by Jinkang Wang
Finally, the chief judge asked in puzzlement, “You’re telling us—the smallpox virus in the orphanage was deliberately planted by you?”
Mei Yin looked him in the eye. “Yes. The mild strain of the virus I mentioned was in the shared birthday cake.”
Another silent thunderclap. Her explanation slashed through a fog in Xue Yu’s mind. He’d suspected for some time that it was too much of a coincidence for the virus leak to have taken place so soon after the American attack—the Spanish journalist had seemed similarly suspicious. But if it was a deliberate act, that explained everything—Ms. Mei had made use of the confusion after the American incident to put her own plan into action. This would make it harder to detect, and reduce opprobrium toward her, perhaps even saving her jail time. Her scheme had more or less succeeded. What he couldn’t understand was, why would she choose to come clean at this point?
Mother Chen hadn’t understood most of Director Mei’s speech, only the last sentence. She turned to Xue Yu, her eyes frozen, and stammered, “Xue, what did Director Mei say? She put the smallpox in the birthday cake? I must have heard wrong. Xue, I heard wrong, didn’t I?”
Xue Yu couldn’t look at her. He turned the other way and exchanged a grim look with Deputy Mayor Jin. Mother Chen knew from his expression that there was no mistake. The Holy Mother of her heart had put a virus in the children’s birthday cake. Unable to take this blow, she sat stunned for a moment, then ran from the courtroom.
The chief judge was mystified. He asked, “Does the defendant admit to deliberately releasing the virus in the orphanage, leading to Dr. Ma’s death, and the disfigurement of Mei Xiaoxue and others?”
The question chilled Deputy Mayor Jin and Xue Yu—they hinted at a charge of murder. Sun looked sadly at his wife. Mei Yin’s lawyer was now helpless, and could only look on as his client slid toward her fate.
Mei Yin replied, “The consequences weren’t deliberate, but I was aware when releasing the virus that they were possible. In order to activate the antibodies, the virus had to possess a certain level of virulence, harmless to most, but dangerous to a very small number of sensitive individuals. In addition, the attenuated smallpox virus could possibly mutate into the more virulent strain in the natural world. It’s a very small chance, but not impossible. God hates perfection. No one and nothing could ever be flawless. There’s nothing to be done about that.” She looked straight at the chief judge. “I’m not trying to talk myself out of guilt. I take full responsibility for Dr. Ma’s death and Mei Xiaoxue’s disfigurement, and I’m willing to accept the punishment of the law.”
The chief judge understood that his question could be construed as leading in the direction of a murder charge, and quickly backtracked: “I’d like to ask the defendant about Mr. Dickerson’s research into attenuated smallpox viruses.” He was careful to emphasize the word research, a quiet retreat from his previous certainty. “Why not carry it out in America? The environment there ought to be more suitable.”
“No, it wouldn’t have been suitable at all. Our new concepts need to be accepted by society as a whole in order to be put into practice. Western medical principles are built upon individualist foundations, and ignore the advantage human beings gain in grouping together. Mr. Dickerson believed that Chinese culture is built upon respect for the collective, and that China is a rare society with no national religion, so we would meet fewer theoretical barriers. China was our strategic choice as a base to carry out our work.”
A subtle change came over the courtroom. This speech had appealed to the self-esteem that lurks within the Chinese subconscious, and had left the audience a little better disposed toward her. Mei Yin went on. “I have one request: Could Mr. Matsumoto of the WHO please read his deposition as to the good and bad points of using an attenuated virus?”
Mr. Matsumoto, who had been entered on the list of witnesses, but who hadn’t spoken a word so far, entered the witness box with an interpreter.
“Please state your name and profession.”
“Noriyoshi Matsumoto. I work in the World Health Organization’s Special Pathogen Department, and I’m a member of the WHO Committee of Medical Ethics.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m naturally unable to express an opinion on the legality of Professor Mei Yin’s actions with regard to Chinese law. I can only represent eleven of the WHO’s senior experts in calling on the Chinese government to preserve Professor Mei’s research laboratory and the attenuated smallpox pathogens she cultivated. As for whether her proposed plan is medically valid and acceptable, that will have to wait for the test of time. But at least it’s now certain that the danger to human beings is so slight as to be negligible. Preserving the smallpox pathogen in this form will do more good than harm, and weighing up all the considerations, this research project should be allowed to continue.”
He read out the names of the scientists who’d signed the deposition. “The eleven of us are working hard to convince the WHO to extend long-term funding to this project.”
He bowed to the judges and audience, and left the witness box.
This speech changed the atmosphere in the court, moving the focus from “criminal investigation” to “scholarly research.” The chief judge asked the prosecution and defense to deliver their closing statements, then adjourned the court so the judges could confer on their verdict.
The courtroom buzzed with tension until the three judges returned. Everyone stood, and the chief judge began reading.
“. . . It is the opinion of this court that the actions of the defendant, Mei Yin, are sufficient to find her guilty of disseminating a virus or bacteria, and negligent homicide. These are the charges brought by the prosecution, and we concur. Pursuant to the People’s Republic of China Penal Code, Statute 331, governing the dissemination of viruses and/or bacteria, we find the defendant Mei Yin guilty, and sentence her to six years’ imprisonment. Pursuant to the People’s Republic of China Penal Code, Statute 233, governing negligent homicide, we find the defendant guilty, and sentence her to five years’ imprisonment. The two sentences will be combined into a reduced sentence of eight years’ imprisonment, beginning today, less time already served. Total sentence will run from October twelfth, 2016, to October twelfth, 2024.”
Mei Yin’s lawyer let out a sigh of relief. The verdict was far worse than what he’d hoped for when he began the case—though that was entirely Mei Yin’s fault—but her confession could have landed her on death row. The audience, including Xue Yu and Jin, also seemed satisfied. Perhaps the most relieved was Mei Yin, who’d helped the Crucifix Society navigate its most difficult step—out of the shadows. From now on, they could face the world openly, and her adoptive father could rest easy in his grave. She’d owed too many debts in the course of her life’s work, to Stebushkin, Dr. Ma, Granny Sun, Mei Xiaoxue, and even Deputy Mayor Jin, Xue Yu, and her husband. Now she’d repay them all with interest.
There was little suspense around Sun Jingshuan’s sentence. The court had evidently decided to be lenient, and sure enough, he was only convicted of negligence, and sentenced to six months’ imprisonment, with a full suspension. Hearing this, Jingshuan immediately looked at Mei Yin. He’d escaped, just as he’d hoped, but his wife would be in jail for eight years. Yet Mei Yin gave him a dazzling smile. Her lips moved, and he knew what she was saying: Xiaoxue. Help me find Xiaoxue.
Mei Yin turned and murmured to Du Chunming, “Thank you.” He shook his head in bemusement. She also looked at the audience gratefully, particularly at the eight foreigners, Deputy Mayor Jin, and Xue Yu. Just as the court was about to be dismissed, there was a stir in the gallery. It was Xue Yu’s uncle, Zhao Yuzhou, who’d kept quiet these few days. Even Xue Yu had almost forgotten he was there. But he’d witnessed the whole case, and now stood suddenly, shouting in rage, “This court has been swayed by personal considerations, and given a light sentence for a heavy crime! I strongly object! I’m going to publish my objection online, and you can wait for the world to condemn
you!”
No one apart from Xue Yu and Mei Yin even knew who this old man was, nor why he’d suddenly leaped up and started shouting. They looked at him as if he were mad, which seemed bitterly unfair to Zhao Yuzhou. He had no grudge against Mei Yin personally, his anger was purely unselfish, the righteous fury of a disciple of science against a traitor to science. This horrible woman was a murderous witch, yet the court sentenced her to a mere eight years in prison, and quite a few people even seemed to pity her!
The curiosity of the crowd quickly faded, and in a moment everyone had dispersed. Even the journalists were gone, and not one of them had tried to interview him. Xue Yu thought of going to talk to him, but after a moment’s hesitation simply went off alone. Professor Zhao, feeling humiliated, left the courtroom in a huff.
CHAPTER FIVE
NEW LIFE
2023—Bozhou, Beijing, and Nanyang
A vegetable market lay on the fringes of Bozhou, in Anhui Province, where the city met the rural villages. It sprawled around a crude cement platform, on which various vegetables and soybean products were displayed in the open air, alongside fresh meat on hooks. To either side were rows of shops, mostly selling dry goods, staples, stewed meat, noodles, steamed buns, and so on. The open-air portion had a thin black cloth draped overhead against the scorching summertime sun. That noon, many of the men in the market were shirtless, the women scantily clad too. A thick stench of sweat mixed with the sound of many haggling voices.
As Xue Yu strode in, his suit and leather shoes appeared out of place—his unusual attire and handsome features drew attention as he walked. The far end of the market sold live chickens and ducks, live fish, and slaughtered cows. At this moment, the fish stall was crowded, seven or eight people squeezed between the two large fish tanks, some squatting and some standing. The stall owner was a young woman of twenty or so. Now she was on her haunches in front of the tank, nimbly scaling a fish as she shouted, “Live jumping grass carp, three-fifty a pound!”
She spoke crisp, standard Mandarin that cut through the local dialect. Through gaps in the crowd, he could see she was wearing a black plastic apron and a T-shirt that revealed her cleavage as she bent over, which was attracting the stares of many men. Moving his gaze upward, Xue Yu’s eyes landed on Mei Xiaoxue’s ugly, pockmarked face. Her fine features were at odds with those scars: gleaming black eyes, delicate nose, moist red lips.
He’d finally found her.
Xue Yu didn’t join the crowd but stood behind them, looking at her with a catch in his heart. A girl becomes a woman at eighteen, as the saying goes, and Mei Xiaoxue was prettier today than seven years ago—if you ignored the pockmarks, that is. Her loveliness combined with her damaged skin to give her a tragic beauty, inspiring primal awe in the opposite sex. Many in the crowd were not there to buy fish.
Finished cleaning the two fish, Xiaoxue stood to weigh them and collect payment. Smiling, she called, “Next?” A woman pointed at one of the fish in the tank. Xiaoxue glanced over the crowd and noticed a well-dressed man at the back, obviously from a different world, and a little familiar, though she couldn’t place him immediately. Squatting again, she quickly cleaned the fish, scales flying to the ground like snowflakes.
Two more men approached, one of them saying, “Which one’s the pockmarked beauty, where is she?” The other cautioned, “Shh, she’s a fierce one!” But his warning came too late. Mei Xiaoxue had heard him, and leaped to her feet, the scaling knife pointed at the offender as she shouted, “Asshole, come closer if you have balls, I’ll give you some pockmarks of your own!” The men fled in panic, diving into the crowd, then bursting into gales of laughter once they were a safe distance away. The blood had drained from Xiaoxue’s face, and even her pockmarks were pale. Tears flowed down her cheeks. A middle-aged woman from the neighboring duck stall hurried over and hugged her, urging, “Xiaoxue, don’t cry, it’s not worth losing your temper over scum like that. Come on, Auntie Guo will get revenge for you. Number Three! Number Three!” she hollered at the man butchering beef. “Someone’s bullied our Xiaoxue again. Go curse those bastards to death!”
The butcher ran in the direction the two men had disappeared in, swearing loudly. Xue Yu now keenly appreciated the richness of the Anhui dialect. The swear words flowed from the man’s mouth in a vivid stream, varied and bright and sharp as blades. Xue Yu only understood some of the expressions. The two nasty men said nothing in response—apparently they had been cursed to death. Number Three kept the barrage up a little longer. Auntie Guo burst into laughter, and so did several of the customers, all of whom urged Xiaoxue not to be angry—Number Three’s scolding was sure to leave them covered in boils. Xiaoxue was clearly used to such scenes, and in a short while had stopped crying, brushing away her tears as she squatted to resume cleaning the fish.
Xue Yu watched in silence, his heart aching as if pricked by needles. After a while, when all the other customers were gone, Xiaoxue fixed her eyes on him. “Are you buying a fish or what?”
“Xiaoxue, it’s me.”
Mei Xiaoxue realized at once who it was. “Uncle Xue . . . Xue Yu?” Once again, her face went pale. “You traitor, you wolf, what are you doing here?”
Xue Yu smiled. “I came so you could yell at me. It’s been so long since you’ve yelled at me.”
Mei Xiaoxue slowly calmed herself. She’d sworn at him impulsively, but actually she’d always been conflicted about Xue Yu and Mommy Mei. She knew that Uncle Xue had been right to denounce Mommy. But still, he was the one who got her into trouble. On the other hand, Mommy was the one who’d smuggled smallpox into the country in the first place, then brought it into the orphanage and ruined Xiaoxue’s life! Her heart was rocked by conflicting emotions. She looked down and was silent.
Auntie Guo, noticing something odd, wondered if this pretty boy was here to torment Xiaoxue too. She stared at him keenly. After a long time, Xiaoxue lifted her head and said awkwardly, “Uncle . . . Xue.” She wasn’t sure how to address him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I know you’re not a bad person.”
Xue Yu was also conflicted, longing to reach out and hug her, but stopping himself. Xiaoxue was a grown woman now, not the young teenager of so long ago. He came straight to the point. “Mommy Mei asked me to find you. I’ve been searching six or seven years, and so has General Manager Sun.”
At the mention of Mommy Mei, Xiaoxue was overcome by both hatred and longing, and couldn’t stop herself from weeping again, not making a sound, her tears flowing like a fountain, shoulders heaving in waves. Auntie Guo hurried over and embraced Xiaoxue, glaring suspiciously at Xue Yu, saying over and over, “Xiaoxue, what happened? Is he bullying you? Number Three! Get over here, Number Three!”
Xiaoxue hastily stopped crying and said, “No, this is someone from my hometown. My Uncle Xue. He and Mommy Mei have been looking for me for six or seven years.”
Auntie Guo was overjoyed. She kept saying, “That’s good, that’s very good. Xiaoxue has a family now.” Xiaoxue asked Auntie Guo to take care of her stall for a while; she wanted to bring Xue Yu to see where she lived, and then she’d take him out to lunch. Xiaoxue lived not far from there, an upstairs room in a farming family’s house, small with tattered furniture, but spick-and-span. A wooden chest was covered in a colorful plastic cloth to serve as a dressing table, with cheap cosmetics on it. Xue Yu checked to see if there was a mirror. There wasn’t. With a throb, he thought, Xiaoxue still doesn’t dare to face her own reflection.
Embarrassed, she asked him to step outside for a moment so she could change. Xue Yu went out and stood in the doorway, and in a moment Xiaoxue appeared in a white T-shirt and green shorts that showed off her slim figure. Taking Xue Yu’s hand, she said she’d take him to the Tianhe Grand Hotel for a meal, and he didn’t try to dissuade her, but went along willingly.
The waiter at the hotel restaurant was well-bred enough to avoid staring at Xiaoxue’s face directly as she ordered, though he still glanced at her out of the corne
r of his eye. Xiaoxue ignored him, she was used to people giving her strange looks. She asked Xue Yu, “How did you find me? I’ve been to quite a few places these seven years, to Xinjiang, then three or four years in Kyrgyzstan.” Xue Yu smiled. “I asked everywhere. This time it was General Manager Sun who got the tip-off, and sent me here.”
He wasn’t telling the whole truth. True, it hadn’t been easy to find her, but she was after all the only person in the whole of twenty-first century China severely scarred by smallpox—much worse than the other orphanage kids—and was beautiful to boot. The two things made such an unusual combination that asking around wasn’t quite as difficult as it might have been.
The food arrived. Fragrant fish, spicy boiled pork, lotus-braised pork, stir-fried shredded potato. All very plain dishes, but obviously Xiaoxue’s favorites. It was clear from her simple tastes how much deprivation she’d suffered. They chatted aimlessly for a while, Xiaoxue avoiding any talk of Mommy Mei. Xue Yu could understand how she felt, but he eventually brought the conversation back to this topic.
“Xiaoxue, Mommy Mei urged me again and again to find you. She’s been in prison all this while, and her health is bad. She has rheumatic heart disease and rheumatoid arthritis, and can only walk with difficulty. Do you—still hate her?”
Xiaoxue looked down, tears flowing. She hated Mommy Mei, and missed her too. But now, pushing aside the surface layer of anger, she found a sturdy foundation of love below. She’d never forgotten Mommy Mei’s birthday cake, and the happiness she’d felt during her illness—leaning against Mommy as she slept, inhaling her Mommy scent, a pair of warm hands on her forehead as she drowsed or slept. Yet one scene stood out from the others. That night, as she lay in a feverish daze, Mommy Mei and Uncle Sun had sat watching her, and they’d spoken in low voices. Mommy Mei already knew she was going to prison, and couldn’t bear to leave her daughter Xiaoxue. She was telling her husband to bring up their daughter well. Through all the years of her lonely youth, she’d dreamed at night of Mommy Mei looking longingly at her, saying, Xiaoxue, I have to go to prison, I’ll never see you again. Xiaoxue would weep as she reached out for her mother, but her hands clutched nothingness as she jolted awake.