by A. Yi
“Can we say she had a very strong desire to survive?” the TV reporter said.
“You may say the person eager to die had already died, but her body was still reacting out of instinct.”
The forensic scientist lit a cigarette. The cameraman left with his machine. The crowd, which had been holding their breath, started to talk. The dumpy journalist walked over and said: “You can’t prove she wasn’t persuaded to drink the pesticide. She was drunk.”
“Do you have any evidence?”
“No.”
“Why do you bring it up if you don’t have any evidence?”
“I still can’t rule out the possibility of murder.”
When the journalist walked back, he tugged at the nylon rope fastened around the boatman’s waist. “None of my business.” The boatman shook his head.
“You’re fine.”
“None of my business.”
“Why didn’t you tie one of her hands? Can’t you pull her onshore with one hand tied?”
“It depends.”
“Isn’t it less troublesome tying one hand?”
“I have no idea. I’m going back.”
The journalist scornfully let go of the rope. Then the policeman said: “Don’t you have questions? The ex-landlord of the deceased is here.” That bunch of journalists turned and stared at me at once like I was carrying some conspicuous weapon.
“I have things to do,” I said.
“It’ll just be a moment,” one of them said. But the dumpy journalist said: “What’s there to ask?” He walked off alone.
“We’ll just keep you a moment.” The rest kept following me. “Who is she to you?”
“She was my wife’s classmate.”
“Why did she live in your home?”
“She was my wife’s classmate and was very close to my wife. She couldn’t afford to rent a house.”
“Did you know she was a hooker?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Did any men come to your house for her?”
“No.”
“Anybody call her?”
“No idea.”
“How long did she live in your house?”
“Three months.”
“Three months. How could you have no idea?”
“I really had no idea.”
“You didn’t even know she was a hooker?”
“She may not have been one back then.”
“Then you didn’t know she stole things?”
“No. I have to go.”
“We only have this one question. Did she ever steal anything from you or anyone else?”
“I have no idea.”
“Did you ever charge her rent?”
“No.”
I walked on, and they, like parachutes tossed out of a plane, became farther and farther away. They said, “No rent charged. She probably paid with sex.” I stopped immediately and pointed at them. “What did you just say?”
They threw up their hands, and looked at me mockingly.
“Let me tell you this. You keep calling her a prostitute. What about you? Aren’t you a bunch of scum?” Sometimes anger made people eloquent. “Has it ever occurred to you that she is a human being, and has human dignity. She’s already dead. Why are you still fussing about all these things?”
“It’s an undeniable fact that she was a hooker. We just speak facts.”
“Fuck your facts. You just choose the facts useful to you. Is there a single sentence in your reports that expresses sympathy and concern for her? You only care about the filthy minds of your readers. To ingratiate your readers, you sell the pitiful woman out. Is that the journalistic justice you’ve been bragging about? What’s the difference between you and the terrorists? Aren’t you the desperados of corrupt news reporting? Have you ever tried to understand her as a human being?”
“You have, so tell us about it.”
“Fuck off.”
I walked toward my car. But couldn’t dampen my anger so I turned and roared: “With you everything is made into pornography. Pornography, pornography, pornography. Is there anything else in your minds except this? If it isn’t pornography, you recklessly make something up. You have pens to write, and nobody cares about your outrageous lies. You’re not afraid of retribution.”
They laughed together. Look at him. He’s being so eloquent. I got into my car, feeling much better. I felt if I lifted the steering wheel, the car would fly into the sky. But in a moment, my head started to buzz. I went to a gaming café. Gunshots rattled everywhere. I was bad at it, so I went to a bathhouse. Columns of water thudded against the floor, making the same rattling sound. So I went to a club. The club was good, as if there was something leading us, thump, thump, thump. It made my hand turn involuntarily, and as my head and shoulders turned, it made me turn the other way. Nobody told you how, you just knew yourself how. This way I had no time to pay attention to the maddening sound of um-ah.
Later, I stuffed my head into the breasts of a prostitute and said: “Just hold me like this for one night.”
“No.” She kept pressing my penis.
“Just hold my head like this, I beg you.”
I put my arms around her waist and went on: “I’ll give you two thousand yuan.”
I went back to my apartment block the next day. The sun shone brightly, but I felt sick from fatigue. I parked my car at the entrance, and slammed the door. I saw that group of journalists waiting inside a car. He’s coming. He’s coming. They nudged the dumpy journalist in a V-neck sweater. He rolled down the car window and said: “Do not underestimate our ability to get things done.”
“Fuck you.”
I walked toward the little supermarket. I heard the car door slam shut and felt he was staring at my back like a jackal. He must have had one hand tucked in his pants pocket, letting the other dangle. With his eyes he said to his associates, Watch me, then sloppily walked over. Finally he patted my shoulder and said: “I’ve heard you and she had a pretty shady relationship.”
“Who?”
“The deceased.”
“I mean who told you that?”
“None of your business. Just tell me if it’s true.”
“Who slandered me like that?”
“This person, you know him, and he knows you.” His hand motioned toward all the residents through the air. “Of course I know him too, though not for very long. But from my point of view, it’s better to believe the party involved.”
“It’s not true.”
“I’m doing this for you too.” He looked at me. You’d better think it over, what to write and how is up to me.
“Fuck off.”
I continued to head to the small supermarket. He walked over and slapped my car, said: “Don’t you know you can’t just park anywhere on the side of the road?” Then he said to the journalists: “He’s just a regular resident who thinks he’s a spokesman.” After I paid and got out of the supermarket, he was still talking: “Don’t you think you’re acting very suspiciously?”
I wanted to give him a good slap, but I figured there was nothing else he could do.
5
The train finally pulled out silently like God gently moving a building block. A total of 15 coaches slid away in a moment, and I saw the empty platform across from me. It seemed to take Lili alone, its sole duty to take her away from me. I felt a kind of shattering loneliness. It seemed our family had fallen apart.
I grabbed a bite, bought the newly shelved morning and city papers, and sat in the station to read them one word at a time. They devoted a good deal of space to cover the latest developments in Spring’s case, which were summed up by one of the headlines:
New Doubts Cast on Unsolved City Moat Case.
Dead Humiliated
in Post-mortem Body Search.
They were based on the account of a KTV prostitute and peppered with comments. The prostitute went by the name Greeny, the one who wore a qipao and lipstick and was constantly chatting by the river. She was bold and outspoken, shoved aside her partners grabbing her, lifted her dress, walked to the journalist that had just been turned down by them, and said: “She was killed by them.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Don’t say what? If they haven’t done anything against their conscience, why do they run away?”
“It’s been a month.”
“Exactly because of that, exactly.” She found the qipao constricting, so she parted her legs and stood like a compass. “Come. I’ll tell you everything I know. Don’t stop me.”
A platinum ring bought at Chow Sang Sang, worth about 1,500 yuan. Maomao couldn’t wear it and asked: “Who’d you buy this for?”
“For you,” Ma Yong said with a fake smile.
“Why didn’t you take me to try it on? Did you know my ring size?”
“I had money with me, and I just bought it on a whim.”
“Who would believe that?”
“Then forget about it. Give it to me.”
“No, tell me the truth.”
“Give it to me.”
“Let me try it on.” Now Spring walked over. Angrily, Maomao passed the ring to her and said: “Try it on.”
“Go away,” Ma Yong said.
“Let me try it on.”
“Try it, come on try it.”
“Don’t cry, you’re the one who stole the man from me. I never cried, why are you crying?”
Spring held it to the light. The moment the man tried to snatch it away, she turned and put it on her right ring finger. It fit perfectly, not too small, not too big. She gave the hand a shake, but the ring seemed to have grown there. “Take it off,” Ma Yong shouted. Spring turned, saw his raised palm, said: “Slap me, slap me.” Maomao was so furious she kept stomping her high heels.
“Slap me, just slap me. You said you would buy me this ring, but then you gave it to someone else.” The slap came but not hard. “What the hell do you think you are?” Ma Yong said.
“I’m nothing. I just miss being sick, someone coming, making soup and giving a massage.” Spring took off the ring. She threw Maomao a glance and gave it back to her. “I just wore it for fun. He wouldn’t buy me any rings and never took me to the jewelry shop to measure my finger size. I was just teasing you.”
At least in this round, Spring’s sisters thought she won beautifully. The ring was like a filthy thing ever since. Maomao couldn’t put it on her finger, or in her heart but to provoke Spring, she always took it out and played with it. “What if you lose it?” someone said.
“So what, is it a big deal?”
But when she did lose it, she broke out in a sweat, frantically searching closets, counters, and KTV rooms. It was dim in the rooms so she got an emergency light and later used a broom handle to probe beneath the sofa. “If he finds out he’ll beat me to death.” She regarded her sisters. “I just don’t know who could be such an awful bitch.”
“Think carefully, when was the last time you saw it?”
She cursed, trying to remember. When Ma Yong came, she still couldn’t come up with anything. “What’s wrong?” he said. Head down, she mumbled. Toilet. It must be the toilet. I went to the toilet, and then it was gone.
“What the hell is wrong?” Ma Yong asked irritably.
“Spring stole my ring.”
“Are you sure?”
“I remember seeing her when I came back from the toilet.”
“Are you sure you saw her?”
“Eighty per cent it’s her. No, a hundred.”
“Spring,” Ma Yong shouted.
“What’s up?” Spring walked over.
“You took Maomao’s ring?”
“No.”
“I’ll ask you one more time. Did you take it?”
“No.”
“I’ll give you a chance to give it back to me.”
“I didn’t take it, how can I give it back to you?”
“This is your last warning.”
“I didn’t take it.”
“All right, everyone get in the dressing room. Get in now.”
Ma Yong chased all of them like ducks into the changing room. He asked them to open their lockers and let Maomao check them one by one. Now in retrospect, it wasn’t that Maomao had any evidence. She was just afraid and wanted to place the blame of losing the ring on someone else. She chose the one she hated the most. Spring started to tremble. When she couldn’t find the silver thing in any of the lockers, Maomao shouted: “Strip off Spring’s clothes. Search her.”
Spring shrank and moved back to the wall. Maomao walked over and gave her a slap in the face. “I didn’t steal your ring,” Spring said. She shouldn’t have said that. Maomao squatted down, pushed up Spring’s top, and dug her hand into her bra, searching. “I didn’t.” Spring looked up, dazed, her breath weak like swaying silk.
“You didn’t?” Maomao took the ring out of her bra. “What’s this?”
“That’s mine.”
Maomao tried the ring on. It didn’t fit. “Take a good look, whose ring is it?”
“Mine.”
Maomao slapped her, and was about to slap her again, but Ma Yong pulled her away. Spring’s eyes flickered with joy. But Ma Yong rolled up his sleeves, bent over, and grabbed her hair. Spring started to jump. Ma Yong hadn’t held it right so he grabbed it again. He lifted her up, and pinned her head with his elbow, weighed her, then said, “Up,” and in two or three steps ran to the other side. Spring’s body followed her hair, and her hair followed the chunky arm tattooed with the dark-blue dragon to the other side then hit the wall. Fortunately, the wall was covered with heavy fabric, and made of slats, otherwise she would have died.
“Did you steal it?”
“I didn’t.”
Ma Yong switched his hands and grabbed her hair again then he repeatedly banged her head against the wall. “You psycho,” Ma Yong roared, but Spring still said: “You said you would never beat me. You said that.”
“You’re a fucking psycho. Ever since I met you you were a psycho.”
Ma Yong was stubborn. We thought he would stop after a few slams, but he kept going and going. We pulled his arms back, but he used his remaining strength to bang her head one last time. The wall was dented, her neck crooked.
Because of that, many people thought some strange things that happened could be explained, such as a missing earring or five hundred yuan (in the blink of an eye) turning into three hundred. They suddenly understood everything. But I didn’t think Spring was that kind of person. She did steal the ring, but it was nothing compared to stealing a man. You stole my man, and I stole your ring, isn’t that fair? Besides, the ring was originally bought for me. Who’s more shameless? Spring left that day.
I sat there until nine o’clock. Then I bought a bottle of beer. I grabbed the steering wheel in one hand, the beer in the other, and drove home. I saw passersby pointing at me and exclaiming in silence. Traffic policeman also looked confused. It would be better if I’d been arrested. I really couldn’t manage my life.
I feel deeply asleep at home, until there was a knock at the door. It was someone from property management. “The public security sub-bureau called, asking you to be there at 2 p.m. this afternoon,” he said.
“What is it?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Are you sure he asked for me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know whether it will be an inquiry or an interrogation?”
“I have no idea. You’d better hurry there.”
“They must want to ask me for Spring’s family’s contact information,” I said. “That must be
it.”
What right do they have? I sat down on the sofa, and kept changing channels. What right do they have? But in the end I went out with my car. At a crossroads I saw the sunshine was warm and seemed to cover the sidewalks with a glistening layer of water. Tree branches and leaves, all gilded, swayed brightly. This was what freedom looked like. You could escape right away, escape to somewhere far away. But still, I drove toward the sub-bureau. I told myself over and over: Inquiries target witnesses, victims, and knowledgeable parties. Interrogations target suspects. If I were considered a suspect, they wouldn’t have called, they would have come knocked down my door.
After I drove into the courtyard of the sub-bureau, I didn’t immediately open the car door. I was still thinking, had I done anything wrong in my life that I myself didn’t know? Or had I ever offended someone? I waited until I was sure there wasn’t any smell of alcohol on my breath, and I got out. I think I was afraid of the public security bureau itself, like someone hospitalized for the first time, whose head is crammed with legends of open bellies.
“It will be all right,” I heard a man walking in circles in the corridor murmur. He was wearing a white vest, a white shirt, black pants, and sandals, with cracked mud between his toes. It was the boatman. He said to himself, “I just hauled her out under your orders, what’s wrong with hauling?” I looked at him sideways, but he looked down, avoiding my eyes. I followed the instructions in the note, knocked, and opened an office door. A pale, fat policeman wearing a pair of glasses was sitting inside. “Sit down, sit down.” He stood up with a natural kindness and poured me a glass of water. This reassured me greatly.
“Can I ask the reason why you wanted me?”
“Nothing serious. Just trying to figure something out about Spring.”
“She was my wife’s classmate.”
“Why did she live in your house?”
“She was my wife’s classmate and was very close to my wife. She was poor and couldn’t afford to rent a house, so she lived in my house. Stayed three months.”
“What kind of person do you think she was?”
“I can’t say she was a good person, but at least she wasn’t a bad one. She was very polite and rarely caused anyone trouble.”