The Dark Road

by Ma Jian

  ‘I wish I could follow them and see them dance,’ says Nannan. She’s wearing a yellow long-sleeved T-shirt over a red blouse, and jeans tucked into gumboots. The downpour has washed most of the smell of burnt plastic from the air, leaving only a faint tang of sulphur. Meili watches women dance past in low-rise jeans and white shirts, exposing their navels as they raise their arms in the air.

  ‘It’s too crowded now,’ Meili says, tugging Nannan back from the street. ‘Let’s have some dim sum, then I’ll take you to Foshan to see the largest Golden Flower Mother statue in the county.’ She’s heard that Golden Flower Mother’s powers are at their height today, and that all requests made to her will be fulfilled. She’s already withdrawn five hundred yuan from the cash machine to give as an offering. She and Nannan retreat into the entrance of a clothes boutique behind. The aluminium roll-up door suspended above bulges in the middle like the belly of a pregnant woman. Meili has agreed to have dim sum with Tang today, and to prevent him making any advances, she’s bringing Nannan along, even though she knows that the infant spirit inside her belly is her best protector. For the last six months, not even Kongzi has dared touch her.

  They have to wait half an hour before the statue of the Golden Flower Mother finally appears. She’s inside a small wooden pavilion, carried on poles by four men in black mandarin hats and embroidered silk suits. Red powder has been rubbed onto her cheeks, and a plastic baby boy has been placed in her arms. She looks much more alive than she did last night in the Town God Temple. A few stragglers trail behind, smoking cigarettes and stopping now and then for a chat. Then dancing lions appear, jumping to the beat of more loud drums. The spectators on the pavements stare at them blankly as though they were watching a television show.

  Tang has chosen a table at the back of the restaurant. Meili’s heart races as she makes her way towards him. She smiles stiffly and grips Nannan by the hand.

  ‘Kung hei fat choi, Tang!’ she says, unbuttoning a tailored white down jacket she bought recently to replace the thick, cumbersome one she’s had since she left Kong Village.

  ‘So you speak Cantonese now!’ Tang says with a smile. ‘This town certainly has changed you!’ His hair is wet and his face flushed with excitement.

  ‘Sorry we’re late. The streets are packed. The e-waste company I used to work for made its workers parade through the streets with banners bragging that it supports education. What a joke! All its workers are illegal migrants. If the company’s so public-minded, why doesn’t it start by demanding the legalisation of migrant schools?’

  ‘Trying to change government policies is a waste of time. All we can do is find ways to work around them. Look, both you and I are registered as peasants, but I managed to study abroad and you’re now a general manager. So we haven’t done too badly, have we?’

  ‘You used to go on about wanting to campaign for a cleaner environment, better education and health care, an end to corrupt bureaucracy, but it looks like this town has changed you as well.’ Although Nannan is present, Meili is still on guard, and is trying to keep the conversation polite and formal.

  Tang orders a few dishes then asks Nannan what she’d like, but Nannan just shrugs her shoulders and sticks her thumb in her mouth.

  ‘A custard tart should be enough for her,’ Meili says. She wants to check her lipstick, but is too embarrassed to take out her pocket mirror.

  ‘I’ve ordered your favourites, Meili: fish slice congee and taro croquettes,’ Tang says. ‘You’re looking more and more like your mother these days, Nannan. You have the same beautiful phoenix eyes.’

  Meili is self-conscious about the unsightly brown pregnancy patches on her face and her swollen ankles, and feels that Tang’s constant flattery is undeserved. But it pleases her, nonetheless, and is one of the reasons she still likes to flick through glossy fashion magazines.

  ‘A local businessman was planning to let off a one-kilometre string of firecrackers today, hoping he’d break a Guinness World Record,’ Tang says, ‘but he had to call it off because of the rain.’

  ‘That must have cost him a fortune to make!’ Meili says, glancing at the lipstick imprint on her white cup.

  ‘He owns three e-waste companies, and makes a million yuan a year,’ Tang says. ‘So, tell me, how is your husband liking his new post at Red Flag Primary?’

  ‘Very much. He’s so grateful to you for helping him get it. He would’ve joined us today, but he’s meeting the headmaster to ask if he can persuade the local authorities to let him restore the Confucius Temple.’

  ‘To think he’s the seventy-sixth generation descendant of the great sage! Well, he’s not let his ancestor down! The Education Department was very impressed when I told them he was a direct descendant – that’s why they gave him the two-year contract. Yes, it would be great if the Confucius Temple were brought back to life. In the Cultural Revolution it was used as the headquarters of the Municipal Road Department, but since then it’s fallen into ruin.’

  ‘Which god do you believe in, Tang?’ Meili asks, noticing a picture of the God of Longevity above a potted bamboo tree by the doorway.

  ‘None of the gods you see in the temples, that’s for sure. I used to believe in another kind of god, but less so since I’ve returned to China.’

  ‘I want to visit the Golden Flower Mother statue in Foshan and ask her whether she thinks I should give birth.’

  ‘The baby’s been inside you for five years now, hasn’t it? It’s time you let it come out. You’ve already broken the Guinness World Record for the longest pregnancy!’

  ‘No, there’s a ninety-year-old woman in this province who was pregnant for sixty years. Anyway, it’s not as if I haven’t tried to give birth to my child. I went into labour and pushed as hard as I could, but she simply refused to come out.’ It’s always a relief to Meili when she’s able to refer to Heaven as a girl.

  ‘I’ve heard that a strict new director has been assigned to the County Family Planning Association, so Heaven Township might not be a safe refuge for pregnant women for much longer.’

  ‘As long as I stay near that filthy lake, I should be fine. Officers don’t like having to trudge through all the rubbish down there, and even when they do come, I always manage to send them packing. Did you realise that the lake is the same shape as the womb of an eight-month-pregnant woman? To think that I moved to Heaven so that I wouldn’t have any more babies! I was assured the air here kills human sperm. But the first night I arrived, I got myself knocked up!’

  ‘Ha! You make me laugh! You’re so fresh and natural.’

  ‘Coarse and uneducated, that’s what you mean!’ It suddenly occurs to Meili that although she can now buy almost anything she wants, her new wealth has given her no meaningful satisfaction. During the years they were too poor to eat out at restaurants, she, Kongzi and Nannan were much closer. They appreciated each other’s company more and had time to savour the simple pleasures their meagre income allowed.

  ‘No, you’re strong, invulnerable. You haven’t allowed any of the ordeals you’ve suffered to dent your spirit.’

  ‘Well, I’ve had to develop a thick skin. Can you imagine the looks I’ve got, walking around town with this belly for five years? Family planning officers stop me in the street and tell me my bulge is bad for the town’s image and that I should hurry up and give birth. But I tell them that little Heaven is living in my womb, eating my food. She’s no burden to the state. She has a right to stay inside me as long as she likes. I told them that as soon as the government repeals the One Child Policy, I’ll give birth to her. As soon as it promises that every child born in China will be given full legal citizenship, I’ll tug her out with my own hands, if I have to.’

  ‘You should be more careful. Haven’t you read that in other parts of this county, women are dragged off the streets and given forced abortions? It happens every day.’

  ‘I know. It happened to me too, once. The doctors injected poisons into my fetus hoping to kill it, but when he ca
me out, he was still alive, so they strangled him to death right in front of me.’

  ‘That’s not an abortion,’ Tang says, his face turning pale. ‘That’s cold-blooded murder! I had no idea you’d experienced such a terrible thing.’ He rubs his chin and casts a concerned glance at Nannan.

  ‘So, you see, until this government decides to stop killing children, Heaven is safer staying where she is. As her mother, all I can do is provide her with a warm home. Unless someone comes to demolish it and force her out, she can stay inside as long as she likes. She and I will just take each day as it comes.’ She sprinkles some white pepper onto her congee and swallows a small spoonful.

  ‘You’re like the heroine of a Victorian novel, rebelling against oppressive convention in the pursuit of happiness! Yes, you have that air of stubborn defiance. Have you read Charlotte Brontë?’

  Meili shakes her head, blushing at her ignorance. ‘No, I haven’t read that book. But do lend it to me, if you have a copy.’

  Knowing she was coming out to lunch today, she had her white shirt washed at the New China Hotel, whose laundry is sent to Foshan and returns smelling not of burnt plastic but of roses and osmanthus. Despite her apprehension, she’d been looking forward to this meal, but now she wishes she could grab Nannan’s hand and leave.

  Instead, she serves Nannan some deep-fried squid and says, ‘When I get to the office tomorrow, I’d like to go through last year’s accounts and cross off all the bad creditors from our client list. What do you think?’

  ‘Let’s not talk about tomorrow. So, tell me, how did you see in the new year?’

  ‘We just ate dumplings and watched the televised gala. Spring Festival was so much more fun when I was a child. At the crack of dawn, we’d walk round the village visiting our neighbours and they’d fill our pockets with boiled sweets.’ She remembers tying a brand-new scarf around her head before setting off one new year’s morning. The inky smell of the stiff cotton swirled around her all day.

  ‘Have you taken any festive photographs with the digital camera I gave you for Christmas?’ Tang asks.

  ‘Not yet. I want the first photograph I take with it to be of little Heaven.’ Meili notices Nannan drawing faces on her fingers with a ballpoint pen, and nudges her to stop.

  ‘The camera will be out of date by then! Now we’ve entered the digital age, electronic products will become obsolete within months. Everyone wants to upgrade to larger screens, bigger hard drives, more memory, so e-waste is growing at an alarming rate. Did you know that Heaven received five times more e-waste this year than it did in the last three?’ Seeing Meili’s eyes begin to glaze over, he draws a red envelope from his pocket and hands it to Nannan. ‘This is my New Year gift to you,’ he says. ‘There’s some Lucky Money inside!’

  Nannan opens the envelope. ‘Wow! A hundred yuan! Cool! Lulu’s mother only gave me one yuan. Thank you, Uncle Tang. Can I buy a plane ticket with it?’

  Meili is embarrassed that she’s only put ten yuan in the red envelope for little Hong, so she excuses herself, sneaks off to the toilet and replaces it with a hundred-yuan note.

  As Tang answers his phone on their way out of the restaurant, Meili takes the opportunity to say a brief goodbye, then hails a tricycle rickshaw which agrees to take them to Foshan for forty yuan. ‘What’s the point of going to see the Golden Flower Mother statue?’ Nannan says grumpily. ‘You think she can phone your baby and tell it to come out?’ Some of the faces on her fingers are crying, some are laughing.

  ‘Oh, shut up, and stop grumbling.’ During the last few months, Meili has tried to be tolerant of Nannan’s bad moods, but occasionally her patience snaps.

  ‘Mum, can you put a red spot here between my eyebrows,’ Nannan says as they approach the centre of Foshan half an hour later. ‘It’s called a “Lucky Dot”. I read it can protect you from demons.’

  ‘Wait a second, we’re here now. Let’s get off!’ Meili takes out her lipstick as she climbs off the rickshaw, but just as she’s about to dab some between Nannan’s eyebrows, a large crowd pushes them forward, so she quickly drops the lipstick back into her bag.

  They pass a line of food stalls with greasy mutton skewers smoking on charcoal braziers and semi-raw pigs’ trotters simmering in woks, then enter the large temple and are hit by clouds of incense smoke. Meili sits down, and nearly retches from the oily stench and feels Heaven’s stomach turn as well.

  ‘Mum, is it true that Heaven won’t come out unless I disappear?’ Nannan asks, as Meili rises to her feet.

  ‘No, no, what made you think that?’ she answers, looking distractedly at the visitors jostling past.

  ‘You said you’re afraid of giving birth to Heaven because you’ve already got me.’

  ‘No, it has nothing to do with you,’ Meili replies, taking Nannan’s hand and following the crowd into the main hall. When they reach the Golden Buddha, Meili prostrates before it like everyone else, but forgets what she should be praying for. On her left, she hears a young man pray for success in his university entrance exams, and on her right a taxi driver pray for a prolonged rainy season that will bring him more customers. Her mind clearing at last, she clasps her hands together, looks up at the Buddha and prays that her mother’s cancer will be cured, that her brother will be released safely from the labour camp, and that Waterborn is not begging on a street corner but is being looked after by a nice family who give her good meals three times a day . . . The loud murmur of voices around her makes her lose her train of thought. She gets up, takes Nannan’s hand and goes to look for the statue of the Golden Flower Mother.

  ‘I don’t want to see the statue,’ Nannan moans. ‘It’s too crowded in here.’

  ‘Wait for me over there, then,’ Meili says, ‘and don’t go wandering off this time.’ As Nannan heads to the entrance, Meili proceeds to the less crowded area at the back where the huge Golden Flower Mother statue stands. She lights an incense stick, goes down onto her knees, and performs repeated prostrations, turning to the side when she reaches the ground so as not to squash her belly. Then she sits down with legs crossed, takes a deep breath, and looks up at the Golden Flower Mother’s scratched and childlike face. For a moment, she thinks she sees the painted mouth curl into a smile. Then she blacks out and sees a young girl walking down a dusty path on a sunny day, a hemp sack of autumn leaves swung over her shoulder. She can hear the girl laugh, but can’t see her mouth moving. The girl has just crossed a dense forest, and her face is as scratched as the rosy cheeks of the Golden Flower Mother statue . . . Suddenly the stump of Meili’s left index finger begins to throb like a sightless eye searching for light. Little Heaven stretches out and rams its head into Meili’s lungs, then turns in a circle and punches her navel. After taking a few minutes to compose her thoughts, Meili addresses the statue, saying, ‘Golden Flower Mother, your powerful eyes have seen the Five Lakes and Four Seas. I am a simple woman from Nuwa County, and am pregnant for the fourth time. Although the government doesn’t want my child to be born, and my child doesn’t want to be born either, as her mother, I think I should give birth to her, for a mother must not only conceive children, but also release them into the world and watch them grow. So I entreat you, Golden Flower Mother, tell me how this will end? What does the future hold for me? Good fortune or calamity?’

  The Golden Flower Mother statue looks down impassively and says: ‘Praise be to Amitabha, Buddha of Infinite Light. Life is a sea of suffering – but turn your head and there is the shore. In time, you will cross the sea, transcend the cycle of birth and death, and reach the other side. But before then, you must deliver the child within you and allow it to accumulate its own karma.’

  ‘Oh, Mother, I am an outcast. Wherever I go, people tell me this isn’t my home. If I give birth to my child in a place where I don’t belong, will she be destined to a life of misfortune?’

  ‘You have journeyed through the red dust of illusion, and through suffering have achieved profound wisdom. But your sorrows cannot compare to min
e: I have never known the happiness of marriage, the joy of motherhood. At fourteen years old I was snatched from my parents and declared the Goddess of Childbirth. After that, no man dared come near me. At the age of forty, still alone and unloved, I threw myself into Womb Lake and drowned. My bones are still lying on its muddy bed.’

  ‘I never knew you drowned yourself! So you really have seen through the red dust! I thought about killing myself too, a few years ago, but realised that if I went ahead with it, I’d be killing my unborn child as well. But, Sacred Mother, things aren’t so bad for you, surely? You must have amassed great karma through your work in this temple, helping bring new life into the world. And look at all the delicious offerings you’ve been given: chicken, wine, sesame oil, rice—’

  ‘No, my life hasn’t improved since I died. Don’t be fooled by my sumptuous robes and ornate flower headdress. Since the foundation of the Communist Dynasty, I’ve been persecuted mercilessly. When Emperor Mao advocated later marriages and fewer children, I was dragged from the altar and locked in a storeroom, deprived of daylight. Then Emperor Deng brought in his One Child Policy, and my temple was converted into a grain depot. Now, two decades later, it’s been demolished to make way for the Heaven Township Stock Exchange.’

  ‘Well, at least you’re in a nice place now.’

  ‘You think it’s nice having to squeeze myself into this dark corner, cheek by jowl with all the other gods, and rely on the offerings of strangers? I was only brought here on condition that I consent to be an ambassador for the wretched family planning policies. Have you read the slogan they’ve hung above my head, threatening women with forced sterilisations and abortions? What a wicked disgrace! For thousands of years I was the Goddess of Fertility and Childbirth, but this depraved dynasty has turned me into the Goddess of Fewer Births. Before long I’ll be the Goddess of Abortions! I tell you, death is much worse than life.’