by Sheng Keyi
Xiaohong poured out some chilli sauce, then dipped one of the tasty, tender wings into it. When she had finished, she stuck her fingers into her mouth, acknowledging both her love of the chicken wings and her appreciation to Bigfoot. She took a swig of her drink then repeated the process, eating the fries in a more flirtatious manner. The fries were long and thin, not easily eaten in a single bite. After she had eaten half of one, she would dip the remaining piece into the sauce, making it all a very complicated process.
‘This was a perfect birthday dinner! Thanks a lot.’ Xiaohong smiled happily.
‘It’s your birthday? Oh! Happy birthday! What do you want to do now?’ Bigfoot asked enthusiastically.
‘I’m full. About to burst. Let’s go for a walk.’
‘It’s not even seven o’clock yet. Let’s go to the park and walk off our dinner. Karaoke doesn’t start till eight.’ Bigfoot turned the romance of a stroll in the park into a mundane thing, a walk to aid the digestion. There was no ambiguity. It was as simple as the chicken wings they had just eaten.
‘Mister, buy some flowers. Flowers for the lady.’
As soon as they reached the park entrance, Xiaohong and Bigfoot were stopped by two five- or six-year-old girls. Each had a large bouquet of roses in her hand, with each rose wrapped in plastic. They were all wilting, as if they had been salvaged from the rubbish bin.
Bigfoot said, ‘I’ll buy you one. Today’s a special occasion.’
Xiaohong firmly blocked his way, saying, ‘You might as well just give her the money. Look at them. How can you even call those broken things flowers? Let’s go. Don’t bother!’
As he took a step, Bigfoot found his leg embraced by one of the girls. Her whole body clinging to him, she cried, ‘Buy one! Buy one! I’m begging you!’
Bigfoot did not move and a crowd began to gather. Left with no choice, he took his wallet from his back pocket and by the light of the streetlamp took out five yuan. Only when he had pulled a drooping rose from the bunch did the little girl let go of his leg. He walked away, carrying the pitiful flower. He didn’t dare give it to Xiaohong. When they had entered the park, following several turns of the path past a sculpture of a giraffe and over a little bridge, he finally shoved the rose into the rubbish bin. He pointed to a bench by the pond and said in a relieved tone, ‘Let’s sit there.’
Bigfoot walked across the lawn to the bench, passing countless shadows of people huddling in the dark. He plopped down onto the white stone seat, facing the dim light of the pond with a faintly stunned expression.
‘You still want to sing? I’m not in the mood.’
‘I’m not really up for it either.’
‘Something bothering you?’ Xiaohong asked, noticing his silence.
‘She wants to marry me. I can’t decide.’
‘You can’t decide to marry her but you can’t decide not to marry her either.’
Shaking his big feet, he did not reply.
‘You love her. And you are bothered by her previous life. It’s obvious you’re a hypocrite. You want to have a good reputation and you want wealth too.’
The willow branches swung freely, tips dragging along the water.
‘I don’t want her money. I’ve already decided on that.’
‘She and the half-million are linked.’
‘So, I don’t want a single kuai from her.’
‘That’s up to you. I can’t console you.’
‘I want to be with you.’
‘Then you’ll really lose out. I’m no virgin myself. I’ve been with lots and lots of guys, and I don’t have half a million to show for it.’
Twelve
I
After watching a film at the Qianshan Theatre, Specs was a little excited. All he could think of was getting back to the flat he had rented with Sijiang. Her small eyes glared at him, not showing the least sign that she shared his desire and she pulled him along to Ah Xing’s bookshop.
Ah Xing was noticeably pregnant, her tummy protruding like that of a potbellied teddy bear. In slippers, she lazily moved about, clumsy as a penguin. It was no more than ten paces from one end of the bookshop to the other but Ah Xing needed twenty to waddle across it, her hand constantly rubbing her rounded belly, comforting the unborn child there.
‘Looks like they’re about to close.’
‘Hey Ah Xing! How long till you’re a mum?’ Sijiang tittered, feeling Ah Xing’s belly.
‘According to the doctor, about another thirteen days. Have you two started making plans yet?’ Ah Xing’s face was plump and ruddy, with a hint of freckles scattered over it. Sijiang looked at Specs, not sure how to respond.
‘You take your time and have a look round. You’re our last customers today.’ Ah Xing supported her belly as she sat down, picking at her teeth with her nail, as if without a care in the world.
Specs browsed through the section with martial arts novels. He looked through The Swordsman then reluctantly put it back.
‘Hey come here. Look at this.’ Sijiang held up a book called The Pregnancy Encyclopaedia. It was at least as thick as two copies of his coveted volume of The Swordsman. On the cover was a beautiful woman with a sunny smile.
‘I’m going to buy this,’ Sijiang said happily.
Specs turned it over to look at the price tag. ‘Thirty kuai. That’s expensive! It’s still early. Do we really need to buy it now? Can’t we just learn from Ah Xing, Wu Ying and the others?’ He looked distractedly back at The Swordsman series.
‘Eh? That’s no good. There’s so much to learn and it’s annoying to others if you keep pestering them.’ It was the first time Sijiang had been so firm.
From where she sat, Ah Xing laughed. ‘Just buy it. I’ll give you a twenty per cent discount. I don’t earn anything from the sale but, you know, just to show my support.’
Specs had no response to that. Sijiang said, ‘We’ll buy it and The Swordsman.’
Specs hesitated, then joked, ‘That’s a lot of money. We’ll have to eat nothing but vegetables and tofu for a while! Sijiang, I don’t want the novel. I’d rather eat meat!’
Ah Xing clacked away on a calculator and said, ‘Eighty per cent. Just make it fifty kuai then.’
Sijiang took a wad of folded notes from an inner pocket, smoothed one out and handed it to Ah Xing.
Specs was still saying, ‘Sijiang, don’t buy the sword-fighting novel. I was just flipping through it.’
‘Come on, don’t take the fun out of it. I’ve known for a long time how much you like to eat meat. Actually I wanted to buy The Swordsman for you before but I used the money for meat instead. If I just cut down on the household expenses, it should be OK.’
As Sijiang glared at him, he noticed that her tiny eyes made her a classic beauty, like the famous women of ancient times. He couldn’t help but love her all the more for it.
At night when they were back in the dim light at the rented flat, he sat down to study the pregnancy book with her. Specs became unusually serious and excited, as if Sijiang were going to deliver a baby the next day. They were bathed in a special kind of happiness. They turned the pages slowly, lingering over each one, spending half the night poring over the book. When they had just crawled into bed and cuddled up to one another, there was a sudden ruckus. Someone was banging on their door.
‘What the hell?’ Specs shouted boldly.
‘ID check! Let’s see your papers!’
‘Sijiang, quickly get dressed.’ Specs, half-clothed, opened the door. Several men in camouflage uniforms burst rowdily into the room. All had work badges on, but the couple could not see clearly what department they were from. Or, rather, neither Sijiang nor Specs had the guts to look carefully enough. One fellow who seemed to be the lead officer stood in the centre of the room with his feet spread wide apart. Behind him, the others stood ready to be deployed.
‘Papers.’
Specs found both of their IDs and temporary residence cards.
‘Take out your Family Planning Certificat
e and let me see that too,’ the officer said, looking their documents over slowly.
‘Family Planning Certificate?’ Specs stammered. He shook his head.
‘What’s that?’ Sijiang was at a loss.
‘It’s a card for those who aren’t married,’ said one of the camouflaged men. Like dogs, they had immediately sniffed trouble and were closing in. Sijiang felt their breath crashing in around her like the wind of industrial-sized exhaust fans.
‘You don’t have it?’ the officer repeated again, with difficulty.
‘No. We didn’t know we needed it. We’ll go and take care of it first thing tomorrow.’ Specs didn’t know much about these guys.
‘Take her in!’ The officer waved his hand and four of the camouflaged men moved in, breathing heavily. They took Sijiang’s arm, pulled her up and bustled her out the door. Outside, there was a car, sleek and black. No sound was to be heard, aside from the running of engines. There were red lights flashing on the car, like a police van.
‘Why are you taking her away? Where are you going with her? What are you doing?’ Specs grabbed the officer.
‘The women and children’s hospital. Remember to bring some money. She’ll need to stay for three days.’
‘Days? What are you doing to her? What does she need to go to the hospital for? She’s not sick!’
Specs cried out in his panic, but in a brief moment, the officer and his car were swallowed up in the darkness.
II
When Specs had rushed to the hospital, everything was brightly lit and overrun with people. It was blazing hot. Every window was lit up, and everyone seemed to be shouldering a heavy burden. Specs was at a loss, not sure where Sijiang had been taken or who to ask. He ran up several staircases, through various departments and finally found himself in a crowd milling around in front of an operating room. Every single seat was occupied and no one seemed the least bit sleepy. People hustled and bustled around him, walking hurriedly, as if it were a clinic on the front line of a war zone. Everything was tense and everyone was anxious.
Specs turned to ask an old woman sitting on a nearby stool. ‘Auntie, it’s late. What’s everyone waiting for? What surgery are they doing here?’
The old woman looked at him a moment, slow to answer. ‘I’m waiting for my daughter-in-law. The surgery is sterilisation.’
‘Sterilisation?’ Specs, feeling he had suffered a staggering blow, almost fell to the ground. Just then, he saw a familiar pair of slippers hanging from a hook on the wall. He picked them up and looked more closely. They were Sijiang’s. Blood rushed hotly to his head. He turned and ran to the door of the operating room. Unfortunately, it was locked. He dashed his fist against the words No Admittance printed in red along the glass door. Immediately, he was caught by two men in camouflage.
‘What are you doing? Try that again and we’ll haul you in,’ the men pushed Specs aside with a stern warning.
‘I’m looking for my girlfriend. Where is she?’ His legs felt weak. He dropped to his knees, as if kneeling before them.
‘We don’t know. Don’t go around making trouble in the surgical ward.’
‘You’ve got the wrong person! She’s just a girl! You can’t sterilise her! I’m begging you! Doctors! Doctors, I’m begging you! Please let her go!’ Specs quaked, crying as he desperately tried to break away. He wanted to go into the surgical ward and to the doctors’ offices. He wanted to pull Sijiang off the operating table, but his hands were wrenched firmly behind him by the guys in camouflage, like some criminal they had subdued and contained.
Just then the old woman sitting on the stool, whose face had been so cold moments earlier, stood up and said to Specs, ‘Is she a round-faced girl? She was barefoot. She really put up a fight. At the door to the operating room, she yelled for all she was worth. It took four men to come and drag her in, carrying her by the arms and legs. They should be done by now. You’re not married? What a shame!’ The old woman sighed and, looking ancient, walked back to where she had been sitting.
Specs fell silent. The men in camouflage released their hold on him. He went limp, tumbling to the ground like a mound of wet sand. His glasses slipped. Those plain, cheap glasses that he had bought purposely to make himself look more professional when he went for interviews, were now being trampled underfoot into a crooked heap.
Many pairs of eyes looked on, blank and puzzled, in a sort of numb confusion. They all sat there together in mutual sympathy.
Before the peak season of sterilisations had come round again, Xiaohong had been deployed to another department in the hospital. To be more precise, she was sent to the kitchen. She would wield a knife there, or at least accompany the person wielding the knife to prepare the meals, while the hospital used the opportunity created by the additional traffic to earn a little extra income. It was important to look after the welfare of everyone in the hospital and improve the lives of the working class in this way. Before the hospital chairman Dr Lei had gone into battle, knife in hand, he had sought out Xiaohong for a talk. He made it clear that if she did a good job on kitchen duty then, when the peak season for surgery was over, it would be for the good of the cause. They would all, whether they took up the knife in the kitchen or the operating room, be comrades in the heat of strife, and both jobs were equally glorious.
When Dr Lei broke the news to Xiaohong he said, ‘send you down’. It was a loaded phrase. If going to work in the kitchen was really nothing to feel ashamed of, then this silly charade was full of a unique sort of significance all its own.
‘I’ll do whatever’s assigned to me,’ Xiaohong said. She felt strange and unhappy, but when the higher-ups so solemnly ‘send you down’, it doesn’t matter whether you feel good or bad, panicked or relaxed, you’ve just got to knuckle down and get it done.
Next, it was Xia – or the new Publicity Director Mr Xia – who sought out Xiaohong for conversation. Though he had not yet officially been notified of the appointment, he was already starting to break in the new job title. Xia’s message was the same as Dr Lei’s, almost quoting him word for word, in fact. His performance skills, however, were not quite up to scratch and he gave rather a bad imitation of the doctor’s precise accents and emphases. When facing Xiaohong, he was not quite up to acting the part of the hospital chairman.
Xiaohong went straight to the kitchen. She washed vegetables, washed bowls, served vegetables and served rice. Wherever they were short-handed, there she went, flitting here and there like a nightingale. On the third day when they opened for lunch, Xiaohong rolled up her sleeves and in deft movements ladled out the soup and scooped the rice. She collected meal tickets without even looking at the faces of those she took them from. She was too busy to care. It was not at all easy work to serve food during the peak hours. When she finally relaxed, wiping the sweat from her brow, she suddenly noticed Specs lingering outside the window. He had a meal ticket in his hand, but it seemed he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He was not wearing his glasses and he looked like he hadn’t slept all night. From his lifeless eyes, she knew for sure something was wrong. She called him but there was no response. When she had called him for the third time, he finally walked over to the window.
‘What are you doing? You want something to eat? Who’s ill?’ Xiaohong fired a volley of questions through the gap in the window.
‘Xiaohong. You’re here. Sijiang’s ill. She’s ill.’
‘What? Not pregnant!’
‘No. Not pregnant. She’s…’
‘Well, go on. What’re you stammering for?’
‘Ah Hong. Last night, she… she was sterilised!’
‘Oh God! Fuck!’ Xiaohong slipped back into her hometown dialect as she cursed. She threw her spoon, splattering the carrot and pork rib soup everywhere. She wove her way through the kitchen on her two slender legs and followed Specs hastily to the Inpatient Ward.
III
The Inpatient Ward was calm and peaceful, like the rhythmic toss of a boat enduring a storm. Patient
s and their relatives laughed softly, chatting about the past, reviving family memories and renewing the ties of kinship. Occasionally, a woman would groan. Mostly it was just whining, since the physical pain was only minimal, as if to remind her loved ones she had gone under the knife and of the sacrifice that she had made. Ninety per cent of the women here had undergone the sterilisation procedure. The ones who had endured the knife lay on the beds like cut grass scattered across a field. Xiaohong and Specs were like farmers planting rice. When they traversed the field, it was not a smooth path. They squeezed between the wall and the row of beds, knocking their shins countless times as they crossed the room, advancing toward Sijiang’s bed.
The air was full of a smell, an odour of complex nuances. Not just the clothes stained black as mud, and not merely the smell of unbathed human flesh caked with filth. No single odour could be identified. It was more like the odour of pus in a wound, a fatty, sour, fermented smell. Xiaohong controlled herself, suppressing the impulse to puke. After a moment of gaining her composure, a fresh wave of overwhelming sadness hit her, renewing the desire to vomit.
Living people, but dirtier than animals. In the pig sty at home, with a sow and her dozen or so piglets, eating and drinking from a common space, the smell was not even a tenth as disgusting as this place.
People valued less than animals. Even a pig set aside to be spayed was allowed to wait until its proper time. Sijiang was just nineteen, and here she was neutered like an old sow.
Sijiang would have cherished the feeling of being a new mother more than most. Someone who would especially relish the whole birth experience, if sterilised, would definitely feel the pain of the blow more acutely than most. Oh, Li Sijiang! Xiaohong didn’t dare to think about how her friend might actually be feeling right now.
A few years ago, something similar had happened back in Xiaohong’s village. The Family Planning Office made a surprise attack in the middle of the night to round people up. It seemed that a woman who had three daughters escaped, so the staff took the youngest girl and sterilised her. Whether it was a case of mistaken identity or a matter of spite, the outcome was that she was barren, plain and simple. She would never be able to bring another labourer into the nation’s workforce. Who would want to marry her? The girl finally ran to the river and killed herself, making the outcome plainer and simpler still.