Mrs. Yang came back from Tibet, but she could attend her husband only in the evening. During the day she had to go to work at her agricultural school in an eastern suburb. On the day after she returned, a distant cousin of Mr. Yang’s, hired by our department, arrived from their hometown in Henan Province. This man, with gapped teeth and thinning hair, would take care of Mr. Yang in the daytime from now on, so Banping and I were relieved. However, I still went to see our teacher every day, usually after dinner in the evening, staying there about half an hour. Apart from seeing how he was doing, I was eager to seek information about Meimei, of which her mother could hardly give me any.
On Wednesday evening I arrived at the hospital later than usual. Mrs. Yang, needle in hand, was darning a calico shirt for her husband; on her middle finger was a gilt thimble like a broad ring. For the first time I saw her in reading glasses. Though the spectacles made her appear older, they brought out a kind of equanimity in her bearing that I hadn’t noticed before. Her features were gentle and amiable, as if she were at their home — she looked like a devoted wife. Mr. Yang, sitting on the bed with his head drooping aside, was humming something, perhaps the tune of a folk song. I remained quiet with both hands in my pants pockets, my back leaning against the jamb of the window. Mrs. Yang lifted her half-gray head and gave me a smile, her face pallid and slightly bloated as though she were suffering from dropsy. She must have been very exhausted. On the windowsill sat a large cassette player; beside it were two tapes piled together. I recognized the contents of the top tape—20 Most Popular Songs, most of which had mellow tunes. Mrs. Yang must have played them to her husband to prevent him from chanting those belligerent songs.
Out of the blue Mr. Yang yelled, “Dance for me! Sway your hips!”
“What do you want, dear?” his wife asked with a start.
“I want you to dance for me.”
“You know I can’t dance.”
“Of course you can, you do it for every man.”
“Wh — why do you say that?”
“You did it when I was away, didn’t you?”
“Did what?”
“You slept with him.”
She lowered her head, her face livid though her hands kept stitching the collar of his shirt. I was too taken aback to say anything.
He began crooning an old song, which was on the tape. He sang in a feminine voice:
I lift the saucers clinking them.
Ditties are easy to sing
But my mouth is hard to open.
Line by line I cannot lament enough
Human suffering, yet my songs
Please the rich and powerful.
The hook of a crescent shines
On high mansions, every one
Of which was built by poor men.
But in the teeth of winter
The wealthy smile gleefully
While the needy freeze in grief.
My head went numb as a shiver ran down my spine. I regretted having come to see him this evening, to be caught in such a flash of domestic madness. Noiselessly I tiptoed over to Mrs. Yang and whispered, “We can ask the nurse to calm him down. Do you want me to do that?”
“No need.” She shook her head in despair. “Let him get his anger out. It’ll make him feel better.” Her tone of voice revealed that she was already familiar with this kind of rage and abuse. Although she sounded very rational, her eyes were wet. She looked mortified as she raised the shirt to her mouth to nip off the mending thread.
“Dance for me, bare your shameless thighs!” he yelled.
I looked at his wife, whose face was taut in agony, her thin jaws clenched. I felt so awful I said to her, “I should be going.” Without waiting for her reply, I hurried out of the room.
I stayed a while outside the door and overheard Mrs. Yang shout at him, “Don’t ever do this to me again, Shenmin! You mustn’t pour out your hogwash in front of others! You made a buffoon of yourself. Now stop that! Stop smiling like an imbecile!”
In response he hit on another song, singing with some gusto. She began sobbing.
For some reason Mr. Yang had grown more delirious and more obstreperous these days. He often yelled at others, especially at his cousin, who never talked back. Apparently he didn’t recognize the man as a relative, though the poor fellow always called him Elder Brother. Two days ago Mr. Yang had even refused to eat, and the nurses tied him up so that they could give him an intravenous drip of glucose. However hard his wife tried, she couldn’t placate him.
On Thursday morning I ran into Professor Song in the classroom building, though lately I had avoided crossing his path. He told me to devote myself completely to the last leg of the preparation for the Ph.D. exams, which were just a week away. I thanked him halfheartedly.
Despite having time now, I couldn’t concentrate on anything. Whenever I picked up a book, my mind would wander. For two weeks I had been in a quandary, unable to muster my resolve either to cancel my application officially or to resume preparing for the exams. I often went swimming in the afternoons. I missed Meimei terribly but dared not write to her.
Strange to say, Secretary Peng assigned me some new work. The Party branch of our department was considering inducting Banping Fang into the Party and was investigating the personal history of his immediate relatives to make sure his family background was clear. Ying Peng wanted me to help with the investigation. This assignment was quite odd because I wasn’t a Party member and shouldn’t have been involved in it. As a rule, trips of this kind were entrusted only to the faculty members in the Party, not to a graduate student like me. What was Ying Peng hatching? If only I could have seen through her machinations. Though doubtful, I had to accept the job.
“According to regulations we shouldn’t let you go to Yimeng County,” Secretary Peng said to me in her office. “But we don’t have anyone else available at the moment. Besides, it’s an easy job and will take you only two or three days.”
I nodded to show my gratitude for her seeming trust, though I wondered all the while why she deliberately interrupted my preparation for the exams, which she still believed I was going to take.
She told me, “Three months ago, we sent an investigation letter to Hanlong Commune where Banping’s uncle lives, but we haven’t gotten a word back yet. We need an answer immediately. Your task is to go there and get the reply from the local Party branch. There’s a form in the letter. Make sure they fill it out properly. You see, it’s very simple, just a procedural thing.”
“Sounds good, thanks,” I said.
“I know you’re busy now, but our Party branch must give final consideration to Banping’s application for membership before he graduates. You’re his friend and should help him.”
“Of course, I’d love to go to Yimeng County for a couple of days. Mr. Yang’s illness has really gotten to me and turned me into an insomniac. A trip to the countryside will definitely help, and I’ll come back with a fresh mind.” The moment I finished the last sentence, I realized my tongue had gone loose. She might intend to undo me. This trip was by no means just “a procedural thing”; it must be a move in her scheme of things, which I couldn’t figure out yet.
Her sparse eyebrows joined and her forehead puckered as though she had smelled something unpleasant, then a smile broke on her large face. She said, “That’s fine. I hope the trip will put your mind back in good order. But don’t let Banping know where you’re going. Keep this secret, we trust you.”
“I won’t breathe a word.”
“Good.”
With a black fountain pen she wrote me an official letter, which informed the Party branch in the countryside about my mission and would enable me to obtain board and lodging on the way. “Here, you’re all set. You can leave tomorrow morning. Have a pleasant trip.” She smiled as a double chin appeared at her throat.
Having left her office, I wondered why Professor Song as the chairman of the department hadn’t mentioned my new assignment this morning when I bumped into him. Maybe it wasn’t the Party branch, of which Mr. Song was also a leader, but Ying Peng herself who was sending me on the trip. By rule, she ought to have informed Professor Song of my new work. Why did she keep this so underhanded? Why was she so interested in me? I had never applied for Party membership, and politically I was a straggler, the last person who should participate in this business. She had never trusted me. Then why would she let me take part in the investigation?