A Loyal Character Dancer

Chapter 29

Liu’s office was far more spacious than Chen’s at the Shanghai Police Bureau. More luxuriously furnished, too: a huge U-shaped steel desk, a swiveling leather rediner, several leather armchairs, and shelves filled with hardcover books. There was a mini-tower computer with a laser printer on the desk. Liu seated himself in an armchair and asked Chen to sit in another.

Chen noticed several miniature gilded Buddhist statues on the shelves. Each of them was clothed in a colorful silk robe. It reminded him of a scene he had witnessed years earlier in his mother’s company, in an ivy-mantled temple in Hangzhou, of a gilded clay image of Buddha sitting high in the hall, while pilgrims in miserable rags knelt in front of the gold and silver silk robes. The ceremony was called “Donning Buddha,” his mother explained. The more expensive the robe, the more devoted the pilgrim. Buddha would then produce miracles in accordance with the donor’s devotion. Following his mother’s example, he lit a stick of incense and made three wishes. These wishes he had long since forgotten, but not the puzzlement he had experienced.

Believe, and anything’s possible. Chief Inspector Chen did not know whether Liu believed in these statues’ powers or kept them merely for decoration, but Liu seemed to be convinced that he was doing the right thing.

“Sorry about my temper,” Liu said. “She does not understand how things are in China, that American officer.”

“It’s not her fault. I learned some details about Wen’s life as late as last night. Inspector Rohn does not know about them. That was why I wanted to have a talk between ourselves.”

“If you know what a hell of life she had with that bastard of a husband, do you still insist on sending her to him? You cannot imagine how we admired her in high school. She led us in everything, her long plait fluttering on her bosom, and her cheeks rosier than the peach blossom in the spring breeze… God, why should I tell you all this?”

“Please tell me as much as you can. So I can write a detailed report to the bureau,” Chen said, taking out a notebook.

“Fine, if that’s what you want,” Liu said in bafflement. “Where shall I start?”

“From the beginning, when you first met Wen.”

Liu entered high school in 1967, at a time when his father, an owner of a perfume company before 1949, was being denounced as a class enemy. Liu himself was a despicable “black puppy” to his schoolmates, among whom he saw Wen for the first time. They were in the same class. Like others, he was smitten by her beauty, but he never thought of approaching her. A boy from a black family was not considered worthy to be a Red Guard. That Wen was a Red Guard cadre magnified his inferiority. Wen led the class in singing revolutionary songs, in shouting the political slogans, and in reading Quotations from Chairman Mao, their only textbook at the time. So she was really more like the rising sun to him, and he was content to admire her from afar.

That year his father was admitted to a hospital for eye surgery. Even there, among the wards, Red Guards or Red Rebels swarmed like raging wasps. His father was ordered to stand to say his confession, blindfolded, in front of Chairman Mao’s picture. It was an impossible task for an invalid who was unable to see or move. So it was up to Liu to help, and first, to write the confession speech on behalf of the old man. It was a tough job for a thirteen-year-old boy, and after spending an hour with a splitting headache, he produced only two or three lines. In desperation, clutching his pen, he ran out to the street, where he saw Wen Liping walking with her father. Smiling, she greeted him, and her fingertips brushed against the pen. The golden top of the pen suddenly began to shine in the sunlight. He went back home and finished the speech with his one glittering possession in the world. Afterward, he supported his father in the hospital, standing with him like a wooden prop, not yielding to humiliation, reading for him like a robot. It was a day that contained his brightest and blackest moment.

Their three years in high school flowed away like water, ending in the flood of the educated youth movement. He went to Heilongjiang Province with a group of his schoolmates. She went to Fujian by herself. It was on the day of their departure, at the Shanghai railway station, that he experienced the miracle of his life, as he held the red paper heart with her in the loyal character dance. Her fingers lifted up not only the red paper heart, but also raised him from the black puppy status to an equal footing with her.

Life in Heilongjiang was hard. The memory of that loyal character dance proved to be an unfailing light in that endless tunnel. Then the news of her marriage came, and he was devastated. Ironically, it was then that he first thought seriously about his own future, a future in which he imagined he would be able to help her. And he started to study hard.

Like others, Liu came back to Shanghai in 1978. As a result of the self-study he had done in Heilongjiang, he passed the college entrance examination and became a student at East China Normal University the same year. Though overwhelmed with his studies, he made several inquiries about her. She seemed to have withdrawn. There was no information about her. During his four years at college, never once did she return to Shanghai. After graduation, he got a job at Wenhui Daily, as a reporter covering Shanghai industry news, and he started writing poems. One day, he heard that Wenhui would run a special story about a commune factory in Fujian Province. He approached the chief editor for the job. He did not know the name of Wen’s village. Nor did he really intend to look for her. Just the idea of being somewhere close to her was enough. Indeed, there’s no story without coincidences. He was shocked when he stepped into the workshop of the factory.

After the visit, he had a long talk with the manager. The manager must have guessed something, telling him that Feng was notoriously jealous, and violent. He thought a lot that night. After all those years, he still cared for her with unabated passion. There seemed to be a voice in his mind urging: Go to her. Tell her everything. It may not be too late.

But the following morning, waking up to reality, he left the village in a hurry. He was a successful reporter, with published poems and younger girlfriends. To choose a married woman with somebody else’s child, one who was no longer young and beautiful-he did not have the guts to face what others might think.

Back in Shanghai, he turned in the story. It was his assignment. His boss called it poetic. “The revolutionary grinder polishing up the spirit of our society.” The metaphor was often quoted. The story must have been reprinted in the Fujian local newspapers. He wondered if she had read it. He thought about writing to her, but what could he say? That was when he started to conceive the poem, which was published in Star magazine, selected as one of the best of the year.

In a way, the incident was like a grinder rasping at his illusions about a career in journalism and contributed to his decision to quit. His timing could not have been better. In the early eighties, few made up their minds to let go of an iron rice bowl-a job in a state-run company. That gave him a good start, and the guanxi he had accumulated as the Wenhui reporter helped a lot, too. He made tons of money. Then he met Zhenzhen, a college student. She fell in love with him. They got married, had a daughter the following year, and his business further expanded. He had no time for poetry by the time the anthology came out. On impulse, he sent Wen a copy with his business card enclosed. There was no response. He was not surprised.

On one occasion, he asked a Fujian businessman to take to her three thousand Yuan anonymously. She would not accept the money. Engaged in one business battle after another, he had no time for sentiment. He thought he had forgotten about her.

He was astonished when, several days earlier, she suddenly walked into his office. She had changed a lot; she was hardly different from an ordinary peasant now. In his mind’s eyes, however, she remained what she had been at sixteen, the same oval face, the same infinite tenderness in her eyes, and the same slender fingers that had held up the red paper heart. It did not take him a minute to make up his mind. She had helped him at the darkest moment of his life. Now it was his turn to help her.

Liu paused to take a drink of his tea.

“So to you,” Chen said, “she has become an idea-a symbol of your lost youth. It does not matter that she is no longer young or beautiful.”

“The difference in her appearance makes it all the more touching.”

“All the more romantic, too.” Chen nodded. “What did she tell you about herself?”

“That she had to stay away from the village for a few days.”

“Did you ask her why?”

“She said that she did not want to join Feng in the United States, but she was afraid she had no choice.”

“What did that mean?” Chen inquired. “If she had no choice, why should she have come all the way to you?”

“I did not press her. She broke down a couple of times during our talk. I think it’s about her pregnancy.”

“So she never really explained.”

“She must have her reasons. Perhaps she had to think about her future, and she could not do so in the village.”

“Has she spoken to you about her plans?”

“No, she hasn’t. She does not seem in a hurry to leave.” Liu added reflectively, “Married to such a bastard as Feng, her change of mind would not be surprising to me.”

“Well-” Chen guessed that it would be probably useless to push Liu any more in that direction. She could have stayed here without having to make any explanation. “Let me tell you something she has not told you. She fled from the village because she got a phone call from Feng, saying her life was in danger from gangsters.”

“She did not tell me that. I did not ask her, and she did not have to.”

“It’s understandable that she did not tell you everything, but we know she came to you with the intention of staying for a few days-not to think, but to hide from the local triad.”

“I’m glad she thought of me in her need.” Liu lit a cigarette.

“According to our information, she was supposed to call Feng, her husband, as soon as she found a safe place. So far she has not done so. Now she won’t join him even if we guarantee her safety. So she must have made her decision.”

“She can stay as long as she likes,” Liu said. “Do you suppose she will have a good life there?”

“A lot of people think so. Look at the long line waiting for visas at the American Consulate in Shanghai. Not to mention those people like her husband who sneak out.”

“A good life with that bastard?”

“But he is still her husband, isn’t he? And if she remains here-with you, what will others think?”

“What matters is what she thinks,” Liu said. “When she came to me in need, the least I could do was to shelter her.”

“You have done a lot for her. I’ve seen her passport picture. She looks so different today. Almost like another woman.”

“Yes, she’s been resurrected. Too romantic a word, you will say.”

“No. It is the very word, except that we are not living in a romantic age.”

“Romance is not something out there, Chief Inspector Chen. It is in your mind,” Liu said, shaking his head. “I’ve told you what I know, as you have requested. What do you want to tell me?”

“Let me level with you, Liu,” Chen said, despite the knowledge that he could not. “I admire your intention to help her, so I would like to say something personal.”

“Please, go ahead.”

“You’re playing with fire.”

“What do you mean?”

“She is aware of your feelings for her, isn’t she?”

“I liked her-as early as in high school. It was such a long time ago. I do not have to erase the past.”

“But your feelings are the same, whether for the queen in high school, or a middle-aged woman pregnant with another man’s child,” Chen said. “You are Mr. Big Bucks and a lot of women would fall for you head over heels. Let alone after what you have done for her. She cannot help returning your affection.”

“I’m afraid I do not see your point, Chief Inspector Chen.”

“No, you do not see it. As long as you can indulge yourself in reliving your high-school dream, treating her as part of your memory, and as long as she is content with being your insubstantial dream stuff, existing only in your remembrance of the past, things may work out between you two. But in time, she will have recovered enough to be a real woman. Flesh and blood. So on a romantic evening, she may throw herself into your arms. What shall you do?” Chen grew sarcastic in spite of himself. “Will you say no? That will be most cruel. If you say yes, what about your family?”

“Wen knows I’m married. I don’t think she will do that.”

“You don’t think so? So you’ll let her stay as an ex-schoolmate for months, for years. Yes, you are happy to help. But will she be happy when she has to suppress her feelings all the time?”

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do? Turn her away? Send her to the husband who abused her?” Liu retorted angrily. “Or let some gang chase her around like a rabbit?”

“That is what I want to discuss with you.”

“What?”

“The threat from the gangsters. They are frantically searching for her at this very moment. Whatever the police bureau’s reaction to my report, and I have to make a report, you know that, I’m sure the gang will soon learn that she’s staying here with you.”

“How?” Liu demanded “Will the police pass the information to the gangsters?”

“No. But the triads have inside connections. Just as they have learned about Feng’s deal, they will get wind of Wen’s whereabouts. During the last few days, Inspector Rohn and I have been followed everywhere”

“Really, Chief Inspector Chen!”

“On the first day, Inspector Rohn was nearly run down by a motorcycle. On the second, a staircase broke down as we were leaving. On the third, a few hours after our visit to a pregnant Guangxi woman, a gang abducted her, mistaking her for Wen. Detective Yu was almost poisoned in a Fujian hotel. Finally, the day before we came to Suzhou, we were almost caught in a police raid set up to entrap us at the Huating Market.”

“Are you sure these incidents were all attributable to gangsters?”

“These were no coincidences. They have ears inside the police both in Shanghai and Fujian. The situation is serious.”

Liu nodded. “They are infiltrating the business world, too. Several companies here have hired gangsters to collect their debts.”

“You see the point, Liu. According to the latest information I’ve got, the gangsters will not let her alone even after the trial, whether Feng cooperates or not.”

“Why? I’m confused.”

“Don’t ask me why. All I know is that they will do whatever it takes to ferret her out. To make an example of her. And they’ll succeed. It’s a matter of time. She simply deludes herself thinking things will work out if she stays with you here.”

“As a chief inspector, can’t you try to do anything for her, a pregnant woman?”

“I wish I could, Liu. Do you think it’s easy for me to admit how helpless I am-a pathetic example of a policeman? Nothing would make me happier than if I could do something for her.”

All his frustration came out in his voice. For a cop, it was more than a simple matter of loss of face to concede his helplessness, but he could see the response in Liu’s eyes.

“So if you are going to take this into consideration,” Chen continued earnestly, “you can see that it is really in her interest for her to leave. There is no way you can protect her here for much longer.”

“But how I can let her go to him, only to be abused for the rest of her life.”

“No, I don’t think that she will let Feng go on abusing her. The last few days have made a difference. Resurrected-that’s your word. She has gotten on a new footing, I believe.” Chen added, “Besides, Inspector Rohn will be in charge there. She is going to act in Wen’s interests. I will make sure of it.”

“So we are coming back to where we started. Wen has to leave.”

“No. We have a better understanding of the situation. So I’ll try to explain to Wen, and she can decide for herself.”

“All right, Chief Inspector Chen,” Liu said. “You talk to her.”