The Vagrants (38 page)

“I worry that her temper is making it harder for us to have a baby. But how can I tell her? She's the kind of person who wants everything, all the success and glory.”

Teacher Gu picked up the bottle and studied it. Gousheng pushed the food toward him. “Eat and drink,” he said. “Teacher Gu, I'm a man who doesn't know many words in books, and you are the most knowledgeable person I've met. Please, you tell me, Teacher Gu—is there something we could do better? I worry that my wife is mean to too many people and we're being punished because of her behavior.”

Teacher Gu drank carefully from the bottle and braced himself for the coarse liquid. “Scientifically speaking,” he said, and then cringed at his words, which would probably alienate the man who was saving him from a lonely night. “Have you been to the doctor's?” he asked.

“My wife doesn't want to go—we've been married for three years. It's enough that she can't get pregnant—if we go to the doctor, the whole world will know our trouble.”

Teacher Gu thought of explaining that she might not be the one fully responsible for the situation, but then why would he want to release her from her shame and humility? He drank and popped the peanuts into his mouth the way Gousheng did. “There's no other way. Just try again. But you have to know that some hens never lay eggs,” Teacher Gu said, disgusted and then exhilarated by his own crass metaphor.

Gousheng thought about it. After a few gulps he nodded. “I would be doomed, then,” he said. “My parents didn't agree with our marriage when they saw her picture. They worried that she looked too manly for a wife.”

“And you liked her?”

“She was already a branch leader of the Youth League, and I was only a common worker. How could I reject such a match? A blind man could see how lucky I was, especially since she was the one who initiated the matchmaking.”

“Why did she choose you, then?” Teacher Gu said. “But, of course, you are a handsome man,” he offered unconvincingly

Gousheng shook his head. “She said she wanted someone trustworthy, someone from the proletarian class, someone who earned a living with his own hands. But why on earth did she choose me? There are many men who would have fit her standard! Sometimes I wish she had not chosen me—to think I could have had a more obedient wife instead of being the obedient one!”

Teacher Gu looked at the young man, in drunken tears. “Women are unpredictable,” agreed Teacher Gu. “Men certainly want to understand their logic, but let me tell you, they act with little sense. Why don't you divorce her? Let her suffer. Don't suffer with her. They are all the same—they don't know how to make men's lives easier!”

Gousheng seemed to be shocked by Teacher Gu's sudden vehemence, but Teacher Gu drank and talked on with new energy. “Take my wife, for example—look at where she's gotten herself!”

Gousheng drank quietly and then said, “Teacher Gu, your wife …”

“Don't feel you have to defend her in any way. I know what she did.”

“She's probably an accomplice at most,” Gousheng said. “She's older and they probably won't be too harsh on her.”

Teacher Gu ignored Gousheng's effort to comfort him. He drank now with a speed that matched Gousheng's. “Let me tell you, the worst thing that ever happened in this new China—not that I'm against the new China in any way, but to think of all these women who get to do what they want without men's consent. They think they know so much about the world but they act out of anything but a brain! Your wife, forgive me if I offend you—she is the same creature I have seen in my own wife. And my daughter too—you may not know her but she was just like your wife, full of ideas and judgments but no idea how to be a respectful human being. They think they are revolutionary, progressive, they think they are doing a great favor to the world by becoming masters of their own lives, but what is revolution except a systematic way for one species to eat another alive? Let me tell you—history is, unlike what they say on the loudspeakers, not driven by revolutionary force but by people's desire to climb up onto someone else's neck and shit and pee as he or she wants. Enough bad things are done by men already, but if you add women to the equation, one might as well wish not to bring a baby into this world. What do you see in this world that is worthwhile for a baby to be born into? Tell me, give me one good reason.”

Teacher Gu felt his heart spill out onto the table like the rolling peanuts that his fingers were now too clumsy to catch. He had never felt such passion about the world. Why should he remain respectful and humble when he had to suffer, not only from the men he hated but also from the women he loved? Why did he have to love them from the beginning, when the Buddha had made it clear that every beautiful woman was only a bag of white bones in disguise? How could he be deceived by them, wives and lovers and daughter—who were they but creatures sent to destroy him, to make him live in pain, and die in pain?

“Teacher Gu, don't get too loud,” Gousheng said in a whisper. “You're being imprudent.”

The young man, who sat at his table but whose name had already eluded Teacher Gu, tried to take the bottle away. Teacher Gu pushed his hand, ready to fight the young man and the world standing behind him. This was his home and he could do what he wanted to, Teacher Gu said aloud. He could feel the world take a timid peek from behind the young man's tall and heavily built body. If it looked again, Teacher Gu decided to smash its head with the thick green bottle, but when he looked down at his hand, he did not know where the bottle was.

HALFWAY THROUGH THE CHANTING
of a revolutionary song, Tong's father trailed off and soon started to snore. “Not many people can remain cheerful after drinking,” Tong's mother said in admiration, as if to explain her indulgence of her husband's drinking. She knelt down next to him to loosen his shoelaces and take off his shoes. “He has the best virtue of a drunkard.”

Tong sat on the edge of the chair and looked down at his own dangling legs. He was waiting for his father to pass out into happy oblivion. Nobody had mentioned anything about the signature on the petition; still, Tong could not convince himself, and he decided to talk with his mother for reassurance.

She peeled the socks off his father's feet. “Get some warm water,” she said, not looking up. And when Tong did not move, she told him to hurry up before his father caught a cold. Tong dragged himself to where the water kettle sat high on the counter, a pair of cranes strolling on its pink plastic cover. He looked at the cranes, one stretching its neck to the sky and the other lowering its head for something he did not see. When his mother urged him again, he climbed onto a chair and held the water kettle to his chest like a baby. When he jumped down, the loud thump made his mother frown. Tong pulled a basin from underneath the washstand with his foot. The bottom of the basin scratched the cement floor, the noise of which seemed to make him feel livelier than he had felt the whole day. He nudged the basin, first with one foot and then the other, as if the basin were a ball he was trying hard not to lose on the playing field. One, two, one, two, he counted, and almost bumped into his mother.

She went for the basin first and checked the enamel bottom carefully before she said in a disapproving tone, “Tong, you're old enough to know what you shouldn't do.”

He felt the sting of tears but it would be wrong to cry. He hugged the water kettle and waited for harsher words from his mother, but she grabbed it from him. Tong watched her test the water temperature with the back of her hand first and then splash water onto his father's big feet. He moved a little in the chair and snored on.

Tong asked her why she did everything for his father.

“What a question!” Tong's mother said. She looked up and when she saw Tong's serious face, she smiled and rubbed his hair. “When you become a man, you'll have a good wife and a good son who will serve you on their knees too.”

Tong did not answer. He carried the water out to the yard and poured it into a corner by the fence. When he came back to the room, his mother was half dragging and half supporting his father to the bedroom; Tong's father complained and flailed his arms but when she tucked him in, he fell into a drunken sleep. She watched him for a moment and turned to Tong. “Did you finish your homework?”

“There's no homework today,” Tong said.

“How come?”

Tong glanced at his mother but she seemed not to notice it. “There were emergency meetings all day at school,” he said.

“Oh yes, now I remember,” she said. “The thing about the rally.”

“What happened on Ching Ming?” Tong asked, not knowing if she could tell he was hiding a secret from her.

“It's too complicated to explain to you. It's all grown-ups’ business.”

“Our principal said horrible things happened.”

“Not as bad as you think,” Tong's mother said. “Some people think one way and some think the other way. People are always like this. They seldom agree on anything.”

“Which side is right?”

“The side where your teachers and principal stand. Always follow what's been taught and you won't make a mistake.”

Tong thought about a few teachers he had seen the day before at the rally, the teacher who had sat behind the petition, and a couple of others standing in silence in the line, with their white flowers. “Don't think too much about these meaningless things,” Tong's mother said. “If you stay in line you'll never be in the wrong place. And if you do nothing wrong, you will never fear anything, even when the ghosts come to knock on your door at midnight.”

Tong thought of asking more questions, but before he could speak, someone pounded on their gate. His mother laughed. “The moment you talk about someone, here he is tapping on your door. Who would come at this late hour?”

Tong followed her to the yard and all of a sudden, his throat was gripped by fear. There was nowhere to hide in the yard except in the tipped-over cardboard box that had once served as a home for Ear. When his mother opened the gate to two bright beams of flashlights, Tong climbed into the box, holding his breath.

Tong's mother asked the visitors what they wanted, and someone answered in a low voice. Could there be a mistake? Tong's mother said, and Tong recognized fear in her voice. There must be a misunderstanding, she argued in a pleading tone, but the visitors seemed not to hear her, and one of them must have pushed her, because she stepped back with a small cry of surprise. Tong looked out and tried to recognize his mother's cotton shoes among the four leather boots of the visitors. Two men were walking toward the house now, his mother trailing behind; her husband was sick and he was in bed now, she lied, but the visitors ignored her entreaties. They went into the room and soon Tong heard his father, being awakened, question the intruders. They spoke in low and undisturbed voices, and hard as Tong tried, he could not hear what they were saying. “Let me be clear with you,” Tong's father said. “I didn't leave this house one step that morning.”

The visitors replied in indiscernible voices.

“There must be a mistake,” Tong's mother insisted. “I swear we're both law-abiding citizens.”

Tong climbed out of the box and crawled closer to the house. Through the open door, he heard one of the visitors speak in a calm voice: “We're not going to argue with you now. Our job is to get you to the station. You can talk all you want at the station, but here's the arrest order that you've seen. If you're not going to move, don't think we can't use force to get you out of here.”

“But, sir, can you wait till tomorrow morning? Why do you need him tonight, when you can let him sleep at home?” Tong's mother said. “We promise first thing in the morning we'll come in and clarify the misunderstanding.”

The visitors didn't reply, and Tong imagined the way they were looking at his father without acknowledging her voice. Tong had seen many men behave this way, ignoring women and, for that matter, all children, as if they didn't exist. He wished his mother could understand this and leave things for his father to deal with. “A woman's insight,” his father sneered. “As short as an ant's legs. Haven't you heard of the saying that
if the ghosts want to invite you for a talk, you can't stay longer than a minute
?”

“There you go,” one man said, with a short chuckle.

“But what did he do, really?” Tong's mother mumbled.

“Black words on white paper,” another man said. “You can't argue with the police order.”

“Don't fuss, woman,” Tong's father said. “It seems that I have to condescend to a journey tonight. Why are we still standing and wasting our lives, brothers?”

“Here you go. A smart man you are,” one of the visitors said, and then clanked something metal.

“Do you need to do that?” Tong's father asked. “It's not like I'm causing a riot.”

“Sorry.” The handcuffs clicked. “Can't exempt you from that.”

“Can he bring some snacks?” Tong's mother asked. “It might be a long night.”

The visitors did not say anything. “What silly talk about snacks,” Tong's father said. “Cook a good breakfast and I'll be back tomorrow morning, when the misunderstanding is cleared up.”

“Some hot tea before you go? Is the coat warm enough? Do you want me to get the sheepskin out for you?”

“A good wife you've got for yourself,” one man said.

“You know how it goes with women,” Tong's father said. “The more you treat them like crap, the more they want to crawl to you on their knees. Now stop fussing like an old duck. Sleep tight and I'll be back soon.”

Tong retreated to the box and watched his father, still tipsy, leave with the two men in black uniforms. His father's hands were cuffed behind him but that did not stop him from talking intimately with the visitors, as if they were his long-lost brothers. His father's ease and confidence frightened Tong. He imagined his father's shock when he was shown his own name signed on the white cloth. Would his mind be lucid enough for him to point out that the handwriting was not his? But would the police then come with another pair of handcuffs for him? Tong wondered, and the thought frightened him. They would never give him the red scarf of a Young Pioneer.