by Sheng Keyi
The little fellow propped the book on his knees, nearly covering his whole body. He didn’t say a word.
‘You want to learn to speak a foreign language? I understand some Chinese, Japanese, and French. I used to write poetry, then…’
‘Poetry isn’t something just anyone can write.’ The little raccoon, beady eyes fixed on the book, continued arrogantly, ‘It’s much easier to be a doctor.’
‘You’re right. It’s not just anyone who can write poetry. You put it very well…Many people aren’t suited to be poets. They would only tarnish poetry.’ Mengliu drew his right hand into a fist, stuck his thumb into his hair, and casually scratched his scalp.
‘So are you not suitable to be a poet? Do you tarnish poetry?’ The child turned to the next page of the book as he spoke.
‘No, it wasn’t like that. No…well, all right, let me tell you. I had two good friends who wrote poetry, and together the three of us were known as The Three Musketeers. Then, one died, and the other went missing…You tell me, what could I write after that? There’s an old phrase, “burning a lute to cook a crane”. If you do that, what’s left that’s worth writing? You don’t understand, but I feel that everything is empty. What’s the use of poetry?’ Mengliu mumbled, but continued on, lost in his own ramblings. ‘For instance, say there’s a horse-drawn carriage. If the horse falls, the wheels also fall from the cart. How can it move anymore? Where would it go? It won’t go anywhere. It can’t express anything… especially since when they needed me, I didn’t stand with them… There’s a sort of loneliness that you can’t understand…’
Mengliu talked about the most enjoyable times with the Three Musketeers, the salons, the readings, the debates and the beautiful girls…Unfortunately, the Tower Incident had ruined it all.
‘Hei Chun wasn’t handsome, but he had a certain charm. He was a bit like an ape, with a prominent forehead and loose, coarse hair. He played basketball pretty well. But the main thing was his poetry. Sometimes it was like a flame, burning you all over suddenly. Of the three of us, he was the only one without glasses. He had good vision, and strong teeth too. He could always see right to the essence of things, and his teeth seemed capable of cutting through anything, no matter how hard. He was decisive, and efficient. To illustrate, if someone slow to anger or with a soft temperament is a rowing boat, Hei Chun was like a speedboat, crossing the water in a burst of spray. He wrote poetry, read philosophy and studied politics. He liked Rousseau, Plato… He fingered the pages of Thomas More’s Utopia until the book was as fluffy as if yeast had been added.
‘He said if he were president, he’d make sure everyone had food and clothes, not just an example here and there, when there is such disparity between rich and poor. If he were king he would govern by a system of virtue and punishment. Rebels would be cut down, and the law-abiding would be rewarded. The forms of punishment used in ancient times should not be discarded. He would bring back the old punishments like dismemberment, drawing and quartering, disembowelling, flaying of the skin, boiling in oil…For officials who committed petty theft or small-scale corruption, he would punish them with permanent scarring… Anyway, when he had some free time, he intended to write a book on The Genetic Code of the City-State. He said he would create a template for a city-state with excellent genes, and implement the reign of virtue…Sometimes, we would talk about criminal law, institutions, democracy, freedom and so forth, talking until the middle of the night. Sometimes we carried on until well into the next day. Heh…I said that in his heart of hearts, he was a tyrant. Of course, the nature of one’s blood – hot or cold, sticky or dense – is nourished by one’s natural environment and the climate. All of us born in the 60s were born with a sense of responsibility, of throwing in our lot with that of the nation. We were born for hardship…Those who came after us were more individualistic, with nothing inside them except a desire for material gain. They were heartless. Then again, moral standards had stabilised by then, and the economy was more developed, the country bigger and stronger, and the people had grown fatter. It’s only natural that the people felt they had nothing to worry about.’
13
The canteen in the Wisdom Bureau wasn’t the normal noisy sort of cafeteria. The food didn’t look good, and the staff wore no expressions under their white caps. The ladle scooping the food was always precise – no matter how tasteless and bland the food was you couldn’t expect to get a generous portion from that ladle. As a result of eating the canteen’s food your appetite grew larger, and eating more left you feeling hungrier than ever. You grew hungrier, in fact, from eating there than from foregoing food altogether. Even the girls couldn’t be bothered with good manners. Only Shunyu thought the canteen’s food was all right. She especially loved the braised pork, saying it was even better there than in her father’s bar.
The queue moved slowly. The only sound was the banging of metal on metal, like ping-pong balls bouncing back and forth, as the staff knocked their ladles against the edge of each plate after asking loudly, ‘Do you want baozi or mantou? ribs or braised pork?’ The faces of the white-clothed, white-capped workers shone with an oily sheen. There was even more grease on their faces than on the food. Wearing plastic gloves, they proudly ladled out the food, scratched their chins, and handled the meal tickets. Rats’ tails, dead cockroaches, wire, grass clippings and hair were found regularly in the food, but for the young diners it was just business as usual as they made their way through the long queue.
The food at lunch was better than at dinner, when it was mostly leftovers. Meals on the weekends were simpler, since many students travelled home and others went out to restaurants. Only a few remained for the canteen to deal with, most of them ‘country folk’ and some from a background of poverty. They insisted on eating mantou, or maybe pickled vegetables with rice. Putting all their efforts into their studies, they could often be found at the library, sitting until their legs were numb. They rarely went out.
The midday sun beat on the cherry trees, the flowers had already dropped from the branches, and the leaves were all new and shiny. Mengliu had just got his meal and was sitting by the window. The glass was covered with a layer of dust, forming a halo around the glaring sun. When he’d taken a couple of bites, he saw Shunyu walking toward him. She sat her tray down, took a seat, and said, ‘How come you’re having tofu and spring onions again? Here, take some of my braised pork.’
She was wearing a white long-sleeved silk shirt, and a low-collared black cashmere Chinese-style unlined jacket, secured by silk ribbons tied in a bow at her chest. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, and almost into her plate. She used a finger to slip a hair band off her wrist, and pulled her hair back into a bun, all in one neat movement.
‘Your braised pork? You shouldn’t try to bribe me. I don’t know anything about what Hei Chun has been up to.’ Mengliu laughed. ‘These past few days I’ve seen him in the square writing poetry. He looked a little deranged.’
Shunyu replied, ‘Don’t second guess my intentions. I saw you sitting here alone looking bored, so I came over to keep you company. Anyway, I’m also a part of the Dayang Poets’ Society, and share its joys and sorrows. If you feel you owe me, you can dedicate a poem to me some day.’
‘When it comes to writing poetry for pretty girls, Hei Chun is much better at it than I am.’
Shunyu gritted her teeth, and appeared ready to beat Mengliu over the head with her chopsticks.
‘The most beautiful thing about you is that pair of canines.’
‘Don’t talk nonsense. Do you think Hei Chun will get arrested? He would have to go back to sleep at the dorm, wouldn’t he?’
‘Even if he gets picked up, it’s nothing to worry about. You go and check on him tonight. I bet he will be in his bed snoring.’
‘I’m just asking. I don’t really care. It’s not my business. He’s so busy, he doesn’t have time to waste looking after anyone else.’
‘Well, look who’s showing her temper again! I’ll or
ganise a little dinner party to create an opportunity for you. After that, it’ll all be up to you.’
Shunyu glared at Mengliu, then took the braised pork from her plate and plopped it onto his.
Just as Mengliu finished up and was scraping his plate, Qizi came into the cafeteria. He waved to her. Her pale face suddenly turned an angry scarlet. She marched over to him, scattering everything in her path.
‘Yuan Mengliu, please explain what’s going on!’
As she said his name, she raised a hand and dropped a piece of paper onto his tray. It had apparently been torn from the double-tracked wall, and the glue still stuck to it. There were tears in her eyes.
Mengliu’s mind was in a haze. He picked up the paper and looked it over. It was a list of activists in the Wisdom Bureau, the so-called Core Group Unit, and his name was included. He was stunned. Then, in some confusion, he stood up and said, ‘What is this? I really have no idea what is going on!’
Qizi retorted, ‘You’re lying! If you didn’t agree to join the rally, why would they add your name to the list?’
Mengliu couldn’t utter a word, but inside he was overwhelmed by a new sort of joy – as if his talent was being recognised – and also a little vanity. In no hurry to justify himself, he humoured Qizi. ‘It must be that those sons of bitches liked what I had to say, and so they thought they’d just act first and then consult me later. They’re a bunch of jokers. They play an autocratic hand, shouting about democracy all the while.’
‘You’re still lying to me. How long are you going to keep on with this deception?’ Qizi had raised her voice.
Shunyu tugged at her, signalling that perhaps the pair should move somewhere else and try to talk reasonably.
Qizi wore a brown hooded pullover that fell over her buttocks, brown canvas sneakers, and black tights, which made her legs look as scrawny as a little chick’s. She walked along the green belt, a lonely and lost figure with tears rolling down her cheeks.
‘If you really want to join the rally,’ she said, tears still falling, ‘at least you should discuss the matter with me.’
‘I never thought…I just gave them a few suggestions. I didn’t expect them to…’ Mengliu said softly.
‘You know my father will be the first to object, and my mother will certainly stand by him. It will be no use trying to explain it to them.’
‘I won’t join. I’ll do whatever you want me to.’ Mengliu went to embrace Qizi, but was pushed away.
‘You wanted to go. Early on, I could already tell.’
‘If I wanted to go, I’d be a son of a bitch.’
‘You are a son of a bitch, so you wanted to go.’
‘What is going on here? I really don’t know what I can say to you.’
‘…You lied to me. I can’t trust you anymore.’
‘How come you sound like a housewife? So unreasonable, and so demanding?’
‘Me? I’m just crude. Not good enough for an elegant poet like you…Let’s end it here.’ Qizi, really angry now, jerked her arm from him and walked away.
Mengliu caught up with her. ‘Qizi, listen…No matter what, you have to believe me…’
They walked noisily along the path, tugging and pulling at each other. As he continued to explain himself, Qizi’s anger faded a little. They reached a vine-covered walkway, but the long bench there was already taken by another couple, so they walked through to the lake. They sat on the grassy bank. A few young lotus leaves, not yet fully flourishing, hovered over the water, and the mandarin ducks swam between them.
‘Qizi, when you get angry, my foot hurts.’ He showed her where he had twisted his ankle while teaching her to skate. He took her hand and went to place it on the injured part. When he saw that his sock was dirty, he put her hand back where he had taken it from.
In spite of his best efforts at humour, she would not laugh. The shimmer of the waves reflected on her face as she stared at the surface of the water, looking like she was about to make a momentous decision. Tears flowed continuously down to the tip of her nose and then dropped onto the back of her hand.
‘Qizi, I’ve really been wronged. I’m really furious with those sons of bitches. It must be Hei Chun’s doing. I’ll go find them and tell them to take my name off the list, and I’ll tell them that if they mess with me again, they better watch it.’
Mengliu stood up. Qizi grabbed at him. Still looking at the surface of the lake, she wiped the tears from the tip of her nose.
‘You ask other people to take this risk, but then you’re so faint-hearted yourself. Aren’t you ashamed?’ She suddenly looked up and stared at him. ‘You can’t say one thing and do another. There is no way out.’
‘I didn’t say one thing and do another. You know I won’t join an organisation. Don’t worry. I’ll turn it down. I’ve still got a lot that I want to do.’
‘It’s no use turning it down. Maybe you’re already being monitored.’
‘Right now, I just want to kiss you. Let them watch us through whatever telescope or binoculars they want to use.’ He embraced her.
‘We’re finished,’ she said feebly.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Over.’
‘Breaking up?
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘There’s no future for us…anyway, I want to leave the country.’
‘Of course. But Qizi, we planned to do that together.’
‘What I do is none of your business.’
‘You’re my future wife!’ He took her hand and pulled her around to face him. ‘Qizi, nothing is as important to me as you are. I don’t want to lose you. I’ll go and clear it up with them right now.’
As she looked at him she slowly moved into his embrace. ‘I don’t want to lose you either…I want to be with you.’
As she buried her face in his chest, the friction between them sparked promises of love. The sparks lit up their faces and eyes like the midday sun. They looked at each other, eyes locked together, oblivious to everything around them. He held her tightly to him, as if he wanted to press her through his skin and into his internal organs. He leant down and kissed her hard, and everything between them was renewed in the kiss.
‘I want to hear you play ‘The Pain of Separation’ again,’ Qizi said.
‘I didn’t bring it.’ His mouth was unwilling to do anything but kiss her.
She reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out the xun. ‘Everyone knows. Wherever you go, the kazoo is with you.’
‘Can’t we do a different song?’ he asked. He was thinking to himself, We’re so good together, why would we want the pain of separation?
‘No, play that one. It’s my favourite.’
‘Why don’t I teach you? It’s actually very simple.’
‘I don’t want to learn. I just want to hear you play.’
‘What’s my reward?’
‘See how well you play.’
‘First, just one kiss.’
14
In his desire to speak to the little raccoon, Mengliu lost control of himself, as if he’d just run into an old friend he had not seen for years. He did not hope for any response from the child, but simply said what was on his mind. It was like opening a release valve, letting out all kinds of grief, wallowing in guilt and a convoluted assortment of emotions. If the past was a woven garment, then Mengliu had found the end of a thread and was now unravelling it.
‘Someone like you can’t understand. Let me tell you Shanlai, Hei Chun was the best poet, and he looked just like he does in that photo – he was his own imagined king, and imagined… all kinds of crimes. Some of his ideas had merit, but some were unconscionable…Is he alive or dead? Has he turned to ashes? Who knows? No one knows, there’s no news…I cleared out all his things, returned them to his parents, basically treated them like relics. We all thought this way, because he certainly wasn’t the only one who disappeared. Hospitals, roadsides, funeral homes… we looked everywhere. The mothers of the missing you
ths were wailing day and night.’
‘Why did you run away?’ the little raccoon interrupted, looking at him with cold questioning eyes the colour of chocolate.
‘Um…I didn’t run away…’ Mengliu couldn’t explain clearly. He made a fist and slowly bit his knuckle, as if he could somehow find the answer there.
The little fellow put his book away. ‘You’re a weakling. You’re just a coward who’s afraid to die.’
Mengliu nodded his head woodenly, still lost in his thoughts. He folded his arms and rubbed his hands along his skin, as if he felt cold.
‘You’re right, that is the fairest, most accurate evaluation of me I’ve heard so far…My reputation in the medical community was all in vain. Those who lived by my scalpel were fewer than those who died under it. Publishing academic essays in authoritative journals, posing as a sanctimonious expert engaged in professional analysis, blatantly seeking publicity…All I did to achieve all that was spend a little money and buy space in a few journals. So we produce in abundance professionals without acumen and wicked drunkards. Authority? That never crossed my mind. And as for being a poet… Eh! I am very self-aware. In a money-minded society like ours, you can pass off fish eyes as pearls – there’s always some rubbish mixed in with the good stuff. Just because it’s gold, there’s no guarantee it will shine. How many layers is gold buried under? What I’m saying is…there’s too much garbage with this generation…there are no elite sensibilities. If you want to talk about strength of character, you’re just trying to live on air, bone-chilling air.’
Mengliu wiped his nose with his index finger. Resuming his posture of hugging himself, he continued to ramble.
‘That was really a super-chaotic time. The greed of the masses was shocking. Toilet paper, batteries, clothing, electrical appliances…everyone was crazy. They hoarded everything at home, some even bought two hundred pounds of salt. How many years would they be eating that? I knew someone who bought eight hundred boxes of matches, and another who stocked up on laundry detergent…The stores did not dare to open for business, they just accepted payments through a gap in the door, exchanging cash for merchandise. While they queued, people cursed each other, some even got into physical altercations…And don’t think I’m just making this stuff up. If you don’t believe me, you can go and ask…er…