by Cai Jun
She thought sleep would elude her, but she actually had a vivid dream. In it she saw a young man. He was dressed plainly, and looked sad. Holding a candle, he cried next to her bed.
He Qingying remembered the face: It belonged to that boy who’d lived across the street on Serenity Road—Shen Ming.
Si Mingyuan came home at dawn and didn’t act any differently than usual.
She found out she was pregnant on that day. Her husband went with her to the checkup; she was two months along.
The letter she wrote Lu Zhongyue was returned to the post office. The factory mailroom had made an error and Lu Zhongyue never received it.
Yet Lu Zhongyue never bothered her again.
As her belly grew and she could feel the new life move, she was filled with an unnamed fear.
She heard her husband talking about the man who’d been killed under the factory—Shen Ming, the disgraced Chinese teacher from Nanming High.
He Qingying thought about having an abortion but backed out at the hospital. It was as if she could hear the baby crying out to be kept.
The due date had been January of 1996, but the baby arrived early. She went to the hospital late at night and on December 19 gave birth to the son she had with Si Mingyuan.
When the nurse brought her the infant, she cried at the sight of his wrinkled little face.
She named her son Si Wang.
A few days later, she found a small birthmark on the left side of his back, right behind the heart. She thought it looked like a wound—as if he’d been stabbed in the womb. She couldn’t help but think of that rainy night six months earlier.
She had endless nightmares while recovering from childbirth.
He Qingying never told her son or husband about the birthmark.
Si Wang learned to walk and talk very early. He Qingying felt uneasy. The kid was quiet, and when he played with toy cars and guns at home he didn’t really make a mess like other kids.
Once, when he was still a baby, and she was sleeping, he climbed the bookshelf to read a copy of Song Dynasty Poems. Sometimes she’d find him staring into space by the window, mumbling to himself. His gaze was different from other kids’ and he seemed to understand everything adults said.
Whenever Si Wang talked in his sleep, He Qingying tried to decipher. She heard him utter only grown-up words, like “Nanming Road,” “Demon Girl Zone,” “Serenity Road,” and the name “Xiaozhi.”
When Si Wang was five, the steel factory closed and Si Mingyuan became angry. One night over drinks another employee told Si Mingyuan about seeing the engineer Lu Zhongyue walking into the underground warehouse with his wife. It was true, but He Qingying denied it. For two years they lived under unspeakable strain until Si Mingyuan disappeared to get away from his gambling debt.
While watching television one day, she heard the Chris Yu song, “Meng Po Soup.”
Suddenly, she heard a soft whining. Si Wang’s face was streaked with tears.
“Wang Er, what’s the matter?”
He went into the bedroom and locked the door. He Qingying unlocked it to find her son sobbing.
Meng Po Soup?
When visiting Gu Qiusha’s house three years later, she ran into Lu Zhongyue. The two looked at each other awkwardly but didn’t speak.
She didn’t want her son to live with the Gu family, but with pressure from the debt collectors, and to save him from harm, she felt forced to send him to live with that awful man.
Lu Zhongyue secretly approached her. He was despondent and not at all like what he used to be. He said the Serenity Road thing had been a long time ago and he would never threaten her with it again. He had no desire for women anymore; he just wanted to be at peace with them.
He had no idea that she’d killed Shen Ming.
Si Wang returned to her not long after, while Lu Zhongyue became a fugitive wanted for murder.
The only man He Qingying ever loved was Si Wang, this kid who thought he knew everything and that his mom knew nothing.
Wang Er, your mom knows all of your secrets.
You don’t know any of your mom’s secrets.
You are no genius.
You’re just a silly child.
There are no parents who don’t understand their kids, only kids who don’t understand their parents.
CHAPTER 86
July 7.
Ye Xiao took He Qingying and Si Wang out of the Demon Girl Zone. They got to the tallest chimney. It was now night.
He Qingying pointed to a dilapidated wall with a “No Trespassing” sign on it. “I buried the weapon here.”
Ye Xiao looked for something to dig with but Si Wang had already started using his hands. The rain from the last few days had softened the soil. It didn’t take long for him to dig down a few inches, but it was just roots and old animal bones.
“Let me.” He Qingying pushed aside her son and dug until her hands bled. She found a blackish object that she wiped clean on the hem of her dress. It had rusted, but it was definitely a knife.
“This is the knife I killed Shen Ming with.”
Ye Xiao dropped the knife into an evidence bag and made He Qingying leave in a police car bound for the precinct.
The police commander met He Qingying in person that night; Ye Xiao took extensive notes. She admitted to both the 1983 Serenity Road and 1995 Nanming Road killings.
When asked why she’d finally decided to confess after all these years—even though there was still no concrete evidence—she gave no answer.
Ye Xiao believed that He Qingying was worried about going to jail and leaving Si Wang to grow up alone. Now that he was grown and her husband had come back, those worries were gone. He Qingying could admit to everything and free herself from the burden of her dark secrets.
Si Wang got home at dawn. His father was up waiting for him; he’d already heard from Ye Xiao. He Qingying had called him, too. Si Wang was his responsibility now.
Si Wang leaned on his shoulder and softly said, “Dad, I really am your son.”
“I made up my mind back when I was cutting sugar cane that, even if you weren’t my son, I’d treat you like my own. Wang Er, you have no idea how happy I was when you were born.”
Si Mingyuan took out a beat-up old wallet—a gift from He Qingying before they got married. During all his years of traveling, he’d always kept it with him. The faded photos included one of Si Wang as a precious infant with a moody grown-up gaze.
Looking at the photo, Si Mingyuan held his son tightly.
The next day, Si Wang visited Shen Yuanchao. But Ye Xiao had been faster, calling the old prosecutor to give him closure.
Shen Min got into her top-choice university, which was in another city. She was busy packing. She’d been very saddened by the death of Ouyang Xiaozhi. She still kept a photo of her with her teacher on her dresser.
Together with Shen Min, Si Wang lit three sticks of incense for Shen Ming’s memorial.
As Si Wang hugged Shen Yuanchao to say good-bye, he leaned in and said, “Please do me a favor.”
After some whispering, the old prosecutor’s face paled, and he lowered his head. “I’ve always wanted to kill that man myself.”
“I know.”
“Kid, go home. Don’t let me see you again.”
Si Wang walked out the door but then turned around to say, “Please, I beg you. I’ll wait for your call.”
Shen Yuanchao said nothing in reply.
Shen Min caught up to Si Wang. As they walked downstairs together, she touched his arm. “What did you say to my dad?”
“It’s a secret.”
“When can we see each other again?”
“When you graduate college.”
“Can I kiss you?”
Si Wang closed his eyes, and Shen Min gave him a light peck on the cheek.
<
br /> He rode away on his bicycle without a backward glance. Shen Min cried.
College would start a month later.
On a crisp fall morning, Si Mingyuan hired a taxi to take his son to the university by the sea.
Si Wang carried a heavy suitcase. When they arrived, he waved to his dad and said, “Go home—I’ll be fine!”
At the campus entrance a banner hung overhead welcoming new students. A slideshow of past university presidents showed various images, one of which was Gu Changlong.
Many girls paid attention to Si Wang, and some wanted to know his major. One senior was very warm; she offered to help him with registration and give him a tour of the classrooms and dorms.
Si Wang looked at her in confusion. “Yi Yu?”
“Do you know me?”
She was wearing light makeup and had on a knee-length floral dress. She showed no signs of being a tomboy. She was a bona fide beauty.
Her face looked the same as when they’d last seen one another three years ago—right before she’d been hit by the truck.
“Did you graduate from Nanming High?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“I went there, too. We also both went to May First Junior High. We were best friends.”
“Really?” She seemed excited to see her classmate again. She flipped her hair and said with shyness, “Sorry, guess I forgot everything. I was in an accident right after exams.”
“It was an out-of-control truck, right? I was there, I took you to the hospital.”
“That was you? I was in a coma for four months. I lost all my memory. I was going to Hong Kong University but didn’t like how crowded it was, so I came back. Since I did really well on the exams, this university accepted me. I heard that people used to call me a tomboy, but I don’t feel like one. Is that true?”
“Yi Yu, you really forgot everything?”
“Well, sometimes I get these weird images and sounds in my head.”
Looking at Yi Yu’s blushing cheeks, Si Wang looked up at the sky and uttered, “Please give me another bowl of Meng Po Soup!”
How great it would be to forget.
EPILOGUE ONE
Three months later. Monday, December 22.
It was still dark at 7:00 a.m. The high-rise outside his window was long gone. Ye Xiao wore a uniform with a wool collar. Someone had ironed it yesterday. He found a cluster of white hair on his temple.
He arrived at the Middle-Level People’s Court. There were two major cases today, both homicides on their first trials.
At 9:00 a.m. was the case of Lu Zhongyue being killed by his son. Ye Xiao sat in the front row as the investigating police officer. The suspect, Lu Jizong, was already eighteen; his attorney believed it was manslaughter, not murder. His argument was that the young man had been obsessed with the virtual world ever since childhood, and seeing his dad for the first time triggered in him an emotional breakdown that caused the tragedy.
He Qingying’s case was tried that afternoon. The indictment said she’d killed Lu Jingnan on Serenity Road in 1983 and had also killed Shen Ming on Nanming Road in 1995. She’d turned herself in. Ye Xiao’s investigation report showed the facts.
Ye Xiao sat in the last row and carefully watched the people in attendance. Si Mingyuan was there, as was Shen Yuanchao.
The suspect looked calm. Her hair was trimmed short, and she faced the judge and the public prosecutor with serenity.
Where was Si Wang?
During the interminable trial, the defense attorney presented a letter of forgiveness signed by Shen Yuanchao, Shen Ming’s only biological relative. It asked the court to show leniency and concluded as follows:
I’m a selfish prosecutor, a man who didn’t deserve to be a father.
The real killer wasn’t He Qingying—it was me.
If you have to sentence anyone to death, sentence me.
Please, for my child, and for her child, too.
EPILOGUE TWO
Winter.
It was one of the shortest days of the year. The sunlight warmed him, chasing away the northerly wind’s chill.
He’d just returned from Ouyang Xiaozhi’s grave.
Si Wang visited Serenity Road for the first time in six months. He wore a black puffer coat and held something in his hand that stung.
Serenity Road Number 19 looked much the same as it had the night it burned to the ground.
Si Wang sat on the pile of rubble. The debris chilled him to the bone.
He closed his eyes and smiled into the air, saying, “Come with me.”
Crossing Serenity Road was like crossing the River of Life and Death.
The old house across the street still had that window in the basement.
Half an hour later, he stood up. The ruins would be a green space come spring.
Si Wang squeezed onto a crowded subway train and made his way to Nanming Road. It was almost dark. He clutched the object in his hand so hard that his arm felt numb. He hurried to walk past Nanming High; the oleander branches peeked over the wall.
He knelt, with difficulty, on the cold ground and said with regret, “I’m sorry, Mr. Yan.”
He then walked between two construction sites—to the tall chimney.
The dilapidated factory seemed even more desolate in winter, as if it was some forgotten ancient ruins. He limped to the Demon Girl Zone’s entrance.
The hatch door seemed to be talking to him. After staring at it for about a minute, Si Wang pushed it open.
Demon Girl Zone.
Dust flew. He knelt in the dark and puffed into his closed fist. Unclenching his hand, he said, “I’m here.”
There was no light at all, but Si Wang could count every single one of the beads on the necklace.
The necklace had hung in Shen Ming’s room for years; it broke the day before he was killed and was never strung again.
June 19, 1995—10:00 p.m.
After Shen Ming killed Yan Li, he didn’t think of running but came here holding the necklace.
Then he was killed.
Shen Ming clutched the necklace and lay in the muddy water for three days. When the police found the body, they couldn’t open his hand. Huang Hai had to break two of his fingers to release the necklace.
Shen Ming’s personal effects were given to Shen Yuanchao, but the necklace stayed with Huang Hai and was locked in the cabinet in his apartment. After Huang Hai died, Si Wang stole the necklace.
Si Wang held the necklace next to his ear. In these strange beads, he could hear a little girl’s laughter.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Shen Ming.” The senior sat in the wild grass and looked at the open sky in a daze.
“Thank you for saving me.” The disheveled little girl looked no older than ten; she resembled a malnourished kitten. She leaned on the teenager’s back and tickled him.
“Stop tickling me. What’s your name?”
“I don’t have a name!”
“OK, I’ll give you a name.” The teenager thought for a bit while holding her matchstick of an arm. Then he said, “Xiaozhi!”
“I like it!”
“You remind me of that Gu Cheng poem.”
“I have a gift for you!” She stuck out her tongue and opened her hand to reveal an unusual necklace. “Look, this one is pearl, this one is glass, this is fake jade, and this wooden one is a Buddha bead. There are nineteen of them. I found them all in the trash. It took me three days to string them together.”
The teenager held the necklace under the sunlight and watched it glimmer.
The little girl wrapped herself round his neck. Her skinny arms felt as suffocating as a snake. “Can you swear?” she said.
“Swear what?”
“That you’ll always keep this necklace with you, until you di
e.”
He smiled and held the necklace in his hand. Taking the little girl in his arms, he swore, “I, Shen Ming, will always keep the necklace Xiaozhi gave me—until I die!”
Until I die.
Suddenly, the sun ducked behind the clouds. The whole world turned gray, and it started to rain.
THE END
Author: Cai Jun
Monday, March 25, 2013—first draft, Suzhou River in Shanghai
Monday, April 22, 2013—second draft, Suzhou River in Shanghai
Tuesday, April 30, 2013—final draft, Suzhou River in Shanghai
AFTERWORD
In March of 2013, one late night in Beijing, at West Wudaoying Hutong near Yonghe Palace Temple, a friend gave me a copy of Zhang Chengzhi’s Journal of the Soul. I felt joy as I touched the book. Flipping to the first page and reading the first line made me happy. My eyes seemed to grow moist.
I’d reached a watershed moment in my life.
I had been at this point ever since I finished writing Murder in My Youth. Anyone crossing a similar watershed would suffer as if crossing the River of Life and Death.
So the afterword for this book should start at the point when I was looking at the watershed.
Si Wang was a name that rhymed not only with “death” but also “lookout.”
In 1985, I was in first grade at Suzhou Road Elementary School in Shanghai. The school was in an alley near Suzhou River in the Zhabei District, close to the Laozha Bridge (now Fujian Road Bridge). I remembered a school building that looked like an old-style mansion. My mom signed me up for an art class at the same school called Feifei Art Academy. A few years ago, the elementary school and my grandma’s house (where I was living at the time) were both torn down.
When I was in the third grade, we moved, so I transferred schools. I started going to Longevity Road Number One School in the Putuo District. The Suzhou River ran behind the school; there is still a pedestrian bridge there. Everything seemed bigger when I was a kid. Now it all looks tiny. At the elementary school library, I read my first novel, Verne’s Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. It was a condensed illustrated edition. The school had narrow paths reaching deep into a yard, where there was a three-story teaching building. I spent grades four and five there. People’s houses were right next to the building; many bamboo and fig trees grew outside the houses; there was also a kindergarten.