Remembering 1942

by Liu Zhenyun

  “Of course I have to investigate. You paid for the land and the building materials, but no one else could get what you got for the little money you spent. How big is your property? Half an acre, wouldn’t you say? You must have taken over farmland.”

  “So I took over farmland. What about you people at the district office? Do you live in the air? Where does Lu Hongwu live? And what about old Mr. Wu? Their houses are better than mine. You should investigate those further up. The higher up, the bigger the offense. You should work for the central committee for disciplinary investigation. This place is too small for you.”

  “Nothing wrong with the central committee.” Jin laughed at the last comment. “I’d love to work there, but they don’t want me.”

  Cong finished his cup and laughed also when his office manager walked up and said, “You’re scheduled to speak at the party education meeting this afternoon, Secretary Cong. It’s about to start.”

  “Can’t you see that Commissioner Jin is here?” Cong gave the man a displeased look. “Send a deputy secretary over.”

  “Right,” the man said as he walked out.

  “You go ahead with your work, Lao Cong. I have to head back anyway.”

  “Whatever work I have will get done by the others,” Cong said with a dismissive wave. “I’m building my house.”

  After lunch they got a room with two beds and lay down to chat about families. Jin took out a magnetic therapy device for Cong’s wife, who suffered back pain. Around two o’clock, Jin got up off the bed and said, “How do I deal with this, Lao Cong? To be honest with you, it’s better here than at the district office. I’ve run up against this guy Two-fifty, who shoved this thankless job onto me. Damn, this is tough.”

  “Don’t worry about it and go on back.” Cong sat up. “I’ll tell the county disciplinary committee to write a report, along with a detailed account of the land and materials, and you’ll have done your job.”

  Jin nodded.

  “What about the other three? Should I go see them?”

  “You’d better not,” Cong said after some thought. “We’re good friends, so I don’t mind your coming to see me. But how do you think they’ll react if you show up? How would you do your job if you lost the support of these counties over a trifling matter like this? It would be hard for you as commissioner. Let me give them a heads-up and tell them to do the same as I’m doing.”

  Jin nodded again, filled with gratitude to his old friend.

  “There’s another thing about Lao Zhou and Lao Bai. The report said they’re fooling around with women.”

  Cong cackled like an old hen as he replied, “I’m not touching that. You can check it out yourself and see if they’re a bunch of rapists.”

  Jin just smiled.

  “The investigation won’t go anywhere, because you won’t find any evidence. No matter what you do, all you’ll get in the end will be ‘Unfounded accusation.’”

  With a laugh, Jin got to his feet.

  “I’ll head back then, Lao Cong.”

  “This is a business trip, so I won’t keep you.” Cong walked him out.

  “I went to Chungong a few days ago,” Cong said.

  “Did you drop by my house?”

  “Of course I did. They’re all fine, but I must tell you they’re unhappy with you. They said you’re selfish.”

  “I’m not selfish. Don’t listen to them.”

  “They complained that you ignore them now that you’re a big official. You should take them to live with you, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “I have to wait on that, but sooner or later it’ll get done.”

  Cong nodded, but turned emotional again when they reached the bottom of the stairs. “I’m retiring soon, Lao Jin. I tell you the truth, Lu Hongwu talked to me last time he came.”

  “Talked to you? About what?” Jin was surprised.

  “One more year.” Cong raised a finger.

  For the first time, Jin noticed his friend’s gray hair, someone he’d known for more than two decades. Cong looked much older, and Jin felt a sudden pang as he grabbed the man’s hand.

  “I’ll come by often.”

  “I always look forward to your visit. There isn’t anyone else I can to talk to so frankly in this county.”

  “Anything I can do for you?”

  “I can manage, for the moment anyway. I’ll come see you if I can’t get any help after retirement.”

  “Take care.”

  “Go on,” Cong said.

  As the car drove off, Jin put his hands behind his head and leaned back against the seat. He was feeling sentimental, a rarity for a political animal.

  Two weeks later, the disciplinary committees at the five counties sent the files, which Jin took to report to Lu Hongwu.

  “You can consider the case closed now that your investigation discovered no major problems. Write reports to the central and provincial committees; they received a copy of the complaint and passed it down to me last week.”

  Jin returned to his office and told his team to send the reports up.

  8

  Old Mr. Wu died after spending six months and three days in the hospital. He was said to have died alone, a terrible thing for anyone.

  His wife was pretty much the only one caring for him during his illness. No matter how high one’s status or accomplishment, one usually ends up dying with only family members around. The administrative office had sent someone to relieve her, but he was married with children, so he naturally was more concerned about his own family, which meant that Wu’s wife was the only one who could and would be devoted to him. She stayed by his side day and night, except on this day, when she went home to fetch a blouse. Wu had breathed his last by the time she returned. She threw herself on him.

  “How could you leave like that? Why couldn’t you wait for me? What do I do now?”

  Lu Hongwu, Jin Quanli, Two-fifty, and other officials from the district committee and the administrative office arrived. A gloom settled over them as they viewed the body of a man with whom they’d worked and dined for years. He was gone now. After recovering from their own sorrow, they turned to console Wu’s wife before meeting in the hospital conference room to discuss funeral arrangements.

  “After working in the district his whole life, Lao Wu has left his footprint in every corner of the district,” said Sha, one of the deputy commissioners. “So we must do everything we can for his funeral.”

  “We’re materialists, so don’t talk about doing everything we can,” Two-fifty interjected. “Whatever we do will be no more than sending his body to the crematorium. Besides, the central government is promoting simple funerals.”

  Jin, who felt strongly about the old man, knew he had to speak up. Wu had been good to him and he had treated the old man well, having made at least a hundred visits to the hospital over the past six months. Jin had managed to provide the old man with live fish, and he felt his conscience was clear. To be sure, he was sad to see Wu gone, and yet he was comforted by the fact that he had done his best for the old man. It mattered little to him how the funeral was conducted, but anger flared when he heard the tone adopted by Two-fifty, who was clearly a heartless man. Mr. Wu was dead now, but Two-fifty obviously still bore a grudge, which was unbefitting of a Communist. Jin had always tried to be nice to Two-fifty, but on this day he could not hold back.

  “This will happen to every one of us here, whether our funeral is simple or not.”

  He regretted it immediately, for it affected not just Two-fifty but also Lu Hongwu and others. It was too late for regret, as Two-fifty reacted with a glare.

  “What do you mean?”

  Jin couldn’t take his words back so he decided to go all out. “What do I mean? I mean some people lack the conscience of an average person, let alone a real Communist.”

  Veins bulged on Two-fifty’s forehead as he stormed up to Jin.

  “Who lacks a conscience? Go on, tell us. Who are you talking about?”

&nb
sp; “Whoever has no conscience knows better than anyone else.”

  Lu Hongwu blew up at that moment. An ordinarily calm man who rarely betrayed his emotions, he lost his temper in a big way, pounding the table so hard its glass top cracked.

  “Stop that and act like real deputy commissioners. What kind of talk is that? You should be ashamed of yourselves, acting like women on the street!”

  He turned to Deputy Commissioner Sha and told him to follow precedent in forming a funeral committee. He was to inform the provincial committee and government office, and notify Wu’s relatives. Lu stormed out of the hospital and got into his car to return to his office, leaving the others behind at a loss of words.

  Mr. Wu’s funeral was a respectable affair, dignified and formal. The provincial committee and government office each sent a wreath, as did every unit in the district office and counties. General Secretary Xiong sent a condolence telegram. Wu had been adept at connecting with the masses and had treated the people with kindness; some of them came to pay their respects. An old woman on special welfare whom Wu had once helped wept so hard she fainted.

  “Such an honest official! Such an upright official!” she cried out before she lost consciousness.

  Wu’s wife, though sad over the loss of her husband, was pleased with the ceremony, which in turn helped console her. After hearing about the argument over funeral arrangements, she naturally attributed the dignified affair to Jin’s effort. Seven days later, she came, wearing a scarf, to his office.

  “Today’s the seventh day rite, Lao Jin. I have to come thank you before going to the cemetery. I know you were good to him and now that he’s gone, I’m here to thank you on his behalf.”

  She bowed and began to sob, covering her face with her hands.

  Jin rushed out from behind his desk and took the old woman’s hands.

  “Please don’t, Mrs. Wu. Old Mr. Wu gave me so much help, and I feel guilty for not taking better care of him,” he said tearfully. “Otherwise, he’d still be with us. We’ll treat you the same as always even though he’s gone,” he continued. “Come see me if you need anything.”

  “You’re a good man,” Wu’s wife sobbed. “It’s rare to see someone like you these days, and those in the party were smart enough to promote you. I told him he was getting old and must let you take over his position. Now it’s too late.”

  “Please don’t talk like that, Mrs. Wu. Your husband was a noble man who deserved respect from everyone, and I will never forget what he did for me. Please do come see me if you need anything.”

  There was no more to be said, thus bringing their meeting to an end. Jin was moved by the occasion, which, to his surprise, actually brought him plenty of trouble. Taking his promise to heart, she treated Jin like a true friend, turning him into a substitute for her late husband. She came to see him all the time, for concerns major and minor—housing, the use of Wu’s car, funeral expenses, even her son’s job transfer and his daughter’s admission to day care. Jin received her cordially at first, taking it upon himself to help her out, but some matters were simply outside his authority and fell into the domain of Lu Hongwu or Two-fifty, creating considerable difficulties. Death often exposes the inconstancy of human relationships. Back when Wu was alive, a government vehicle would be sent over whenever she needed a car, but now she was told the car was out of commission when she asked for it. Jin lost his temper over this several times. The office would have the car fixed, but it would break down again the next time she asked for it, and Jin knew he could not get angry each time, since he had no authority over those in charge of vehicle use. After the death of her husband, Wu’s wife became increasingly sensitive, recalling how everything had been different when her husband was alive each time her request went unmet. She would show up at Jin’s office in tears. While he felt sorry for her, he had to kick himself for talking big and taking on such an impossible task.

  His enthusiasm began to cool, which she noticed, and she stopped showing up at his office, going to see Lu Hongwu instead.

  “I thought he was a decent man,” she said privately. “It turns out he couldn’t withstand the test of time.”

  Jin felt badly hurt when he heard her criticism.

  “It’s my fault, all my own fault,” he muttered to himself. “I should have known the boundaries.”

  Someone knocked on Jin’s door one day when he was reading documents. “Come in,” he shouted casually and was surprised to see that his visitor was Xiao Mao from Chungong. Jin had been feeling low, and that was aggravated by Mao’s presence. He had yet to deal with Mao over the man’s provocative act of removing his former office manager, and now here he was. What kind of scheme did he have in mind this time, Jin wondered, and decided not to stand up or offer Mao a cigarette or tea.

  “Have a seat,” he said coldly.

  Mao respectfully and sat down to wait until Jin looked up after signing the document.

  “What can I do for you, Secretary Mao?”

  Mao forced a smile, sensing the strained atmosphere.

  “Nothing, really. It’s just that General Secretary Xiong asked me to deliver a letter to you.”

  Jin was startled. What? Xiong asked him to deliver a letter? How could that be possible? When had Mao become an acquaintance of Secretary Xiong? How had he managed that kind of connection? Jin took the letter.

  “When did you see Comrade Xiong?” Jin held his surprise in check.

  “Secretary Xiong stopped by Chungong County for lunch on his way to inspect Chengyang. I gave him a report and he asked me to give you this letter.”

  That put Jin at ease. So Xiong had just been passing through and treated Mao as a messenger. He softened his tone:

  “Have some water.”

  Mao walked up to the vacuum bottle and poured himself a cup, which he drank while Jin opened the letter. It was a brief note, nothing important.

  “Long time no see. I’ve been thinking about you. Come visit me in the provincial capital, won’t you? Xiong Qingquan.”

  The warm note made Jin feel better and, temporarily forgetting Wu’s wife, he walked out from behind the desk to sit across from Mao and ask about Xiong’s stop at Chungong. Mao grew animated as he relayed how Xiong was kind, not one to put on airs, how much the man knew, and how simply he lived, asking for nothing but a bowl of noodles for lunch.

  “That’s the way he is.” Jin laughed heartily. “He’s been like this since we met over a decade ago.”

  Mao had heard of Jin’s relationship with Xiong, but hadn’t expected them to be so close that Xiong would ask him to deliver a letter when he was just passing through. Wondering what was in the letter, Mao was puzzled by Jin’s nonchalant reaction, especially the way he laughed, which nudged Mao into showing more deference. He even began to regret his behavior back when Jin was the county secretary, as well as his subsequent action against Jin’s people.

  “I have something else to talk to you about, Commissioner Jin,” Mao said after they chatted for a moment.

  “What is it?”

  “I did a terrible job handling that earlier matter and I know I let you down. I’ve long wanted to come see you about it.”

  “What was that?” Jin’s heart skipped a beat.

  “It’s about removing the office manager. He had worked for you for many years, and I shouldn’t have fired him. But the investigation by the county disciplinary committee turned up problems and the woman confessed. So there was nothing I could do.”

  “I washed my hands of what happens in Chungong once I left.” Jin waved him off. “There’s no need for you to tell me this. Go see Mr. Lu if you want.”

  “Don’t be angry with me, Commissioner.” Mao stood up. “I was in a difficult position and I had to do it, but I’m planning to transfer him back once everything calms down. I came here today to tell you. I’d like to have him back.”

  Jin was mollified. He considered himself a magnanimous man who not only allowed others to make mistakes, but also permitted them to m
ake amends. Jin had forgiven Mao in the past and he could do it again for the young man. Touched by his own magnanimity, Jin said to Mao genially, “That should be decided by the county party committee and I can’t interfere. But based on my observation in the past, he is overall a good man, despite some flaws.”

  “That’s true, and he’s well liked. This is what I have in mind, and I’d like your opinion. Why don’t we send him to the organization section, since the position of office manager has been filled. It’s an office with real power and he’ll be a member of the standing committee, comparable to his old job.”

  “Sure. The organization section or the office, either is fine.”

  “Then I’ll be going,” Mao said with a smile. “I brought a basket of apples. They’re in the car. I’ll have them sent to your room for your enjoyment.”

  “No need for that. I don’t care for raw food.”

  Sure enough, the former office manager was transferred to the county party office to head the organization section a week after Mao’s visit. Immediately after taking up his new post, he came running to the district administrative building, where he stormed into Jin’s office and fell to his knees.

  “Thank you, Commissioner Jin, for giving me a second chance in life.” He sobbed, so startling Jin that he ran up to the man.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Lao Zhong? Get up.”

  “I knew it.” Zhong wiped his tears as he got up. “I knew my old boss would never forget me.”

  “What do you mean, forget you? I had nothing do with that and you have only the party to thank. Go on back and do a good job.”

  “I will. I’ll do a good job and make you proud, Commissioner Jin.”

  9

  Lu Hongwu, the district party secretary, had been in a funk for a while, mainly because of health problems. He felt he might soon be following in Wu’s footsteps, and had been badly stung when Jin had said that day would come for everyone shortly after Wu died. However, for the sake of his work, he kept his concerns to himself, not even telling his family. He avoided the district hospital and instead drove to the provincial capital, where a medical examination showed that there were problems with his heart, liver, and spleen. The results made him realize that, be it for his own health or for the party, he could not continue holding two positions at the same time. Having made up his mind to let someone take over as commissioner, he explained the situation in a report to the provincial party committee and asked the members to recommend a candidate. They had learned their lesson from the earlier argument over Jin and Two-fifty, so decided not to show their cards; instead they asked the district committee to give them a name, which they would send up to the provincial committee once the man passed a review. It was a hard task for Lu, who believed that there was no viable candidate in the district office. He for one would not choose Two-fifty, someone he did not respect. But he didn’t think Jin would do either, though not because he had anything personal against Jin or because Jin had hit his sore spot with his comment. It was simply because Jin’s job performance, from what Lu had heard, was not up to par. For instance, someone from the district committee once said that deep down Jin was not an upright official even though on the surface he looked solid, diligent, and hardworking. He had little to show after being in charge of disciplinary investigations for two years. He had done a perfunctory job investigating the county party secretaries who built private houses; in fact he had done nothing, because they were his old friends. And there was more. Jin had often asked the various county offices to send up live fish for him to butter up old Mr. Wu when he was ill. And recently he had agreed to let Little Mao reassign an errant cadre to a new position. All these added up to a case against promoting Jin, who would neither do the party nor Lu himself any good if he became the commissioner. Yet Lu was aware of the friendship between Jin and Xiong Qingquan, so he had to tread carefully; he turned the matter over in his head, only to end up feeling even more conflicted. In the end he found a compromise by recommending Lao Feng, a deputy secretary from the district office, and Jin, whom he placed in second on the list.