Wild Fruit

by Keyi Sheng

  ‘What happened?’ she asked.

  ‘The city inspectors came,’ Zhima said.

  ‘For what? Why did they overturn everything?’ She bent over to pick up the kebabs, as if they were their own currency.

  ‘They said they won’t be so nice next time they see us.’ Zhima took the charcoal in his tongs and put it back in the stove. He turned to the young people and said, ‘I cook only with non-toxic green carbon. My lamb kebabs are all genuine. If you don’t find me here next time, I’ll be somewhere nearby. Anyway, I’ll always be in the area.’

  One young man said, ‘It’s best if you have a lookout. When they see the city inspector’s car, you can quickly pack up and go.’

  The second added, ‘You should hide the kebabs. That way, even if you are a little too late, you won’t lose much. Sometimes they might even take away your grill with the kebabs.’

  The first one replied, ‘True. You’ll have to learn to play cat and mouse with the city inspectors, then you can really be an outstanding kebab guerrilla troop.’

  The kebabs were delicious. They said they would be back.

  *

  Listening to the young men’s advice, the first thing my sister and Zhima did any time they reached a spot to sell was hide the kebabs among nearby bushes, only taking them out when someone placed an order. The foldable stool, stove, seasoning tins, and brushes were not worth much money, so there was no real harm losing them. Chuntian was responsible for handling the money, taking the kebabs from the bushes, and serving as a lookout. The weather was quite mild, and the curtain of night was like silk, embroidered with stars. The charcoal fire and light smoke danced happily.

  Even on such a harmonious and peaceful night, Chuntian never let down her guard. She looked about her, eventually developing outstanding instincts, to the point that even if she was not at the stall, she was habitually on the lookout. They successfully avoided the city inspectors, always escaping unscathed. Every time Zhima boasted to others, he described it in quite thrilling terms, as if he and his wife were agile martial arts masters, the Barbecue Knights. As soon as the city inspectors’ vehicle left the spot, the Knights landed lightly on the ground and continued cooking. The customers who had been temporarily scattered would gather around like onlookers and resume drinking, laughing, and talking, as if the false alarm had all been a performance to add excitement to the diners’ evening out.

  Zhima was good at coaxing people in, and he had developed a large corps of regular customers. Some would start calling when they were a long way off, ‘lamb kebabs,’ ‘roasted bread,’ ‘aubergine,’ or ‘crisp chicken bones,’ as if they were calling Liu Zhima’s name. They received orders by phone too, from people who were drinking at home and were too lazy to get out. When business was good, the couple was so busy they could barely cope.

  On this particular night, Zhima’s hands had been going nonstop, and his legs were numb from standing too long. Chuntian’s waist pouch had long ago filled to the brim.

  ‘Did Yicao finish her exams? Ask the ball-breaker to come help tomorrow night,’ Zhima said.

  ‘Let her relax for a few days. She’s exhausted from her studies,’ Chuntian said, protecting Yicao.

  Zhima and my sister liked to call Yicao ‘ball-breaker,’ just like many women called their sons ‘smelly son of a bitch,’ or some women called their men ‘one who deserves to be chopped to a thousand pieces.’ Such phrases were not to be taken for their literal meanings, but contained some special affection.

  Zhima did not have time to argue. He had a cycle going, roasting mutton as he sprinkled oil, sending sparks flying. He was afraid of Yicao, this ‘ball-breaker,’ who also encouraged her mother to pursue a divorce. He liked his daughter, but he really could not handle her.

  Chuntian was even more determined to work hard, like she wanted to make up for Yicao’s share, too.

  At around eleven o’clock, my brother pulled up to the stall on his motorcycle.

  ‘Something’s happened,’ he said. ‘Pack up your stall.’

  ‘Business is just picking up. What’s so urgent?’ Zhima asked.

  They could not make out if Shunqiu was trying to tell them, or trying hard not to say what had happened. His expression was complete chaos.

  ‘Did something happen to Shui Qin?’ Chuntian asked, thinking of Shui Qin’s illness.

  ‘You . . . you two need to be prepared . . .’ my brother stammered. ‘It’s Yicao. She . . .’

  ‘What has she done now?’ Zhima said.

  ‘She jumped,’ Shunqiu answered.

  My sister and Zhima were shocked.

  ‘She jumped from the tenth floor of the hotel. Dead on impact,’ Shunqiu said.

  ‘There must be a mistake. Our Yicao might do a lot of things, but she wouldn’t commit suicide,’ Zhima said, as if trying to convince himself.

  ‘She was in a bar with four male classmates, celebrating her freedom after taking the college entrance exam. They went to a hotel and got a room together. It’s quite likely she was . . . harmed by someone.’ Shunqiu was careful not to use the words gang rape. ‘The police are still investigating.’

  My sister’s legs gave way under her. She plopped down to the ground.

  Just then, there was a screech of brakes. The city inspectors descended, and a few burly men dashed over. Without a word, they started overturning things. Spurred by the news of Yicao’s death, Zhima’s reaction became abnormal, and he was desperate to protect those worthless belongings. At first he just objected, but a fight soon broke out.

  My brother had been at the losing end of fights, so he didn’t dare help now. He squatted helplessly to one side, shivering.

  My sister shouted, ‘Zhima, forget it. Don’t fight. Let them do what they want.’

  Even if he didn’t want to fight, Zhima had no choice by this point. He was knocked to the ground, and three or four people kicked him and stomped on him. One jumped on him with both feet, stomping on his head.

  Chuntian howled fiercely. Pulling at them, she said, ‘He just recovered, he can’t take all this beating. I beg you, let him go.’

  Chuntian was shoved to the ground.

  Zhima did not resist further. He curled up and covered himself as best he could, letting them get on with it.

  He was not moving. It was like he was dead.

  They stopped beating him then. They spread out. One of them bent over to check on Zhima, to see whether he was still breathing.

  Zhima suddenly raised himself up, stabbing the guy. No one could tell what sort of weapon he had in his hand.

  The body of the city inspector convulsed and trembled as he lifted his head. Everyone saw something jutting out below his lower jaw.

  It was a bamboo skewer, rammed into his throat.

  As I lay dying, I wrote a final letter. Its style was optimistic and its content bright. This was not at all contrived. I really did face my own death without any regret, and did not know what I would do with myself if I lived. I had no interest in my new position at work and had no real aspirations. When it came to being married and the life after that, I had no clue at all. I was used to making a living amid adversity.

  My last letter was quite long. I tried to persuade my father to apologise to my sister, and I asked my mother to unashamedly dry her newly washed underclothes in the sun. I wanted my brother to know how extraordinary he was, and wanted Yicao to study history, master a foreign language, and learn to play a musical instrument. I told Yihua not to gamble with her body, and to beware of the devil. Finally, I mentioned Yu Shuzhong, represented only by the letter Y. I said love was my private matter, and I felt no need to let him know my feelings. A person’s love will never be invaded by bacteria; it has nothing to do with mundane things, and there will not come a day when we see its residue at the bottom of the cup and feel disappointed.

  But I did not die. I did not tear up my ‘final note,’, either. Instead, I wanted to copy it with a brush and mount it on the wall as a way of encouraging myself.
Life after my sickness was a trial. I was not loyal to the ideals of my final note, itching to have a go when I was with Yu and trying to test him or provoke him. In my final note, I had hypocritically sublimated myself, and was insincere in the part about love. In fact, I hated one-side affections, crushes, unrequited love, or seeing little of each other even though we were in close proximity. Any love two people could not simultaneously participate in was deformed. And to call it love was a disgrace to love, just as you could not call masturbation ‘making love.’

  Early that morning, Yu picked me up from the hospital and drove me straight to the Pearl River. Boats were floating in the river, and we walked along the banks. The beard and eyebrows of old banyan trees dragged on the grounds. The river was wide. My heart was full of love. For the first time, I felt Guangzhou was not so bad. Yu’s breath was like a crawfish, reaching out with its countless fine, soft hands to entangle me. I controlled my own urge to embrace him.

  When we came upon another banyan tree, without a word, he suddenly took me in his arms. My heart immediately felt like a group of sparrows caught in a net, turning into a messy collision. The crowded sparrows were noisy, struggling with each other, but also amicably stroking one another’s feathers.

  It was difficult for me to extract myself from our embrace. His body seemed to be expanding its territory, and a seed burst from the ground, instantly strong.

  I raised my head to kiss him. He avoided it. My kiss fell on his cheek.

  ‘Why?’ I asked.

  ‘For me, it is enough that you are still alive. Anything more than that is a luxury,’ he answered.

  ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘She minds.’

  His answer made me feel ashamed.

  I pressed my crotch against the seed that had sprouted in his groin. ‘It disagrees.’

  ‘I’ll have to keep it in check.’ He kissed my cheek and loosened his hold on me.

  I was like a deserted island, lonelier than I had been before he embraced me.

  We walked in silence for a while. There were plenty of people out doing their morning exercises. The birds chased each other beside the river.

  ‘They’re collecting evidence against me everywhere. Yesterday, one of our advertisers told me the police went to her office. They were especially interested in learning whether there were any irregular financial dealings between me and our clients. In fact, all the big advertising clients that have dealings with our newspaper office are being investigated,’ Yu said, breaking the silence.

  ‘This attack is a diversionary tactic, a distraction from the real attack.’ I was back to reality, as if I had just walked out of a warm living room.

  ‘We won’t have any problem,’ he said. ‘Our only problems are that we are too sharp and too brave.’

  ‘If the leading bird is shot, it’s better for the rest of us to just bury our heads in the sand and think with our arses.’

  Laughing, Yu said, ‘They want to detain me for suspected financial offences, for privately dividing state-owned assets. You know, 100 000 yuan was the newspaper’s bonus, and it was all legal income. They had to let me go.’

  ‘They won’t give up until they get you.’

  ‘I don’t have any issues – unless they choose to dig up old accounts, of course.’

  ‘What old accounts?’

  ‘The year Xiazhi died, a lot of things happened.’

  I knew what he meant.

  I thought of many things in that moment. Finally, I imagined Yu in jail, a fallen hero captured, and his wife abandoning him. My passion for him would not change. I would visit him every day –

  ‘I always wanted to marry a hero,’ I said.

  ‘I hope our generation doesn’t need heroes, and that everyone can just live happily as ordinary citizens.’

  ‘You want me to be a spinster?’ I asked, revealing a fear I seldom admitted even to myself.

  ‘The sooner you sober up, the sooner you’ll get married,’ Yu said, a double-edged remark.

  Zhima had not intended to take a life, but the bamboo stick he had wielded had not had eyes, and even though he had not intended it, the blow was a fatal one. The police handcuffed him. When he asked to see his daughter’s body, they rejected the request. He wept as he walked away, staggering along a crooked path as if he were drunk.

  I got word of what had happened and hurried back. My mother wept the most bitterly, and my sister seemed to be inventing all sorts of ways of expressing her grief that went beyond just weeping. She was like a scientist lost deep in thought. Yihua sat with her mother, looking a little dumbfounded.

  At first, there were two theories about how Yicao had died. One said she had committed suicide for the sake of love. The other was that she had jumped because she could not bear the humiliation after being gang-raped. The school was pushing for the argument that she had committed suicide for the sake of love, hoping to preserve the reputation of the school with this explanation, and to contain the influence of the act while the officials settled matters quietly. Four boys confessed to drinking until they lost control, and to forcing Yicao to have sex with them. The school said the students were usually excellent both in studies and behaviour, and that the pressure of high school had been too great. They had used the wrong approach to let off steam, and they hoped to receive leniency. The mothers of the four boys came as a group to my sister, begging for mercy and offering to pay whatever price my sister asked as compensation. My sister said honestly that the state had its laws, and that there was nothing she could do about it.

  Our family lacked the ability to console anyone else. Each person managed his or her own grief well and did not lose control. My mother cried for a while, then calmed down. She remembered that it was time to cook, and she needed to go to the shop to buy meat and to pick vegetables from the back garden. My father picked up his fishing nets and spread them on the pond, catching two grass carp. Soon, the kitchen was full of noise, and my sister instinctively joined in, preparing delicious food for the reunion of those family members who were still alive.

  After the thunderstorm, a cloud of fire rose over the horizon, as if a giant wound had opened in the celestial body and a blood-red glow flowed across the sky. The ground was bathed in gold, warm and bright. It was completely unlike the human world which had just undergone a tragedy.

  Shui Qin had just finished her first round of short-term treatment. Her family rushed over before lunch. Xianxian was dressed in Western-style clothing, like a city girl. She occasionally showed how pampered she was.

  My father kept his face straight as a board, but not because of Yicao’s tragedy. She was a daughter of the Liu household and had nothing to do with the Li family’s fortunes. Rather, he was angry with Shui Qin. She had acted on her own, aborting the Li family’s offspring, and ended up with this lingering illness. The cancer was a punishment from the ancestors, her just reward.

  My brother went about things cautiously, trying his best not to make a sound. He picked up a chicken’s foot and sat alone in the corner gnawing on it, then swallowing the crushed bones. The yellow dog lurking nearby went away disappointed.

  For a while, we did not speak at all, or spoke only about Guangzhou. Xianxian had many questions, and she was filled with curiosity about the outside world. She was smart and lively, and would not tolerate a perfunctory answer, so I had to give her my full attention. She asked what Yihua did in Guangzhou, and expressed her frustration that she could not immediately grow up herself. Yihua lowered her head and turned her attention to extracting the meat from a fishbone. I replied, ‘Your cousin is a line leader in a factory. A line leader is a group leader in charge of one production line.’

  Xianxian said she wanted to go somewhere even further away. She wanted to go to a university in the US, and she wanted to bring her grandparents travelling in the States.

  Shui Qin sat quietly. This was the dream she had lit in Xianxian. She could not snuff it out now. But the dream was like a balloon that had escaped from
her hand and was currently drifting further and further away. She had to catch hold of the string again.

  Shui Qin had thickened her skin and gone to speak to her ‘old customer.’ She had hoped he might offer some financial support on account of their night of passion, since he was, after all, the cause of the incident.

  The old customer laughed uncontrollably. He said, ‘You sleep with your husband every day. How can you say I’m the one who knocked you up?’

  Throwing away any semblance of dignity, she did not hold back. ‘He’s in poor health. We haven’t slept together in more than six months.’

  ‘If your husband will say that to me himself, I’ll believe you.’

  The old customer had her there. There was no way she would tell her own husband she had slept with another man.

  Thinking of Xianxian’s future, she said, ‘If you really want, Shunqiu will come and tell you in person.’

  The old customer said, ‘Even if Shunqiu is willing to be made a cuckold, it just means you two are conspiring to frame me.’

  She said, ‘You can’t behave like this. That’s heartless.’

  He said, ‘I’ll just pay you for that night, then. How much do you want?’

  ‘I’m not a whore,’ Shui Qin retorted.

  ‘Where’s the difference?’

  She was enraged. ‘Give me 10 000 yuan.’

  The old customer said, ‘Even a virgin doesn’t cost that much.’

  ‘That’s my price,’ she said.

  The old customer pulled 1000 yuan from his wallet and placed it in front of Shui Qin. ‘Be realistic. Your market price is at most 200.’

  To simplify her complex feelings, it was best to treat this like a transaction. Shui Qin was humiliated and felt annoyed, so she simply lowered herself and treated this old customer as a john to whom she had made a sale. At any rate, she had slept with him; there was no need to erect a memorial archway. As she accepted 1000 yuan, she suddenly felt enlightened. She had inadvertently found a way of making money. If her body couldn’t do it, she could use her hand or mouth. That didn’t count as selling herself. It was just paid labour, like tailoring or working in the fields. One always got paid for one’s labour, and that had nothing to do with morality or chastity.