by Xinran
It had all come about because of something the Tofu Lady had said. All the workers were leaving Zhuhai for Spring Festival, and he and her husband had travelled back together on the train. Gousheng had offered to put him up for the night so that he could meet up with his nieces before going on to Anhui and, in the morning, Uncle Two had stopped by the Tofu Lady’s shop to eat some stinky-tofu fritters. While she was serving him, they had discussed his nieces, and the Tofu Lady had mentioned that it was a while since she had seen Three. Her absence had been a matter of some debate amongst the regulars at the big willow. Some people said that she was ill, others that she’d run off with a man, but no one knew for sure. Even Mr Guan Buyu, who was always so well up on the latest news, was wondering what had become of her. They had lost track of the other two sisters as well, because they only ever came to the willow tree when Three did.
Uncle Two was so anxious when he heard this that he decided he should try to find the girls immediately. Although the Tofu Lady tried to dissuade him, assuring him that the girls were probably on their way to find him, and warning him that Nanjing was bigger than he thought, he was adamant. But when he reached the main road with its streams of heavy traffic, Uncle Two was afraid. He only knew the roads between the train station, the Tofu Lady’s shop and the bus station. Now he was confronted with millions of people and hundreds and thousands of streets. Where was a peasant like him supposed to find his relatives? He got out the willow whistle Three had made him, and blew it as hard as he could, but it was now too dried out and cracked to make a noise. Uncle Two’s heart was filled with foreboding, and he tried desperately to think what to do. Suddenly he remembered Mr Guan. He knew where the girls were! The big willow wasn’t far from the Tofu Lady’s place, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find.
To his relief, Uncle Two found the tree without difficulty but again his luck failed him. Mr Guan’s office was closed for the day. A passer-by said that people who had urgent business often waited for Mr Guan because he was known to come to the office in the evening to read. Uncle Two decided to bed down in the doorway. He opened one of his bags of luggage, got out the second-hand overcoat he had bought for his wife and wrapped himself in it. Then, covering his knees with the tattered padded jacket that had kept the cold night-wind off on the building site, he propped himself up in the lee of a few wooden boxes using his other bag as a pillow. As he lay there, the exhaustion of forty-eight hours on the train overcame him, and he began to snore.
He awoke with a start to a stern voice and a dazzlingly white light.
‘What are you doing? ID! Letter of introduction! Get up, get up, I’m talking to you, hurry up!’
Still half asleep, Uncle Two had no idea what was going on, but he saw the peaked cap and police uniform and his instinctive reaction was to search for his papers, hidden deep in his clothes. Yet, try as he might, he couldn’t extract the bulging envelope from its hiding place and the more he panicked, the more his hands shook and the harder it became to get the thing out. The policeman was becoming increasingly impatient.‘Get a move on!’ he shouted. ‘Stop messing around and show me your papers!’
‘I … that is, I have documents,’ stammered Uncle Two. ‘I’ve got them all: ID card, work permit, letter of introduction … Bloody hell, I can’t get them out …’
‘No bad language! This is a civilised city, not like your crude, dirty countryside. Huh, are these all your documents? Is that you? You don’t look like the big tough guy in the photograph with your old man’s beard! And where’s that woman’s coat from?’
‘Woman’s coat?’ Uncle Two was completely scared out of his wits, ‘What woman’s coat?’
‘I’m asking the questions! So that thing draped over your shoulders isn’t a woman’s coat? It’s been such a short time since you stole it, you haven’t had a chance to look at it properly, eh?’
‘This … this … I mean to say … it’s coming back to me now. I bought it for my wife.’
‘Now it comes back to you? If you’d bought it yourself, would you need to think about it? Get your things together and come with me. You country people should be planting your fields, but no: you’re too busy thinking of coming to the city to make a fat profit. And when you’re here, you still reckon you’re not earning enough, so you pocket a bit here and a bit there to take home for Spring Festival. Aren’t I right? Hey, get that woman’s coat out of your bag! How dare you pack it away when you still haven’t proved it’s yours. Fingers still itching to nick something else, are they?’
Without waiting for an answer the policeman pulled out a strange black machine and shouted, ‘03, 03, this is 26, over … I’ve caught someone red-handed here. Get a move on, I’m cold, over … Two bags of luggage, over … What do you mean wait for the next van? How many have you brought in? Over … Well, I don’t care if you have to squeeze him in. Just get here soon, it’s bloody freezing today, over!’
The policeman put his machine back inside his jacket and turned to Uncle Two.
‘Why are you shivering? If you’re cold, put on that woman’s coat of yours. We can deal with that issue when we get to the station. We policemen don’t have hearts of stone, you know. It’s not as if I’ve handcuffed you. Handcuffs on a bitterly cold day like this would freeze you to the marrow.’
‘I’m … I’m not cold, I’m …’ Uncle Two could scarcely get the words out.
‘Not cold? Then why are you shaking? Don’t tell me you’re scared! If you’re brave enough to commit a crime, you should have the guts to take the consequences. Don’t go about thieving if you’re going to get scared afterwards. If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s a wimp.’
‘I haven’t stolen anything!’ shouted Uncle Two, finally finding the courage to speak up for himself.
The policeman was momentarily taken aback.‘Then what are you shaking for? An honest man doesn’t jump at shadows. If you haven’t stolen anything there’s nothing to worry about. Just explain it all when we get to the station …’
‘But why should I go to the police station if I haven’t stolen anything?’ asked Uncle Two, his brain suddenly lucid.
‘Well …’ This time it was the policeman’s turn to be confused. He thought for a moment and then said, ‘Prove you haven’t stolen anything!’
‘Prove it? But how can I do that? I just haven’t, that’s all,’ said Uncle Two, stumped by the policeman’s logic.
By this time, the policeman was overcome by impatience. ‘Look, whether you’ve stolen anything or not, you’re coming with me! Let’s worry about the reasons why later, eh? Do you want to go home for Spring Festival or don’t you? Trying to argue the toss with a policeman indeed!’
Uncle Two bent his head to bow and then, thinking better of it, stood up straight, a look of utter bewilderment on his face. The policeman heaved a sigh.
‘Bear up,’ he said, in a kinder voice. ‘And remember: don’t try to chop logic at the police station. So long as your crime isn’t serious, the punishment will be light, but if you go looking for trouble, things could get worse. Believe me, you’d do well to listen to my advice. You country people have no idea how things work in the city. Here’s the thing: every work unit has an end-of-year quota and the police are no exception. If I hadn’t caught you, some other policeman would have pulled you in. You were throwing yourself at the barrel of a gun sleeping in full view of everyone like that! All you have to do is explain that you didn’t understand the city rules. So, come on, it’s not that bad …’
The policeman talked on but Uncle Two’s overheated brain was so tired and confused that he drifted off into a reverie in which he was assailed by the voices of his fellow labourers roaring in his ears:
‘Haven’t you heard? The cops might put up signs saying “Confession leads to leniency, resistance will be met with severity”, but they really mean “Confession leads to severity, resistance will be met with even more severity”. Keep your head, give ’em a present and you’ll be home for Spring Festival … Otherwise
, guilty or not, you’ll end up inside being duffed up by the old lags as a “welcome present”. If you’re lucky you’ll get off with a few scars; unlucky and they’ll break your arms and legs. Prison has to be bad otherwise it wouldn’t deter criminals from breaking the law again.
‘And don’t try to protest. Whatever you say, you’ll be wrong-footed. Wrongly accused? It was your own ignorance that brought it upon you, and how will you learn the rules and regulations without a dose of punishment? Cops too brutal? You’re lucky to be living in the “modern democracy”. At the time of the emperors, your whole family would have been executed alongside you, and probably a few friends as well …
‘You might think the Open Policy was intended to make things better for you, but think again. When laws are changed, it’s the officials who benefit, not the peasants. Forget what you’ve heard about foreign countries, and how people there can influence the law. Don’t be so childish! Can someone who works in the fields sit in a big fancy Hall of State making laws? It’s all people with power and influence playing games to deceive the common people …’
Uncle Two thought about his gangmaster on the building site, who owed him three years’ wages. Some of his fellow workers had tried to sue the man, but the court had sent them packing because they didn’t have contracts. Then a few of the workers whispered that the court had been paid a bribe and said they should go out on strike, but their bosses had warned them off. They were working on a key State project, they said, and any strike action would be considered anti-Party and anti-State. Who would risk that kind of charge?
Ever since Uncle Two had gone out into the world, he had prided himself on his caution. He’d watched fellow workers get into difficulties and listened to their complaints, thinking all the time that they were foolish not to learn how to do things the city people’s way … But here he was, arrested for waiting at a door. Who would have thought that could be a crime?
A piercing howl of police sirens roused Uncle Two from his reverie, and a fifteen-seater minibus screeched to a halt in front of him. ‘Get in the back of the van!’ said the policeman as he opened the door.
Inside, the minibus had been divided into two sections: the front two rows of seats were for the five policemen, while those they had arrested were crammed into the back behind an iron grille. Uncle Two clambered in and squatted down by the door with his back to the others. He could hardly move, the bus was so full. He couldn’t see exactly how many people were behind him, but he could smell them: the sweaty armpits of people who hadn’t washed for many days, the fishy reek of feet, that dusty, smoky smell found only in the hair of migrant workers, and the terrible odour of bad breath that came in great gusts every time anyone opened their mouth. Uncle Two had never been able to understand how it was that country people could brush their teeth every day and still have such bad breath, but it was the case – and never more so than now. Crouched in the back of that van, just one of a stinking mass of bodies, Uncle Two felt overwhelmed with despair. He had no idea where his three nieces were, and his wife and family had no idea where he was. How could this have happened? Although he tried to suppress them, great sobs began rising up in his chest.
‘Quiet there! No noise!’ one of the police bellowed from the front. This gave Uncle Two such a start that he choked, and started hiccupping.
‘Fuck it, I told you to shut up. Which one of you bastards is being courageous enough to ignore me?’
‘I’m … hic … sorry … hic … I … can’t … hic … stop,’ wept Uncle Two.
‘Leave him,’ came the voice of the policeman who had arrested him. ‘If heaven doesn’t rain on us, the people fart at us. Just let him get on with it.’
Before long the van stopped and the back door was opened by a policeman who shouted, ‘Out, hurry up, everybody stand by the wall over there, bring your stuff, stand properly, don’t shuffle about, get in a proper line! Move it!’
Uncle Two practically fell out of the bus into the small courtyard as the people behind him began to push to get out. This meant that he was the first in the queue for questioning. He was led into a small interview room, which just had space for a small table and two chairs. As Uncle Two was sitting down, the policeman who had arrested him came in to talk to the man behind the table.
‘I’ve put them all into the other interview rooms, Officer Huang, because it’s so cold out. When you need someone else for questioning, go via the back door, rather than getting chilled to the bone. I’m off out again. Who’s to know if we’re not saving a life or two today: you could die being out in this weather. Are these bloody ignorant peasants trying to kill themselves?’
‘If you put the ones we’ve questioned with those we haven’t, how am I supposed to tell who’s who?’ asked the policeman called Huang crossly.
‘Just look in your notebook to see who you’ve talked to. There are eleven more to go after this one.’ The policeman opened the door to leave.
‘And when you bring in even more, where are we supposed to put them, eh? The second half of the night’s going to be even colder. We can’t just make people stand in the yard!’
‘Fit ’em in somehow,’ said the policeman, who evidently wanted the conversation to finish. Officer Huang shivered in the chilly draught from the open door.
‘That’s all very well, but how am I supposed to question them all?’
‘Put in some overtime …’ And with that, the policeman walked away.
Uncle Two watched nervously as Officer Huang leafed impatiently through his notebook: ‘Come on then. Name? Age? Where are you from?’
‘Li Zhongjia, forty-two, Chuzhou Prefecture, Anhui Province.’
‘How do I write that? Li as in the fruit tree? Zhong as in loyalty? Jia as in family?’
‘That’s it,’ stammered Uncle Two. ‘My elder brother is Zhongguo – Loyal to the Nation. My father said that after loyalty to the nation comes loyalty to the family.’
Officer Huang seemed to find this way of naming sons amusing because he gave a little chuckle.
‘Do you have papers?’
‘Yes, these are my identity papers, this is my work permit, this is the letter of introduction from my local government …’ Uncle Two pulled out the big envelope from his breast pocket, and once again unfolded the papers with their big red official seals.
‘And have you got a temporary residence permit for Nanjing?’ asked Officer Huang sorting casually through the papers, and making a couple of ticks in his notebook.
‘For Nanjing?’ asked Uncle in confusion.
‘The permit that allows you to reside or stay in Nanjing.’
‘But I wasn’t planning on staying here. I’m just passing through on my way home. I get the bus here. I was waiting to see someone.’
‘So when did you arrive in Nanjing and who were you waiting to see?’
‘I got off the train yesterday and went home with someone who’d been travelling with me …’ Uncle Two did his best to remember every detail, for fear that the policeman would accuse him of not admitting to something.
But Huang interrupted him. ‘I’ve no time to listen to your petty details. Who were you waiting for and can they vouch for you?’
‘Well … his name is Mr Guan …’
‘Telephone number?’
‘I … I don’t know …’
‘You don’t know? Then how can we find him to bear witness for you? Is there anyone else who can confirm your story? If there isn’t, you can forget about going home for Spring Festival!’
Uncle Two was filled with horror at the idea that he might never escape this place. ‘Perhaps …’ he stammered. ‘… Everyone under the willow tree knows Mr Guan. He helps lots of country people find work …’
‘Are you talking about the job centre near the big willow tree?’ Huang asked.
‘Yes, that’s the place!’
‘Is that where you were arrested?’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Uncle Two eagerly.
‘So tell me about t
his woman’s coat you had on you … Where did you get it?’
‘I bought it second hand, for my wife.’
‘Receipt?’
‘Do I need a receipt when I buy clothes?’
‘Of course! If you don’t have a receipt, how can you prove you haven’t stolen the goods?’
‘Honestly, I’ve never taken other people’s things! May Heaven strike me down if I tell a lie!’ begged Uncle Two, pointing to the top of his head in desperation.
Uncle Two’s agitation seemed to make Officer Huang very frustrated.
‘All right, I’ve finished with you. Go and wait for sentencing.’
‘Sentencing?’ exclaimed Uncle Two, his knees going weak. ‘Sentencing for a crime?’
‘What do you think we brought you in for, if not to sentence you?’ said Officer Huang, escorting Uncle Two into the other interview room. Though it was crammed full of people, there was not a sound to be heard. Huang pointed to another prisoner, asked his name, and took him away for questioning.
Uncle Two sat down in the tiny space the man had just vacated and tried to find somewhere to put his bags. The man next to him gave a shove.
‘Bloody hell, who d’you think you are coming into prison with all your luggage?’
‘Sorry, sorry.’ Uncle Two didn’t know what to do.
‘You can put one of those bags on my knees,’ a voice said from beside him.
‘Thank you, Brother!’ said Uncle Two, trying unsuccessfully to turn round to look at the good-hearted person.
‘It’s natural for companions in adversity to help each other out,’ the voice said wanly.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Uncle Two quietly. ‘You sound rough …’
‘It’s nothing … A row with the missus. I went out to drown my sorrows, had a few too many, and mistook a police car for a taxi on the way home. As if that wasn’t enough, I laid into the cop inside thinking he was the taxi driver …’
The man was just about to continue his story when the door flew open and a stern voice called out, ‘Quiet! No talking allowed! The next one to speak will stand in the yard!’