miss T’ang had interrogated him about buying a diploma, he had refused to think about his negotiations with the Irishman. He kept it firmly in mind that he was going to forget the whole matter. Whenever his thoughts veered off in that direction, he would hurriedly change his line of thinking, though not before he felt a twinge of shame. Lu’s remarks just now, however, had been like a dose of medicine half easing the shame in his heart. Han Hsüeh-yü was telling his lie, and while they were not in collusion, it was as if having Han there lightened the charges of deception against himself.
Of course, this added a new uneasiness, but this kind of uneasiness was out in the open and exposed to the sunlight, not like the business of the bought diploma, every trace of which, like a corpse in a murder case, had to be hidden even from himself. The only way to lie and deceive was as Han Hsüeh-yü had done it. One had to have the courage to carry it all the way through. He was just no good at it. What a big fool—to have lied and still tried to maintain his honesty. If he had just gone boldly and brazenly ahead, he could at least have avoided Kao Sung-nien’s bullying. Instead, he had ended up having to bear all at once the two opposite miseries of suffering wrong for his honesty and being humiliated by exposure as a cheat. He suddenly thought that lately he hadn’t even been able to tell a lie. Then it struck him that lying was often a manifestation of joy and happiness as well as a form of creativity, like make-believe in the play of a child. When a person has a sense of well-being and his spirits are overflowing, he can ignore stubborn facts and joke about his present circumstances. When one really has fallen on hard times, he’s not much good at lying.
A day later Han Hsüeh-yü came especially to pay a call. When he gave his name, Fang Hung-chien felt uneasy but was at the same time pleasantly disappointed. He had pictured Han Hsüeh-yü as arrogant and sly, but to his surprise Han was quiet and reticent. He thought perhaps Lu Tzu-hsiao had been mistaken or that Miss Sun must have put too much stock in rumor.
Slow-witted honesty was Han Hsüeh-yü’s specialty. Modern man has two popular myths: first, that homeliness in a girl is a virtue, so that pretty girls do not have half as much intelligence or honor as ugly girls; and second, that if a man lacks eloquence, he must be virtuous, making deaf-mutes the most sincere and honest people. Perhaps because he has been taken in too often by speeches and propaganda, modern man has overreacted to the point where he thinks only those who never talk speak the truth upon opening their mouths, prompting all newly appointed officials to say in their homily, “Statesmanship does not lie in excessive talk,” wishing they could just point to their mouth, their heart, and heaven and settle it all with these three gestures. Though Han Hsüeh-yü was not a deaf-mute, he did have a slight stutter. In order to cover his stuttering, he spoke little, slowly and with great effort, as though each word carried with it the weight of his entire personality. People who don’t talk readily are apt to give others the impression that they are packed with wisdom, just as a locked, tightly sealed chest is assumed to be crammed with treasure.
When Kao Sung-nien saw Han in Kunming for the first time, Kao felt Han to be sincere and serene like a gentleman. Moreover, it was obvious from Han’s premature baldness that his brain was so filled with knowledge it was bursting forth and crowding out his hair. When Kao took a look at Han’s vitae and saw besides his doctoral degree the item: “Articles have appeared in such major American journals as The Journal of History and the Saturday Review of Literature,” Kao could not help but give Han respect. Several people coming to Kao with letters of introduction had resumés stating that they had “lectured” abroad many times. Having studied in a small European country himself, Kao knew that often when one thought one was lecturing [literally, speaking on learning], the audience assumed he was learning to speak—a good chance to practice the foreign language. But to publish articles in major journals abroad—that took real talent and scholarship. When he asked Han if he could take a look at his works, the latter had replied calmly that the journals had been left at his old home in the occupied area, that any Chinese university should subscribe to these two journals, and that Kao should be able to find them easily nearby, unless some of the old issues in the library had been lost during the escape. Kao Sung-nien never thought a liar could be so calm and unruffled. The books of all universities were in disarray, and he wouldn’t necessarily be able to find the particular issues. But there didn’t seem to be any doubt that they did contain Han Hsüeh-yü’s articles. Han Hsüeh-yü had in fact submitted articles to these journals, but Kao Sung-nien did not know that his articles had been published in the “Personals” column of the Saturday Review of Literature: “Well-educated Chinese youth wishes to assist Sinologists. Low rates”; and in the “Correspondence” column of The Journal of History: “Han Hsüeh-yü is seeking back issues of this journal from twenty years ago. Anyone wishing to sell please write to such and such an address.” Finally when Kao heard that Mrs. Han was an American, he simply regarded Han with newfound respect. One had to be very well versed in Western learning to marry a foreign woman. Hadn’t he himself tried without success to marry a Belgian girl in his youth? This man could be department chairman. He never thought at the time that the foreign wife was a White Russian that Han had wed in China.
Talking with Han Hsüeh-yü was like watching a movie in slow motion. You would never expect a terse remark could take so much preparation to mobilize such a complex physical machinery. His words brought time to a halt and it just had to drag itself slowly along. Han had an ashy complexion, which on a cloudy day could blend in perfectly with the color of the surrounding sky and make him invisible—a first-rate camouflage. The only distinctive feature about him was a l
arge lump in his throat. When he spoke, the lump went up and down. Watching it, Hung-chien felt his own throat begin to itch. When Han stopped to swallow saliva, the lump would nearly disappear and then reappear again, reminding Hung-chien of a frog swallowing flies. Noticing how little Han spoke and how much effort it took, Hung-chien wished Han could have pulled out the Adam’s apple like a stopper from a bottle and let the rest of his speech flow more freely.
Han invited Hung-chien over for dinner, and when Hung-chien had thanked him, Han still sat stiffly in his seat saying nothing.
Hung-chien was obliged to carry on the conversation. He asked, “I heard you married Mrs. Han in America.”
Han nodded, stretched his neck, and swallowed some saliva. The saliva went down, and up floated a sentence from beneath the lump in his throat, “Have you ever been to America?”
“No, I’ve never been there—” might as well test him out—“but I once thought of going. I corresponded with a Dr. Mahoney.” Am I being oversensitive? Han seemed to redden slightly, like the sun suddenly showing through on a cloudy day.
“The fellow’s a swindler.” Han’s tone was in no way agitated. Nor did he say more.
“I know. What Carleton University? I was nearly taken in by him.” Hung-chien was thinking, if Han’s willing to admit the Irishman is a “swindler” Han must know he can’t put anything over on me.
“You weren’t taken in by him, were you? Carleton University is a good school. He was a junior employee who had been discharged. He used the name to cheat money out of ignorant people abroad. You really weren’t taken in? Well, that’s good, then.”
“You mean there really is a school called Carleton? I thought it was all the work of that Irishman.” Hung-chien sat up, surprised.
“A very serious, strict school, though very few people know about it—ordinary students have a hard time getting in.”
“Mr. Lu said that you had graduated from that school.”
Fortress Besieged Page 31