by Song Ying
After he handed over the form, the clerk helped him locate the “Table of Contents for the Yunnan Provincial Revolutionary Committee Office of Zhiqing Affairs.”
Nie spent four hours poring over dusty files and briefings, encountering shockingly outrageous reports about the Hekou Incident, corroborating what Old Mr. Fu had told him beneath the big green tree.
As he read on, he discovered that what had happened in Hekou County was only the tip of the iceberg. Physical abuse, including rape, was pervasive throughout the Construction Corps. Many of the cadres who committed these crimes were decorated war heroes who became local tyrants once they arrived at the regiments, battalions, and companies that were scattered and isolated among remote mountains and fields. Without legal supervision or restrictions on absolute power, they were left to do what they wanted.
The Grinning Tyrant of Lanjiang, Hu Zihao, was one of them.
During those peculiar, twisted times, female zhiqing who were made giddy by the red slogan of “reeducation” sometimes fell into the clutches of authoritarian abusers, like lambs to the slaughter, having lost the protection of their families and the law.
It was true that only a small number of the military cadres committed such crimes; most were law-abiding, diligent, hardworking members of the Construction Corps. But the cancerous tumors on the body of the corps had to be rooted out and punished. Ultimately many of the abusers of power were put on trial; some were executed immediately, some were sentenced to death with a stay of execution, and others were given life in prison.
While reading references to flight attempts by these criminals, Nie Feng came across: “A Company Commander in Lanjiang slipped across the border to Burma and was not heard of again.”
That commander must have been Hu Zihao.
Nie Feng closed the file and sat there lost in thought. Hu Zihao had managed to avoid punishment by a military court but could not escape retribution. He had been a commander in the People’s Liberation Army, someone who wore the green uniform and red insignia who had gone into battle and won commendations. Why had he, like some others, turned into an evil tyrant once he was sent to the border region zhiqing camp? How had he become a man who bullied other men and raped women?
His evil deeds at Lan’que Ridge were a manifestation of the bestial side of his personality, but had been abetted by the special historical circumstances of the time, which had given the ugly side of human nature an opportunity to manifest itself in its vilest form. In a way, the abusers and the abused were both victims of the twisted age.
Nie Feng thought of someone else who had been raped by Hu Zihao: Xia Yuhong, after she saved Zhong Xing.
Where was she now?
It was impossible to have an accurate count of the numbers of girls raped, because many of the victims hid the assaults from others. Due to the influence of traditional Chinese morality, any girl who lost her virginity came under tremendous pressure and suffered discrimination in society, no matter what the cause. Someone like Xia Yuhong might have been living in pain and remained single; or she could be constantly reliving the nightmare, the blue flames flickering before her eyes; or she might be at peace on the surface but unable to shake off the dark shadows.
— 4 —
Zhong Tao sent Xia Yuhong an e-mail.
Yuhong,
I just returned from Yunnan. On the way I stopped by Chengdu to visit family and went to see our class director, “Euclid.” She gave me your e-mail address. She said that when you came back to Chengdu you asked about some of us from the past. Thank you for thinking of me—Dark Boy, a useless, terrible friend.
It’s sad to look back on the past. The fire and the nightmare in the rubber tree grove twenty-eight years ago destroyed our love and happiness. But as the saying goes, evil acts will be punished and good deeds will be rewarded; it was only a matter of time before retribution was accomplished. Grinning Tyrant has finally gotten what he deserved.
Do you remember the political instructor, Red Fox, who had a sweet tooth? When the villain who abetted the evildoer was on the phone with his daughter, I slipped two nice pieces of liqueur-filled chocolate candy into his candy dish, and sent him on the road to be with the scoundrel forever.
It’s a long story. I hope we can see each other one day so I can tell you all about it.
Dark Boy
Zhong Tao had searched for Grinning Tyrant for nearly three decades.
After Hu Zihao fled to Burma and disappeared, someone reported seeing him at the border and said that he was doing well.
A decade later, Hu transformed himself into a reputable entrepreneur with a new name, Hu Guohao. No one knew exactly what had happened after he fled across the border, but rumor had it that he began as a Chinese herbal medicine merchant. Later he made a great deal of money by smuggling heroin, likely his “first bucket of gold.” Then he sneaked back into China and tried his luck in Beihai and Hainan, mainly in real estate. When Hong Yiming was discharged and relocated to Hainan, the two of them teamed up. Unafraid of taking risks, and welcoming competition, they caught the first wave of the real estate boom and became very rich. When others in Hainan’s real estate business folded, the two of them moved on to Shenzhen, where they made even more money; there Hong set up a company on his own. Within a few years, Hu Guohao was the head of a realty conglomerate.
Zhong Tao had learned about Hu Zihao by accident from a friend who had seen him in Hainan. By then he was the CEO of a real estate company. His new name was Hu Guohao, and his company was called “Hainan Guohao Realty.” Zhong tracked Hu as far as Haikou, but lost him. The real estate bubble had just burst in Hainan and, according to one estimate, billions of dollars were trapped there, while many real estate companies declared bankruptcy. With considerable effort, Zhong received news that “Hainan Guohao Realty” had shut down and there was no news of where Hu Zihao had gone. But then he heard that Hu might have relocated to Shenzhen, which was why he took a job with a friend in Shenzhen—so he could sniff out Hu’s whereabouts like a bloodhound.
The Shenzhen boomtown was full of opportunities for the smart and the ambitious. Zhong spotted Hu when he was being interviewed on TV. The camera swept across the man’s enormous desk, showing the lifelike wood carving of a crocodile. Hu Guohao looked just like Hu Zihao: a broad face with a bulbous nose, rough dark skin, and beady eyes. He’d put on weight, but Zhong felt he could recognize Hu, the rapist, even if he were burned to ashes. All he needed to confirm his true identity was the knife scar on his chin, but the medium-range camera shot made it impossible to see.
Then, when the hostess asked Hu about his views on the “ecology of the housing market,” the camera moved closer and closer. Zhong trained his eyes on the closeup image of Hu on TV.
“‘Ecology of the housing market’ as a development trend, is one of Landmark’s goals,” Hu answered smugly. He was looking straight into the camera, thus obscuring the left side of his chin.
Then the camera moved to a different angle, exposing the small pink scar. Either because of the passage of time or a result of plastic surgery, it was barely noticeable. But no matter, the shape and location were unmistakable.
It’s him, Zhong thought. It’s Hu Zihao. He shuddered. He quickly picked up the phone. “Ding Lan, it’s me, Zhong Tao. Turn on your TV and watch the Economy Channel. Right. Got it? Who does that man look to you?”
“Ah, a little like Hu Zihao.”
“Yes. I’m sure it’s him, Grinning Tyrant.”
From that moment on, Zhong closely followed all news related to Landmark. One day he saw an ad in the paper; Hu was looking for an executive assistant. The timing was perfect.
He placed a call to Landmark and spoke with Hu Guohao himself. Zhong told Hu he was working for a stockbroker, but would like to apply for the job.
“We have many talented applicants already.” Hu did not sound interested.
“But I may be better than them all,” Zhong said with a laugh.
“Oh, really?” Now he
had Hu’s attention. “Why don’t you stop by tomorrow morning?”
Zhong strode into the Landmark Building at 10:00 A.M. Dressed in a black polo shirt and wearing a short beard, he looked slightly unkempt but carried himself in a composed and confident manner. Outside the CEO’s office, he saw four people sitting there, likely waiting to meet with the boss. Zhong walked up to talk to Ah-ying, who asked him to wait as she called Hu’s office.
“Mr. Hu will see you now.” She flashed him a charming smile.
He knocked and entered to see two men, likely company employees, sitting in front of Hu’s desk. Hu sent them off and told Zhong to sit down.
“So you’re Zhong Tao?” Hu sized him up through slitted eyes.
“That’s right.”
Zhong managed a calm appearance on the surface, but his insides were churning. So this real estate tycoon was the mortal enemy he’d spent decades looking for. The evil, venal Grinning Tyrant. He was so close he could have reached out and touched him. Hu was heavier, but Zhong would recognize him anywhere, anytime.
“Tell me what’s on your mind.” Hu’s voice was hoarse, as always.
Beginning with his college degree, Zhong related his work experience and his views on real estate. After the usual questions and conversation, Hu asked the important questions, which, Zhong later learned, were the reasons some of the top-tier applicants from overseas were weeded out.
“In your view, what’s most important for Landmark at this moment?”
“The first priority is to make sure the supply of capital doesn’t run out.”
“Is that so?”
“I’ve studied Landmark’s operation, and what it needs most now is capital,” Zhong said confidently.
“Oh, how do you know that?” Hu was surprised.
“From friends in the financial business I’ve learned that Landmark’s current loan amount has reached the danger level.”
“So, does Mr. Zhong know how to bring in more capital?”
“Of course,” Zhong said without hesitation. “I’ve been in the stock market for many years, and obtaining a line of credit of a couple of billion is no big deal.” That brought a smile to Hu’s face.
“What about the second priority?”
“In my opinion, the second-most important priority for Landmark at the moment is to snatch the land at Tiandongba.”
“You think it’s a good deal?” Hu’s beady eyes glinted.
“The land may appear to be a chicken rib to some, but it is in fact a slice of choice meat. The one hundred and sixty acres will be auctioned off at around a million, but the value will rise exponentially once the traffic issue is resolved.” That was music to Hu Guohao’s ears.
“What’s your annual salary at the brokerage, Mr. Zhong?”
“Roughly half a million.” Zhong gave a low figure.
“Then, I welcome you to Landmark Corp as my assistant,” Hu said decisively. “In addition to an annual salary of 300,000, you’ll get two percent of Landmark stock. How does that sound to you?”
“Sounds great. Thank you, Mr. Hu.”
“It’s a deal then.”
And that was how Zhong Tao gained entrance into Landmark’s power center and became a time bomb ticking near Hu Guohao. He had two weapons the other applicants lacked: one, an understanding of the phrase “know yourself well, but know your enemy better” (his ability to get loans and Landmark’s financial bind); two, “give him what he wants” (Hu had his eyes on the land at Tiandongba).
Hu Guohao was attracted to Zhong Tao’s experience and his connections in the stock market and finance field; Zhong did not disappoint. Barely two months after he was hired, he used his connections to negotiate a billion yuan loan for Hu, which earned him Hu’s trust and elevated him into a position as Hu’s right-hand man.
Zhong Tao next met Hong Yiming, now CEO of Big East, when he attended a business banquet with Hu.
“This is my assistant, Zhong Tao.” Hu made the introduction. “And this is an old friend of mine, Hong Yiming, CEO of Big East Realty.”
Sizing up Zhong, Hong sensed that they’d met before but could not pinpoint where or when. It had been nearly three decades, and Zhong’s facial features, in addition to the beard, had changed a great deal. On his part, Zhong was stunned to see Hong, but quickly recovered.
“Mr. Hong has the demeanor of a former soldier.”
“You think so? Was Mr. Zhong also in the service?” Hong probed.
“I always wanted to be China’s General Patton, but never got a chance,” Zhong joked to avoid answering the question.
“Don’t underestimate him. This fellow can do magic with bank loans,” Hu said to Hong.
“Oh, now I remember,” Hong said with a smile. “I saw you once at a stockbroker’s talk. No wonder you look familiar. Please feel free to stop by Big East; I’d like to hear your views.”
“Are you trying to poach him?” Hu said in jest.
“I wouldn’t do that. I’ll poach from anyone, but not my old pal.”
Hu laughed heartily.
And that was how Zhong got close to Hong. He became a frequent visitor to Big East, and was elated at the opportunity to seek vengeance from both mortal enemies. What a felicitous find. But he waited patiently, dealing with them confidently and giving nothing away, while at the same time planning his act of revenge for June twenty-fourth, the twenty-eighth anniversary of the fire that had taken so much from him.
He planned every step carefully and meticulously. Over time he gained intimate knowledge of Hu’s personality, hobbies, and daily routine, including even details such as the particular sleeping aid he took. As a way of avoiding suspicion, he often hitched a ride with Hu to Lesser Meisha, where he conducted a thorough examination of the areas around it and Greater Meisha, the lobby layout of the Lesser Meisha Hotel, and the water conditions at Nan’ao. As for information about red tides, that he learned from a report in a local paper.
“This has been a godsend!” he remarked to himself.
On June twenty-fourth, he called Hu around seven in the evening from the lobby of the Lesser Meisha Hotel, using an untraceable phone card. Hu was having dinner with Hong Yiming at the Seaview Hotel restaurant.
“Oh, it’s you,” Hu said when he heard who it was.
“My cell battery died, so I borrowed a friend’s phone.”
“What’s up?”
“I ran into Chief Hao of the City Land Bureau. He’s spending the weekend here with his wife, and I wonder if you’re free to come over. We’re at the Lesser Meisha Hotel.” Zhong knew that this was an invitation Hu Guohao could not pass up.
“Sure.” Hu shut his phone, said good-bye to Hong, and quickly left. Naturally he would not have told Hong about the phone conversation, and would never have imagined that it was a call that would lead to his death.
Zhong waited for Hu’s arrival in the lobby bar. On the table in front of him sat a teapot, two ivory-colored cups, and a creamer of milk. He’d slipped a substantial amount of sleeping pills into the black tea and made sure they were completely dissolved.
He watched the entrance. There were many tourists that day, some in swimsuits, and some with small children. Hu entered through the side door after about five minutes. Zhong got up to meet him and led him to the table, a spot he’d scouted out earlier. It was close to the back door but out of sight of the bar counter.
“Chief Hao asked you to wait for him. He’ll be right down,” Zhong said to Hu, who sat in one of the rattan chairs.
“Did he mention the land at Tiandongba?” Hu asked.
“He did, and he said he wanted to double check with you.”
Zhong poured tea for Hu Guohao and added milk.
“Your favorite milk tea. It’s hot.”
“Hm.” Hu tore open a packet of sugar and stirred it in his tea. “This is good,” he said as he took a sip, baring his teeth.
“It was made with fresh milk.”
“No wonder.” Hu picked up his cup and drained
it.
A couple of minutes later, a middle-aged woman wearing a black pearl necklace came over and took one of the empty seats.
“This is Ding Lan, an old friend from college,” Zhong said. “This is my CEO, Mr. Hu.”
Ding smiled.
Hu wanted to compliment her on her necklace, but his tongue felt stiff and his head heavy. “How come I’m so sleepy—” He was out before he could finish the sentence.
With his arm around Hu, Zhong guided him around the verandah and exited through the back door into Ding Lan’s white Citroën. As he’d planned, the posts blocked the view from the bar, making it possible to leave without being seen. Ding stayed behind to settle the bill.
Hu woke up to find himself in a dark room, his arms tied behind his back, his mouth sealed with duct tape. He was weak and his head hurt terribly. Where am I? He tried to make sense of his situation, but felt that he’d fallen into a void. It was pitch-black and deadly quiet. A sensation of nausea assailed him and he passed out again.
He was jolted awake by an acute pain. In the dim light, a terrifying face came into view; it was his assistant, Zhong Tao, who had ripped the tape from his mouth. Next to Zhong was the woman in a black necklace, still smiling.
“Take a good look, Grinning Tyrant. Who am I?” Zhong said in a steady voice.
“You—aren’t you my assistant, Zhong Tao?”
“Take another look, you asshole. I’m Dark Boy.”
“Dark Boy?” Hu looked up, bewildered, and then terror filled his eyes as recognition set in.
“Who—who’s she?”
“She’s Qiangzi’s sister, Silly Girl.”
“Qiangzi?” Hu began to shake violently when he recalled the past.
Zhong took out a piece of black metal with razor-sharp edges, and scratched Hu’s chest. Beads of blood stained the edge of the piece, part of a harmonica now twisted out of shape from the fire.
“This is the symbol for ‘fire’ soaked in blood.” Zhong spat out the words. “It’s time to pay your debt of blood with your life.”
“You’re—seeking revenge?” Hu managed to sputter his meaningless question.
“Yes. Twenty-eight years ago, you caused the death of ten girls from the 2nd Company and raped Xia Yuhong. Qiangzi also died at your hands. There are many more zhiqing girls who were defiled by you. Grinning Tyrant, you deserve to die a thousand deaths,” Zhong said through clenched teeth.