by Janie Chang
“I haven’t seen her since noon,” Wendian said. She didn’t sound concerned. “She was walking at the very back so she’ll be one of the last to get in.”
But there was another roll call after supper and everyone except Meirong was accounted for. No one remembered seeing her during the final few miles to Shangtan. A trickle of foot travelers were still making their way into the town and Mr. Lee posted two scouts to wait at the top of the road. So far, no one they’d asked had seen a student matching Meirong’s description.
“What if Meirong sprained an ankle or fell ill on the road?” Lian said. A small group of them had gathered by the barracks gates.
“We can’t leave her out there,” Wendian said, clearly worried.
“I can take some scouts,” Shao said. “We can carry rifles.”
“None of you are to leave the town, not now that it’s dark,” Mr. Lee said. “Absolutely not. There are bandits in this area. Ruthless, unpatriotic deserters. And those rifles don’t have any ammunition.”
“The bandits don’t know that,” Shorty said.
“Look.” Ying-Ying pointed. “One of the scouts has come back.”
The scout ran toward them, a policeman hurrying up the hill behind. When the scout caught sight of Mr. Lee, he ran even faster.
“Yee Meirong has been arrested,” he said, panting. “They’ve taken her back to Changsha, to the police station there. The policeman wants to see Professor Kang.”
PROFESSOR KANG FOUND transportation to Changsha the next morning. Lian pleaded to let her go with him. The other girls contributed some clothing and toiletry items for Meirong, which Lian tied up in a large square of cotton. She put all the cash she had saved inside her tunic pocket.
Their transportation was a jeep. A corporal was taking two deserters to the military jail in Changsha; he’d happily agreed to the professor’s request, glad for some extra company and conversation. He gave Professor Kang the passenger seat beside the driver, while he sat in the back with Lian and the deserters. The jeep jolted over potholed roads, the driver pressing on the horn at any excuse. It was thirty-five miles to Changsha and the jeep could’ve gotten there in less than two hours if only the roads were less crowded. Lian thought of how long it had taken them to walk that distance. Two nights.
The deserters crouched on the floor with their knees up, hands tied together. They were no older than Lian, dirty and despondent. The young men didn’t say a word, but the corporal talked the entire time.
“You stupid turtle eggs,” the corporal said, addressing the two. His tone, however, was amiable. “Went off to join the bandits, did you? You’ll be shot for deserting now. Instead of dying in glorious battle you’ll be executed as cowards. A shame to your parents and your ancestors.”
One of the young men sniffled. Snot dripped from his upper lip down to a receding chin.
“They’re not bad boys, Professor,” the corporal said. “I know these two here. Farmers, sons of farmers. They hide in the mountains and when the army leaves town, they sneak back to work their fields, see their families again. But they should’ve done that before they enlisted. Leave home, they’re just missing. Leave the army, they’re deserters. But they’re none too bright, these boys.”
The jeep hit a pothole and the deserters, unable to brace themselves, bounced and fell against each other.
“We make this trip to Changsha once a week, with or without deserters,” the corporal said. He hauled one of the boys to an upright position. “Your Mr. Lee asked us to pick up Minghua’s mail at the Changsha post office every week. And also take your outgoing mail to the post office.”
“I hope he compensates you for the inconvenience,” Professor Kang said.
“Ha ha, cigarette money, that’s all,” the corporal said with a laugh. “Happy to help our universities. But I tell you, mail delivery is not very reliable at the moment. When the folks in Shangtan find out I agreed to this, I’m going to be taking all sorts of mail to the Changsha post office, not just yours.”
When they reached Changsha, the jeep stopped at the police station to let the professor and Lian get out. The corporal climbed in again, in the seat beside the driver. As they drove away, Lian could hear him berating the deserters.
“Those poor boys,” Professor Kang murmured. He looked down his glasses at Lian. “Our military liaison, Colonel Chung, is a good man. Let’s talk to Miss Yee first, let her know we’re trying to free her. Then when I know what’s needed, I’ll go see the colonel.”
The police in Changsha let them in to see Meirong but would only allow one visitor at a time. When Professor Kang came out of the holding room, he went straight to the senior police officer.
“Miss Yee says you have her rucksack,” he said.
“We took it to look for antigovernment materials,” the officer said.
“It contains textbooks that are university property,” the professor said. “We need those back, nothing else.”
The officer reached into the cabinet beside his desk and pulled out Meirong’s rucksack. “There were papers in there, we took those.”
“I just want the university’s property back,” Professor Kang said, his voice mild.
The officer unbuckled the straps on the rucksack and emptied its contents on his desk. Some pencils, notebooks, two books. A sandalwood comb. A brown paper bag of dried apricots. Professor Kang picked up the two books. One was a textbook, the other Meirong’s copy of the Legends. The rest he put back in the rucksack, which he handed to Lian.
“I’m going to see Colonel Chung now, to sort this out,” he said to the policeman. “I will return shortly. This young lady has brought clothing and some personal items for Miss Yee. Please let her into the holding cell.”
The small room was windowless, airless. When Lian entered, Meirong opened her eyes. She was sitting on a wooden chair, one wrist cuffed to the armrest. She had tilted the chair on its back legs so that she could lean her head against the wall behind. The front legs of the chair thumped on the floor when Lian hurried over to her. There were dark circles under Meirong’s eyes.
“Lian. I was so happy when Professor Kang told me you’d come with him.” Even though she spoke barely above a whisper, her voice sounded rough.
“How are you?” Lian said. “Here’s your rucksack. And I brought you some clothes, toothbrush, soap . . .”
Meirong shook her head. “Take them back with you,” she said. “I won’t get to keep them anyway.”
“Why did they arrest you?” Lian said.
“They found out,” Meirong said. “They know I’m involved with the Communist movement. I was only an hour out of that little town when they arrested me.”
“Was your comrade . . .” Lian faltered.
“He never showed up. I think he’s been arrested too,” Meirong said. Then her voice dulled. “Lian, they want to send me to a reeducation camp. To make me an example. A warning to students.”
“A reeducation camp,” Lian said, trying to sound cheerful. “They’re like a kind of school.”
Meirong shook her head. “Wang Jenmei told me about them. More like a forced labor camp with interrogation and torture.”
“The professor will get you out before then,” Lian said. She couldn’t let Meirong see her anxiety. “He’s gone to see Colonel Chung. He says the colonel is friendly and helpful. He’ll be able to do something.”
“But he probably doesn’t outrank military intelligence,” Meirong said, “and it was someone from the Juntong who arrested me. Here”—Meirong reached deep inside her tunic and pulled out a small cloth wallet—“take my money. I won’t be needing it.”
“Yes, you will,” Lian whispered. “What if you need to bribe guards, buy favors? Nicer food?”
“Oh, Lian.” Meirong’s laugh sounded almost normal. “The camp guards will take away everything I have anyway. I’d rather you have it.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And when you have a chance, talk to Wendian. She’s part of my cell. They need to lie
low for a while. And tell them not to worry about me. I won’t give them away. But there could be spies inside Minghua.”
Lian squeezed Meirong in a tight embrace. How could she tell Meirong that she was one of the spies? But not the one who had betrayed her.
“COLONEL CHUNG PROMISED to do what he could for Miss Yee,” the professor said when he and Lian were headed back to Shangtan. “Unfortunately, the odds are not in her favor. The Juntong confiscated papers from her rucksack and found articles written by left-wing activists. The best the colonel could do was lend us this car and driver to take us back to Shangtan.”
The professor leaned back with a sigh, rested his head against the crocheted antimacassar of the seat’s headrest. He had been energetic and forceful all day. Now he held the two books to his chest and closed his eyes. He looked like a tired old man. Tired and defeated.
Lian realized she had been taking him for granted. Everyone had. They hadn’t appreciated the enormity of what Professor Kang and the rest of the faculty had taken on, shepherding a campus of young men and women through a war-ravaged land, all the while trying to keep their studies on track. And on top of all that, safeguarding the Library of Legends. She felt a rush of affection for the elderly man.
Lian leaned her head against the window, wondering what else they could do to help Meirong. But she hadn’t slept all night for worry, and the motion of the car lulled her to drowsiness. When she woke, the car was driving along the main street of Shangtan, and Professor Kang was tapping her shoulder. She sat up.
“Professor Kang, if I can get transportation, can I go to Changsha on the weekend to see Meirong?” she asked.
The old man shook his head. “Let’s wait and see if Colonel Chung is successful. If not, they’ll have taken her to the camp by the weekend. In which case I’ll try and arrange visits. But that’s all we can do. It’s out of my hands.”
When Lian got to her dorm building, the other girls were sitting on beds, talking. The chatter stopped when she came in. It was a long time before she stopped crying and could answer their questions.
LIAN HAD PROMISED Meirong she would warn Wendian, but it wasn’t easy getting her on her own. The barracks were cramped, opportunities for privacy rare, and Wendian always seemed to be part of a group. It was as though she was avoiding Lian, ignoring her pleading looks.
But Friday finally came, a half day when the students were free to roam Shangtan. Lian caught sight of Wendian’s long ponytail bobbing along the street and followed her to a bookstore, the students’ most popular destination. Wendian paused by the entrance and when she saw Lian, she moved along to the next store. They fell into step and continued on toward the market square.
“Meirong has a message for you,” Lian said, looking around before she spoke. “She says you should all lie low for a while.”
“It was Mr. Lee who gave her away to the Juntong,” Wendian said. “I’m sure of it. Everyone knows the director of student services is usually a government spy.”
“I didn’t know that,” Lian said.
“Oh, Lian, there are always spies.” Wendian sounded sad rather than scornful. “There are even Chinese spying for the Japanese, did you know? They scout out towns, draw maps, identify targets for bombing raids. What else did Meirong say?”
“That you’re not to worry,” Lian said, “that she won’t give you away.”
“She’d die sooner than give us up.” Wendian was silent for a moment. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I wish I’d gone to see her, too, Lian, but I was afraid.”
“It could’ve been risky,” Lian said. “You were right not to go.”
“We can fight back.” Wendian wiped her eyes with a sleeve. “We’re not helpless.” She tossed her ponytail over her shoulder and walked away before Lian could reply.
But Lian did feel helpless. There had to be a way to get Meirong out of that jail, out of the reeducation camp. Could she plead with Mr. Lee? Did he have enough influence? What about Cook Tam? But she wasn’t supposed to know about Cook Tam.
Perhaps if Meirong was willing to say she’d been naïve, led by Jenmei, the authorities would let her go. Meirong could be so stubborn, but if she could just see Meirong one more time, talk some sense into her, ask her to lie about her ideals. Give them up just long enough to persuade her captors.
“Miss Hu?” A gentle hand on her arm. It was Sparrow. “Professor Kang asked me to find you. He has news about Miss Yee.”
“Maybe Colonel Chung has freed her,” Lian said. “Maybe he wants me to go with him to Changsha and get Meirong.”
Lian ran until she got to the barracks room that was both office and sleeping quarters for Professor Kang. She knocked on the door and the professor’s voice called out immediately for her to enter. Mr. Lee was there, too. The director of student services looked resigned and unhappy, not threatening. But Lian knew right away from the expression on the professor’s face that the news wasn’t good. Professor Kang cleared his throat.
“Colonel Chung wasn’t able to persuade the Juntong,” he said. “Yee Meirong is being taken to a reeducation camp.”
“Can we visit? Take her food?” she said.
“The camp is in a very remote location,” Mr. Lee said, “a hundred miles away from any town. Even if we got permission, it would be extremely difficult getting there to visit.”
“Of course, we’ll keep trying to get her released,” the professor said, “but apparently she isn’t helping her own case.”
No, of course not. Meirong’s vow to honor Wang Jenmei’s legacy only added to her determination. Even in death, Jenmei still had influence over Meirong.
There had to be something she could do for Meirong. Who never complained about the hardships of the road, who never asked to be her friend but just assumed they were. Meirong, who was so incurably stubborn. Lian couldn’t leave Minghua, not yet. She had to ask Mr. Lee if he’d been the one to report Meirong. Beg him to intervene. And she had to do it before she lost her nerve.
LIAN HAD ASKED to see Mr. Lee in private and now he stood behind his desk, looking out the window even though there was nothing to see. It was dark outside and the glass panes only threw back their reflections.
“Miss Hu. What can I do for you?” He turned to put his cigarette carefully on the ashtray and a long stick of ash broke off. He turned back to stare at the window.
“Meirong. Did you give her up to the Juntong?” she said.
“I like young people,” he said to her reflected image. “That’s why I took this job. But the war. War changes everything, you know.”
“You could’ve intervened,” she said, “you could’ve talked to her, warned her.”
“So could you,” he replied, his back still turned.
“I didn’t know she was in so deep. But she would’ve listened to you. You have authority.”
“Do you really think so, Miss Hu?” He turned around and tapped the remaining ash off his cigarette, ground it out. “Do you really think either of us could’ve convinced her?”
Lian was silent for a moment, acknowledging the truth of this. “Meirong wasn’t a danger to you. She was just idealistic.”
“I don’t know who could’ve given her name to the Juntong. It wasn’t me,” he said. “There were a lot of people in Changsha, a lot of mixing around with other universities, with strangers.”
“But can you help get her out? Intervene? Please.”
He shook his head. It was as she expected. He couldn’t go against the Juntong’s decision.
“I won’t spy for you anymore,” she said.
“You’re upset,” he said, turning back to the window. “Why don’t you take some time to think things over? Let’s talk another day. I know you want to visit your friend at the camp. I’ll see what I can do.”
Lian left Lee’s office, shaking at the unfairness of it all, at her utter helplessness. The clear skies above, the glorious moon and starlight, they all mocked her. They traveled their arcs each night, untroubled by the woes o
f mere mortals. All she’d gotten from Mr. Lee were vague words about visiting Meirong.
From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw movement in the shadows outside Lee’s office. But she turned her head away in case it was Lee coming out to speak with her again.
Chapter 25
Shortly after sunset, mists rose from the riverbank and clung to the hills above Shangtan. A noise like sails snapping their sheets in a strong wind made some of the townspeople latch their window shutters, wondering if a storm was on its way. Above the cliff walls behind the barracks, a waning crescent moon shone on leathery creatures climbing out of hollows in the rock. They clung to the cliff face for a few moments before taking flight. The giant bats circled overhead before turning north, wingspans as wide as those of an albatross.
Other sounds reverberated in the forested hills surrounding Shangtan. Gnarled mountain pines groaned as though bracing for an earthquake. Sailors would’ve likened the noise to the creaking of masts in a strong wind as tree spirits tore their way out of ancient trunks that had been their homes for centuries. Covered in moss, with resinous pine needles stuck to their scraggly hair, they dragged large veined feet through the forest floor and turned north. Now bereft of their spirits, the trees shuddered then settled into silence. They were unchanged, as tall and thriving as before, but the small creatures living beneath their roots suddenly felt more vulnerable. Rabbits and bamboo rats immediately began tunneling deeper burrows.
THE STAR BROUGHT a kettle of hot water to Professor Kang’s office. The professor took out two small cups and put a frugal pinch of tea leaves into a teapot. They waited as the fragrance of fine longjing tea intensified.
“Lu’an is famous for melon seed tea so I bought some while we were there,” the professor said, “but this variety of longjing from the Lion’s Peak region is still my favorite.”
The Star settled on a stool across from his desk. “I’ll pay attention to what the local stores carry,” she said, “and hopefully find you some more.”
The professor poured, inhaling deeply in appreciation. The Star took the small cup and did the same before blowing on the surface of the tea and taking a sip.