In the Lap of the Gods

by Li Miao Lovett

  Fang stood up, ruffled through his pocket for his wallet, and took out a twenty-yuan note. “Here, give the little fellow a treat. Keep him happy for a bit.”

  The woman smiled, a cracked tooth bisecting her lips. “You’re kind, mister. The gods’ll watch over you.”

  Fang made his way back along the dirt path, bracing against a bitter wind that drowned out the child’s cries.

  A WEEK AFTER SULIN AND FANG’S VISIT TO THE CHAIRMAN’S OFFICE, Chu Longshan was released from prison. Longshan decided to call a meeting of the council, in spite of his wife’s plea to steer clear of trouble. He knew that unrest was stirring among the peasants, not just in their cluster of villages, but in other places downriver where the Gaoshanlu dam would engulf their land.

  In the old factory courtyard, Longshan arose from a stone bench and addressed the group in a solemn voice.

  “Comrades, we have been pushed against a wall, and it looks like we have no recourse but to fight back. They jailed me, they’re trying to catch you all, but if we band together, they can’t stop us from speaking up. We’ve seen the tractors at work, tearing away at the riverbank. This is our lifeblood, and if they take this land away from us, we’ve got nothing—nothing to offer our wives and children. You’ve seen the new site. If we’re forced to move there, with the miserable funds they’re offering us, we will eventually starve. And some of us remember what it’s like to starve.”

  The council members grumbled among themselves, nodding their heads. A fellow with bushy brows spoke up. “And we haven’t even seen that money yet.What’d they do with it, those scoundrels?”

  “Can’t say,” said Dong Xiawen, hissing through his buckteeth. “We got mouths to feed, and if we can’t squeeze out a jin of corn from the land, we’re good as slaughtered chickens.”

  “It’s not just our people,” said Longshan. “There’s thousands more in other villages, from other townships. But there’s talk of a plan to resist the tyrants.We’re going to stand up for ourselves, once and for all. Nobody’s getting his fair share until we band together and protest.”

  “You mean, demonstrate against the government?” said Dong Xiawen. A hush descended on the group.

  “That’s right. We will stand united for our rights.” Longshan’s eyes blazed. “On the twenty-fifth day of the first month, we’ll gather by the construction site and stage a mass protest. Go home and tell your fellow villagers. Bring your hoes and plows on that day. Show them that this land means everything to us, and we won’t give up without a good fight.”

  “Yeah, let’s give ’em a good fight!” a man hollered, rising up. The others stood up and joined him, their shouts piercing through the blustery wind, each ragged voice bolstered by the angry chorus.

  “Let’s fight for our rights!”

  “Fight for the rights of the people!”

  When the council adjourned late in the night, Chu Longshan knew that the villagers were primed to stand up in defiance, and this would be the fight of their lives.

  27

  ON COLD MORNINGS WHEN LIU STUMBLED OVER TO THE LITTLE sink, a dull ache pulsed through his leg. The face that stared back at him in the mirror was mottled with unshaved stubble and a patchwork of fine wrinkles brought on by worry and doubt.

  In the darkest months of recovery, Liu’s strength and stamina seemed to fail him. He felt like an injured animal, fallen on a barren plain where vultures circled. Mr. Wu had refused to take him back, as the boatman had purchased a much larger ferryboat and hired two men to service the passengers. He was nothing more than an invalid now. Mei Ling was the one propping him up with financial support, and he had little to offer her. Whenever he ventured into the streets of Wushan, he sensed the frantic, almost desperate energy about the men, whether they were porters or cabbies or businessmen. He knew the specter of a failed man lurked behind the visage of the accomplished one. The patriarch who could provide for his family, who had the means and charms to draw friends into his life, was never far from falling from grace.

  Liu realized how much of his life as a man depended on physical prowess. He could summon it easily then; strength had flowed from his angular frame with the sureness and speed of a river that cut unimpeded through any obstacle—rock, earth, felled timber. When his energy began to return, Liu still envied the porters who scurried about with their bamboo poles without a thought as to what lurked around the corner of their frenzied days. And he knew that infirmity and death were hidden out of sight, behind doors. These he had tasted, and the bitterness lingered, relieved only by the small joys of his life, the caresses of his little girl, and the melodic voice of his wife, although she was far away.

  One afternoon, as the winter sun broke through the clouds, Liu ventured to the dock, descending the Hundred Steps Ladder with hobbling steps. Along the gravelly path to the waterfront, where he had first met Mr. Wang months ago, the cabbies and motorcyclists were lined up to hustle business from the arriving ferry. When the swarm of travelers arrived, the waiting men bolted toward those strapped with luggage and fine goods, hounding them until they agreed to a ride into the city.

  His leg twitched, and this time the pain did not bother him. He could make a living doing as those men did. A different kind of stamina was required. Having faced the throngs, he had learned to crack a smile through his shyness, to steel his nerves to rejection. The only problem was, he had no means of transportation. Perhaps he could use Tai’s motorcycle; his own moped had been sold to pay for medical bills. If he could make money again, Mei Ling might be able to come home to her old job, and everything would return to the way it had been.

  That evening, Liu arrived at Tai’s restaurant in renewed spirits. He noticed that the worry lines on his friend’s face had deepened, almost into a scowl. A flicker of concern restrained Liu, but only for a moment.

  “Tai, I’ve been thinking about things. Now that my leg’s almost healed, I can work again. Can’t keep depending on my woman.”

  “Glad to hear that, Liu, but I think your woman has something up her sleeve. Mei Ling called just an hour ago. Said she wanted to speak with you as soon as you came in. I asked her if her mother was okay. ‘Fine,’ she said. Her job’s fine. Mom’s okay. ‘So you want to come home to your old job?’ I asked. And she didn’t say a thing. She sounded really far away, worlds away. Liu, I think she’s up to something. These women, can’t figure them out. Except my wife; give her a little money for shopping, and she’s happy.” Tai shook his head and sighed.

  “If Mei Ling’s worried about money, I’ve got good news for her.” The spring festival was coming, but Liu did not want to wait until she came home for the holidays to tell her.

  When the phone rang, Tai gestured solemnly to Liu. “Must be for you.” He slipped out of the office, casting a backward glance.

  “Hello, Mei Ling, it’s been a while,” said Liu.

  His wife’s reply sounded defensive. “Liu, I’ve been busy here. Don’t always have time to catch you on my evening shift. And you can’t afford a phone.”

  “Mei Ling, listen, I’ll be able to work again soon. And maybe we won’t need a phone for both of us.” Liu tried to sound hopeful, and there was much he wanted to say, that he missed her and wanted her back home, but his voice faltered when she remained silent.

  “Liu,” Mei Ling began after a long pause. “I’ve been working here in Chongqing for a few months now, and I like it here. I like the excitement of a big city. I miss the church folks back home, but I think my place is here.”

  Liu was surprised by this turn, but he kept his composure. “Well, Mei Ling, I suppose that we could move up to join you, as long as rents aren’t too high in the city.”

  “No, no, Liu. You don’t understand. I want to be here by myself. I need to think things over, too. My mother’s been ill, and it’s made me realize that I can’t keep doing this.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Living my life for other people. I mean, I won’t leave you stranded, if you’ll be working aga
in.”

  “Mei Ling, what are you saying? If you don’t want to come home, and you don’t want me to go where you are. . . .” Tension crept into Liu’s voice, and he paced about the small office.

  “Liu, I know this sounds harsh, but I . . . I don’t think we should be together. I think we’re happier apart.”

  “Mei Ling, I know I’ve been a burden to you the last few months, and I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

  “No, Liu, you don’t understand.”

  “Is it Rose?” Liu cried in desperation. “Are you saying that you don’t want to mother someone else’s child?” The fortuneteller’s words, bitter as venom, came back to Liu. You will have to choose between the wife and the child.

  “I know she means a lot to you,” Mei Ling began, “but I just can’t see us as a family. I mean, she’s really your child, even if she’s not. . . .”

  An awkward silence ensued, as neither was able to bridge the chasm. Whoever spoke first would take that fatal, unforgiving step.

  “But Rose—she’s a big girl now. I mean, she’s two, and she can walk.... She doesn’t need too much attention, really.”

  “Liu, please, I’ve thought long and hard about this. I don’t want to talk any more right now. Listen, I’ll come home in a few weeks and pack the rest of my things, okay?”

  “Mei Ling ... I don’t understand.”

  “I’m sorry, Liu, I really am.” Mei Ling sighed. Her voice crackled like dried leaves. “I’ll call you when I leave for Wushan, okay?”

  After she hung up, Liu stood frozen against the wall, still cradling the phone.Tai puttered in on his ungainly legs.

  “Liu, what did she say? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “She wants to stay there. And no, she doesn’t want the child.” Liu stared at his friend with wild, ravaged eyes. “Tai, I’ve got to choose between her and my little girl. What am I going to do? The gods have cursed me again, and this time they’re taking away only one, but it’s like losing both at once. All over again.”

  “Liu, listen, women are fickle, okay? Let me get you a drink and we’ll figure this out.”

  He fetched a bottle of huang jiu, and sat Liu down. A few gulps later, the color returned to Liu’s cheeks. A hungry, forlorn gaze settled into his eyes.

  “Liu, I’ve got an idea,” Tai said. “You got some money stashed away, yes? Take Mei Ling a nice present, maybe a pair of jade earrings, and tell her you’ll raise the child, and she doesn’t have to lift a finger.”

  “I don’t know, Tai. She doesn’t seem to get along with Rose.”

  “What other options do you have? You want to give up the little girl? Or the wife?”

  Either choice seemed stark, and one without the other was unpalatable to Liu. He nodded his head slowly. “I guess you’re right, Tai. Maybe I’ll go to Chongqing, make the first move before she comes back. You think I can get someone to babysit little Rose?”

  “I’ll ask my neighbor. She’s a good lady,” said Tai. “Never had children; her spouse died young. If that happened to me, I’d be a free man.”

  Liu watched his friend limp back into the kitchen, wondering if his own longings were a sign of weakness. He slumped back in the chair, resigned to surrender a little more of his manhood.

  ON THE DAY THAT LIU DEPARTED, ROSE FUSSED OVER HER PORRIDGE to get Liu’s attention, but he would only give her a quick hug before his eyes darted to a small pile on the bed. She sensed a change coming, much as a wild creature would become skittish when the air tensed and grew heavy before the first rumblings of thunder.

  All morning Liu shuffled about. As her father stuffed a burlap bag, Rose detected a medley of scents. The familiar briny smell of her father’s shirt. The crumpled socks, which tickled Rose’s nostrils like fermented cabbage. An overcoat with baked-in odors of fried tofu and wood smoke.

  Soon, Liu gathered his bulging sack and hoisted Rose to his chest, planting a vigorous kiss on her cheek. Outside, where a ribbon of cars streamed past, he held her close and whisked her into a minibus.The passengers tilted their heads toward her, their crooked teeth glistening. At each stop, a mass of arms and legs untangled and spilled out of the vehicle. The whirring kaleidoscope of their ride ended in front of a smoky gray building with blue trim.

  “I’m taking a little trip,” said Liu. His voice quivered. She sensed in the clammy sweat of his palms that something was astir. It felt both strange and familiar to her.

  “Qu nah?” Rose asked.

  “Why, we’re going to Auntie’s house,” Liu replied. That did not put her at ease. Every woman she had met, except for Ma Ma, was called Auntie.

  Liu carried Rose up seven flights of stairs, and after a quick rap on the door, they stepped into a well-lit apartment. A woman with shaggy curls greeted them. She had a set of gleaming teeth that matched the pearly things on her bosom. The apartment glowed, too, with a smooth and shiny floor. The overstuffed furniture loomed like the large animals she had seen on television.

  “Panda,” the little girl said aloud, pointing to the black sofa with white cushions. She tugged on her father’s pants. “Tiger.” She gestured at the soft throw rug by the coffee table.

  Her father lifted her up, and held out her arm toward the smiling lady. “Auntie,” he said, “will take care of you . . . while Ba Ba is gone.”

  “Ba Ba is gone. Ba Ba is gone.” And here Rose uttered a yelp and retracted her fingers from the woman with pearly teeth. All she heard was that her father was going away.

  Too many had left her behind in her young life. In her earliest memories, a thin, warm bosom from which milk flowed forth was wrenched away, and in its place a tide of wind and water had rushed in. That bosom never reappeared. And then there was the old lady, round as a dumpling, who fed her sweet rice and egg custard. The woman cradled her in a woven cloth, against a breast anointed with liniment and incense. She had felt secure in that bosom. Once, though, she had endured a cold afternoon in a shopping cart as a crowd swarmed by, cawing like crows. First her Ba Ba, and then the old woman had left her behind. It had been many dark nights before his return.

  Rose did not know why the old woman had to go as well. When a new woman appeared beside Liu, the little girl revolted and pushed her away. And then she grew weary of the struggle, and found comfort in her perfumed bosom. Yet this mother, whom she called Ma Ma, whom her father also held to his bosom, had departed as well. And Rose began to fret that nothing would remain constant in her life, that her longing for mother was like grasping at water, cool and silken and always slipping away from her without warning.

  When the door shut, and Rose was left alone with the brilliance of white teeth and marbled floors, she howled like an alley cat and did not let up until her exhausted cries gave way to sleep.

  THE JOURNEY FROM WUSHAN TO CHONGQING TOOK THREE days by slow boat, and when Liu arrived in the big city, he sought out the sister and brother-in-law of his friend Wang Ma. It had been a year since his pilgrimage to Fengjie, where he had stayed with the electrician, but there was yuan fen, an understanding between the two men that emboldened Liu to ask the favor.

  In Chongqing, the couple refused money for his brief stay. He impressed Mrs. Jew with his capable fingers, pitching in to change diapers and feed their new baby while she was occupied. “You’ll have to give my husband some lessons,” she said.

  “I learned the hard way,” Liu replied, not mentioning that he had done it alone.

  For two days he combed the district of Wangfujing to scope out opportunities for work. Here, porters with bamboo sticks swarmed the streets. Those who were employed for the day or the hour strained under great loads, cargo and furniture and large boxes of merchandise, while the others clutched their sticks with loosely coiled rope to their collarbones, swarming up to every taxi, truck, and storefront for a potential hauling job.

  After numerous inquiries, he found a restaurant willing to hire a busboy, but when they asked when he would start, Liu stuttered in reply, “I have to ta
lk to my wife.”

  Assured that he could find work in the city, Liu at last worked up the courage to seek out Mei Ling. The following morning, bedraggled from his long walk and bus ride, he showed up at the Wan Bao Hotel. Glancing up at its towering façade, where row upon row of silver-framed windows streaked toward the heavens, he was humbled by the splendor of the Wan Bao.Ten thousand treasures. If only he could have one of them.

  He wondered what Mei Ling would think of his unannounced visit. Behind the reception desk, the women in their starched, navy blue suits intimidated him. The doorman cast a quizzical look at Liu, then turned his attention toward an oncoming limousine.

  Liu approached the bellhop, a hawk-eyed, lanky lad who appeared to be the most informal of the lot. “I’m looking for my wife. Her name is Mei Ling.”

  “Mei Ling, you say?” the fellow replied. “Yeah, there’s a woman on the eleventh floor by that name. Don’t know if she’s still there, though. Heard she’s been in some trouble with the old woman who oversees those girls.”

  “What for?” asked Liu.

  “Oh, I don’t know, probably just speaking her mind.” The bellhop leaned in closer. “That supervisor is kind of a tyrant. If you’re not the big brass around here, might as well boss around the folks below you.”

  The bellhop’s description did not fit what Mei Ling had told him all along, that she was happy with her job, content with her life here. Liu took the elevator to the eleventh floor, and when he stepped into the hallway, a pretty, uniformed woman at the service counter greeted him. His inquiries were met with that same quizzical look, and the girl mumbled that her supervisor would offer some assistance.

  Down the hallway, he approached an older, stocky woman. She adjusted her steel-rimmed glasses, squinting at him. “What do you want?” she demanded.

  “My wife, Mei Ling, works here and—”