by Liu Zhenyun
“Do I look like a county chief?” he said, staring her in the eye.
“I asked around for your car license number, and this is it. That makes you the county chief.”
“Just being in the county chief’s car doesn’t make me the county chief,” Shi replied. “I’m his secretary, and a case like yours is way too big for me. I’ll go find him.”
Li Xuelian was forced to let go of his sleeve, freeing Shi to run back to his office, where he changed into clean clothes and had someone call up the County Complaint Department Head to handle a complaint by a woman at the building entrance. He also called for another car to meet him out back to take him to the ceremony.
The rest of the day passed with no news, but that night, when he went to the county guesthouse to join visitors from the provincial government, he was met at the front steps by his Complaint Department Head, a man named Lü. By that time, Shi Weimin had forgotten about the woman with a complaint that morning. Department Head Lü happily came up as he stepped from his car:
“I need your support, County Chief.”
“What for?”
“The head of the Municipal Letters and Complaints Bureau, Chief Zhang, is on his way. He’s booked into Room 888. You need to go see him as soon as he arrives.”
“I didn’t know he was coming.”
“He phoned a while ago. Normally I wouldn’t bother you with something so trivial, but it’s special this time. The first quarter appraisal of letters and complaints departments is underway.”
Shi Weimin counted on his fingers.
“Yours will be the ninth banquet for me today.”
“Three drinks with him and you can leave. If you’ll do that, I can be in the top three. This involves stability. If a county has trouble maintaining stability, it won’t be the department head who loses his official cap.”
“All right, I’ll go see him in a little while, how’s that? But why try to scare me with talk about official caps?”
Lü smiled, as Shi Weimin was reminded of the woman who had blocked his way that morning.
“Oh, right, what about the woman who stopped me this morning?”
Lü waved his arm dismissively.
“I sent the shrew packing.”
The news displeased Shi Weimin.
“How can you call a woman who risked her life to block my way with a big sign with the word ‘Injustice’ on it a shrew?”
“Her sign may have been big, but the affair is peanut size.”
“Tell me about it.”
“She was divorced last year, and now she’s having second thoughts, insisting it was a sham divorce.”
“She’s suing all those people over that?” Shi remarked. “And all of them in the court system. Did she take her case to court and get turned away?”
“I checked. They didn’t turn her away. She’s suing them because they all did their jobs. She insists that the divorce was a sham, but the court said it was perfectly legal. They can’t be expected to break the law and invalidate a divorce just because she wants them to, can they?”
But Shi Weimin was sympathetic to Li Xuelian’s situation.
“Did she say why she has second thoughts?”
“If she has,” Lü replied, “she should take them up with her ex. That’s who she divorced, not the government.”
Shi Weimin chuckled. “You shouldn’t make jokes like that about someone with a bellyful of anger,” he said.
As he was speaking, the vice chief of the Provincial Water Department walked up to the guesthouse entrance in the company of a deputy county chief. With a smile, Shi Weimin left Lü’s side and went up to greet his visitor. They shook hands and went inside.
9
Li Xuelian sat in front of the Municipal Office Building, her “Injustice” sign prominently displayed, for three days before the mayor, Cai Fubang, was aware of it. He could never be blamed for callous disregard of someone prepared to do what she was doing, since he was off in Beijing the whole time. As soon as he returned he learned of the sit-in. A crowd of curious bystanders had gathered, forcing city workers to give them a wide berth when they showed up for work on their bicycles. Mayor Cai flew into a rage, not over Li Xuelian’s public protest, but over his executive vice-mayor, Diao Chengxin, for letting the situation persist for three days without taking action, waiting instead for Mayor Cai to return from Beijing.
Everyone knew there was friction between the mayor and his executive vice-mayor. That friction was a particularly bitter pill for Mayor Cai to swallow, since it was not of his creation. No, it was an historical accident. Ten years earlier, as party secretaries of county committees, the two men had gotten along reasonably well, sharing a drink from time to time when they visited one another’s county. Eventually, both were promoted to serve as vice-mayors, listed in order of stroke count in their surnames, which put Diao ahead of Cai. Their next promotions were as directors of the Municipal Propaganda and Municipal Organization Departments, after which Cai surged ahead of Diao as Party Secretary of the Municipal Committee, while Diao was assigned as executive vice-mayor, a position he retained when Cai was promoted over him as mayor. They had moved together, first one and then the other, until one came out ahead in the end; unhappiness was born where there should have been none, a grudge was created when one was not called for. They saw one another as rivals, without being obvious about it. Though courtesy required certain behavior in public, Diao did everything he could to trip up Cai in secret. Allowing a three-day sit-in in front of the government office building without lifting a finger to resolve the protester’s complaint, waiting instead for Cai to do so upon his return, was but one of Diao’s many underhanded tactics. But it was not the tactic itself that caused Cai to blow up; rather it was the stupidity of his subordinate, the man’s brainlessness. Provincial authorities, not Cai Fubang, had determined the rate of promotion for the two men, and the best hope Diao had of becoming mayor one day was to get behind Cai and help him rise to a new position at the provincial level. Constant squabbles and open warfare that kept the mayor from doing his job was a guarantee that he would go nowhere and Diao would be stuck in the job of executive vice-mayor in perpetuity. Corruption is narrowly defined as bribery, lawlessness, graft, degeneration, and philandering. But at its worst, corruption is the neglect of one’s official responsibilities or, as in the case of Diao Chengxin, the obstruction of those duties. Worse still was that there was nothing Cai could do to Diao in regard to his open defiance, since the decision to appoint him as executive vice-mayor rested not with him, but with provincial authorities. What bothered Cai most was the timing of Diao’s attempt to trip him up, for it occurred in the midst of a “cultured city” campaign. Nationwide, only a few dozen cities would be designated “cultured,” and the image of those fortunate few would be transformed, with enhanced access to funds to improve both hard and soft environments, and a bargaining chip to attract overseas investments. Cai Fubang had invested a year of hard work in creating a cultured city, with park renovations, street improvements, sewer upgrades, and the modernization of schools, farmers’ markets, and shantytowns. The exteriors of all buildings facing city streets had received a fresh coat of paint. A year’s preparation for a day three days hence, when a team of dignitaries from the Central and Provincial governments would descend on the city to inspect the results of Cai’s work. A month before the planned visit, Mayor Cai had launched a campaign to rid the city of flies, involving officials and ordinary residents; cadres in all government offices were required to bring in a minimum of ten dead houseflies every day as part of their year-end assessment. The campaign was so successful that in two weeks, cadres complained that they were unable to fulfill their quota. But in the midst of those complaints, the city was freed of houseflies. Cai was aware of the complaints, but he knew that rectification can require overcorrection. After the elimination of flies, school children were told to sing and old ladies to dance.
Cai had traveled to Beijing to report on the success of h
is work on creating a cultured city, and now he returned home to receive the team of dignitaries. The last thing he’d expected to find was a woman sitting in front of the government office building for three days, and no one had come out to see to her complaint. One way to put it: the city’s houseflies had been eradicated, only to have a gigantic fly show up right in front of him. If this wasn’t a blatant attempt to undermine the cultured city prospect, what was it? The first thing Cai Fubang did when he walked into his office was send for his chief secretary, point out the window at the entrance, and demand angrily:
“What’s with that?”
Cai’s chief secretary, a beanpole of a man with a face yellowed by chain-smoking, sputtered:
“She’s lodging a formal complaint.”
“I can see that. They say she’s been there for three days, so why is no one dealing with her?”
“They’ve tried, but she’s not listening.”
“Hasn’t Diao Chengxin come to work these past three days?”
Afraid of stirring up friction between his superiors, the secretary hastened to reply, “Vice-Mayor Diao personally went down to talk to her, but she refused to listen to him. Since it’s a woman, one who’s drawn a crowd, sending for the police would only have made things worse.”
Cai had calmed down a bit, but the look on his face was anything but calm.
“Are you saying you can’t manage a piddling affair like this? It’s not like it’s murder or arson.”
“No,” the secretary assured him, “none of those. Hardly anything at all. She got a divorce, but has had second thoughts. Probably looking for monetary compensation. A small matter, but a tricky one. Murder and arson would be easier to deal with.”
“Which county is she from? Why wasn’t it taken care of it there?”
“They tried, but failed. She’s set her sights on more than one person, a lot more, in fact.”
“Like who?”
“Since no one could help her, she took that as indifference, so she’s suing her county chief, the chief justice, a member of the Judicial Committee, and the presiding judge at her trial. Then there’s her husband and probably others I can’t recall at the moment.”
Cai Fubang got a laugh out of that.
“It takes guts to turn a minor affair into something like this,” he said.
“She’s a stubborn broad, no doubt about that,” his secretary said as he nodded his agreement. “What do you plan to do, Mayor Cai?”
“You say people up and down the line have tried their hand,” he fumed, “but all anyone can do is dump the problem on me! What do I plan to do? In three days the cultured city dignitaries will be here, which leaves me no choice. I want you to get rid of her. If there’s a problem, we’ll deal with it in a week.”
This conversation took place in the morning, when Li Xuelian was sitting in front of the government office building, holding her “Injustice” sign over her head. She was still there that afternoon, still being officially ignored. As night fell, her curious entourage broke up and went home, leaving her alone. She took a piece of hardtack from her bag and was about to take a bite when a band of plainclothes policemen surrounded her and unceremoniously spirited her away. Mayor Cai had ordered only that she be removed, not where she was to be removed to; he had other things on his mind. His order had made its way down the chain of command, from the government office to security headquarters, and from there to the district police station, and finally to the local substation on Dongda Avenue, near the government office building. All that movement produced significant changes in the mayor’s order, culminating in a seething demand to lock Li Xuelian up. Which the accommodating police did, charging her for being a public nuisance.
10
Three days later, the city qualified as a cultured city. A week after that, Li Xuelian was released from detention. There should have been no direct link between the two occurrences, but since she had been locked up in furtherance of acquiring the cultured city designation, a link was established. After her release from detention, she made no inquiries regarding the establishment of the cultured city designation. Everyone in the city knew that Mayor Cai had ordered her arrest; that included Xuelian herself. But instead of going to see him or continuing her sit-in, she returned to her hometown, where she went to see Old Hu, the pig butcher. He was still selling pork at market, displaying some of his meat on a butcher block and hanging some from hooks.
“Come here, Old Hu,” Xuelian called out before she even reached his stall. “I want to talk to you.”
He was cutting slabs of meat when he heard his name called. He looked up and was surprised to see Li Xuelian. He laid down his cleaver and followed her to the abandoned mill behind the market.
“I heard you were in jail, Babe.”
“I’m here now, aren’t I?” she said with a smile.
“You don’t look like someone who’s just gotten out of jail,” he said, astonished by her appearance. “You’re the picture of health.”
He moved closer to her. “And you also smell like perfume.”
“I had a good time in jail,” Xuelian said. “Not a care in the world. Three meals a day, brought right to my cell.”
There was not a word of truth in what she said. She’d suffered terribly during her week in jail, locked up in a dark room with no fewer than ten other women and barely enough room to turn around in. Three meals a day: one steamed corn bun and a chunk of salted turnip, not nearly enough. As for toilet visits, they were restricted to exercise periods. If you couldn’t wait, you peed on the floor, and many did, Xuelian included. No mystery over what the cell smelled like. But the worst aspect of being locked up was the prohibition against talking. Going hungry or living with toilet smells were tolerable; not being allowed to talk was suffocating. The first thing Li Xuelian did after her release was run into a wheat field to breathe in the fresh air, turn to face the mountains, and yell, “Fuck you!”
She then went to the town’s public bath, after which she returned home to change clothes and powder her face; that done, she rouged her cheeks and went looking for Old Hu. A man not given to close examination, he detected none of what she’d been through.
“Do you still remember what you said a month ago, Old Hu?”
“What was that?”
“You said you’d help me kill someone.”
“I did,” he said with a sense of astonishment, “I said that. But you said no, you wanted me to beat someone up for you.”
“That was then, this is now. And it’s murder I want.”
Old Hu had a shifty look in his eyes.
“If that’s what you want, okay, but first there’s something you and I have to do.”
“It’s a deal.”
Suddenly wild with delight, he reached out to fondle Xuelian’s breasts.
“When do we do it? How about today?”
She grabbed his hands. “Do you know who I want you to kill?”
“I thought it was Qin Yuhe.”
“Qin Yuhe, sure. But that’s not all.”
He was confused. “Who else?”
Li Xuelian took a slip of paper out of her pocket. It was a list:
Mayor Cai Fubang
County Chief Shi Weimin
Chief Judge Xun Zhengyi
Judicial Committeeman Dong Xianfa
Presiding Justice Wang Gongdao
That bastard Qin Yuhe
Old Hu couldn’t believe his eyes.
“One stopover in the clink has made you dotty, my dear.”
“Every one on that list is hateful,” she said.
Old Hu stammered his next comment:
“How am I, one, you know, person, going to kill all them? And that’s not the end of it,” he added. “Except for Qin Yuhe, everyone on that list is an official, surrounded by people, morning, noon, and night. That would make it virtually impossible.”
“Just kill as many as you can. You don’t know how bad I feel.”
Old Hu suddenly went weak in
the knees. Wrapping his arms around his head, he squatted down in the rut formed around the millstone and showed the whites of his eyes.
“This is no bargain,” he said. “For one roll in the hay with you I’ve got to kill six people.” He held his head tighter. “Am I some kind of mobster?”
Li Xuelian spat out her contempt:
“I always knew you were lying.”
As tears gathered in her eyes, she gave him a swift kick, turned, and walked off.
11
After leaving Old Hu, Li Xuelian decided she wouldn’t kill anyone after all, wouldn’t even subject them to a beating. In fact, putting herself through so much trouble and anguish, trying to bring action against them, had been a waste of time. The torment she’d wanted to heap upon those people had, instead, come crashing down on her head. But she wasn’t about to give up, not until she’d had her say. The whole world believed that Li Xuelian was in the wrong, all but one person; the whole world believed that her divorce the year before was legitimate, all but one person, someone who knew the whole story. And it was that person who had driven Xuelian to the point that her version of events convinced no one and had culminated in her spending seven days in jail. Who was that person? None other than her ex husband, Qin Yuhe. It was time to ask him to his face if the divorce was real or fake. But her goal in asking this question had changed. Up till now it had been what had thrust her into the judicial system. Now legal action no longer concerned her; gone, once the issue of real versus fake was settled, was her desire to remarry and then re-divorce Qin Yuhe and to have him divorce his present wife, for her to torment all concerned until, as they say, the fish dies or the net breaks. Now all she wanted was a simple affirmation by that one person that she was right in order to call a halt to her quest. She would put aside all thoughts of the grief she had suffered. Powerless to prove the truth to others, Li Xuelian would prove it to herself. Putting an end to it this way also created a new beginning.
Twenty-nine was neither particularly young nor noticeably old, and Li Xuelian was not unattractive. She had large eyes, an oval face, and was slim-waisted with a nice bust; why else would pig butcher Hu be attracted to her like a fly to blood? She mustn’t sacrifice her youth to pointless matters. So she made up her mind to abandon past grievances and find another husband. Once she’d managed that, she and her daughter could settle into a new life.