Grotesque (40 page)

“I don’t know.”

“About nine hundred thousand people.”

“Well, where are they all going to go?”

“Just like you—to Guangzhou and Zhu Jiang, the Pearl River Delta.”

I couldn’t believe there’d be enough work to go around if more than nine hundred thousand people crowded into the same city. I was being carried along by bus and train, but I still had no idea what a city was.

“Will there be a place we can go to get help finding a job?”

Dong Zhen laughed. “You really are an idiot. No one will help you.

You have to do it on your own.”

When I heard this I was beset by doubts. All I’d done up to now was tend goats and make straw hats. What kind of work was I going to be able to find? I recalled that my friend Jian Ping had worked in construction, so I asked Dong Zhen. “What about construction work?”

“That’s the kind of job anyone can do, so the competition’s stiff.”

Dong Zhen took a swig of water out of his canteen as he answered. I gazed at the water longingly.

“Would you like a sip?” he asked. And he let me take a drink. The water smelled stale and fishy, but I was grateful all the same to have been given a swallow without having to pay. In the entire train car only one person was heading to university, and that was Dong Zhen. I imagined 2 5 1

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that as a member of the intelligentsia he would look down on simple farmers, but Dong Zhen was unexpectedly kind.

“I’m sure there’s a section of town where they pick up day laborers.

You ought to go there and wait. I’ve heard that if you carry your own shovel and tools you’ll get hired right away.”

“What about my little sister? What kind of work could she get?”

“Women can get all kinds of jobs from babysitters, maids, nurses, laundresses, and the like to mortician assistants in the morgue. Then there’re jobs as guides at the crematorium, tea servers, and so on—every one of them low paying.”

“How come you’re such an expert?”

“It’s just common sense. But I guess I would look smart next to you; you really don’t know much about anything! You’ll see. Fellows who come to the city looking for work tend to talk a lot, and news travels by word of mouth. Before you know it, you’ll have heard it all.”

Dong Zhen leaned over to me.

“Your little sister doesn’t look the type to take to the kind of dreary jobs I mentioned,” he whispered in my ear.

Mei-kun had gone to the toilet, and I suddenly noticed that she had not yet returned. I looked around and saw that she was standing by the toilet, the door open wide, talking intimately with the group of young thugs. What was so funny? I wondered. They had suddenly started to laugh. All the other passengers on the train turned—as if on signal—and stared at the four of them. I kept my eye on my sister as she gazed up at the yakuza. She was flirting with him. It made me feel queasy. Dong Zhen poked me in the ribs.

“Looks like your little sister is making friends with the gangster.”

“No, that’s not it. She just doesn’t want to spend money on the toilet, so she’s trying to manipulate him.”

“She seems very adept at the game. Look, she’s giving him a beating!”

My sister was patting the yakuza on the arm and laughing. For his part, he was pretending that it hurt and flinching from her touch with exaggerated gestures.

“Let it go.”

Dong Zhen realized I was angry and started to tease me. “My God, you two act more like lovers than siblings!”

He’d struck a nerve. I flushed red with embarrassment. Yes, I was ashamed to admit it, but I was very fond of my sister. When I worked at 2 5 2

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the straw hat factory, there were ten female employees in addition to the men. They were all teenagers. They’d call out to me and follow me around, but they didn’t interest me in the slightest. Not one of them could hold a candle to Mei-kun.

“At the rate she’s going, your little sister’s going to be heading off with that gangster.”

“Mei-kun wouldn’t do something so stupid.”

It never occurred to me that Dong Zhen’s words would turn out to be true, but when the train finally pulled into the station at Guangzhou, my sister leaped to the platform with an animated expression and said to me excitedly, “Zhezhong, do you mind if we say good-bye here?”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “Are you sure?” I asked her again and again.

“Yes, I’ve already found a job,” she said, with great pride.

“What kind of job?”

“Working in a firstclass hotel.”

Exhausted after traveling for two days and nights with nothing to eat, I stumbled to the platform.

“Those fellows said they’d help me find a job, so I’m going to go with them.” My sister pointed to the yakuza and his two friends. I walked over toward them. Pointing to the man who’d handed me the stick at Chongqing, I demanded angrily, “What the hell do you want with my sister?”

“You must be Zhezhong. My name’s Jin-long. Your sister here says she’s looking for a job, so I’m going to introduce her to someone I know.

She can work at the White Swan Hotel. Everyone wants a job there.

Must be your lucky day.” Jin-long adjusted his white scarf at his throat as he responded.

“Where is this White Swan Hotel?”

“It’s a firstclass hotel built in the former concession on Shamian Island.”

“Shamian?”

Jin-long looked back at my sister and me and burst into raucous laughter. “Man, you really are a hick!” Mei-kun joined him in laughing at me. That’s when I realized my sister was angry at me: for getting on the train without knowing what I was doing, for spending four hundred yuan.

I grabbed her shoulder angrily. “You have no idea what kind of trou-2 5 3

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ble you can get into, do you? He’s a gangster. Don’t you get it? That firstclass hotel is all a big lie. It’s just a ruse to get you into prostitution.”

My sister looked troubled by what I’d said. But Jin-long just scratched the side of his nose and answered, as if annoyed, “I’m not lying. I’m friends with the hotel cook so I’ve got influence. If you’re worried about it, come by the hotel yourself.”

When my sister heard what he said, she held her hand out to me.

“Give me half of what’s left of the money.”

I had no choice but to do as she asked. I counted out half of the one hundred yuan and handed it to her. As soon as she tucked it away in her pocket, she looked up at me happily. “Come by and see me, Zhezhong!”

I watched my sister walk across the station platform with Jin-long and his gang, the bag with all her worldly possessions dangling from her hand. And then she disappeared through the gate. I was supposed to protect my little sister, yet wasn’t I the one who had depended on her?

Suddenly I felt as if one of my arms had been ripped from my body. I was petrified. Hordes of weary travelers pushed past me, racing to get to the gates of the station.

“Well, that was a shock! Your sister’s not one to wait around, is she?”

It was Dong Zhen.

“I messed up.”

When he heard my weak reply, Dong Zhen looked at me sympathetically.

“Well, that’s the way it goes. I was all alone from the very beginning.

Better go buy a shovel,” Dong Zhen advised, and disappeared into the crowds, pushing his way through with his bony shoulders. When I came to my senses, I realized that I was soaked with sweat. It was only the beginning of February, but Guangzhou was farther south than Sichuan and much warmer.

I walked off with my back to Guangzhou Station. The men and women who passed me by were stylish and walked with confidence and pride. Tall buildings, so big they might have been palaces, loomed overhead; the sun, reflected off the window glass, shone in my eyes. I had no idea how to cross the broad road buzzing with traffic. An old woman looked at me in disgust, as I stood confused on the side of the road, and pointed to a pedestrian overpass. Great swarms of people were on the bridge crossing over the street. I too climbed the stairs and crossed but I was so tired and so hungry that I could not stop my knees from trem-2 5 4

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bling. I have to say that I began to feel an intense hatred for my sister.

She had betrayed me.

Just at that moment a policeman appeared in front of me, blocking my way. Remembering the incident at Chongqing Station, I immediately handed the man five yuan and asked him to direct me to the day laborers’

pickup site. He pocketed the money without batting an eye and told me something. But I couldn’t understand a word he said. He spoke Cantonese.

I was flustered. This was China, but somehow I’d forgotten that the dialect spoken here would be different. Day laborer! Day laborer! I shouted my question countless times and finally in desperation began to imitate digging with a shovel. The policeman just pointed to the square in front of the station.

Finally it dawned on me. The station was the pickup site. With so many people to compete with, it would be next to a miracle if I managed to get a job. And while I waited to be picked, I’d run through all the money I had left and then would have no choice but to beg. I’m the kind of person who has to always be moving ahead. I can’t just sit quietly and wait.

The farm folk who’d come to town searching for jobs had little choice but to live on the streets, and I was not unlike them. The figure we cut here wasn’t much different from life back in the village, praying for rain.

We entrusted ourselves to the whims of nature and depended entirely on the heavens for our survival. I was determined to be different. I was going to search for work on my own. That’s what I said to encourage myself, at any rate. I was not going to end up just another member of the crowd in front of the station. I had to get away from them. I walked with determination down the road alongside the cars and motorcycles.

Finally I reached a section where the traffic wasn’t so heavy. I was on an avenue lined with plantain trees that stretched as far as the eye could see. On both sides of the avenue were old houses with peeling paint. The frontage of each house was narrow, and wooden shutters bordered the second-floor windows. The houses were built in the bright and airy South China style that I had not had an opportunity to see in my village. While I walked along the avenue, I thought I could imagine how Guangzhou natives must feel. The winters are warm, the greenery luxuriant—what a refreshing place to live.

I had always been insanely jealous of the people who lived such 2 5 5

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wealthy lives in port cities. As I rambled down the avenue, I could feel my heart growing lighter and brighter the farther I walked. Gradually I could feel my courage return. I was young. I was strong. I was neither bad-looking nor unintelligent. I could easily see myself finding success in this city and living in a house like one of these. If someone would just give me a chance, I could do anything.

I came to a fashionable street. There were girls with long hair eating ice cream as they strolled by. Young men wore snug-fitting jeans. I stopped in front of a shop window lined with glittering gold necklaces. In a restaurant I saw a fish tank lined with fat fish and large shrimp. The people inside the restaurant were happily dining on stir-fried meat and fish. How delicious it all looked!

The sun was setting. I was exhausted by the energy of the city and sat down alongside the road. I was thirsty and famished, but I didn’t want to spend my money unwisely. All I had was a meager fifty yuan, and out of that I’d already squandered five. A child rode past on a bicycle and tossed a soda bottle on the side of the road. I hurried to pick it up and drained the liquid that remained in the bottom. It was Coca-Cola. Only a small bit was left, but I will never forget how delicious it was on my tongue—just like sweet medicine. I put tap water in the bottle and drank until I had exhausted the lingering sweet taste.

I’d have to earn money. I wanted to drink this beverage every day of the week until I’d had my fill. I’d go to the restaurant that I’d passed to buy more. And I’d eat their delicious food and live in one of those fine old houses. I started to walk again, my mind made up.

Eventually, I came to a construction site. I wondered if perhaps it was past quitting time. A group of men in the filthy clothes that immediately identified them as day laborers were sitting in a circle sharing stories and laughing. I asked the men if they knew where I could go to pick up a construction job. One of the men pointed a dirty finger and said, “Go back to Zhongshan Avenue and head east. You’ll come to Zhu Jiang—it s a big river. There’s a pickup site just along the riverbank.”

I thanked the man. When he returned to his circle of friends, I grabbed a shovel and ran off.

It didn’t take me long to find the laborer pickup site. There was a concrete retaining wall alongside the road, and just beyond it I could see the brown water of the Pearl River. Twenty to thirty men were already there.

Off to the sides were shacks made of scrap lumber and old cement sacks: 2 5 6

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makeshift barracks for the laborers. There was even a roadside food stall.

With little to do, the men either sat in a circle talking in loud voices or squatted exhausted on their haunches. I asked a young man, “Is this where you pick up work?”

“Yeah,” he answered abruptly. He eyed my shovel enviously. I gripped it tightly, prepared to fight if he tried to take it from me. I wanted to be sure I was in the right place, so I continued to question him.

“Can I line up here too?”

“You gotta get here early to get picked, but if you want to line up no one’ll mind. Besides, there won’t be any jobs left by the time they get to us.”

So that was how it worked. This fellow had been too far back in line to get picked today, but he would be at the head of the line tomorrow. If you missed the pick one day, you got it the next. But conversely, when you did get picked, you’d miss it the next day. The only way to get a job, it seemed, was to push to the front of the line.

“What time do they start hiring tomorrow?”

“There’s no particular time. They send a truck around, fill it up with workers, and then off they go. If you’re not on the truck, you don’t get work. You can’t afford to goof around.”