Wang le.
“Isn’t that the day when the traitor Wang Jingwei sneaked into Shanghai from Hanoi, aboard the Japanese ship Hokko-maru?”
Wang le.
“Well then, is it true that you know the female student Zheng Pinru?”
Wang le.
Xie Han took the toothpick out of his mouth and reverted to his natural voice. “What do you think? Pretty good, isn’t it? I read the account in the newspaper. I can remember the cross-examination almost word for word.”
The summation by the government-appointed defence lawyer took place on 17th September 1946. Concerning the criminal charge of a war crime lodged against the defendant, i.e. acts of espionage, he stressed the defendant’s innocence, questioning the legal appropriateness of any attempt to hold him responsible for relevant actions in the past of which he had no recollection whatsoever. When the time came for the defendant’s final statement, Han Langen uttered not a word.
Sentence was handed down on 20th September: five years’ penal servitude.
“So the defence plea of not guilty by reason of forgetfulness didn’t hold up – but then, if the trial had been held in Shanxi or Hebei or any of the other Communist-controlled areas, he’d never have gotten off with only five years. Still, every time he answered Wang le, the crowd must have gone wild.”
Xie Han sighed deeply and stretched his neck again. There were unshaven whiskers on his throat.
“Wang le? So my father pretended to have forgotten. Was it all an act?”
His eyes still upturned, Xie nodded slightly.
Okay, thought Aki to himself, but then why, after finally making it home to Japan, should he have returned to Shanghai a mere five years later? Five years in prison, five in Japan. Like a neatly executed turn on skis. Or a piece of paper folded cleanly down the middle. Xie never knew that his old friend was back in town. Who, or what, made him come back?
Tanehiko had moved on to Beijing, where he was arrested again on suspicion of espionage – this time by the Communist government – and locked away. Had he said Wang le then, too?
Do I need to know? Aki asked himself. Not every son in the world had the responsibility of clarifying what sort of person his father had been. What one’s father had done, whom he had betrayed, or killed, or loved… compared to issues of environmental destruction, famine, and refugees, or a car illegally parked in front of one’s house, or which restaurant in Kobe had the best Cantonese cuisine, such things were insignificant, surely; no need to bother about them at all. He tried to convince himself that a son might forget that his father had ever existed, that doing this was forgivable. It could well be that his father would prefer having his existence forgotten. Wang le: I have forgotten and I want you to forget me, too.
“What about the films of Han Langen, are they—”
“None survived. There isn’t a single one left,” said Xie Han, looking at his watch now for the first time. “Four o’clock already. Sorry, I have to go. There’s a meeting coming up. With the Film Bureau. The prospect is discouraging. The situation with your father does concern me, but I must say, right now I’m more worried
about Xingxing.”
Same here. I’d rather find her than him, murmured Aki inwardly. He slid off his stool, asked the bartender for the bill and paid it, overriding Xie’s protests.
When they came out again on street level, another dusty fog had rolled in from the river. Like a ship, Chen’s cab emerged slowly from the mist. Aki told Chen to take the director to the Film Bureau.
“Your father is being held somewhere on the Loess Plateau,” said Xie Han. “I’m obviously concerned about him, but you must understand that this isn’t a good time for me to be involved. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. Will I be able to see you again?”
“Yes, feel free to drop by the studio any time. You have a free pass.”
He dropped the director off at a large mansion on West Nanjing Road in the old French Concession. Aki watched through the car window as he disappeared inside the entrance. His attention was then caught by the sight of a man in the hallway, crossing from the left wing to the right. He was tall and wore rimless glasses. It was his shipmate, Cai Fang. What could someone from the Beijing People’s Friendship Association be doing here? Aki checked the plates on both sides of the front door. Shanghai Film Bureau; Shanghai Foreign Affairs Department; People’s Friendship Association, Shanghai Division. Okay, Cai must have stopped here on business, he told himself, feeling reassured.
On the way back to the hotel, they drove alongside Suzhou Creek. On every bridge stood hundreds of soldiers, row upon neat row, rifles shouldered. They seemed partial to bridges.
“Chen, how about having dinner with me tonight? It’s no fun eating alone.”
The driver explained regretfully that his older brother was in the hospital, and tonight was his turn to sit up with him.
“Is it serious?”
“Incurable,” Chen replied briskly.
* * *
1. (1907–1948). A Manchu princess brought up as a Japanese and executed as a Japanese spy by the Kuomintang. ↵
7
Although Aki had told Chen that it was no fun to eat alone, in fact he was little bothered by it. He rather enjoyed sitting by himself at a table with an array of dishes spread out before him and something to read, whether a newspaper, a magazine, or a hardcover book. He drank hot saké or laojiu with his meal. Ever since his wife’s death, he tended more and more to dine this way.
Forgoing the elevator, he walked up the three flights of stairs from his suite on the fifteenth floor to the restaurant on the eighteenth. Shown to a big round table with a stiff white tablecloth, the hem of which nearly reached the floor, he took his solitary seat and opened the heavy, leather-bound menu. At such times he often heard Sato’s voice in his ear (“Guess what?”), felt her leaning over to peer at the menu in his hands. And so, as often happens when memories are vivid, the past was brought forward. She was joining him; it was her company he would be enjoying.
He ordered an assortment of dishes. “Won’t that be too much?” the young waitress inquired innocently. He shook his head, smiling, and said no, that would be fine. Mentally he added, I may look like one person to you, but there are two of us here. That was why he needed to order enough for two. He selected a good laojiu before closing the menu with a bang. In so doing, he sealed Sato within. Okay, I’m alone, he thought. I’ll have myself a feast.
He gazed out through the tall, perpendicular window. Thick fog gave the Garden Bridge arch and the Bund skyline the appearance of an India-ink painting. He dropped a hard, dried pickled plum in the bottom of his glass and then poured hot laojiu over it; after a minute or so, he slowly drained the glass. Then he got deliberately to his feet, went over to the window and, spreading out his arms, pulled shut the heavy taffeta curtains to right and left.
After an hour or so, he went back to his suite, where he perched on the desk and phoned his sister in Ashiya. He reached her answering machine. Don’t be angry with me, he remembered her saying. Don’t give up on me, be my friend. You bet I will, he promised silently before leaving a recording of his telephone number and hotel room number.
Sitting down in the wicker chair, he closed his eyes. He felt unfocused, like a person preoccupied who thinks of something one moment and can’t remember it the next. He thought about Liu Hong.
He got up, picked up the remote control, and pointed it towards the TV. The public security man in the bar had said that Liu Hong made it to Jiangsu. That was the province adjacent to Shanghai, to the north. The television was relaying a live acrobatics show. While a voice trumpeted “The most pliant human being on earth!” a young man came on stage dressed in a costume of red and blue stripes. He bent himself around until his hands were grasping his ankles behind his head. In the blink of an eye he bent himself still further, until every joint in his body was dislocated and he could roll himself like a ball. A little girl then came out, jumped up li
ghtly on the human ball, and began to dance and do balancing acts.
Abruptly the program switched to a news bulletin. Alongside a drab concrete fence, a middle-aged man was being led away in handcuffs. He was described as a worker in a plastics factory in Changsha who had travelled alone to Beijing on 20th May and taken part in the uprising at Tiananmen Square. After fleeing back to Changsha, he told people there what he’d seen.
The screen began displaying photographs of people on the most-wanted list who were still on the run: Yan Jiaqi, Chen Yizi, Wan Runnan, Su Xiaokang, Liu Hong, Yuan Zhimin, Wuer Kaixi, Chai Ling. So Liu Hong had not been captured yet. Step by step, he seemed to be getting closer to Shanghai.
The phone rang. It must be his sister. He quickly picked up the receiver, but said nothing.
“Wei.” Hello. No, not his sister, but a woman’s voice.
“Wei,” he replied.
This time she said hello in Japanese. “Moshi moshi. Waki-san?”
“Yes?” Aki gulped.
“I’m so glad! You’re there!”
“What’s up? I was worried about you. Shall we go on talking in Japanese?”
“Yes, in Japanese.”
“Where are you?”
A brief silence, as if she were holding her breath. Aki held the receiver away from his ear, looked at the numerous tiny holes in the mouthpiece, and then slowly fixed his eyes on the TV. Liu Hong’s face was back on the screen. Unlike before, he showed up now with peculiar clarity, perhaps because Aki was standing back, at a distance. Or because the receiver in his hand held Li Xing?
“Would it be all right if I came over now?”
Aki hesitated for one millisecond. “Sure. It’s fine with me.” Ought he to ask first why she wanted to come?
“Thanks. Actually, I’m calling from a pay phone on Zhapu Road.”
“That’s just around the corner.” What happened, did you get separated from everyone again? he almost said out of timid curiosity.
At the hotel entrance, the doorman kept a strict check on the comings and goings of registered guests, and close by the elevator on every floor was a service counter staffed by eagle-eyed hotel employees. While supervision was not as intense as in the days when room keys for the entire floor were kept at the service counter, a guest’s movements were still carefully monitored, making the entry of any suspicious character impossible. Chinese visitors to guest rooms were required to show ID and to record the purpose of their visit, their name, and their affiliation.
Prominently displayed on the desk in every room was a circular from the Shanghai Public Security Bureau with a long list of rules. Any guest who broke these rules or committed a crime would be prosecuted and punished according to the laws of the Chinese People’s Republic. The list included “changing rooms without permission, setting off firecrackers, committing acts of violence, gambling, engaging in drugs or prostitution, putting up pornographic pictures or photographs on the wall, making lewd noises, watching lewd movies…” et cetera, et cetera.
Would it be all right if I came over now? Li Xing had asked. But Aki hadn’t yet mustered the courage to risk admitting a Chinese woman to his rooms. A contradiction, since the day before yesterday he’d had courage enough to try getting into her room.
Li Xing had said, “We aren’t allowed in the hotel, so in fifteen minutes please wait for me by the revolving door at the entrance. I’ll be coming from the direction of Zhapu Bridge.”
What on earth? Surely she wouldn’t go to all this trouble just to retrieve a forgotten sun visor. “All right,” Aki had replied. Then, out of nowhere, a thought flashed across his mind: Maybe she’s been with Liu Hong. She went missing because she was in Jiangsu. Public security got word that Liu Hong was there. Naturally they’d be keeping a watchful eye on her. Could they have learnt of Liu Hong’s whereabouts by following her? But in that case they would have arrested him. Which meant that she went to Jiangsu and back without being able to see him. Having failed in that attempt, she was coming to see Aki instead. The logic was imperfect, but his thoughts took that course. At least the story made a certain sense. What kind of sense, he couldn’t have said.
He checked the wall clock. Already five minutes had passed. Without further delay, grabbing the sun visor off the sofa, he opened his room door; at a normal pace, he stepped out and proceeded down the corridor. He exchanged a few words with the woman at the service counter and got in the elevator.
The hotel was located at the foot of Garden Bridge, between Zhapu Road and Da Changzhi Road. As Aki pushed his way through the revolving door and stepped out onto the fogbound street, a young man came towards him, appearing suddenly from Zhapu Road on the right. As Aki stepped aside to let him pass, the youth stopped.
“Mr Waki,” he said.
It took two full seconds for Aki to penetrate Li Xing’s disguise. Wearing pale green sunglasses and a stylish dark blue drape suit, she was got up as Han Langen, his father, the one who was younger than his son. As this sank in, he felt a rush of admiration for her. More than that, he found her irresistible.
With slight affectation he coughed twice and then said in Japanese, purposely loud enough to be overheard, “Hey! Long time no see.” He clapped a hand on her shoulder. His fingers and the final syllable of the phrase both trembled. Quickly they pushed through the revolving door and went inside. The doorman and the security guard patrolling the lobby glanced their way briefly, without apparent suspicion.
Recognizing the sun visor in Aki’s hand, Li Xing smiled wryly. When he began to steer her towards a sofa in the lobby, she said in a low voice, “Your room.” His heart beat hard with presentiment. Her disguise was a tribute to her powers of acting, but this was no time for admiration. Irresistible or not, she was up to some game. First he had to find out what it was. The day before yesterday, she’d slid into his car out of the blue. Tonight she showed up on his doorstep dressed as a man.
Eyes all around them were sharp. The least sign of hesitation or friction would attract notice. They moved along briskly and stopped at the elevators.
“Okay then, I’ll show you some samples upstairs,” Aki said loudly in Japanese as he pushed the elevator button.
They were alone in the elevator, and fortunately could zoom up to the fifteenth floor nonstop. He kept turning the situation over in his mind until the elevator doors opened.
At the service counter was an employee on a new shift. Aki gave her a cheery smile and a nod. She nodded back and then looked straight at Li Xing, but there was no follow-up. To Aki the distance down the corridor to his suite seemed twice as far as usual.
He stood before the door. Inserted the key in the keyhole. She too had stood like this, opening her door, he thought. The door swung inward. There, it had opened outward. He reached out and switched on the light. She’d gone alone into her room and left him standing there, shutting the door in his face. The door she shut, I’m now opening.
Li Xing stepped cautiously inside. The door shut. Aki swiftly locked it. They were alone together in the same room.
Even with the door locked, service personnel could easily unlock it with their own key and come barging in at any time; but he let out a long, deep breath anyway. Li Xing saw this. Aki was unaware of being seen. He offered her the sofa, and remained standing. She made no move to sit down, but took off her sunglasses and then hesitated, not knowing where on her person to put them; she wasn’t used to carrying sunglasses, or to wearing that suit, either. Aki for his part was still holding onto the sun visor. He too was stuck, unable to think what to do with the damn thing. Its large, racetrack-style visor was almost the same colour as her sunglasses, he noticed. He felt like a total jackass. His heart was pounding like a drum.
The TV was still on. The news bulletin over, the acrobatics show had resumed. Two giant pandas were starting to do tricks. She and I and two pandas, all together now. Nothing made sense. He tossed the sun visor onto the sofa.
“Please sit down,” he said. “Otherwise I can’t hear pr
operly what you have to say.” He busied himself making tea, with his back to her. Silently, in the interim, she brought her own breathing under control.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you,” she said in a small voice, and finally sat down beside the sun visor. It tilted and swayed like a leaf. Swept again by apprehension, she kept darting glances at the performing pandas.
“So where’d you go off to, after getting separated from the others again? You look terrific, by the way. The beautiful young woman impersonating a man. None of the hotel guards or service people caught on, and they must be pretty good at seeing through disguises.”
His attempt at jocularity backfired, coming out like sarcasm. The bedroom door stood ajar. He hurried over to close it.
“Shall I turn off the TV?” he said. It wouldn’t be long before the news came back on. Then the three of them would be together in this room – himself and Li Xing and Liu Hong. No thanks. He switched off the set and turned around to face her.
As was only to be expected from an actress trained in the People’s Liberation Army Song and Dance Troupe, her stride and gestures as they cut hurriedly through the lobby and came down the corridor had been credibly masculine, enough to carry off the masquerade. But once they came in the room and he saw her sitting still on the sofa in the bright light, unable to hide her nervousness, her appearance was unmistakably feminine, the contrast with her getup almost comic.
“Jasmine tea,” she said with pleasure, lifting the teacup lid.
“I bought it here at the hotel. It’s nothing special.”
Li Xing shook the drops from the lid with easy grace, and took a long, slow sip. He liked the sound she made.
“Mmm, it’s good.”
She was sitting on the side of the sofa nearest the door, the left side of her body pressed against the armrest. Aki was seated diagonally across from her, on the edge of a chair three meters away. Li Xing tilted her head and looked at him with a wan smile. He meant to look away, but instead looked at her harder. For some time now she’d been eyeing the telephone on the big desk. Finally she worked up the courage to ask, “May I borrow your phone?”
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