In the Pond

Fifteen

THREE WEEKS LATER an article about the case, entitled “Engulfed by the Evil Stream,” came out in Law and Democracy. On his first reading of it, Bin was rather disappointed. The view and the tone of the writing were fine, but the report was too short, merely one and a half pages; the limited space wouldn’t impress the reader. To Bin’s mind, such an article should have been massive.

After reading it for the second time, though, he felt better and found it actually well written, even fiercely elegant. In fact, none of the main events and figures was left out. Reading it for the third time, he was impressed by the skill of the writer, who hadn’t wasted a word, as though doing a poet’s job.

His friends in Gold County were very pleased with the article. Yen called and said excitedly, “Brother Shao, this time we nabbed them. The County Administration wanted to talk with Old Jiang yesterday evening. Boy, they’re scared.”

“Good,” said Bin.

Yen went on, “It’s a victory, and they’ll have to rehabilitate every one of us soon. Get ready for it, Brother. Don’t let them off the hook easily.”

Secretary Yang was shaken by the article and became restless. Intuitively he realized the whole thing would grow bigger and bigger if he didn’t take action to stop it. The article’s last sentence said clearly, “We are waiting with our eyes open to see how the local leaders will respond to this report.” So he had to correct the case in time, to prevent the highest authority in the capital from pursuing him further.

His aide, Dong Cai, reported that Chairman Ding had ordered his men to investigate the case and interview Bin. Surely the enemy faction would use this article to destroy Yang, driving him out of Dismount Fort.

After brief consideration, Yang concluded that Bin was the key figure in the series of events. If he could pacify Bin, the Ding faction would be automatically stopped. By now he was very impressed by Bin’s ability — not only as an artist but also as a political activist. Nobody else in the entire commune was able to get the attention of all levels of authorities and have his case printed in such a top legal journal. Eight months before, when he had read the report on Bin sent over by the fertilizer plant, Yang had thought Bin was no more than a crazed bookworm, of whom he had met many and had known how to handle them. Now he deeply regretted having neglected the talent in this small man.

In reality, Yang’s faction was not as strong as Ding’s, mainly because Chairman Ding had in his hands most of the writers in the commune and could maneuver without impediment in the field of propaganda. Yet Yang bet none of those pens in Ding’s faction was as capable as Shao Bin, who could place articles and works of art in big newspapers and magazines with such ease. If only he had enlisted Bin’s help.

He telephoned the Commune Guesthouse to have two dinners arranged. Then he had Dong Cai come in and told him to find Bin and take him to the guesthouse in the evening.

The first dinner started at three in the afternoon, in honor of the fertilizer plant’s leaders. Two days before, Liu and Ma had read the article and got angry as usual, but they hadn’t taken it as something that would cause any change. Bin remained the same maniac to them, and they wouldn’t try to “rectify their mistakes” as the article demanded. By now they were somewhat used to this kind of warning from the media, which had always come like lightning without a storm.

The spacious dining hall in the guesthouse was empty, with all the chairs propped upside down on the tables. The terrazzo floor was wet and sprinkled with sawdust, which made the room smell of pine and cypress. Behind a set of sky blue screens on which white cranes were on the wing, the three diners — Yang, Liu, and Ma — sat down at a table covered with a green plastic tablecloth. They were going to eat prawn soup, crabs, and steamed buns stuffed with brown sugar.

“Since you both have read the article, what do you think we should do?” Yang asked.

“Believe me, Secretary Yang,” said Ma, “Shao Bin is a mere lunatic. We should send him to a mental home.”

Liu chimed in, “Yes, that will solve the problem once and for all. We’re just fed up with him. He enjoys pestering others so much. Do you know what his nickname is in our plant?

“What?”

“Man Hater.”

“We should have him locked up,” Ma insisted.

“No, no.” Yang shook his head, chuckling. “He isn’t a lunatic. Even if he was, the whole of China knows of the case now, and we couldn’t punish him without hurting ourselves.”

The soup came in a white enamel basin, and the crabs and the sugar buns in two bamboo baskets. Liu and Ma remained silent, drinking brandy in gulps.

After the waitresses left, Yang resumed, “I’m positive Shao Bin is an able man. We must stop him; otherwise we’ll all lose our jobs, or at least be demoted. The whole boat is in danger now. Chairman Ding will surely use this case to root us out. They’re already on the move.”

Both Liu and Ma were shocked, but they had no idea what to do, so they kept sucking crab claws.

Yang went on, “Ever since the ancient times, there have been two ways to get out of such a situation. One is punishment, the other is reward.” He paused to take a spoonful of soup.

Seeing Liu’s surprised look, Yang smiled and said, “Don’t panic. I’ve decided to use reward. I’m going to be generous to Shao Bin. This is the only way to appease him now. Besides, I want to use him and make him our man, to keep him in our pond. But I’ll have to punish you two in appearance. You’ll be criticized in the internal bulletin. Don’t be upset. Next year, I promise, you each will get a raise.”

Yang went on explaining how he would reward Bin. Though both Liu and Ma thought Yang took the maniac too seriously, they were pleased that the secretary would take Bin into his own hands. From now on, they would be able to do many things in the plant without being painted and written about. As long as there was no disciplinary action against them, their official careers would be safe. Criticism in the internal bulletin would at most inflict a scratch on them, and people would forget it in a month. So without delay they praised Secretary Yang’s wise, timely decision.

Before he left for the dinner, Bin whispered to Meilan in the corridor that if he didn’t return that night, she mustn’t go to the plant or the Commune Administration to look for him. Instead, she should get in touch with Yen, either by telephone or by telegram, and ask him to take emergency measures to get him out. Seeing that she was horrified by his words, he grinned and assured her that the invitation might be a reconciliatory sign from Yang. He then set off with Dong Cai, who had come to escort him to the Commune Guesthouse.

At the sight of Bin, Secretary Yang stood up and came across the dining hall to meet him. Holding Bin’s hand, he said, “I’m sorry, Comrade Young Shao. I was at a meeting just now and couldn’t go to your home to invite you in person.” He smiled amiably, the mole on his nose quivering like a bee.

The warmth Yang showed put Bin at ease instantly, though Bin still couldn’t fathom what this meant. The dishes on the green tablecloth looked so appetizing, especially the pair of smoked yellow croakers and the braised pork cheek that had been sliced and arranged into a large lotus.

“Sit here,” Dong said to Bin, pulling a chair closer to the table.

As soon as they sat down Yang raised a glass of Jade Spring wine and proposed a toast, “To your glorious future, Young Shao.”

Following Yang and Dong, Bin took a sip, weighing the word glorious. He couldn’t help wondering whether there was poison in the red wine and regretted having drunk it. But he curbed his fantasy, telling himself that they dared not poison him so soon. He put down the glass carefully as Yang pointed his chopsticks at the dishes, saying, “Please help yourself.”

Though still baffled, Bin ate a piece of the smoked fish Dong had put on his plate. Then Yang began to apologize for interceding for him so late, but he swore by his Party member’s conscience that he hadn’t been involved in persecuting him, that there was a lot of misunderstanding between them, and that he had reprimanded the plant’s leaders. Bin thought Yang was scared. Damn you, he said in his mind, you also have fearful moments. It’s too late to extricate yourself.

“Comrade Shao Bin,” Yang said, chewing a pine mushroom, “I know you’re an artist and a learned scholar. To take advantage of your knowledge and talent, I’ve decided to transfer you to the Commune Administration. Your rank will be the twenty-second, and you’ll have your own office and do propaganda work.” Yang smiled, observing Bin’s eyes blinking at him. He went on, “You shouldn’t remain in the fertilizer plant and waste your talent like this. I hope you accept my offer.”

“Yes, I do, I do.” Bin sounded beside himself, and he lifted the glass and drained it to conceal his excitement.

Immediately Dong refilled the glass. With his two gold teeth guttering in the fluorescent light, Dong said, “Congratulations, Young Shao. Welcome to our team.”

“Thanks.”

“But there’re two small things I’d like you to do,” Yang said. “Number one, you should stop fighting with Liu Shu and Ma Gong. You and they are all revolutionary comrades and will be colleagues; you shouldn’t waste your energy and time this way. We live in the same water and can’t snap at each other all the time. In a word, save your energy to fight our enemy. Number two, if you’re satisfied with the job transfer, please write a short letter to the editors of Law and Democracy and tell them our Commune Administration has corrected the mistake and you are satisfied with the result.”

Neither of the demands seemed hard to meet. Both Ma and Liu were of the twenty-first rank, but they wouldn’t dare offend Bin anymore, because he was going to work above them at the Commune Administration. Besides, he had friends in the county town now. Without thinking further, Bin said, “I will do both.”

Yang smiled and proposed another toast.

Dong Cai began talking to Bin about the advantages of working at the Commune Administration, especially under the leadership of Secretary Yang; but Bin ought to be careful when dealing with Chairman Ding and the people close to Ding, particularly Tian Biao, the director of the General Affairs Section.

The yellow croakers were fresh and crispy, and within half an hour Dong and Bin had almost finished the pair of big fish; Secretary Yang didn’t eat much and only drank the wine. Bin couldn’t help wondering who the chef was who could cook such a delicious dish, but he didn’t ask. He would find this out by himself.

Overwhelmed by the promotion, Bin couldn’t help smiling and nodding to Yang and Dong again and again. He kept doing this until Yang said he had another meeting to attend and proposed the last toast. “To our solidarity,” he said. They clinked glasses and drank up.

To Yang’s amazement, Bin stood up, almost in tears, and said, “Secretary Yang, the ancients said, ‘A virtuous man should die for the lord who appreciates him, just as a good woman should dress up for the man who loves her.’ Trust me, I will work hard and live up to your expectations.”

Yang was very pleased and impressed by Bin’s sense of loyalty. With the tip of his tongue wiping his oily lips, he said, “Good, Young Shao, I trust you. Our propaganda work will depend on you.”

Before Bin left, Yang told him to get ready to start as soon as possible, since there was a lot of writing and painting to do at the administration.

* * *

After Bin told Meilan of Yang’s offer, her face fell, and a few dark wrinkles appeared on her forehead. “Did you accept it?” she said.

“Of course,” he answered.

She didn’t ask further. She got up from the chair and went out to cook dinner for herself and Shanshan. Within seconds the ladle and the wok began clattering peevishly. Realizing she was unhappy about the offer, he went out, held her bony wrist, and dragged her back into the room.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“You only think of yourself and never have us in mind.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You only care about your own promotion. Where are we going to live? Still in this room?” She shook his hand off, picked up a dishrag, and went out again.

Her words struck him dumb. Obviously his head had been turned by a half victory. Why on earth had he forgotten to ask for housing? He shouldn’t have let them buy him off so easily. Now what should he do?

He went out into the corridor again, trying to comfort Meilan by saying he would think out a plan to ensure that they would have an apartment. But in his heart he had no idea what to do.

The next morning he went to the post office and called Environment. Yen answered the phone. He told Bin that there had also been a breakthrough in Gold County: The newspaper would restart the next week and the bureau’s leaders agreed to increase its annual budget by twenty percent. After hearing of the new development in Dismount Fort, Yen invited Bin to a banquet at his home. He explained, “It’s not my own idea. Jiang and Song want to celebrate too. Please join us at five Friday afternoon.”

“What should I bring?” asked Bin.

“Nothing but your stomach.”

Bin promised he would come; then he mentioned the housing problem and asked Yen how he should resolve it. Yen said, “Bin, don’t rush. If they’ve bought a horse, of course they have a saddle for it. Once you become a cadre, you’ll automatically have housing. It’s only a matter of time. If I were you, I wouldn’t make a request now.”

The more Bin thought about Yen’s words, the more sense they made. An immediate request might give Secretary Yang the impression that he was too materialistic, haggling before doing any work.

For a whole day Bin kept reminding himself: You must rise with temperance. And he felt grateful to Yen, who was so knowledgeable about official life and always ready to help him.

But Meilan wasn’t easy to persuade. In the evening, when Bin explained Yen’s advice to her, she said loudly, “We’ve lived in this pigpen too long! I can’t stand it anymore.”

“Come on, just wait a year or two, all right? Every cadre at the Commune Administration has a good place to live. Sooner or later they’ll assign us an apartment.”

“How soon? Another two years? I guess we’ll be old when—”

“Okay, a few months.”

“The truth is you are obsessed with the official position.”

“No, I’m not doing this for myself. If I hold an important job, life will be easier for our family. Don’t be silly. I don’t want to give Yang Chen a bad impression when I start. You know the first impression is always indelible.”

She lay down on the bed and covered her head with a blanket.

Ignoring her, he went about composing the letter he had promised Yang to send out. On a piece of official stationery, which he had saved for special letters, he wrote these words:

The Most Respected Editor in Chief Wang:

Although I left the capital several weeks ago, your instructive words still linger in my ears. Thank you for publishing the article, which helped the leaders of our commune realize and rectify the mistake immediately. Secretary Yang Chen had a heartwarming talk with me, and decided to transfer me to a position more suitable to my talent. This could not have happened without your timely intervention.

I am informed that the Administration of Gold County has already reinstated the newspaper Environment, and that its editorial staff are all satisfied with the final settlement.

Thank you again, sincerely. Please give my warmest regards to your colleagues.

Loyally yours,

Shao Bin

P.S. Please print this letter in your journal.

He was certain that it would be printed, because there couldn’t be a better way for the journal to display its clout and righteous spirit. The brushwork in the letter was offhand, so that the characters appeared rather graceful and cloudy.

Since Meilan didn’t want to speak to him, Bin left without a word for the post office, with the letter in his pocket. He knew her temper well and was sure that in a day or two she would be herself again.

At seven-thirty the next morning, Bin set out for his new position. He carried a shiny attaché case that Liu and Ma had presented to him as a souvenir from the plant; in the case were a bunch of brushes, the ink slab, and a book of aphorisms by famous authors and scientists. His first task was to paint a mural at the thoroughfare in town, supporting the national campaign against bourgeois liberalization. The paints and ladders were all ready in his office; he was given two helpers, hefty young men, for the work.

On his way to the Commune Administration, he couldn’t resist smiling and whistling. In the sky a flock of geese were drifting south and gradually merging into the cotton clouds. Joyously Bin stretched up his right arm, as if he too had wings.