Pathological

by Jinkang Wang

  Those three days of torture slowly worsened Xiaoxue’s state of mind. She gradually became certain that a great tragedy would befall either herself or her child. This idea took deeper and deeper root until, after yet another wave of pain, she abruptly said to her husband, “Yu, if anything should happen, save the baby first.”

  Xue Yu froze. “What nonsense are you talking? Every checkup has indicated this will be a normal labor. And if anything goes wrong, a C-section should sort it out. That’s just a small procedure.”

  Xiaoxue didn’t seem to hear her husband’s comforting words. After a while, she said, “I’m worried our child will have cowpox.”

  Actually, she meant smallpox. Xue Yu said, “More nonsense. We’ve had all the tests, the fetus is absolutely normal.”

  Xiaoxue said nothing more, but there was still terror in her eyes. Xue Yu and Mother Mei exchanged a look, and changed the subject. Xue Yu silently cursed his uncle for having planted such seeds of fear.

  As Xiaoxue finally went into the delivery room, the doctor said to Xue Yu, “You can keep her company, she’ll find that reassuring.” He stood at the head of the bed and held her hand. Xiaoxue’s fingernails pressed into his palm. Her eyes shut, and she clenched her teeth, moans slipping between them. The doctor said encouragingly, “Push, go on, use some strength, the head is almost out!” At this moment, Xue Yu truly understood what he’d read in books, that women suffer for evolution. Compared to other animals, every human baby is premature, and every human birth tests the mother’s limits.

  A resounding cry came from between Xiaoxue’s legs, and the doctor cheered. “Wonderful, a plump little boy!”

  The nurses rushed to cut the umbilical cord, wipe off the blood, and take impressions of the baby’s feet. Xue Yu murmured into her ear, “Xiaoxue, everything’s all right. It’s a boy.”

  After so many days of agony, Xiaoxue had no strength left at all. She struggled to say, “Let . . . me . . . see.”

  Xue Yu knew what she was thinking, and as soon as the nurses had swaddled the baby, he held him up for her to look. “Don’t worry, all is as it should be, no blisters, lesions, or anything else abnormal. A perfectly healthy child.”

  Xiaoxue finally let herself stop worrying, and was soon sound asleep.

  They named the boy Jiji, and he soon became the angel of the household, a little heartbreaker. Mei Yin adored him all the more for never having had a child herself. After he came home, she was always running around doing things for him, and soon her legs had recovered completely. He was her lucky star, she said. Xiaoxue grew cheerful again, and the house filled with the laughter of both mother and son. Sometimes Xiaoxue thought back to the sorrow and terror she’d felt in the days before the birth, and wondered how she’d come to have such strange ideas—they seemed inconceivable now.

  CHAPTER SIX

  NEXT TARGET: TOKYO

  Winter 2029—Tokyo, Japan

  Situated in Tokyo’s Kinza District, Hanako Advertising was Japan’s largest ad agency. It was almost the New Year, and the gray twenty-story building had been decorated with colorful lights trailing from the rooftop, along with a kadomatsu at the main door, a traditional decoration made of pine and bamboo. Masashi Sasaki, head of marketing, was receiving an important client that day, and as a result of this meeting, the company would be plunged into a frenzy over the New Year holiday.

  The young Chinese man’s business card introduced him as He Zhichao, general manager of Beijing’s Heavenly Fragrance Cosmetics Inc. He was thirty-five years old and dressed in a designer suit, not a speck of dirt on his leather shoes. Speaking flawless American English, He Zhichao exuded an air of competence. The minute he came in, he apologized profusely for disturbing them so close to the New Year, he was truly sorry, but he had no choice, because—

  “We want to export our cosmetics to your country, and we only received authorization from the Ministry of Welfare’s labor minister this morning. As soon as I got the paperwork, I came straight to your office.”

  He pulled the papers from his briefcase to show Sasaki, and said jokingly, “I’m almost regretting choosing Japan over Europe as our breakout market. Turns out Japan’s requirements for imported cosmetics are even stricter than the European Union’s! But no matter, I’ve got the approval now.”

  Sasaki knew he had a major client on his hands. A few months previously, this Mr. He had gotten in touch with Hanako to say he wanted to conduct an “earth-shattering” advertising campaign in Tokyo, and he’d be in touch with the head of marketing as soon as he got the necessary permissions. Given China’s new towering world status, Hanako would be sure to treat this tycoon with great care.

  Smiling, Sasaki said, “No need to apologize. It would be our honor to work with you. Please go on.”

  Mr. He took six identical little vials from his briefcase and arranged them in a row on the desk. They were opaque and unlabeled. “Before we get down to business, I’d like you to try these perfumes so you’ll have a better understanding of my company. Of these six perfume samples, three are from the classic Christian Dior Poison series—Pure, Original, and Hypnotic, all excellent names that worked insidiously in the minds of men and women. The other three are my company’s Heavenly Fragrance series, Numbers One, Two, and Three, otherwise known as Soul-Capturing, Spirit-Catching, and Life-Taking.” He wrote out the kanji for these words, and smiled. “The names might seem overboard, but the quality of the product will bear them out. And now, would you like to test these, and say which are superior? Maybe you have some female employees who might be willing to try them out?”

  Mr. Sasaki thought about it and made a couple of calls. A moment later, two women walked in, both natural beauties, their makeup as exquisite as a crystal sculpture. As they passed by, a faint scent lingered in the air. They bowed to the visitor. Mr. Sasaki gave them some instructions in Japanese. They nodded and opened the six bottles, sniffing carefully, then dabbing each one on a pulse point, wafting the aroma with tiny movements. This took a very long time, but Mr. Sasaki waited patiently, and He Zhichao didn’t seem in a hurry either. When they were done, they discussed it a while, and finally, with some hesitation, presented Mr. Sasaki with three of the bottles.

  Mr. He said, “Made your choice? These ladies believe these three bottles are the superior blends? I can’t tell from the outside which product they’ve chosen, so I’m a little nervous too. Mr. Sasaki, would you peel the adhesive paper off the bottom of the vials?”

  Sasaki did as he asked. The names on the bottoms of the bottles were Hypnotic Poison, Soul-Capturing, and Life-Taking. He Zhichao laughed and ripped off the other three: Pure Poison, Original Poison, and Spirit-Catching. Satisfied, he said, “Thanks to both experts for your opinions. You’ve judged that two of my company’s scents are superior to Dior’s, in which case I have even more confidence in your business.” He took six exquisite larger bottles from his bag, handing three to each woman. “These are our Heavenly Fragrance series, Numbers One, Two, and Three, a gift for you. Please accept them. And if you’re satisfied with them, please recommend them to your friends. Thank you.”

  The women smiled as they took the presents, bowed, and departed. He Zhichao said, “Mr. Sasaki, you see the evidence. Of course, one trial sampling isn’t conclusive. But I will say that we can give Dior a run for their money. Unfortunately, the world of cosmetics is too focused on designer labels, and no matter how excellent our products are, we’re closeted away from the common taste. So what we need now is to grab the attention of fashionable women with a well-designed, explosive ad campaign! That’s why I’ve come to you. I believe your company’s superb work will help us enter the high-end Japanese market.”

  “We can definitely get you the results you want. Do you have any initial thoughts about the direction of this campaign?”

  “Actually, I do. How about if, in Tokyo and other major cities, we had heavenly maidens scattering flowers? That is, we’d drop paper flowers like these from airships.”

  He
produced a stack from his briefcase. They were small, about half the size of a sheet of tissue, the paper soft and spongy, covered with something similar to the dust of butterfly wings, slick and delightfully scented. On each one was a haiku, written in kanji, as Japanese custom dictated the most elegant writing should be:

  Flowers from Heaven

  Small Petals Of X-tasy

  Breeze wafts to mankind

  He asked Mr. Sasaki to pinch a flower, and when he did, a mist of fragrance rose from it. He Zhichao explained, “The powder on the paper contains tiny sacs of our perfume, which preserve the scent. When someone picks up the paper flower and squeezes it, the perfume is released. I’m thinking that on an important holiday, perhaps New Year’s Day, airships could scatter these over Tokyo and other big cities, which could reach hundreds of thousands. This would be done when most people are outdoors, maybe in the evening. Imagine, glittering airships appearing out of the twilit gloom, scattering clouds of blossoms. Absolutely gorgeous. How about it? The campaign will need careful organizing. It won’t be easy to get clearance to use the airspace over Tokyo.”

  “We can deal with the technical difficulties, don’t worry about it.”

  “We don’t need to know the details of how you arrange everything, but we do have an additional requirement that at least a hundred thousand people are exposed to the ad—and we’ll hire a third party to evaluate that.”

  “No problem.”

  “As for the fee, I trust in your company’s business ethics, so I’m proposing an unorthodox payment method.” He pulled out his checkbook, and signed a couple checks. “This first check is for ten million American dollars, as payment in advance. The second check is blank, already signed. After the event, you can fill in whatever figure your actual expenses turn out to be, and we’ll honor it, as long as the number doesn’t exceed Heavenly Fragrance’s registered capital!”

  Sasaki laughed too as he accepted both checks. “Thank you for your directness. I believe we’ll be very happy working together.”

  In the time that remained, the two men hammered out the details of the campaign, fixing the date for the third of January, the final day of sanganichi, the first three days of the New Year. That was when most Japanese would be out visiting friends and relatives, and the streets would be thronged. The greater difficulty was getting permission to use the airspace, particularly because it was less than a month in advance. Hanako would need to hurry to get the paperwork finished in time, and if it really couldn’t be done, they’d have to postpone till the next holiday. Heavenly Fragrance would manufacture the paper flowers in China, though they’d only be coated in perfume granules at the last minute, when the date for the campaign was certain. The scented flowers would be sent to Narita Airport on the morning of January 3, and even allowing for the customs inspection, they would arrive in time for the evening’s activity.

  After discussing every aspect of the campaign, the two men signed the contract. Sasaki saw his Chinese visitor to the main entrance, where they said good-bye. He Zhichao had to hurry back to China to get the flowers and perfume granules ready, as well as all the necessary paperwork—time was tight on their end too.

  He Zhichao returned to the Yaesu Fujiya Hotel, and immediately phoned the Riyadh-based chairman of Heavenly Fragrance, Mr. Bin Talal, to say the ad campaign would be carried out as planned, on January 3. Bin Talal asked, “In the evening?”

  “Yes, as you suggested.”

  “The weather?”

  “I’ve checked. Clear, somewhat overcast, no rain. Perfect flying conditions.”

  “Did you emphasize how important it is that we reach those numbers?”

  “Yes, and they will be verified by an external auditor.”

  “You’ve done well,” said Bin Talal flatly.

  He Zhichao quickly checked out and got on the next plane back to Beijing from Narita. He secretly admired Bin Talal for his calm. The ad campaign was a huge gamble, and if they won, they could begin expanding into Western markets; if they lost, the company would surely fold. Heavenly Fragrance’s registered holdings were just $200 million, though He Zhichao knew there’d been a certain amount of creative accounting and they actually only had forty million on hand, half in cash and the rest in fixed assets. Enough to pay for an ad campaign, though not for production afterward. But Bin Talal had told him not to worry about the money, just make sure the ad campaign was a success.

  He Zhichao had been working at a different Chinese cosmetics company, God of a Hundred Flowers, as the chief technical officer, until a year ago, when a friend named Zhang, who worked as an engineer in Riyadh, had introduced him to Bin Talal. They’d seen each other once in Beijing’s Great Wall Hotel—though that wasn’t quite the right term, as Bin Talal was blind.

  Right after introducing them, the friend left the two men alone. Bin Talal wore a kaffiyeh, a long Arabic robe, and large dark glasses. Like many blind people, he didn’t face the other person when conversing, but kept his face turned to one side in order to hear better. His English was fluent, and he spoke with an American accent. As soon as they began talking, he said crisply, “Mr. Zhang said your technical skills were excellent. I’m investing forty million in a cosmetics firm, and I want you to be the general manager. You’ll invest your technical skills as capital stock, holding forty-nine percent of the shares. What do you think?”

  He Zhichao was startled at this offer, which was on the high side. According to China’s Company Law, technical shareholders generally only got a 20 percent stake in a business, and any more than that would need special approval from the government. The Saudi man was being generous. Bin Talal smiled. “Other people have said to me that’s a high proportion. But the way I see it, a technological expert can earn me billions, so why grumble over a mere twenty million? I like the environment in China, and I want to plant a seed here that will grow into a mighty tree. Don’t miss this chance to get rich.”

  He Zhichao was worried that if he left his company to do a similar job for a rival firm, it might be a conflict of interest and leave him open to a lawsuit. But still, $19.6 million in shares, and even more if the business did well . . . For the sake of that much money, he was willing to take a bit of a risk with his future.

  He bit the bullet and agreed on the spot. Bin Talal said happily, “I admire that in a man, being able to take the plunge. I’m sure we’ll enjoy working together. I’ll wire over forty million as soon as I get back to Riyadh. We might not see each other that much after this. I’ll leave you to take care of things here. I have absolute faith in you, and trust you won’t disappoint a blind man. Ha-ha!”

  And that was settled. Next, He Zhichao talked about his plans for the future: how to bring his current company’s technology with him without getting caught. He also suggested that Bin Talal inflate his declaration of the company’s holdings, thus easing their way into overseas markets. This would be unthinkable in most other countries, but was a normal practice in China. In fact, there were companies that specialized in these deceptions, providing a sum of capital that, for a fee, would spend a week in your firm’s bank account. Bin Talal agreed to all these suggestions, and gave He Zhichao authority to put them into practice. The meeting had lasted under an hour, and afterward it felt like a dream to He Zhichao, as if the whole discussion might come to nothing. But a few days later, right on schedule, the forty million from Bin Talal arrived.

  The amount of trust Bin Talal placed in He Zhichao was touching, and he would give Bin Talal the best of the Chinese work ethic in return. During the following year he’d tirelessly worked to bring the company into being. Six months ago, Bin Talal had suggested the business plan of attacking the Japanese market first, and come up with the concept of the midair advertising campaign. He Zhichao agreed with all of this, and had then spent half a year making Bin Talal’s vision into reality.

  Hopefully this explosive ad campaign would take the Japanese market by storm, and usher their firm to the next level. On board the Boeing jet fr
om Tokyo to Beijing, He Zhichao wished fervently for success.

  Winter 2029—Tibet, China

  As the S-70 Black Hawk helicopter slowly descended, Xiao Yan, a reporter from Technology Daily, shouted, “Stunning! Tibet is so beautiful. Paradise on earth!”

  Commander Zhang, who was piloting the craft, turned back to smile at her, nodding in agreement with this young woman who hadn’t seen much of the world. There were three others on board: Director Xue Yu of the Center for Environment Control at China’s CDC; his wife, Mei Xiaoxue; and his mother-in-law, Ms. Mei Yin. All three were smiling too, though silent. Tibet’s scenery was indeed lovely, but they’d already been there more than ten times to study the marmot plague. Besides, it was overcast, which made it harder to appreciate the landscape’s beauty.

  All around them were mountains in white snowy hats, circled with pale gray clouds. A northern goshawk glided past, while inky-feathered choughs settled on the enormous rocks, looking curiously at the visitors. The vegetation up here was different than in the plains, being an especially deep green, and the purple flowers amid this dark green looked especially bright. The Qinghai-Tibet Railroad ran past not far from here, and some of the topsoil had shifted to reveal naked patches of earth, the tangle of roots and vegetation giving way after about ten inches to loose pebbles. This was a textbook example of highland vegetative cover, created over tens of thousands of years, an extremely fragile ecosystem.

  Xue Yu and the others got out of the helicopter. As had become their habit after so many visits to Tibet, the first thing they did was scan their surroundings with binoculars, looking for marmots or highland pikas. Sure enough, there were some marmots in the distance, squatting on their haunches and eyeing the humans alertly. A little earth mound behind them was the entrance to their warren, and they could vanish into its safety at any moment. Xue Yu handed his binoculars to Xiao Yan, pointing in their direction. When she got them in her sights, she shrieked, “Ah! So many marmots!”