My lack of funds had made me unhinged. When I went home, I noticed a black Honda parked outside my place. The back window wasn’t fully closed, there was a two-inch gap. It was two in the morning. The street was quiet, deserted. I looked left and right, my heart nearly jumping out of my throat. In my paranoid state, my first thought was that someone was following me.
Regaining some sense, I thought about stealing the car. In the space of a minute I must have asked myself at least twenty times: should I or shouldn’t I? Master Li of the repair factory had studied this kind of car and I’d learnt a few things from him. With a long bit of wire you could prise the door open. Selling it on would be easy. I just had to give it to Liang Dagang. It should fetch at least 80,000. As I was engaged in this mental struggle, I heard this old guy on night duty cough as he approached. At once I felt shaken by the reality of what I was doing. Sweat dripped down my forehead and my heart banged crazily. I’d fucking nearly become … a criminal.
Actually I’d already considered numerous illegal ways to get the money. Rob a bank, break into a gold shop. Highway robbery. Or sneak back to the company and start a fire, burn all the accounts. At my most extreme I thought of buying a pig knife and killing Fatty Dong, Liu Three and Boss Liu, then fleeing to the end of the earth. When I was calmer though, I knew these methods were all useless because I knew myself: I’d never had the resolution needed to be a murderer. Could I really buy a knife and go to work on such a spectacular scale? No. On this point, Li Liang’s appraisal of me had been correct. He’d said that if you loved money then money became your prison, and if you loved sex then your prison was sex.
‘If you love yourself, then you are your own prison,’ he concluded.
The ten days were up quickly. At eight in the morning, the lawyer called to say he was generously giving me a four-hour extension.
‘If you haven’t returned the money by noon, prepare to receive a summons.’
Feigning confidence, I blustered, ‘I’ve got an interview this morning. If you want to go to the court, you can go now.’
On reflection I hadn’t had enough fun, and so I added:
‘You don’t have to wait for me.’
And I slammed down the phone with no idea why I felt so wildly delighted.
There was no turning back now. As a last resort, I would suffer a tongue-lashing from the old man; if I could bear that then he would sort this out somehow. And if things really got bad I could obtain a false passport and flee to a new city, muddle along there for a while, then return and live quietly. Anyway, I couldn’t really care less where I went. There was nothing here I was reluctant to leave.
Strangely, the night before I’d dreamed of Zhao Yue: we were back in our university days, by the telephone kiosk outside the university gate.
‘Here, I have a little money,’ she said, concerned. ‘Why don’t you take it?’
These were the same words she’d said to me after the porn film episode had consumed all my savings. In my dream, however, I had this vague feeling that something was wrong. I smiled at her and said, ‘I’m General Manager now, I have money. Keep your money to buy clothes.’
Suddenly, the scene changed and we were on a balcony of the Golden Bay Hotel. Zhao Yue was naked. She was weeping as she said to me, ‘Chen Zhong, you’ve lost your conscience. You’ve lost your conscience.’
Then, like a crazy person, she pushed me, catching me off balance so that I toppled off the balcony, still reprimanding her. ‘You’re always so damn moralistic. If we don’t argue, your day isn’t complete.’
That night the moonlight was like water, dripping coldly into people’s eyes. A few late-to-bed sparrows were roused by the lunar brightness and flapped away. Inside a red apartment building in Chengdu’s Xiyan district, a man suddenly kicked over his chair and tugged at his own hair like he was crazy. Sky-blue moon-rays floated across his distorted face.
My interview was with a sports equipment company located near the US consulate. They needed a sales director. Maybe because I hadn’t slept well, I answered the boss’s questions incoherently. It was quite embarrassing and I soon got the impression that he wasn’t impressed with me. Finally, when I told him I wanted at least 5,000 a month, he lost all interest. Ending our conversation, he chased me away.
After that disaster, I walked around what was one of Chengdu’s wealthiest neighbourhoods. This was where lucky thieves and successful bandits congregated. After making their fortunes by force, trickery, cheating and swindling, they bought flash cars, lived in fine houses and had beautiful women on their arms. There was a name for these types: ‘noble people’. Not far away, a bar had opened which was frequented by rich women with fading looks and boring sex lives. They would go there to find youthful flesh. A few years ago, I’d taken Zhao Yue there and encouraged her to choose one of the handsome guys sitting at the bar. Zhao Yue had laughed and said: ‘Isn’t my husband enough for me? What do I need them for?’
Wandering aimlessly, I realised my mouth was foul enough to poison a fly, and so I bought some spearmint gum at a small roadside shop. Chewing slowly, preoccupied, I made my way towards the street corner. There was a Trust-Mart supermarket on this block and I casually glanced inside. Suddenly my jaw trembled and I froze to the spot, as if I was being electrocuted. Through a crowd of people I saw my lovely wife, Zhao Yue, carrying a diverse assortment of bags, her long hair swinging as she approached me with a smile.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The day the cops came to our house, my mother nearly passed out. She thought that I’d done something really unforgivable. At that time I was naive; I’d never expected things to happen so quickly. The two cops were very polite. One was fat and had a thick Zigong accent — when he spoke, his tongue stuck out far enough to lick his nose. He asked whether it was convenient to talk at home. My mother’s hands trembled as she looked at me dramatically and I put an arm around her shoulder.
‘Don’t be scared. It’s company stuff,’ I told her.
The two cops nodded and helped me in the lie. ‘Relax, Aunty, it’s nothing to do with him. It’s someone else in trouble.’
My mother at once reverted to her usual self, offering them tea, plying them with cigarettes. Grabbing a carton of Zhonghua from the table, I said to her, ‘Don’t bother yourself. We’ll go outside to talk.’
When we were outside, I extended my hands and invited them to cuff me. They both laughed.
‘Is this an unforced confession? Things aren’t that serious. We just want to understand the situation.’
I played up to them. ‘I’ve seen a lot of cop films — I thought that to speak to the police you had to wear handcuffs. I never knew they had officers as enlightened as you.’
This amused them and they laughed as I led them into the teahouse opposite, thinking that Bighead had been right when he said that attitude made all the difference. You just needed to act innocent and the consequences would be less serious.
To deal with this mess it seemed I’d be forced to call on Bighead. When the young girl brought the tea, I made my excuses and went to the bathroom. I was reluctant to do it, but finally I bit my lip and dialled Bighead’s cellphone. This was the first time I’d contacted him since that episode with Li Liang.
There was a lot of noise in the background. Bighead said that he was eating lunch, and asked me what was up. Without beating around the bush, I explained the situation and asked simply whether or not he could help. All the time I was thinking that if the son of a bitch even started to hint at no, I’d hang up at once. I’d rather die than beg for his help.
‘Which precinct is it?’ he asked, apparently smacking his lips with relish.
I told him the street name — I didn’t know which precinct it belonged to.
Bighead muttered as if he was cursing someone and then he told me, ‘Stay with them and don’t say anything. I’ll be there in half an hour. You don’t need to worry — I know a few people in the public security system.’
This gave me
a warm feeling. After all, Bighead was a friend of more than ten years. We might have fallen out recently, but when it came down to it he’d still extend me a helping hand.
As I splashed water on my face I sighed, guilty to remember how I’d kicked Bighead. In fact, thinking about the way I’d slandered him about Li Liang, I was so ashamed that I wanted to fall to my knees to ask their forgiveness. If I survived this I would definitely get Bighead that new computer he wanted.
The two police officers asked me about the debt. Following Bighead’s instructions, I obfuscated and shut up like an envelope in between complaining about unscrupulous capitalists.
‘They only allow us 100 yuan a day for business travel expenses,’ I said. ‘That includeds food and accommodation as well. They won’t even let us save money by taking the bus — they’re afraid it would make the company look bad. Think about it. How can they justify that?’
Then I let them know all I had done for the company. In my first year, I made them 120 million, in the second year, 160 million. In my best year, more than 150 million just in the year until November.
After my rant, I remembered one time, when I’d just become a manager, Old Lai of Chongqing had demanded the urgent delivery of 600,000 units of brake pads. There wasn’t time to call in the warehouse staff, and so Liu Three, Zhou Weidong and I had rolled up our sleeves and carried the goods to the car, sweating profusely. In less than two hours we packed more than six hundred boxes. I was afraid the driver might be dishonest and so I got inside the car, which was as hot as a bamboo steamer, and accompanied the goods. By the time we got to Chongqing my whole body was tingling and my arse was numb.
There was a scratching sound as the thinner cop recorded my utterings in his notebook.
Unexpectedly he lifted his head and asked me, ‘How do you write “exploit”?’
I bring myself to answer him and dipping my finger in some tea I wrote the character, wondering indignantly how I had fallen into the hands of people like him.
Bighead Wang arrived wearing a gleaming police badge. One of Cantopop star Yang Yuying’s songs was playing as he strode in, upright and intimidating and got straight to work.
‘Your boss, your political instructor, I know them all,’ he told the two cops. ‘A couple of days ago I drank beer with your station head. He wanted a car and I said, If you can drink me under the table I’ll give you one, otherwise forget about it.’
He had as much pomp as Pavarotti driving a horse and carriage. My ears rang as I listened to him. The two cops were a bit confused, but after they’d recovered from Bighead’s verbal assault they eventually thought to ask: ‘Who are you?’
Bighead Wang lit a Zhonghua while I quickly introduced him.
‘This is my Big Brother Officer Wang, head of procurement.’
Bighead Wang had actually been the second oldest in our dormitory, but he always said there was a mistake on his ID card and he was really born in 1971, and so he was our dorm’s real big brother. He and Big Brother had fought bitterly over this. To be honest though, in our four years in that dormitory, Bighead had never done anything to make anyone take respect him. He’d never won a scholarship, never been a class monitor. He hadn’t even chased many women. Apart from a game of mahjong once in a while, he’d never broken school regulations, so I’d always taken him as someone you could safely ignore. One time, when I was flush with cash from the film business, I invited my classmates drinking and forgot to ask him. When I returned to the dorm I found him looking furious, and he wouldn’t talk to me all night. Li Liang and I’d concluded that Bighead had an inferiority complex and we analysed this inferiority complex in all its dimensions: mediocre grades, mediocre knowledge, mediocre looks, mediocre family, and he can’t find a girlfriend. How could he not feel inferior?
Looking back, though, it turned out I’d overrated myself. The student Chen Zhong could never have dreamed that he would fall short of Bighead Wang in every way — that one day Bighead would be his saviour.
The two cops weren’t finished with their questions. Bighead took over and basically didn’t let me open my mouth. He said to the thin guy, ‘Write this down: one, the travel expenses are too low. He spent the money, but it was all for the company’s benefit. Two, he still has some expense reports which he hasn’t submitted.’
He looked at me and I lost no time in nodding.
‘Right, right, our company’s business involves lots of hidden expenses,’ I said. ‘We can’t write receipts for them.’
This was actually the truth. Last year, faced with the dangerous threat of an industry-wide quality inspection, Fatty Dong and I had to be resourceful. Finally we managed to get to a department section chief and present him with a 5,000 yuan red envelope. When the inspection came, he certified that ours were products the consumer could trust.
The fat cop asked how much the hidden expenses were and looking nervously at Bighead Wang, I was surprised to notice that he appeared serene. This gave me the confidence to say hesitantly, more than 200,000. The fat cop made a stern face, saying that I needed to think seriously: this could be considered as bribery. That is also a crime!
With an exhilerating jolt, I glimpsed Bighead Wang’s plan and I sat up straight and answered boldly: ‘You’re dead right. At least 200,000 was given as bribes.’
After all, I knew this game of old. It was called, When you meet trouble, first make the water boil. This was something that our university’s most respected teacher had taught us. Teacher Lin was a short, clever, well-dressed, smiling old don. Every year, whatever the season, he wore a tie, looking as if he might be called to the United Nations at any moment to make a presentation. He never wrote on the blackboard for fear that chalk dust might ruin his clothes. However, Teacher Lin had an astonishing brain. Astronomy, geography, religion, social and natural sciences — there was nothing he didn’t know. At the end of each class, once he’d finished the official curriculum, he’d start on the unofficial. He’d talk about Lenin’s syphilis, Zhuge Liang’s piles, and the reasons for the destruction of Mayan civilisation. Listening to him, people would laugh non-stop.
During our graduation drinks party, Teacher Lin got so drunk he couldn’t find the toilet. It was the first time he’d ever taken off his tie, and he said drunkenly:
‘Just a few more words, OK?’ Everyone clapped. Teacher Lin stood swaying before us for ages. Finally he said, ‘Today’s lesson can be considered parting advice. In my life I’ve had a lot of sadness, so I hope that you lot won’t be like me. These are the famous Four Life Warnings:
Don’t give your heart to a prostitute.
Don’t devote yourself to slogans.
If you meet a leader, you have to obey for a while.
If you meet trouble, first make the water boil.
Despite a PhD from a US university and many books to his name, Teacher Lin never married and until the day he died he was always a deputy professor. Sometimes I thought he’d lived a miserable life. As to the last of the Four Life Warnings, today I finally understood its wisdom. It was impossible to prove innocence. If you’re sprinkled with pollution, it’s no good trying to prove that you’re clean. The best thing is to sprinkle the sprinkler with dirty water.
Teacher Lin was dignified his whole life, but his death wasn’t at all dignified. His heart disease flared up in the summer heat while he was naked on the toilet and he collapsed. By the time he was discovered several days later, his body was smeared with excrement, and flies were devouring the face that had always been smiling in life.
When the two cops left, I asked Bighead Wang what to do next. He said dourly: ‘Aren’t you afraid I’ll ask for money?’
I was embarrassed, and threw a fake punch.
‘You still haven’t forgotten that? Wasn’t I just standing up for a friend?’
Bighead Wang shoved me hard, sending me flying. ‘Don’t pretend to be close with me. When you need me you call me Big Brother; when you don’t, you say I’m inhuman. Is that the behaviour of a fri
end?’
I was stammering, I didn’t know what to say and I felt angry and ashamed. I wanted to kick him down the stairs.
Bighead kept sprouting froth for ages, then he finally said, ‘Damn you. If it wasn’t that I understood your dog temper, this time I definitely wouldn’t help you.’
With difficulty, I managed a grateful smile. Bighead stood to leave, his back to me, still lecturing me like a section chief.
‘You have to make this thing as complicated as possible. It doesn’t matter who asks you, you must insist that the money was paid as bribes. When they ask you who was bribed, you can just mention a few of the many people you’ve bribed in the past.’
I wanted to protest at this but he stopped me with a look.
‘I’ll suppress your statement. This thing won’t get out of hand.’
I finally understood Bighead’s strategy. He wanted to frighten the company into not proceeding with the charges.
On the way out, he said, ‘We just need to convince them that if they still want to do business in Sichuan, they don’t want to take the lids off those pots.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Christmas was nearly here. The Chengdu streets throbbed with excitement. Unscrupulous businessmen flew God’s banner while thrusting money into their pockets. The shops were endlessly discounting, the restaurants endlessly delivering. Even the medicine shops offered special promotions. Buy two packs of condoms, get a free detox pack. Buy two bottles of Indian love oil, get a bottle of athlete’s foot lotion. Complete insanity. There were people everywhere. Chunxi Road was a sea of heads clustered together like mushrooms. Never mind what their resources were, they were spending like crazy. The attitude wasn’t like going to spend money, it was like going to steal money. Everyone was bristling with competitive ardour; even asking for directions risked starting a fight.
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