by Liu Zhenyun
“I told you not to go buy fish, but you wouldn’t listen,” his wife sobbed. “You thought you could do it. Now see what happened?”
Holding up as best he could, Wu merely smiled.
Secretary Lu Hongwu arrived and took the commissioner’s hands.
“You should have sent someone to buy fish, Lao Wu. Why did you have to go to the market yourself?”
Wu held on to Lu’s hand and smiled.
No one was aware of Wu’s conundrum, which involved having fish for each meal, a live one, no less; a dead fish would lead to a stomachache and diarrhea. Before mealtime, he’d go into the kitchen to make sure the fish was still flapping, and replace it with live one if it wasn’t, even if it had been leaping shortly before being put in the pot. Going to the market had not been necessary when he was promoted to commissioner. But, being young and energetic, he made frequent visits to the counties under his jurisdiction, where this quirk was well known. Before he departed, the county secretary would usually put a bucket of live fish in the trunk of his car or have someone deliver fish to him. That had changed in recent years, when old age and a lack of energy prevented him from making so many trips. Besides, everyone knew he’d be stepping down soon and rarely felt the need to curry favor. Which was why he’d gone to the market himself.
Jin Quanli, who was overseeing family planning in one of the counties, raced back when he heard the news. He had an emotional attachment to Wu, a decent man, even though he hadn’t worked for the old man for a year. Wu was asleep when Jin got to the hospital. His wife was dozing at his bedside. Jin tiptoed inside once he caught his breath. Wu’s wife got up to find him a chair when she saw him walk in. Jin took her hand to stop her from waking Wu up.
“Don’t. Let him sleep,” he whispered before sitting down to watch Wu silently.
Wu was still asleep an hour later, so his wife said, “Go get some rest, Deputy Commissioner. I’ll tell him you came to see him when he wakes up.”
“I won’t be able to sleep, so I’ll sit here and wait.”
It was three in the morning when Wu opened his eyes. As his wife helped him sit up for a few sips of orange juice, he noticed Jin. An unusual glint shone in his eyes. He pointed at Jin, then at his wife and finally the clock on the wall.
“He’s been here most of the night,” his wife said.
Wu’s eyes were moist, as were Jin’s when went up to take his hands.
“What happened, Commissioner?” Jin was choking up.
Wu, who had acted tough with other visitors, let tears stream down his face in front of Jin. Grabbing Jin’s hands, Wu wrote on his palm:
“You get live fish from now on.”
Jin nodded before choking up again.
“I’ve let you down.”
Wu patted Jin’s hands with surprising force.
“Should I give Comrade Xiong a call and have him take you to the provincial capital?”
With a shake of his head, Wu wrote:
“Better here.”
Jin nodded again to show he knew what the old man meant.
Jin went to see Wu every day. Whenever he needed to visit one of the counties, he would race over as soon as he returned. Lu went too, but not as frequently as Jin, due to the press of work at the office. Two-fifty, not keen on hospital visits, came only once. The other deputy secretaries and commissioners also made it over. Xiong sent his personal assistant when he heard, making Wu cry again as he held the assistant’s hands.
Everyone knew that Wu could not return to work after they saw him. He himself had no illusions about his health, and wrote on Lu’s palm during one of his visits:
“Early retirement. Please consider.”
“Just keep getting better, and don’t worry about this,” Lu said.
On his way out, however, Lu realized that the district office could not function long without a commissioner. He sent a report to the organization section to suggest that Wu’s position be filled by a deputy commissioner.
Lu’s report spread quickly, surpassing Wu’s illness as the news of the day and turning everyone’s attention to the question of Wu’s replacement. Visits to the district hospital grew farther and farther apart as palpable tension seized the administrative building, with its five anxious deputy commissioners—Two-fifty, Jin, Sha, Guan and Liu. Sha and Guan, who had moved up because of their seniority, had mediocre work performance. Liu, a recently installed college graduate, was still studying at the central party school. None of the three was a serious contender; Jin and Two-fifty were the only two who could be considered. Jin, who had a solid record and worked day and night, without putting on airs, had the popular support. Two-fifty had made the right choice in swapping with Jin, and had performed well with rural and small town enterprises and urban construction. Naturally the two men became the focus of everyone’s attention. All things considered, Two-fifty had the upper hand, since he had been there for five years, while Jin was finishing up his first. Two-fifty was in charge of tasks with visible results, the enterprises showing concrete yields and large-scale urban structures under way. In contrast, Jin spent all his time dealing with strayed cadres and pregnant women, which meant less-noticeable job performance. The difference did not escape the attention of Two-fifty, who was thrilled by Wu’s illness, convinced that he would be the logical replacement. After learning about Lu’s report to the provincial organization office, where he had once worked, Two-fifty got into his car and went to the provincial capital to work on his connections. He returned after three days with haughty airs, as if he had the job in hand.
Naturally, Jin wanted to be Wu’s replacement, something Wu seemed to have suggested himself. But Jin had not expected Wu to fall ill so suddenly, which sped up the process. Affairs of the world are complicated; it can be unfavorable to have things happen too slowly but it can also have an adverse effect if they occur too soon, like Wu’s retirement. Having been on the job for under a year put him at a disadvantage. In all fairness, Jin had not been in a hurry to become a commissioner and knew he needed to work for Wu to build up his credentials. Yet he was unwilling to give way to Two-fifty now that they were competing for the position, because Jin believed he was more competent than the bully Two-fifty. The five million residents of the district would suffer if someone like that became commissioner. Besides, if he were promoted, then Jin would have to work for him, something he found distasteful. But the decision had to come from the provincial office, so all he could do was worry. His anxiety intensified when Two-fifty returned confidently. Jin then recalled his old friend, Xiong, and decided to copy his rival by going to the provincial capital to see him. But as luck would have it, Xiong had gone to Beijing for a meeting with the central committee. Jin returned unhappily to await his fate, since he knew no one else in the capital.
Two comrades from the organization section came a week later with the express plan to promote Two-fifty and sought the views of the district party committee. If no one objected, the provincial standing committee would hold a meeting to discuss the nomination and eventually move ahead with the promotion. Lu settled for asking one question:
“Should we ask Mr. Wu’s views?”
“We can do that,” they said.
Lu went to the hospital and told Wu about it.
“What do you think, Mr. Wu?”
Wu put his hand out to his wife, who knew what he wanted and brought him a pen and paper.
“Please tell the provincial committee,” Wu wrote in a shaky hand, “that I object to appointing that man.” He tossed down the pen and paper in such anger that Lu was startled.
“So who would you like?”
“Jin Quanli,” he wrote.
Lu nodded to show he understood. “I’ll relay your view to the committee.”
The two men from the organization office shrugged when he told them.
“We’ll report what we’ve heard,” one of them said.
And that was what the committee members heard at their meeting, causing a minor argume
nt. The head of the organization section leaned toward Two-fifty, while the governor said, “He’s obviously not good enough, since even his own boss objected. Let’s choose Jin Quanli instead.”
“All right. Jin Quanli it is.” They all sided with the governor, when Xiong spoke up.
“Jin Quanli has been a deputy commissioner for barely a year, so it may not be a good idea to promote him so soon. In my view, he should remain a deputy and build up his résumé. Since we don’t have a suitable candidate at the moment, why don’t we keep it vacant? We can ask Comrade Lu Hongwu to serve as interim commissioner for a year or two, and then find a replacement.”
His idea was met with unanimous support and the decision was made. A heavy burden fell on Lu, who had to divide his attention between the district committee and the administrative office. Two-fifty was disappointed; clearly the provincial committee didn’t trust him, especially after his maneuvering. He knew that Wu had played a role in blocking him, but he focused his displeasure on the committee, which, in his view, lacked conviction and had listened to the wrong person. Lu also incurred his ire, now that he had taken over as commissioner.
“The central government is advocating the separation of government and party, but they ignored that and gave him two hats,” Two-fifty ranted in his office.
Jin wasn’t unhappy when he saw the document from the provincial party committee, for he was in no hurry to be the commissioner, so long as Two-fifty wasn’t promoted over him. He didn’t mind waiting; in fact, the longer it dragged on, the better his chances. He felt even better when he heard of Two-fifty’s rage.
“What an idiot,” Jin said to himself. “The more he acts up the less likely he’ll ever become the commissioner.”
It seemed a cinch that the position would be his sooner or later, now that Two-fifty was out of the picture, so Jin threw himself into his work. Wu was impressed when he heard about Jin’s diligence, which reassured him that he had keen eyes and had picked the right person.
“Must believe in party,” he wrote on Jin’s palm when he came to see him at the hospital one day.
Jin knew what the old man meant and also how Wu had done his best to veto Two-fifty in favor of him. He gripped Wu’s hand and shook it as a wave of gratitude welled up inside.
7
The central government began a campaign of reporting on official malfeasance, incurring a huge increase of workload for Jin, who received calls or letters nearly daily. He handled the caseload by taking turns with a deputy party secretary from the district office. Eventually, the growing caseload prompted Lu to recommend that Jin be in charge only of disciplinary investigations and turn family planning over to Sha, another of the deputy commissioners.
One day Jin received a letter charging four county secretaries of building houses with yards or multi-story residences; they were Cong from Zhu county, Zhou from Pi county, Hu from Nancheng county, and Bai from Wujiang. Zhou and Bai even took women to their county guesthouses for dalliances. The letter shocked Jin, for they were all friends from the past.
He didn’t feel comfortable questioning them, since he couldn’t be sure of the report’s veracity, and couldn’t investigate them even if the charges were true. Besides, they knew him too well to be honest with him, and he was well aware of what Zhou and Hu were like. Jin cursed Two-fifty once again for shoving this thankless job onto him. The earlier reports had all been on shop managers and village or county chiefs, which were so easy to deal with: he simply wrote “Investigate” on the accusations for his team of investigators to look into the complaints. How could he to do that when it involved former peers? It was not unthinkable that they would rip up his order when the team went to their counties to carry it an investigation. Jin’s displeasure turned on these county secretaries, who had been nurtured for years by the party. They had been doing well enough in their jobs, and it was not out of line for them to be wined and dined. But why go and build houses like that? Why get themselves into trouble? Jin mulled the complaint for a while, unable to make a decision. When he recalled how he’d dealt with Xiao Mao’s dispute with his office manager, he wrote on the letter:
“Submit to Comrade Lu for further deliberation.”
Jin felt relieved. But the letter was returned that same afternoon, with Lu’s comment:
“I suggest that Comrade Jin personally investigate.”
Jin felt cold all over. This was his first setback since starting working at the office, and he had only himself to blame. He shouldn’t have kicked the ball to Lu, who kicked it right back and put him in an awkward position. If he hadn’t done that, he could have simply turned the task over to his team of investigators. But now he had to go himself. He had been too clever for his own good. Not wanting to antagonize his old peers, he couldn’t afford to ignore Lu’s order either. He had to go. As the saying goes, a petty functionary has no free will.
In the end, he decided to go talk to Zhou and others, but had misgivings when he got up the next morning. The allegation had to be looked into, but he needed to determine who to investigate first. Both Zhou and Hu had bad tempers, and, as he recalled, they had refused to join him at dinner after his promotion. What would they do if he showed up to investigate them? It would probably be better to see Cong first. They had a decent relationship after having worked on a socialist education campaign together; besides, Cong was not as ill-tempered, so it would be easier to get a sense of the situation from him.
He went with his investigators that morning to the county party office in two cars. They were greeted by the office manager.
“Where’s Lao Cong?”
“He, um, went to a meeting, I think,” the director stammered. “I’ll go find him.”
Jin knew exactly what the man was doing.
“What meeting? Where? In the district or the provincial office?” He didn’t let up with his questions. “Maybe the central government sent a private plane to pick him up? Be honest with me. Where is he?”
“Mr. Cong is building a house in Beiguan, the county seat.” The office manager gave Jin an uneasy smile. “He hasn’t been to the office for two days. I’ll go get him.”
“No need.” Jin climbed back into the car and said to the driver, “Beiguan.”
The report was legitimate. Cong was building a house for himself, and had even arranged for a crane to work on a two-story structure in the palace style, with glazed tiles and a jade white color scheme. When Jin arrived at the half-acre site, Cong was waiting for him with a broad smile. It was obvious he’d been informed of the visit.
“How did you know I was coming?”
“I could tell.” Cong changed his tone and told him the truth. “The office manager called.”
They lit up as Cong looked at the contingent Jin had brought with him.
“What are you doing here? Why bring so many people along?”
“To investigate you.” Jin decided to be frank also. “Look at the house you’re building here.”
“Go ahead.” Cong smiled, putting his hands together for Jin to put on handcuffs. Jin smiled.
Cong got into Jin’s car and they drove to the county guesthouse.
“I’ve got some lamb from Inner Mongolia. Let’s share a hot pot. What do you say?”
“Why do you have to ask?” Jin added, “Get someone to find some live fish and put them in my car.”
“What for?”
“For Commissioner Wu.”
Cong knew of Wu’s circumstances, so he turned to his office manager, who had rushed over to the guesthouse. “Go to the reservoir.”
With a nod, the office manager walked out.
For lunch that day, Jin and Cong had their hot pot in one room, while the others had theirs in another room with the office manager as their host.
“We’re friends, so I’m going to be frank with you,” Jin said after a few bites of mutton. “We’ve been nurtured by the party for years and are both cadres in leadership positions. So I really don’t understand why you, Lao Zhou, Lao
Hu, and Lao Bai have suddenly decided to build your own houses.”
“Do you know how old I am?” Cong asked.
Jin was caught off guard by the question. “Fifty-four?”
“Fifty-six. What about Lao Zhou and the others?”
“They must all be in their late fifties.”
“That’s right.” Cong downed a cup of liquor. “We’re in our late fifties, about to retire. You’ve gotten your promotion, but unlike you, we’re not going anywhere. When we reach that age, we’ll have to retire. We have to be prepared. We need to have a place to live, don’t we? After working for the party for years, who will even give us a second glance once we’re retired? Just look at Lao Wu. He was a commissioner, but wouldn’t be able to eat live fish now if not for you. That’s how people are these days. You can’t tell me to go live in a hovel after retirement. Would you visit me there? Where would you get mutton hot pot then? You’ve been promoted, Lao Jin, so you don’t understand how those of us down below feel. Let me ask you this: If you were still working in the county office, would you or would you not build a house for yourself before retirement? Of course you would. I’m saying this to you only because we know each other so well, and you mustn’t take offense. Sure, people talk about party consciousness. But your position determines the level of your consciousness. You can’t be at a high level if you live in a hovel.”
Jin smoked and looked at Cong quietly. They ate in silence for a while before Jin spoke up again.
“Of course you should and that isn’t the problem. The people are allowed to build a house, so are county party secretaries. But you picked the wrong time and went against the trend.”
“What trend is that? I’m not afraid, and I don’t think the others are either. So what if we build a house? There’s nothing in the constitution that says we can’t. I spent my own money on the house, paying out of my own pocket for the bricks, wood, cement, sand, and land. Why should I be afraid? You’re here to investigate, right? Well, go ahead. Do your job. I’m not afraid.”