The Vagrants (13 page)

The boy, with a grandfather and two uncles serving in the Nationalist army and fighting against Communism in the civil war, was an outcast from all the Red Guards’ factions in town. Two years after that, news came from Muddy River that Shan was imprisoned as an anti-Cultural Revolution criminal. The lanky young man, Shan's boyfriend then, had turned her letters in to the government in exchange for the opportunity to enlist. Had she remained in Muddy River, Kai thought now, would she have fallen for that deceitful smile? The mayor called for the guests to sit down now at the two tables, where bowls of soup and platters of food were waiting, steaming hot. A show of humbleness and reverence began, as people gently pushed each other around the table, declining the most privileged seats close to the mayor and his wife; only once the act was fully played out did the mayor announce that he would take the liberty of assigning seats for the sake of everyone's grumbling stomach. The guests sat down and began to enjoy the midday banquet.

NINI DID NOT GO HOME
after visiting the marketplace in the afternoon. Instead, she limped across the town, her basket, half-filled with withered vegetable leaves, on her shoulder, until she reached the riverbank. The sun had left the heaviest clouds behind and was now midway in the western sky, a pale and cold disk. She had not spotted Bashi on the way back from the stadium, nor in the marketplace, where she remembered sometimes seeing him. She wondered if he was still waiting for her by the willow tree—Bashi seemed to be the kind of person who would stand there and wait—and she decided to go and look for him. Her sisters would certainly wake up from their naps by the time she made it back home, but she had padlocked the door from the outside. The only window was double-sealed. They could cry as much as they wanted; she did not mind as long as she didn't hear them.

Walking upstream along the river, Nini thought about her future. Her mother referred to all her daughters as debt collectors. She couldn't wait to marry every one of them off, she often said. They'd better learn to behave so that when they went off to their husbands’ houses, their mothers-in-law wouldn't whip the rascal souls out of their bodies. Her mother made it clear that if the girls offended their in-laws, they'd better brace themselves for their punishment and never expect their parents to help them. But these warnings were never meant for Nini. It was accepted that Nini, the meanest debt collector of the six girls, would remain a burden for her parents; no one would ever come to Nini with a marriage offer. If only they could have a son, and a daughter-in-law to see them off to the next world, Nini's mother said, and Nini understood that her mother was more interested in having one daughter-in-law than six daughters. Without a son, Nini, the unmarriageable daughter, would have to tend to her parents for as long as they lived.

Until that very morning, Nini had wished to become the Gus’ daughter. She had loved Teacher Gu and Mrs. Gu, their voices gentle when they said her name, their quiet household abundant with hot meals. The wish had become a dream that sometimes lasted for hours or days, in which Nini pictured herself living with the Gus. Misunderstandings would occur between her and her new parents— a smashed china bowl that had slipped from her bad hand, a misplaced wallet Teacher Gu could not find, or an overcooked dinner that Nini had forgotten to tend to. But they would never speak a harsh word or cast a look of suspicion at her; they knew she was innocent, they knew she always tried her best, but the mere thought of disappointing Teacher Gu and Mrs. Gu drove Nini to tears. She would pinch herself or bite herself on the useless part of her body when they were not looking at her, but sooner or later they would discover the marks and bruises on her body, and this would hurt their hearts more than it had hurt her body. Mrs. Gu would beg Nini not to do it again. Teacher Gu would sigh and rub his hands in helplessness. Nini would push them away and pinch and bite herself harder because she was not worthy of their love. Didn't they know that she was so ugly she would rather die, she would scream at them; then she would hurt herself more, because she deserved such punishment for screaming at the two dearest people in her life.

The moment would come when, in gentle yet firm words, Mrs. Gu and Teacher Gu would forbid her to hurt herself again. She was not ugly at all, they would tell her, embracing her when she did not resist. They loved her, they would say, and in their eyes she was as precious as a jewel. She would not believe their words, but they would tell her again and again, until she softened and cried. Nini had learned to make her stories longer each time until she could not stand the wait for the final moment when her loneliness and hunger were soothed by the two people who cherished her as dearly as their own lives. When the moment came—it could arrive anytime, on the way to the marketplace or the train station, or when she was patting the baby to sleep or cooking supper—Nini held her breath until she was on the edge of suffocation. Her heart would pump hard afterward, and her limbs would remain weak with a pleasant numbness.

Then, inevitably, a guard in a red armband shouting into her face, a slap on her shoulder from her mother, or a curse from one of her sisters awoke Nini from her dream. It was then that Nini would dream other dreams, conjuring other worlds that would make her the Gus’ daughter. Sometimes her parents had died, and she was on the verge of being sent to an orphanage with her sisters, when Mrs. Gu and Teacher Gu ran to her rescue. Other times Nini's parents kicked her out of the house, and the Gus, hearing a knock at their door, would come and pull her from the dark and cold street into their warm house; they had been waiting for the moment as long as she had, they told her, saying that all would be well. In one dream Nini's mother beat her to unconsciousness and she woke up to find herself in Mrs. Gu's arms, the woman's eyes full of thankful tears because Nini had not died.

What would she live for, now that she knew Mrs. Gu and Teacher Gu had never been the gentle parents she dreamed about? In her dreams they would never turn their backs on her.

“Now, now. Why are you so sad? Are you missing me already?”

Nini looked up and saw Bashi, spinning a sheepskin hat in his hand like a magician, his forehead shining with sweat. She took a deep breath and looked around. She was halfway to the birch woods; the snow was dirty on the frozen river. She licked the inside of her mouth and tasted blood from having bitten herself so hard. “Why are you here?” she asked, sniffling.

“I've been waiting for you, remember? Since this morning.” Bashi made an exaggerated gesture of pointing twice to his wrist, though he did not wear a watch. “But you didn't come.”

“My mother sent me to the denunciation ceremony.”

“Did you see the woman?”

“No.”

“Of course not, because you don't belong to any work unit,” Bashi said. He walked closer and put his hat on Nini's head. It was too big for her. He adjusted the hat but it still sat low on her eyebrows. “You look like a girl soldier in a movie,” said Bashi.

“Which movie?”

“I don't know. Every movie has a girl soldier.
The Guerillas, The Tale of a Red Heart, The Pioneers.
Have you seen them?”

Nini shook her head.

Bashi clicked his tongue and made a sound of being surprised. “One of these days I'll take you to a movie.”

Nini had never been to a movie theater. Once in a while, her parents would go to see a film with their work units; her two sisters went with their school too. In the summer, a white screen would be set up in an open field by the Muddy River, and every other week a film would be shown, but Nini was always the one left with the baby at home. They would stay in the yard as long as they could, listening to the faint music coming from the river, until swarms of mosquitoes came and buzzed around them.

Bashi watched Nini closely. “Why, you don't want to see a movie with me?”

“But you'll still give me the coal even if you take me to a movie?” Nini asked.

“Coal? Yes, anytime,” Bashi said, and circled an arm around Nini's shoulder. Taken aback, she struggled slightly, and Bashi let her go with a chortle. “Why don't we find a log and sit down,” Bashi said, directing Nini upstream. She tried to catch up with his long stride; when Bashi realized this, he slowed down.

“Do you know who I saw today?” he asked.

“No.”

“Do you want to know?”

Nini hesitated and said yes.

“I saw the counterrevolutionary.”

Nini stopped. “Where is she?”

“Dead now.”

“Did you see her alive?”

“I wish I had. No, she was dead already,” Bashi said, and twisted Nini's left arm gently behind her back. “They bound her arms this way, so her middle finger was pointing at her heart. And bang,” he said, pushing his index finger into Nini's back.

Nini shuddered. She withdrew her arm, and hid her bad hand in her sleeve. “Where is she now?” she asked.

“Why?”

“I want to see her.”

“Everybody wants to see her. But believe me, there's nothing to see. She is as dead as a log. Heavier than a log, in fact. Do you know how I got to know this?”

“No.”

“Because I just helped this man move her body off the island. Oh, she's heavy, believe me.”

“Is she with the man?”

“He's digging a grave for her.”

“Where are they?”

“On the other side of the woods. It's quite a task to dig a hole now. They shouldn't really execute someone in this cold season. Summer would be much easier for everyone. I told the man not to waste his time. Old Hua and his wife would never dig a hole in the winter. But the man said he would take care of it and told me to go home first. Of course I didn't want to stay with the poor man and watch him work. Maybe we could go there tomorrow morning and see if he's got a hole the size of a bowl by then.”

“Can we go there now?”

“Why?”

“I want to see her.”

“But there's nothing to see. She's in a couple of sacks now.”

Nini looked upstream. The fire in their stove would be dead by the time she returned home. It would take her another fifteen minutes to start the fire, and dinner would be late. Her mother would knock her on the head with her hard knuckles. Bashi might change his mind and never give her the coal again. Still, she pushed away Bashi's hand and started to walk toward the woods.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“I want to see the body.”

“Don't leave me here. I'm going with you,” Bashi said, putting his hand back on Nini's shoulder. “The man who's burying her, you know, he is not easy to talk to, but he's a friend of mine. Ask him anything and he'll do it for you.”

“Why?” Nini asked.

“Silly, because you're my friend, no?”

THE WIND PICKED UP
after sunset, and Bashi realized that he had left his hat on Nini's head. He chuckled when he thought about her serious little face. She rarely smiled, but her eyes, even the bad one with a droop, would become larger with attention when he was talking to her. He didn't know how much she understood of the rules between boys and girls, or how much she had heard about his reputation, but she had not said anything when he put a hand on her shoulder.

Before they parted, Bashi had asked Nini to come out again the next day, and she had neither agreed nor refused. The old bastard Kwen must have frightened her out of her poor soul, Bashi thought. He picked up a rock from the ground. It was suppertime now, the street deserted except for the leftover announcements, swept up and swirling about in the wind. Bashi looked around, and when he saw nobody in sight, he aimed the rock at the nearest streetlamp. It took him three tries to break the bulb.

Kwen had not behaved like a friend at all when Bashi and Nini had found him. It had taken them a while, and only when he saw a trail left by the body on the dead leaves did Bashi realize that Kwen had moved it farther, into another patch of woods. Kwen was half rolling, half carrying a big boulder toward the body, which was already partly covered by stones of different sizes. It was unrealistic of the parents to expect him to bury her underground in this weather, Kwen said when they approached him.

“As if I hadn't told you,” Bashi observed.

“Could you shut up just for once?” Kwen said.

That was not a way to speak to a friend, especially in front of his new companion, but Bashi tried not to protest. “If you're worried about wild dogs, you could cover the body with some heavy branches. Old Hua does that,” Bashi said. “You don't need to move all those stones.”

“I thought you were a smart man, and knew not to interfere with other people's business.”

“Just a friendly suggestion,” said Bashi.

Kwen looked at Bashi sharply. “I'd appreciate it if you'd leave me alone.”

“Don't worry. Your secret sits well with me,” said Bashi, running his finger along his mouth and making a zipping sound. He walked closer to Kwen. “But my friend there, she wants to have a look at the body.”

“Why?”

“Who doesn't want to see?”

Kwen shook his head and said it was not possible.

“Come on,” Bashi said, patting Kwen on the shoulder as he had seen men do to each other. “The girl only wants a quick look. It won't hurt anyone. I'll move the stones and I'll put them back. You can stand here and supervise us. It won't take more than a minute.”

Kwen brushed Bashi's hand away. Bashi made a face at Nini, hoping she would understand that brusqueness was normal between men. Wouldn't he want to help a friend to impress his girl? Bashi said in a low voice; she's just a girl to whom nobody paid any attention, and why not make her happy for a day Bashi whispered. Kwen shook his head, and when Bashi pressed again and insisted that he himself would open the sack for the girl, Kwen looked at Bashi with cold eyes. “You'd better leave before my patience runs out.”

“What's the matter with you?” Bashi said. “It's only a counter revolutionary's body, not your mother's.”

With a curse Kwen told Bashi to shut up. Bashi was shocked. He had thought that Kwen was fond of him; only an hour earlier Kwen had been the storyteller. Nini stared at them, and it hurt Bashi to see her unblinking eyes stay on his own face, hot and probably red as a beet now. “Fuck
you,
“ Bashi said to Kwen. “Fuck your sisters and your mother and your aunts and grandmas and all your dead female ancestors in their tombs.”