by Ha Jin
A reception followed on the seventh floor. Though this was just a work event, there were cocktails and wine at a bar, and also cheese and hors d’oeuvres carried around by six waitresses. People were trading pleasantries and making small talk, the whole lounge buzzing and humming. Gary reminded himself not to drink too much, because he’d have to pick up his daughter at the train station that evening. The girl was coming home from her prep school to have a molar pulled. Gary held a flute of champagne but only sipped it. Now and then he picked up a meatball or a giant olive stuffed with sun-dried tomato from the salvers floating around. He chatted at length with David Shuman about the Red model drama currently in vogue in China. David particularly liked the play called Taking the Tiger Mountain by Strategies, not for the lyrics or the subject matter but for the music and the scenery. He had watched the films of many contemporary Chinese plays and was becoming an expert on the revolutionary drama, even able to sing snatches of Beijing opera. He often chanted in Gary’s presence: “Before going to the torture chamber / Let me drink a bowl of wine poured by you, my mother / To make me bold and unbreakable.” Or: “Ah, this little rascal / Who has no manners whatsoever.” It was too bad that David couldn’t visit China (his name had appeared on Beijing’s blacklist). Swirling his wine, he again brought up the topic of the Chinese government’s recent objection to him as a member of an unofficial cultural delegation. Gary consoled him, saying, “Who knows, you might become a big diplomat someday. Life is unpredictable. Just follow your own interests and hang in there. I’m sure good opportunities will present themselves.”
“Thanks,” David said. “Besides, I enjoy what I’ve been doing and I’m paid to specialize in Chinese affairs. You can’t beat that.”
By now Gary’s life was peaceful and materially comfortable. The previous fall his daughter had gone to prep school, and she was doing well there and should have no difficulty getting into a good college. Whenever he went to Boston on business, he’d rent a car and drive forty miles to Groton so he could spend a bit of time with Lilian. He loved her and would spare no cost for her education. If someday he returned to China, he hoped she would often visit him there. She was his deepest attachment to this land.
Before Christmas in 1972, Gary was informed by the CIA that he’d been given a thirteen-hundred-dollar raise. In the previous years his salary had been increased by three or four hundred dollars annually, just enough to keep up with inflation. This time the big raise delighted both him and Nellie. When she asked him why they were so generous to him, he merely said, “I worked hard and deserve it.”
She smiled, rolling her eyes while stroking his hairless wrist. “You’re such an arrogant man,” she told him.
I still often heard from my niece Juli after her reunion with her parents in Fushan. She had just opened an electronics shop selling DVDs, video games, cell phones. She had attempted to order some iPads, but at the moment they were in short supply because too many young people were crazy about this new Apple product. There were some pirated iPads available, but they were almost as expensive as the genuine thing. Juli sent me a photo of her store, which was a few doors down the street from her mother’s seamstress shop. Her parents were happy to have her home and tried every way to make her stay. The family had just bought a car, a red low-end Chery, which looked like a mini-compact sedan and cost over fifty thousand yuan, about eight thousand dollars. (I wondered if that was how she had spent the settlement money from Wuping.) Juli was the only one in the family who could drive, so she made deliveries for her mother’s shop as well. She seemed to have calmed down and confided to me that she’d been giving two middle schoolers music lessons and was going to form a small band so they could perform in the evenings. She would just play the guitar because there were others who had better voices. “If the locals only could have more opportunities,” Juli wrote. “Some of them are more talented than those people in my band in Guangzhou.”
I was glad to see that she hadn’t lost her passion for music. On behalf of her parents, Juli invited me to visit them the next summer. “Maybe my brother will come home too,” she said. “We will have a big reunion.” The family was pleased to know Ben was in America, near me. Without a second thought I accepted their invitation and was amazed by my prompt response, since in general I wasn’t fond of travel. But I felt close to these relatives in China, even closer than to Aunt Marsha’s family. Perhaps my presence would help improve the family’s standing in the county town, because they could be known to have overseas relations, who are often viewed as opportunities. Unlike decades ago, nowadays officials try to cultivate foreign connections. Many of the rich send their children abroad for college, and people with enough means plan to emigrate because they feel insecure with their newfound wealth. In Beijing and Shanghai and Guangzhou it’s fashionable to greet rich friends by saying, “Done with the emigration paperwork yet?”
I’d been working on a syllabus for a new course in the fall and had also been reading the books I would assign my class. I enjoyed the summer’s peace and quiet, which was nourishing both mentally and physically, so I spent most of the daytime in my study while Henry was busy with the maintenance work. In late August he bought another five Intel chips for Ben. These were smaller than the previous batch but more expensive, costing nearly four thousand dollars total. The prospect of a bigger profit had Henry floating on air. He often whistled a tune while vacuuming the corridors of our building or wiping the windows in the lobby with a squeegee or hauling the wheeled trash cans between the backyard and the front street. But I was ill at ease about his little sideline, knowing Ben’s business was shady. I wondered if I should talk Henry out of it but decided not to. In his whole life seldom had he been able to make money so easily, and I wouldn’t spoil his mood. Let him be happy if he enjoyed helping Ben.
ON SUNDAY AFTERNOON BEFORE LABOR DAY, Ben called and asked if I’d heard from Sonya. “No,” I said. “What happened to her?”
“She’s gone. I looked for her everywhere and can’t figure out where she might be. I emailed her, but she won’t respond.”
“Did you two have a fight?”
“Sort of.”
“Is there a third party involved?”
“No, what made you say that?”
“Sonya said you gabbed too much with some women on your Weibo.”
“That’s because I’m supposed to set up a website. I have to find the people who can help me.”
“Help you with what?”
“The website.”
“What kind of website is that?”
“Mainly on weaponry and space technology. My company wants me to edit a magazine as well, using the information available online.”
“So you and Sonya fell out over something else?”
“She’s too headstrong. I asked her to give me a couple of weeks so I could make up my mind.”
“About what?”
“Her pregnancy, what else?”
“Didn’t I tell you to leave it to her?”
“I can’t. A baby means a lifetime commitment. I can’t let her bring a child into the world without the love and care of both parents. My mother and uncle had a terrible childhood growing up without a father, so I don’t want that to happen to my children.”
His words startled me as I realized that my assumptions about his hesitation had been simplistic. “Then what do you plan to do?” I asked.
“I must find her. I’m worried sick. You know I love her.”
“If you do, propose to her. That might solve the trouble.”
“It’s not that simple. My life is still insecure. I must fix a few things before I can propose to her.”
I didn’t press him for more details and promised to look for Sonya as well. After I hung up, I wrote her an email and asked her to contact me without delay. I said Ben was worried, calling around looking for her. “Please don’t run away like this,” I pleaded. “If you want to keep the baby, you’re obligated to give it a loving father. You mustn’t lea
ve Ben out of this, because the child has already bound you two together.”
Late that night Sonya called and said she was staying with a cousin in Toronto. Her parents had asked her to return to Ukraine, but she would not and had to figure out where to live if Ben jilted her.
“For Christ’s sake, he won’t do that,” I said.
“You never know, Lilian. He can be very cold, cold like an animal. I simply don’t know what to make of him. Maybe he had a traumatized childhood.”
“He just told me that to have a child means a lifetime commitment. If he were heartless, he wouldn’t have said that, would he? If he had no feelings for you, he wouldn’t be worried sick looking for you. Sonya, try to use your head. To my mind, he does love you. It looks to me as if, if he lets you have the child, he might propose to you. That’s what makes him hesitate.”
“You sure that’s what he’s thinking?”
“Pretty sure. If he wanted to wash his hands of you, he could use this opportunity to fire you. For whatever doubts you might have about him, he’s a decent man at heart. I’m positive about that.”
My words seemed to be soaking in, though she didn’t say what she was going to do. I thought of calling Ben but decided not to. Probably Sonya would contact him soon, so I’d better let them sort things out by themselves.
As I’d expected, Ben called me the next evening, saying Sonya was with a relative of hers, a thirty-something studying sculpture in Canada. Ben had to attend to an urgent business matter and couldn’t go to Toronto, but Sonya had promised to return within a few days and not to do anything drastic. I was glad to hear that but was still somewhat mystified by Ben, so I asked him why it was so hard for him to propose to Sonya. He paused, tiny bursts of static crackling. Then he said, “Because I must first figure out what happened to my grandfather. Only after that can I decide whether to settle down in America.”
Surprised, I asked, “Why do you have to know more about him? Those articles I sent you give a pretty accurate picture of his life and activities here.”
“There might be more than that. I must understand him thoroughly.” Ben gave a nervous giggle. “Like Comrade Vladimir Lenin said, ‘To forget the past amounts to betrayal.’ I’m not a forgetful man.”
I wondered why he didn’t ask me for more articles on his grandfather or for Gary’s diary. I offered, “I can FedEx you the book on my father, The Chinese Spook. It gives a good amount of information, but don’t buy everything it says.”
“That would be great. Please send it along. I’ll read it carefully and make my own judgment.”
I emailed Sonya, saying she should give Ben some time so he could decide whether to live in the States permanently. I added, “Keep in mind that he is working for a Chinese company and might be called back anytime.”
She returned: “What’s the big deal? I will be happy to live with him in China if he has to go back.”
Seeing those words, I smiled and my eyes misted over. I hadn’t thought she loved him so much that she was willing to settle down with him even in China, where life could be hard for Westerners.
1974–1975
“I’m your whore, your shameless whore!” Suzie told Gary. “Heaven knows how I wish I could break up with you.”
They were seated in her living room, the floor fan whirling while the chirring of cicadas surged fitfully in the sycamore outside the window screen. In recent months she had often lost her temper, but Gary was already accustomed to her outbursts. Today he clammed up, his body tense and his face averted as if ready to take a slap. Instead of leaving, he stayed on, waiting for her gust of anger to subside, because he had something on his mind and had to talk to her rationally.
Lately he’d been mulling over the idea of divulging his whole story to her in the hope that she might understand his predicament and help him find out about his family back in China. The past few years, every time he’d met with Bingwen in Hong Kong, the man would tell him that his family was well, that his children both had good jobs in a tractor factory. But Bingwen could never produce a current photo of them, always giving the excuse that he’d forgotten to ask Yufeng for it. As a result, Gary couldn’t help but have misgivings about his family’s actual condition. Yet he couldn’t write to Yufeng directly—his letter would be intercepted for certain, nor could he bluntly demand photographic evidence from Bingwen, with whom he had to stay on cordial terms. He had tried hard to look for ways to get in touch with Yufeng, but to no avail. After weighing this matter for months, he had concluded that the only feasible option was to ask Suzie to help.
Today while she was sprawled on her sofa and seething with a folded hand towel over her face because of a headache, he went into her kitchen and brewed a pot of oolong tea. After pouring her a cup, he said, “Suzie, I’m going to tell you something extremely important, a matter of life and death.”
“All right, go ahead.”
“But first you must promise you’ll never let it slip to anyone.”
She sat up, astonished by the graveness of his voice. Her eyes flashed, then fixed on him. “Fine, I will always keep my mouth shut,” she said. “I know you’re full of secrets.”
So he began telling her about his true identity and the history of his spying career, from his mission in Shanghai in 1949 to his current position in China’s Ministry of National Security. He spoke without stopping, as if afraid she might interrupt him. In one hour he poured out everything. When he was done, he felt at once unburdened. He might be at her mercy from now on, because there was a remote possibility that she would use his secret to control him or make excessive demands. But to his amazement, she didn’t seem shocked and just looked thoughtful, her face clouded with a frown. Perhaps through the years she had suspected something.
He then told her about his original family, about his wife and children in the countryside of Shandong, and about Bingwen’s assurance every time they met in Hong Kong. He said he couldn’t completely trust his handler and thought that their superiors might have instructed the man to tell him that his “backyard” was fully covered, so he would concentrate on his mission abroad. In recent years Gary had felt that Bingwen avoided mentioning his family and might have withheld information. If only he could contact Yufeng directly and find out the truth!
When he had finished speaking, Suzie asked, “Can I see what your twins look like? Do you have their photos?”
“I don’t have one now. I had one, but it would have been too dangerous to keep it around, so I left it in Hong Kong. They’re good kids and I miss them, although I’ve never seen them in the flesh or heard their voices. They know nothing about their daddy, I assume.”
At that, Suzie broke into sobs, her narrow shoulders convulsing while her face contorted. “Why did I meet you in the first place?” she groaned. “I must have owed you something in my previous life, or how could I let you torment me like this? What good will come of this wretched affair? I wish I could start my life over without you or could pluck you out of my heart!”
He kept silent, somewhat soothed by her ravings. She wasn’t thinking of abandoning him. He needed her. In this place she was the only friend he could rely on, and the revelation of his true identity, as he’d planned, would be a step toward another phase of their relationship. He reminded himself that from now on he’d have to accept whatever she might say or do to him. Let her blow off steam if she wanted to. She would become herself again. He trusted she loved him enough that she’d do her best to help him get in touch with his original family.
To Gary’s relief, thereafter Suzie stopped lashing out at him. Neither did she drop hints or suggestions again, as though she had finally accepted him for who he was, with the heavy baggage he carried. They continued to see each other once a week, and their affair grew more stable—every Thursday afternoon he would arrive at her apartment and would leave around midnight. She would inquire after Nellie and Lilian, as though she had also accepted them as part of her life. Before Christmas, Suzie bought the girl a pair
of patent-leather boots, knee high and each with three brass buttons on the top of the side, which Lilian loved but dared not wear at home.
When Suzie went back to Taiwan for the Spring Festival in February 1975, Gary asked her to go to mainland China via Hong Kong and to see if she could find his family there. He told her that she wouldn’t have to speak at length with Yufeng or let her know who she was. Just take a look at their house and shoot a few photos of his family if possible, so that he could assess what their life was really like. Suzie promised to try her very best to look for them. But when she attempted to enter China from Hong Kong on the pretext that she wanted to see her bedridden uncle, she was stopped. Her name appeared on some kind of blacklist, probably because of her work at Voice of America. They rejected her application for a visa and told her that as a U.S. citizen she couldn’t enter China, because the two countries hadn’t formed a normal relationship yet and she’d have to get her papers from the States directly. No matter how she begged them, they wouldn’t let her pass.
Suzie came back to DC in early March, harried and tired. She described to Gary the difficulties she had encountered in Hong Kong, saying, “I even told them that my uncle is hospitalized and I wanted to see him before he died, but they wouldn’t relent, every one of them remained stone-faced. I felt as if I was bumping into an iron wall, and even if I had smashed my head into it, none of them would’ve given a damn. They were all like automatons. The next day I went to Bingwen Chu and asked him to help. He went berserk and blamed me for not notifying him beforehand. He said he couldn’t do anything either, because I was a U.S. citizen and was not allowed to enter China unless I’d already got a visa. He urged me not to try again.”
Gary became unsettled. “Did you tell him that you know about my family in Shandong?”