In the Lap of the Gods

by Li Miao Lovett

  “I know she loved you, Fang. But when your affair was exposed, it took all her strength to stand up for you, and after you left, it was as if you . . . you had died. She never spoke of you again. I had to work up the nerve to tell her you were coming here.”

  “What did she say?”

  “You can imagine her shock. She could only whisper your name. And then, after a long silence, she said, ‘I have lost my husband. I cannot handle any more grief.’”

  “So she makes me out to be a dead man with flesh still hanging on my bones.”

  Fang swung around, and looked his friend in the eye. “Ol’ Chu, you’ve been my staunch ally. Surely you’re not pulling one over on me. I won’t hurt your sister. I have no designs on her. Why, if she had any on me, just to get my money, I’d be flattered.”

  “I know you don’t mean any harm,” said Longshan. “She’s got a lot on her mind. I’m sure that’s why she’s kept her feelings in check.”

  “Well, she was never given to melodrama, that’s for sure. She would as soon gouge out an eyeball than shed a tear. But her sharp wit was unmatched.” Fang let out a hoarse laugh.

  “Look, Fang, we’re dealing with some troubles . . . with the government. It’s preoccupying her, and all of us.”

  Fang’s thoughts were still centered on Sulin, but as his friend spoke of plans for a dam along the Songdu River, he realized that Longshan might have had another agenda for his visit.

  “The government wants us to move. Not just our village, but all the townships of Longmen County. The dam’s supposed to generate all this electricity, but none of us will see the benefits. And I’m told we’re moving to the hinterlands, way north of Chengdu.” Chu Longshan shook his head. “I’m too old to move. As far back as anyone can remember, my family’s worked the land here. And now they’re telling us to leave.”

  “Well, the government will pay for a new house, won’t they?”

  “Yes, there’s talk that each family will receive 5000 yuan per person. But you can bet the local bosses will stuff their pockets first.”

  “That’s all—5000 yuan a head? You’d have to pad the numbers, buy yourself some children to get a decent house.” The old broker laughed, but his friend’s weathered face was expressionless. “Did you know the villagers of Loishan, in the Little Three Gorges, got 10,000 yuan each, but it still wasn’t enough to get one of the new brick houses? And they all had to move up the mountain where the soil’s no good.”

  “How do you know about these matters, Ol’ Fang? Surely the big bosses don’t allow these things to get into the news?”

  “I was consulted on that case. Didn’t come to anything,” Fang grumbled. “That was when I realized the limits to my influence in the matter.”

  “Our village is trying to petition for a better settlement,” said Chu Longshan. “Fang, you have connections.You have always been a capable man. Can you help us?”

  Fang removed his pipe and turned toward his friend. This was the kind of business he did not want to get his hands into. He had learned his lesson from that earlier fiasco.

  But Chu Longshan was his long-time friend. And Chu Sulin, his sister, had once been the love of his life. They had only spent six months together, but the memories survived the void of three and a half decades apart. In spite of his successes, his growing reputation in real estate, he never did forget Sulin. He still longed for her. Their separation had caused him great pain, which no one but his friend knew and Fang would hardly admit to himself. He realized that his intervention in this affair, even if the prospect of victory was slim, could bring them together once again.

  “Yes,” Fang replied. “I’ll do what I can, whatever lies in my power.”

  A grateful Longshan shook the old man’s hand, and promised to put Fang in touch with the village chief. The two friends parted in anticipation of things to come, one with a wish for just recompense, in the wake of losing his ancestral lands, the other with a fervent desire to reclaim the past.

  MEI LING’S REFUSAL TO HOLD THE WEDDING CELEBRATION AT TAI’S had been a source of friction between the newlywed couple. But the windfall of money from selling off the jewelry gave Liu some reassurance, and he consented to renting a banquet hall in the Fu Huang Hotel in Wushan, a three-star affair that saw its share of drunken guests and debauchery.

  On the heels of the lunar New Year, bright red posters graced the walls, inscribed with the character fu. These were intentionally hung upside down to discourage the impulses of evil spirits trying to thwart good fortune.

  Mei Ling appeared after the second course, dressed in a long turquoise gown embroidered with delicate floral patterns in red and gold silk. The slim gown hugged her frame, giving accent to her breasts, which swelled like graceful peaks. A long part in the dress revealed the slimness of her thighs. The men took a deep breath, almost choking on their liquor. The older women smiled approvingly, while the young hopefuls adjusted their too-tight blouses with a downward glance and flutter of their eyelids.

  Mei Ling’s father was engrossed in conversation with Tai. Since Liu was estranged from his relations, he had seated his best friend, who was neither kin nor venerated elder, at the head table with Ol’ Chang.

  As the old man became more drunk, he blurted out whatever rumbled in his head, to the point of rudeness.

  “So how much money do you make every month?” Ol’ Chang asked.

  “Oh, enough to pay my staff.” It was not an unreasonable question to ask, but Tai was more discreet than most. “Mei Ling is an excellent waitress. Always patient. And smiling. I think she’s helped to bring in more business.”

  “Really? Even if she scares away the men? I used to do that for her, you know. Didn’t want just anyone to marry the girl.”

  “No, of course not.”

  “So how did Liu snag her? Does he have a small fortune?”

  Tai glanced over at Liu, who was heading toward another table with his bride. Liu appeared uncomfortable in his finery; his face was flushed and he cracked a stiff smile with each toast, as a dozen glasses rose up in unison.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Tai replied at length. “But he does well enough by her and the child.”

  “So did he inherit the child and the money from this brother?” Chang persisted.

  “Brother? Oh yes, his brother.” Tai noticed that the couple was approaching their table, having finished their rounds. He got quickly to his feet, and mustered a deep “Ganbei!” from his gaunt frame. A flurry of shouts erupted. “May you have good fortune, health, and the blessings due to a deserving couple!” Tai beamed at his friend, and for the first time, Liu’s face softened into a genuine smile.

  Chen Weijin nudged her husband as he continued to ask his impudent questions, but he paid her no heed. Ol’ Chang seemed determined to find out exactly how prosperous his son-in-law was. Tai figured Chang wasn’t doing so well after moving to Guangdong.

  When Chang struck up conversation with a guest at the next table, Tai gratefully turned back to his heaping plate, tuning out the senseless chatter of their wives. When he glanced over at the next table, he was surprised to see Ol’ Fang. The wealthy old codger was dressed in his British best, with an elegant vest over a Shetland wool sweater, and a gold watch chain that distinguished his rank among the guests. As he ate, Tai amused himself with the snippets he overheard.

  “I’m Chang Duoming, the bride’s father. And how are you related to Liu?”

  “I’m an old friend. And a business partner, partner in crime, you might say.” A chortle erupted from the old man’s lips.

  “Crime, eh? Any kind of business must be lucrative nowadays.”

  “You take me seriously, sir. We’re not talking about the underworld here. I’m a business broker, and I’ve put a little heat into the real estate in this town.”

  “And what does Liu do? How does he make his money?”

  “Can’t account for all of it, but the fellow did recently produce a few gems for me. You know all these towns that ha
ve fallen to rubble? There’s more than old bricks and wire to be salvaged. He finds me things that other people have left behind.”

  “I see.”

  “Are you from around here?”

  “Yes, my family moved out of the area almost two years ago.”

  “If you were smart, you’d have taken all your valuables. But not everyone does. I tell you, there’s a gold mine out there. Of course, most of the treasure is underwater now.”

  “You mean, my son-in-law steals other people’s stuff?”

  “Only if it’s unclaimed. Is it a crime if people are careless enough to leave their keepsakes behind?”

  “This fellow ... this bastard my daughter married, picks through people’s trash?” Chang Duoming’s voice rose into a shrill rasp.

  At this, Tai turned to the two men, anxious to defend his friend. “I’ve known Liu for a long time, Mr. Chang. He is a decent, upright fellow. Why, he even worked on my new restaurant; nobody could drive a nail as straight and true as Liu.”

  “So he does manual labor, and rummages through people’s trash.” Chang Duoming shook his head.“I was hoping my daughter would marry a fellow in the city who had more brains than that.”

  “Liu is a bright fellow,” Tai interrupted. “Why, he had the good sense to marry your daughter.”

  Those words fell on deaf ears. “Lao Po,” Chang snapped at his wife. “We’re leaving. We have truly lost a daughter. The foolish girl decided to marry a common laborer, and a trash digger.” His voice rose sharply on the last phrase, and nearby heads turned in the couple’s direction.

  Mei Ling’s mother protested, but Ol’ Chang grabbed her by the wrists and hustled her toward the doorway.

  When Mei Ling discovered that her parents had left, she hurried over to the head table and pressed Tai about their disappearance.

  Sweat trickled across his forehead. “They . . . felt a bit uncomfortable here.” He wanted to lie, and say that Mei Ling’s mother wasn’t feeling well, but the truth would soon be found out. “It was your father ... he wanted to leave.”

  “Why? What’s the matter?”

  Tai lowered his voice, keeping an eye on Liu, who sat twenty paces away. “He was surprised that Liu worked for me. And that he scavenges for a living.”

  The color drained out of Mei Ling’s cheeks. “Scavenges? Why, I never asked Liu, but how in the world did my father find out?”

  Tai cast an incriminating glance at Fang, who was savoring a glass of wine he had ordered.

  “Who is he?” Mei Ling whispered. And then she seemed to remember her role as the guest of honor. She straightened her gown and backed away. “You tell me later. I’m expected to keep the party going.”

  For the rest of the evening, Tai watched the couple with an attentive eye. Never once did Mei Ling waver in her smiles, nor hesitate to drink in acknowledgement of the guests’ fondest wishes. In fact, she seemed to drink too much, and as the evening wore on, Liu had to support his bride as she wobbled toward the stage and dropped her head on his shoulders. Under the miasma of lights and cigarette smoke, Tai saw her whispering in his ear. Liu smiled, appearing content and comfortable at last. Soon, however, he would discover the truth.

  A SOBER LIU SHOWED UP IN TAI’S RESTAURANT TWO DAYS AFTER the reception. Liu glanced up at his friend, a flush of hot shame arising. “What a spectacle I must have been. The penniless son-in-law. And I never caught on that evening. Mei Ling didn’t say a word, until the next day.”

  “It was your so-called friend Fang. The blabbermouth told your father-in-law that you were a scavenger. Nothing could shake the old man back to his senses.”

  “Fang, that bastard.” Liu shook his head violently. He lit a cigarette, remaining silent for some time. A bitter taste seeped into his throat. “You know,” he continued, “Fei Fei’s parents didn’t think I was good enough for their daughter. And then . . . then they grew to tolerate me. Even the mother did. The father came to like me after a while. Now I know nothing about this fellow Chang, but you’d think the bridal gifts would have warmed him up a bit.”

  “Yeah, probably inflated his expectations, too,” said Tai. “Listen, it doesn’t matter what he thinks, right? You’re married to the daughter; she’s yours now. And they’re far away, although I know she was sending money to them.”

  “Mei Ling asked me about the scavenging. I pretty much told her the truth. I wasn’t committing a crime. She seemed okay about it.Told me her father is a hard-headed man.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think they get along too well. Listen, you just focus on making her happy, all right?”

  “Which means I gotta get a decent job. No matter what the old man thinks, it’s time I step up to my duties as a husband.”

  As the two men discussed Liu’s options for work in Wushan, which were rather slim, the subject of Mr. Wu and his ferry business came up. Tai said that he would contact the fellow, and ask if he needed good help. Liu cringed at the thought of working for someone, especially a pompous man like Mr. Wu, but it would be a necessary move. He could learn the ropes from the ferryman, and find the means to operate his own boat one of these days, just as Fei Fei’s father had done. Liu had never been the enterprising sort, but his friend’s enthusiasm was contagious. Tai’s business was doing quite well; those newfangled marketing ideas had worked.

  “I wonder why my father-in-law’s opinion of me matters so much,” Liu said.

  “You marry the girl, but you inherit the rest of the family,” said Tai. With a rueful smile, he added. “At least, I have no kids to pass on my misfortune.”

  Liu turned toward the soft glow of the wall sconces, which he had picked out with Mei Ling. “I left my own family years ago. And here I’ve created another. Stitched it together, as a matter of fact. Failed the first time, but I might as well make the best of it this time around.”

  21

  MEI LING WAS PLEASED WITH HER FLORAL ARRANGEMENT AGAINST the brocade of silk, transforming their hideous table into an object of beauty. Pei had embroidered the tablecloth in stealth, in the dim light of their old apartment, and given her the wedding gift just before moving. Whenever her spirits sagged, Mei Ling longed for the comforting presence of her old roommate. She stared at the long stalk of peach blossoms in the vase, fluttering in the early spring breeze. She took a large gulp of chrysanthemum tea and picked up her pen.

  Dear Pei,

  I wish you could have come to our banquet. But it’s just as well that you missed the little scene my father made.

  Pa learned that night what my husband does for a living, and he was so ashamed that he stormed off with my mother. I know what you might say, that I stepped into the marriage with my eyes shut. It doesn’t bother me that Liu made some money scavenging in the deserted towns. But my mother is just as disappointed that I did not marry a rich man.

  It’s been more of a shock to me that Liu still cares for his first wife. Only weeks before the reception, he left town to pay his respects. I was very angry with him. It wasn’t that he deceived me; he told me about her before our marriage. But I don’t think I fully have a husband if some place in his heart will always be devoted to this woman that he loved. He doesn’t say much about her, but Liu seems to go about things with this quiet resolution, and I cannot change his mind. Pei, what should I do? If you tell someone to forget a past flame, they can break off all contact, tear up the old photos, move out of town. But can I ask him to forget a dead woman? And how can I be jealous toward her? Surely I hope I will not bring bad luck by thinking like this.

  The baby is beginning to accept me. You can’t imagine how much I have wrung my hands over that child. And now that there’s more peace in the house, I can’t bring myself to talk to Liu about giving her to other relatives. He isn’t too close to his family; it seems odd, as he somehow managed to adopt the child when his brother died.

  How little I know about this man! I married him because he seemed like a decent fellow, and if I hadn’t made the choice, someone else—my father�
��could make that choice for me. You may think my fears are unfounded, Pei. But I would rather live with the mystery of this man who is now my husband than suffer a forced marriage.

  A last bit of news—I walked through the neighborhood where our old apartment used to be, and the building is gone now. As a matter of fact, the whole city block is a construction site. A worker told me they were building a new hotel. Well, you can imagine my indignation. To think, we got evicted on some silly pretext that the mountains would fall on us.

  I do miss you Pei, and I know you are making the best of things. Your father is in good hands. Your devoted friend,

  Mei Ling

  FROM THE UPPER REACHES OF WUSHAN, LIU COULD SEE THE gray silhouette of the Yangtze in the distance. Taking two steps at a time, he descended the Bai Bu Ti, the Hundred Steps Ladder running down the steep hill on which the city was built. A brisk wind whipped across his face. The city was slowly awakening, as street vendors stirred life into their feeble coals, and a stream of lights flickered on across beauty parlors, clothing shops, and eateries boasting a storefront.

  Liu was a working man again, eager to take on whatever Mr. Wu had in store for him on the first day. He wondered what Mr. Wu’s customers were like. Were they wealthy, privileged people who looked down on workers like him? Did the men belch and spit in public like normal folk? If not, the upper crust must likely be a constipated bunch. Other worries swam through his head; in particular, his absence could breed trouble between Mei Ling and their adopted child.

  But a self-respecting man who worked outside the house was the most important thing for peace in the home, Liu decided. Better an absent father with a job than an attentive one without the means to support his family. Liu was going to be the father his daughter would be proud of one day.

  When the last flight of stairs ended at the public square on Guangdong Road, Liu continued at a half trot down a winding street that led past remnants of the old town. The low buildings appeared in the distance like slabs of mud that lined the gullies after a heavy rain. Most of old Wushan had been blasted away a year and a half ago, and Liu was surprised that anything remained to be salvaged. Down the hill, Liu could see wiry men digging up pipes beneath the concrete foundations. Lean, short-legged men with eyes fixed askance trundled past like mules, hauling old doors on their backs, one by one, up the rocky path. The materials were assembled neatly at the top of the hill, doors in one pile and pipes in another. It reminded Liu of a photo he had once seen, where mounds of gold-capped crowns and jewelry were collected by a mass gravesite.