The next morning, after another night on the hard cot in Longshan’s house, Fang drove to Chu Sulin’s village, across the mosaic of rice paddies and fields, past the chatter of children on their way to a nearby village school. When he arrived at her house, she appeared in a cotton-quilted jacket whose colors had faded to a pale sky blue. But Sulin carried herself with dignity, in the swing of her sturdy hips, the arch of her cheekbones as she spoke. She insisted on being part of the conversation rather than leaving the men to do the planning.
Dong Xiawen was the bucktoothed council member who had once cautioned against including the press in their site visit. Over the past six months, the fellow had grown a small mustache over his teeth, as if to conceal them, but it only managed to make them appear larger.
“The local officials had found out about this Beijing petition,” he explained, “and they told Longshan to turn it over. They released him from detention that first time when he agreed. But Longshan only turned over a part of the letter, and he left out the signatures of the leaders from our council, knowing these people would be targeted next. Apparently that did not satisfy them, and now we’ve lost him again . . . for how long, I don’t know.”
“What has the council decided?” Fang asked.
“We’re not sure exactly. Some think we should demand his release with a united voice, and let go of the resettlement funds for now. He was elected council chair, and he’s been leading us through this fight. Others think that we have no choice but to rally against the blasted dam.”
Dong Xiawen said that the villagers had not seen a fen of compensation, but they still needed to move, or else pay outrageous fines. “They’ll turn us into beggars and thieves, I tell you.” The peasant sighed audibly, and dug his heels into the earthen floor.
“Of course we want Longshan to be released,” said Sulin, “but how can we do that without putting more people at risk?”
“I can look into that,” said Fang. “Where I live is no longer part of Sichuan province, and they can’t hold anything against me. Some of those guys owe me favors, anyway.” Fang spoke with a tone of conviction, yet something gnawed at him inside. He sensed that he was getting into more trouble than he’d bargained for. He glanced over at Sulin, and thought he detected a faint smile on her lips.
Fang knew that an unspoken pact had been made that day. He owed his life to Sulin and to some extent her brother, and now, thirty-six years later, it was time to repay that debt.
Dong Xiawen promised that he would keep them abreast of developments, and swore them to secrecy. As they left, Sulin declined a ride from Fang, saying she would walk home.
“I’d like to walk with you,” Fang replied.
Sulin stiffened. “Your vehicle’s here. You need not go out of your way, really.”
They walked in silence for some time.The clucking and scratching of chickens broke the stillness of the winter’s day. And then, much to Fang’s surprise, Sulin turned toward him and asked, “So how is it that you and Longshan found each other again after all these years?”
“An act of fate, I suppose. He had written me a few months ago, asking if I could track down your daughter’s old house. Told me about the funeral, a certain gold pendant she was supposed to give back to your husband, and never did.”
“And you decided to help an old friend, out of the goodness of your heart.”
Fang stopped in his tracks.“Sulin, if you’re wondering, your suspicions are confirmed. I knew this was my chance to see you again, after all these years. I knew your husband had passed away. But I was not about to throw myself your way, like an ape with a scratchy ass.”
Sulin’s lips curled; she could not resist a chuckle. “I’m widowed now, that’s true,” she said, serious again. “But that doesn’t change anything.”
“Well, fate does work in strange ways. Oddly enough, I came across a photograph of you and your husband. The scavenger working for me had found the photo, along with the pendant from your husband.”
“That was his gift to our daughter, for the birth of a new child. When it turned out to be a girl, my daughter was very disappointed. But that is not why she gave the baby up.” An angry look flashed in Sulin’s eyes.
“Why not? Isn’t that why most of ’em are unwanted?”
“No, that child was illegitimate. The real father wasn’t my son-in-law, but the son of a Party member in the village. She might have taken her chances if it were a boy. But she refused to keep the girl. I offered to raise the child, but my daughter would have none of it. She’s a headstrong girl.”
“Takes after her mother,” Fang said, stealing a sideways glance at Sulin.
She glared at him, and the gravity in her eyes sobered Fang. He resisted the impulse to tease her further.
“I have hardly spoken to her since that affair,” said Sulin. “She claims that she couldn’t help the situation, that the man’s family is too powerful. But she could have refused, for God’s sake; a woman’s self-respect is all she’s got in this world.”
“Spoken like the Chu Sulin I used to know.”
“For all I know she’s still having an affair with the man. If she gets pregnant by him again, that is inexcusable . . . even if her husband is impotent.”
“No worries, someone else will want the kid. That scavenger fellow—he found the baby, and now he’s raising her.”
Sulin was incredulous. “My granddaughter?”
“Yeah, he took her in. Liu Renfu, he’s a scroungy kind of fellow, lost his wife a few years back, so he was doing it all by himself until he got married again. Beats me why he wanted to keep her.” Fang thought of his baby-trading days, and refrained from saying more.
Sulin’s eyes grew round, glistening like coins in the pale light. “My little grandchild is alive and well. Where is she? I suspected that she’d been left behind. What I would give to have her back in the family! That heartless daughter of mine, doesn’t know a mother’s sorrow. She has never eaten bitterness, not like us old folks.”
“No, the young buds in spring forget what the bitterness of winter is like,” said Fang.
TRUE TO HIS WORD, FANG GOT IN TOUCH WITH EVERY LAST ONE of his Sichuan contacts about Chu Longshan’s case. In the end, the trail led him back to Chairman Jiang, the wily official who had taken advantage of Fang’s efforts without keeping his end of the bargain. Fang was less than enthusiastic about facing the man again, and when Sulin insisted on being present at the meeting, he felt a wave of relief.
When they arrived at the chairman’s office, he merely grunted upon seeing Fang. At the sight of Sulin, however, the portly Chairman Jiang rose up from his chair and extended his hand. “Madam, what brings you along today?”
“We know you are quite influential, and you may be able to help us,” Sulin replied. The chairman gestured her toward a seat directly in front of him. Fang fetched a chair and sat down next to Sulin.
“Is somebody in trouble? Chairman Jiang asked. “Didn’t pay their taxes?”
“No sir,” said Sulin. “Our villages are slated to move in a few months, as you know, and we intend to cooperate, but we must appear to be troublemakers, getting in the way of business.”
Startled by her concession, Fang began to speak, but she nudged him to be quiet.
“Trouble? No, madam, you folks haven’t given us any trouble. Everything’s coming along quite smoothly.”
“You’ve done a marvelous job with this new project,” Sulin continued, “and we know that all our villages will benefit from your foresight and vision.”
“Why, yes, this project will put these communities on a path to prosperity. All you citizens will be proud that you served the greater good, and obeyed the Party’s wishes.”
“Yes,” said Sulin, “my brother Chu Longshan, most of all. He is a leader among men in Lanping village. Our father, in fact, once managed a large production brigade, back in the commune days.”
“Is that so? A loyal Party member.”
“That’s right. Tw
o months ago, my brother delivered a petition to Beijing on behalf of the communities giving up their land for this project. But he was detained shortly after his return. And now he is imprisoned. Has some mistake been made, Chairman Jiang? He is advocating for the highest values of the Party, for which your father and my father fought so dearly.”
Chairman Jiang cleared his throat. “If there is a mistake, we will rectify it. Can you tell me what he was detained for?”
“We don’t know exactly. I can tell you that he was standing up for the greater good of the people when he delivered that petition, and the government should uphold his intentions.”
“I can tell you that the petition made a very reasonable request for compensation for the loss of land,” added Fang.
“The land doesn’t belong to those peasants, don’t you know? It’s the government’s right to do as it sees fit,” said Chairman Jiang. He glared at Fang. “So what’s your part in this? You look familiar. I never forget a face.”
“It was I who arranged for several investors to take an interest in the project,” Fang replied coolly.
“Oh, right. Well, hydroelectric is the way to go in terms of investments, if you ask me. As for compensation, there are significant overhead costs involved, and whatever has been set cannot be changed.”
Too many fellows skimming off the cream, Fang thought, but he merely replied, “You’re the man who’s in charge. Whatever you say, goes.”
“Hey, I have bosses, too. They pay my salary.”
“Chairman Jiang.” Sulin spoke up in a melodic voice. “You must be incredibly talented and hardworking to have earned yourself a place like this.” She looked around admiringly, running her fingers across the wooden arm of her chair with deliberate strokes. “And you certainly must have a great circle of influence, enough to seek my brother’s release. Can you, Chairman?” Her eyes pierced his heaving, swarthy figure as she leaned in, resting her arm easily on the desk across from Chairman Jiang.
Fang detected a flirtatious quality in her gaze. He squirmed in his seat, seized by a restless twitch in his legs.
Chairman Jiang watched Sulin intently with his small, beady eyes. The spittle jetted forth from his lips as he spoke. “I have no jurisdiction over those fellows at the Public Security Bureau, Madam,” he replied. “If he did something illegal that you don’t know about, that’s their business, not mine.”
“Chairman, I know my brother was arrested because he was petitioning for the welfare of the villagers. What he did was legal. The police knocked on doors trying to track him down when he got back from Beijing. You must surely have friends in charge of the bureau. If one of your family members were in jeopardy, you’d be able to call them up in an instant, right? You are a man of means, I’m sure.”
“I would certainly do what I could,” said Chairman Jiang.
“Well, this is my brother I’m worried about. He’s done no wrong, and I need your help.” Sulin’s gaze was unwavering, and Fang could tell that the chairman was surprised and somewhat unnerved by her boldness.
Chairman Jiang’s eyes met hers for a flickering second. He looked at his watch and stood up, slapping his palm decisively on the desk. “All right, Madam, you’ve made your case. I’ll see what I can do. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have other business to take care of.”
“I thank you for your assistance. May I call on you again if we need to?” Sulin replied.
“Sure, sure. One of you is enough. I have no time for peddlers.” The chairman donned his coat, ushering his visitors out the door.
Fang walked with Sulin back to his car. “I tried to bring up compensation,” he said, “but the man has no interest in keeping his end of the deal. I did secure several investors for his project, after all.”
“Can’t expect people to play fair,” said Sulin.
“Yes, but a woman’s charms can get you far,” Fang retorted. “I saw him looking at you.”
“Now don’t start getting ideas in your head. I’m an old woman now.”
“And beautiful as ever. I was a third wheel in that meeting. But I haven’t lost my touch. I’ll get your granddaughter back to you yet,” said Fang.
ON THE LONG DRIVE HOME TO WUSHAN, FANG KEPT HIS GAZE fixed ahead on the lonely mountain road, but occasionally a small cluster of houses in the distance would catch his eye. He thought of that child Liu was raising, how she could have fallen into unknown hands the day his old car had broken down on the way to the orphanage. If Liu took credit for saving the little girl’s life, so could he. And if Sulin wanted her granddaughter back, he would do everything in his power to fulfill her wish.
Fang had gotten into the business of salvaging babies because it was lucrative, but now this project charged him with a sense of purpose, an ardent desire to make good on his promises. And yet, he felt a little sad that while she was spirited as ever, the old Sulin who loved him, who was devoted to him, had allowed herself to be defeated by fate. Was it poverty and hardship that hardened her heart, he wondered? Or was her heart so fickle as to forget what he once meant to her?
Still lost in his thoughts, Fang approached the outskirts of Wushan. Unwilling to return home, where his cherished solitude now seemed devoid of life, he continued driving along the winding streets of the hill city. A group of day laborers gathered in front of a run-down shack, their voices rising in a chorus of laughter. One fellow reached out the willowy reed of his arm to slap his buddy’s back. Nearby, an old woman with a dried tangerine face was stooped over heaped baskets of produce for sale. As Fang sailed along, the open-air storefronts where men huddled over their rice and noodle bowls flashed by like a deck of cards, with the same faces in recurring patterns.
The traffic slowed to a crawl, and a dancing shadow pulled his gaze to the coal processing plant. Fang noticed an older man stomping on a massive pile of coal gravel while another hosed down the dust with water. The fellow was about his age, with a pockmarked face, and bags beneath his eyes that radiated out in ripples. Fang wondered if the man had a wife, if someone kept him from the loneliness he bore in his gaunt frame, in his languid dance that never ended, as more piles of coal were shoveled onto his heap, and freshly made coal briquettes were carted away in wheelbarrows from another mound.
The futility of this work unsettled Fang, and he looked away as the traffic began inching along. When he turned from the main drag toward the harbor, he noticed the bright green patches that covered the low hills beneath the new city. Here the peasants had staked small plots of land to grow a few vegetables. Nearby were the remaining buildings of old Wushan waiting to be destroyed before the next scheduled rising of the river.
Fang got out of his car, stretched his legs, and started walking down the rocky path past a small crew of men hacking away at one of the buildings. The trail led past deserted houses of stone and wood, and behind a grove of trees, the old cemetery. On the hillside, black tendrils of smoke rose from the small camps where women and children huddled around the flickering fires.
Fang wondered why he had chosen to come down this path, as he felt quite out of place. Men in dirty jackets looked up from their work, and the swing of their pickaxes hesitated before falling onto hard rock. The trail ended in front of a plywood shack where a mother was tending a kettle of noodles on the open fire. Her toddler squatted and jumped, poking at insects on the ground with his stick. Fang realized with a start that people were living here, and now he felt like an intruder.
The woman had a lean, leathery face, and sooty eyes that did not mask her surprise when he drew near.
“Greetings. What’s cooking?” Fang called out.
She hesitated, then said, “We’re not causing any trouble.”
“Hey, I’m not a cop. Just here to get some fresh air. I’ve been on the road a while.” The wind changed direction, carrying the black fumes toward Fang. “How old’s your boy there?”
Quick as a fly, the youngster darted into the shack as Fang approached him.
“Oh, he’s two. Sh
y boy. Just don’t like strangers, ’specially the police. But lately, they’ve been leaving us alone.”
“Been here long?”
“Nah, just since we got scooted off the land year before last. It was that summer when the water rose up like a great flood that never settled back down. They said we’d get a bit o’ money, move to a new place. The government would give us a house, some land to farm. Ya know what we got?” The woman looked up at Fang, her pupils darting about like little minnows.
The old broker shook his head.
“Nothing!” the woman continued. “We never saw a single fen o’ the money. And when it was time to leave, we had to decide quick. Starve in a shack somewhere out yonder, or stay here where we can tend our little plot. It’s not so bad.”
The child poked his head out. His belly was somewhat distended, and his face smeared with dust, but two clear trails skirted down from the corners of his eyes.
“Say hello to Uncle,” the woman said.The boy whimpered. She shook her head, and said to Fang, “Gave him a spanking just now. Tried to nibble on bits o’ coal. Silly boy. Ain’t even that hungry. We feed him alright. Could be worse, I hear some folk go off to the cities, and scrounge in the garbage for food. We don’t do that, mister.” A fearful look passed across her face, as if she still thought that Fang could turn them in.
“I guess they can’t help themselves,” Fang said. “Looks like you’re doing pretty good. Is your husband here?”
“He’s up there with those men,” she said, pointing toward a gutted building. “Doing odd jobs here and there. They’re still ripping out the old town here.”
“What are you going to do a year and a half from now? This is all going under water.” Fang looked out at the hillside where the other encampments dotted the verdant slopes like ink stains.
“We’ll get another crop or two in.”The woman paused. “I dun-no. Guess we gotta move again.Wish my boy could grow up quicker, help out the family. I just gotta feed the little piglet, and he’s a fussy one.” The woman grabbed the child by the hip, and pulled up his pants. He started to bawl, and she shook him hard. “Now you be good! Got a guest here.”
In the Lap of the Gods Page 24