by Liu Zhenyun
Everyone stopped talking and surged into the courtyard as Xiong’s three-car motorcade reached the entrance. Xiong’s secretary and assistants got out first, followed by a smiling Xiong, who shook hands with those waiting for him.
“Was the traffic bad, Comrade Xiong?” someone asked.
“No, it was fine. We just stopped briefly along the way. I’m sorry to have made you wait so long.”
“We ran into a peasant cutting down cotton stalks and Comrade Xiong stopped to chat with him,” his assistant said.
After Xiong shook hands all around, Lu said,
“It’s twelve thirty already, Comrade Xiong, so why don’t we have lunch first?”
“Sure. Let’s get something to eat.”
As they headed to the guesthouse restaurant, Lu poked Jin in the waist, signaling him to ask Xiong what he’d like for lunch. But Jin was in the dumps, for Xiong had treated him, an old friend, just like everyone else when they shook hands; he didn’t even show a sign of recognition. Maybe he’d forgotten him now that it had been ten years and he was a big shot. But then Jin was reminded of his own promotion; why would Xiong help him out? Unable to find an answer, Jin was confused and conflicted; he couldn’t bring himself to ask Xiong when Lu poked at him. Luckily, Xiong spoke up and unintentionally solved Jin’s dilemma.
“What are we having for lunch? How about a bowl of noodles each and we’ll talk after lunch.”
“Yes, right. Noodles it is,” Lu said, poking his office manager to alert the kitchen staff, since he hadn’t asked them to prepare noodles, either as part of a fancy or a simple meal. A car had to be sent out to buy noodles, so they all had to wait. It was one in the afternoon by the time noodles were brought in.
“Comrade Xiong must be starving,” Wu said.
“I am hungry, but I wasn’t about to say so unless you did.”
Everyone had a good laugh over his response, especially Wu, whose face turned bright red. The laughter died down, replaced by the sound of everyone slurping noodles.
They went into the conference room when lunch was over. Earlier, when Lu learned of Xiong’s lunch choice, he told his office manager to bring out cups of green tea, replacing the club soda and Coca-Cola that had been laid out for the meeting. A cup of tea in hand, they listened as Lu and Wu gave reports on their progress in industry, agriculture, and rural and small town enterprises.
Xiong spoke up midway through the reports:
“Can you hurry this up, Lao Lu? I heard about your famous Mount Lang, with its temple and monks. Are you trying to stop me from visiting the place?”
Everyone laughed again.
“Of course not.” Lu raced through his report. “Now for your instructions, Comrade Xiong.”
“I just got here, so what do I know?” He pointed to Wu. “Mr. Wu here is a veteran comrade, so why don’t you say something?”
“You’re being too modest, Comrade Xiong.” Wu’s face turned red from the attention. “You needn’t be so modest. I’m here to give you a report and we await your instructions.”
Xiong threw off a few comments, which could be summarized as one, be practical and realistic, and two, be sure to consult with experienced comrades, such as Mr. Wu. Wu was naturally flattered again as everyone applauded. Then they all climbed into cars heading out to Mount Lang to see the temple and monks.
Xiong did not exchange a word with Jin the whole time. He was stung by the slight, as he noticed Two-fifty glancing at him constantly, as if doubting his relationship with the secretary general. It was obvious that Xiong had forgotten him; it was also clear from Xiong’s behavior that of all the people in the district office, he thought highly of Wu only, mentioning the latter whenever possible. He asked Wu, not Lu, to ride in his Mercedes before they left for Mount Lang. Wu would soon step down from his leadership position, so why would Xiong value him so much? Jin could not understand, nor could anyone else, it seemed.
They returned to the guesthouse for dinner after the outing. When they finished, Xiong was invited to rest for the day.
“Sure, we’ll call it a day. There’s a match tonight. You can watch it on TV.”
Everyone dispersed after shaking hands with him. When they walked out of the guesthouse to go their separate ways, Xiong’s assistant ran out to Jin.
“You must be Comrade Jin Quanli.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Comrade Xiong would like to invite you in for a chat.”
Feeling the blood rush to his head, Jin said repeatedly, “Sure.” The unhappiness from the perceived slight that had been building all afternoon vanished. The old friend from ten years before hadn’t forgotten him after all. He cast a meaningful glance at Two-fifty before following Xiong’s assistant inside.
Xiong was taking a bath when they walked in, so the assistant said to Jin, “I hope you don’t mind waiting awhile.”
He walked out, leaving Jin standing in the room.
Twenty minutes later, Xiong walked out, draped in a towel, drying his hair along the way. He chortled when he saw Jin before thumping him in the belly.
“Why are you standing there?”
Jin took a seat.
“Look at you. Do you still remember me?”
“Of course I do, Secretary Xiong.” Jin stood up.
“Do you still drink?”
“No more.”
“Bullshit. You did ten years ago, and now you don’t?”
“All right, I do.”
“Don’t be so uptight.” Xiong had a big laugh. “You weren’t like this back in Dazhai. Sit down.”
Feeling more at ease at the mention of Dazhai, Jin sat down and laughed with him.
“Tell me, why are you acting this way? Like a bashful young girl.”
“I’m terrified of you, now that you’re the secretary general.” Jin had to tell the truth.
Xiong laughed again before taking a bottle of Yanghe from his briefcase.
“Will you join me?”
“Of course.”
Xiong opened the bottle and took a swig before handing it over to Jin, as they’d done back at Dazhai. Jin took a drink.
“Your district is terrible. No one offered me a drink.”
“We wanted to. We had something ready for you, but didn’t bring it out because we didn’t want you to criticize us.” Jin offered the truth.
Xiong got dressed and took a seat across from Jin.
“You’re right,” Xiong said with a sigh. “I’m not free to do anything since the promotion. I can’t even drink now.”
Reminded of Xiong’s help with his promotion, Jin felt compelled to show his gratitude, so he said, “I heard the moment you arrived in the provincial office. I wanted to go see you, General Secretary, but didn’t because I knew how busy you must be. You have so much to do and yet you remembered me and looked into my advancement—”
Jin waved him off.
“No more of that, Lao Jin. I didn’t help you with anything. As a new arrival, I don’t know much about the situation here, so I treat everyone the same whether I know them or not, and I don’t care for crass maneuvering. You have absolutely no reason to thank me if you’re referring to your promotion, because I had nothing to do with it. You were nominated by the organization section at the provincial party and the district party committee levels, and your promotion was discussed and passed at the provincial standing committee. You just do a good job and don’t think about anything else. You can thank the party if you want.”
Jin nodded. His admiration for Xiong mounted.
“You’ve made tremendous progress over the years, Secretary Xiong.”
It sounded off to him, but Xiong didn’t seem to mind as he lit a cigarette.
“It’s all due to the training and encouragement of the party. Without it, I wouldn’t have been able to go anywhere or made any improvement.”
Xiong changed the subject and started talking about other things before asking Jin about his work. Jin told him he had finally gotten used to working at the
district office, to which Xiong responded with a nod.
“Since you’re new, you ought to ask the senior comrades for advice if you aren’t sure of something. You must learn to respect them, particularly Lao Wu, here in this district office.”
Jin nodded rigorously to show he understood.
They talked until nine o’clock, time for the match to begin. Xiong turned on the TV, so Jin got up to leave.
“All right. Call me if you need anything. The people at the district office aren’t bad. Lao Wu and Lao Lu are good people.”
The implication wasn’t lost on Jin, who nodded again with gratitude.
“I won’t forget what you said, Secretary Xiong. I’ll be going now, so you can rest.”
Xiong insisted on walking him out.
Early the next morning, as Xiong was leaving to visit another district, everyone came out to see him off. Xiong shook hands with them, again treating Jin like everyone else, with no extra words to him. Knowing enough not to feel slighted by then, Jin was even more impressed by how Xiong conducted himself.
5
Jin Quanli was a completely different person after Xiong’s visit. No longer bothered by advantages or disadvantages at the office, he threw himself into his work, sitting at his desk reading documents or traveling out to the counties; he didn’t care which car he got and always treated the driver cordially; he ignored Two-fifty and showed old Mr. Wu his utmost respect by consulting with the old man whenever he wasn’t sure how to proceed. On weekends, he visited the old man at home and wrote down everything he said. Wu was impressed.
“I have some advice for you, Lao Jin,” Wu said to him once.
“By all means, Mr. Wu. As my elder, your criticism of me is a sign of concern.”
“Expand the scope of your work,” he said with a nod. “Don’t limit your focus to disciplinary investigations and family planning. You should keep your eyes on other areas as well. But of course, just keep an eye out, don’t interfere. I’ll be stepping down in a couple of years and you young people will have to take over.”
Jin was so touched he was nearly in tears.
“Please don’t talk like that, Mr. Wu,” Jin said earnestly. “It makes me feel terrible to hear you talk about stepping down. The district cadres and masses wouldn’t let you do that. As for me, I’ve learned so much from you.”
“This is just between us. Don’t mention it to anyone else. I rode with Comrade Xiong when he was here and he shared some of his thoughts with me in the car. He’s a good man and the central government was right to promote him. He has my utmost respect.”
“He has nothing but respect for you, too,” Jin said.
“I just felt bad that we offered him nothing but noodles.”
“He’s from Henan and loves the stuff.”
Wu laughed.
Jin worked even harder after this conversation.
An assistant from the administrative office opened his door one Thursday when he was reading files.
“Someone’s here to see you, Commissioner Jin. Will you meet with him?”
“Who is it?”
“He just said he wants to file a complaint.”
“Sure, send him in.” Jin thought it was another exposé against a cadre. “He’s come a long way to see me.”
Jin was surprised when the assistant showed the visitor in; it was the officer manager from the Chungong county party office.
“What are you up to, Lao Zhong?” Jin laughed. “You know you can come see me directly. Why did you say you’re here to lodge a complaint?”
“This isn’t a personal visit, Commissioner Jin,” Zhong said, clearly angry. “I am here to file a complaint. You’re in charge of discipline investigations, aren’t you?”
Jin poured Zhong a cup of tea after the assistant left the office.
“Who’s the offender? What’s your complaint?”
“It’s Xiao Mao. I’ll go to the provincial office if you won’t do something, and to the central government office if they do nothing. I’d go all the way to the United Nations if necessary.”
“All right, I hear you. Get hold of yourself. Didn’t I tell you all to work with him before I left? You must think of the eight hundred thousand residents and not make things hard on him.”
“It’s not us.” Zhong scowled. “He’s the one who’s making it tough for us. He removed me from my position.” Zhong crouched down and began to sob, holding his head in his hands.
“Really?” Jin was stunned.
“Yes, really.” Zhong dried his tears. “You’re a big official now, so you must not care about us little people anymore. Why don’t you come see for yourself what he’s doing? He hasn’t done anything but bully people since he became the party secretary. With all that power, he wants to replace everyone in the office with his own people. Actually, I wasn’t the first to suffer his axe.”
“Is it really that bad? He came to see me when he attended a meeting at the district office.”
“He’s two-faced; he must have lied to you. Why else would he remove me but for the simple reason that I used to work for you?”
That comment stung. What was Mao up to? He hadn’t objected to the man’s promotion, so how could he be so insolent? Jin maintained his composure and asked with a smile, “So you’re out of work now?”
“He wanted to transfer me to the science commission. You know what kind of office that is. You have to take care of this, Commissioner. I’m going to sleep in your office until it’s done. People used to tell me how I made the wrong choice by working for you. They said I should have gone to work in the county government office. You glided away for your new position, leaving us behind to be persecuted. You were our boss, so you must help us.” Zhong began to weep again.
“That’s enough. Take my lunch box and meal coupons to the dining hall and get lunch for two.”
Zhong got to his feet, dried his red-rimmed eyes, and went off with the lunch box.
Jin angrily smashed a cup when he was alone in the office. Damn you, Xiao Mao. Getting rid of my people? What gall! He grabbed the phone and told the operator to connect him to Chungong. But he thought about Xiong before he was put through; reminded of how the general secreary handled personnel issues, he felt his anger subside, and told the operator to disconnect the line.
They sat down across from each other to eat when Zhong came back with the food.
“Tell you what, Lao Zhong. Go see Secretary Lu at the district party office when we’re done here. Tell him what’s going on and ask for his advice. The district party office is the right place for county party affairs.”
“No way, Mr. Jin.” Zhong glared at him. “You can’t send me away like that. You’re our old boss, so why would Secretary Lu step in if you won’t? I’m not going to see him. I want you to take care of this.”
Jin lost his temper.
“You’ll do what I say and go see him. What do you expect me to do? Have a fight with Little Mao? There are proper channels in the organization, and for this you’re supposed to see Secretary Lu. Why can’t you understand that?”
Zhong looked down and scratched his head through the thick hair with a chopstick. He seemed to see the light, but then maybe not.
“All right. I’ll go see him.”
Zhong went to see Lu after lunch. But Jin felt bad after he left. He sighed as he wondered if he had been selfish, turning away his old colleague for his own future. But looking at the big picture, he knew he couldn’t afford a confrontation with Mao at the moment. It would be detrimental to the whole situation. Yet, he was uncomfortable sacrificing old friend for his own sake. Distracted by these conflicting thoughts, he couldn’t concentrate on work the entire afternoon.
About a week later he ran into Secretary Lu.
“Someone from Chungong came to lodge a complaint against Xiao Mao, Lao Jin. Do you know anything about that?”
“No, I don’t. What was the complaint about?”
“It was the county party office manager, saying
that Mao had retaliated against him for personal reasons and removed him from his position. I placed a call to Mao, and that turned out to be quite not the case. The office manager had a lifestyle issue. He spent too much time at the county guesthouse, fooling around with the girls there.”
“Is that so? Well, he shouldn’t be working at the county office if that’s the case.”
“It’s over now. Nothing serious. He’s just an office manager. I thought you knew, so I wanted to tell you what’s been done. I agreed with how Xiao Mao dealt with it.”
“He did the right thing,” Jin said. “I agree too.”
Jin’s anger flared as he walked away. That damned Mao. A lifestyle issue was just an excuse; he needed to find a cause to fire someone. Jin had known that Zhong loved to hang out with women; it was nothing new and hadn’t bothered Mao before. He started firing people once he was promoted, which could only mean he wanted a sort of regime change. No one was blame-free. You can always find something against someone you want to fire. Besides, who doesn’t like women? It’s all a matter of what you do. Jin had a guilty conscience when he thought about how he’d refused to help an old friend out, until he convinced himself that he couldn’t have done anything, since Zhong worked for Mao.
Why didn’t you watch your step? Lifestyle issues are easy to prove. I can’t go telling people you didn’t do anything wrong, can I? I didn’t help you because I couldn’t, not because I wouldn’t. Besides, I’d suffer if I even tried. Jin felt better, but these thoughts continued to plague him and kept him awake that night. He was reminded of Xiong again just before dawn, when morning clouds began to appear in the east. Everything was clear to him again and his confidence in his work was restored, so he ate a couple of slices of cake, put the matter behind him, and went to work in high spirits.
6
Commissioner Wu suffered a stroke shortly before the end of the year.
As he did every morning, he’d gone to the open market with a basket to buy fish. He picked a big one and a small one, but after the fishmonger put them in his basket, the large one leaped out and flapped around on the ground. Wu passed out when he bent down to pick it up. Unaware of his status, the fishmonger took his time getting him to the hospital, which delayed treatment. Wu was awake when his family rushed to the hospital, but was paralyzed and could no longer speak.