Three Sisters (38 page)

To be absolutely accurate, Yuyang began tailing Pang Fenghua and digging up dirt on her simply as part of her job; she had no particular motives of her own. After a while, though, she found to her surprise that she had developed a fondness for the job. It was a good job, which she became so powerfully addicted to that she didn't think she could give it up. She was convinced that even if Pang Fenghua had not offended her, she'd still have enjoyed the work.

Nothing escaped her attention; she saw everything. This was a special gift, an extra reward from life that gave her an extraordinary sense of accomplishment. No wonder Wei Xiangdong wanted to cultivate "all-hearing ears" and "far-seeing eyes." She found it easy to like whatever he liked. It was simply perfect; her life was filled with all sorts of activities, colors, trepidation, and stirring emotions when she hid in dark corners to ferret out others' secrets. She was grateful to life and to her job.

And yet Yuyang was not happy, not really. Something still weighed on her; it was the money order, a zombie that had come back to life and opened its eyes to glare at her. She saw it, an eerie blue light: the light of death. It was during the afternoon extracurricular activities period when it reentered her life. Teacher Wei walked up and asked her to come with him to the duty office. She did not want to go, not now, not ever, for whenever she saw that building, she was reminded of how she'd bared her body for Teacher Wei. But she had no choice; she had to go, especially when Wei mentioned the money order, so she followed him without a word.

The money order lay on Wei's desk. He said nothing, nor did she. But as she looked down at it, a sense of calmness came over her, and she sneered inwardly as she realized what he had in mind. He might be older and appear proper, but what he wanted was simple enough—to touch her.

How repulsive.

It was at that moment that Yuyang began to despise him. How she looked down on him now! Though her fear had not abated, she now knew that she had the psychological advantage, so she waited calmly, thinking to herself:
Let's see what you've got to say. Let's hear how you conduct this transaction. Even if I'm willing to go along, I want to see the money order and verify its authenticity, then I want to see it turn to ashes before you can have what you want from me. I tell you, Wei, I've seen through you.

Without betraying his feelings, Wei took out a lighter. To light a cigarette?

No. Instead, he held the money order in one hand and the lighter in the other as he walked up to her. She examined the piece of paper and decided that it was indeed hers, with her handwriting. The lighter flicked on and the yellow flame licked the money order, which curled in the flame, turning first to smoke and then to ashes.

Yuyang stared blankly at it, trying to sort things out as the ashes settled to the floor. Wei put his foot down and erased everything, sending "ashes flying when the smoke dies down" in the words of Su Dongpo. That was not what she'd expected, so she stole a glance at Wei, who remained composed. Guilt feelings crept up inside her as she reproached herself for mistaking his good intentions as an evil scheme.

Tears of remorse wetted her face. Wei laid his right hand on her left shoulder and patted it twice, which served to increase her guilt. She covered her face, but a loud thump made her open her eyes. To her astonishment, Wei was kneeling in front of her, silent tears flowing from his upturned face. It was an ugly sight to behold; his mouth was open, his arms raised in the air. He inched forward on his knees and wrapped his arms around her legs. "Yuyang."

Now she was truly frightened. No. Stunned.

"Yuyang, help me! Please help me, Yuyang."

Her will softened, and so did her legs. She slumped to the floor and blurted out, "Please don't be like that, Teacher Wei. I beg you. You can touch me wherever you like."

Yuyang did not expect to bleed so much. She shouldn't have; where had all that blood come from? It stained a towel, but in the end it stopped, though the pain remained. And she was not the only one who was shocked by the bleeding.

Wei cried again, his forehead drenched in sweat and his hand covered in blood. But he ignored her as if nothing interested him except the blood on his hand, as if the blood was Yuyang, for he kept saying tearfully to his fingers, "Yuyang, ah, Yuyang! Yuyang, ah, Yuyang!" The way he called out her name was touching. "Yuyang, ah, Yuyang! Yuyang, ah, Yuyang!"

All night long she was tormented by a terrible dream in which she was surrounded by a tangle of snakes. There were so many of them, like baskets of noodles, knotted, twisted, and snarled. They were sticky and slimy, writhing, roiling, surging, and slithering. Worse yet, she was naked and the snakes glided over her bare skin, cold and chilly. She wanted to run, but couldn't. She could only move her hands. But finally she was running, with the teachers and students cheering her on, and the loudspeaker blaring, "Yuyang, ah, Yuyang! Yuyang, ah, Yuyang!"

She ran as if her life depended on it until she reached the finish line of the 10,000-meter race.

Why wasn't she ashamed of her nakedness? How could she be so shameless?

Then the PA system crackled to life, and someone was talking. It was Wei, waving a red flag in one hand and holding a microphone in the other.

"Pay attention, everyone," he shouted. "Look carefully. Yuyang is dressed. Let me repeat, Yuyang is wearing clothes. She did not steal the twenty yuan. It wasn't her." And that put her mind at ease. With Wei around, it didn't matter whether she was naked or not, because with his announcement, she would be clothed one way or the other.

She woke up early the following morning, and as she lay in bed she was sure she was sick. But she moved around a bit and did not feel any discomfort; except for the dull pain down below, everything else felt fine. She got up and took a few steps; she was fine. As she sat on the edge of the bed, she realized that she had dreamed all night, but she was unable to recall her dreams.

Yuyang really did feel fine, but she was exhausted. She had bled a lot the day before, but apparently nothing terrible had happened, and for that she was grateful. She had thought she'd be in terrible shape, but nothing seemed to be out of place. He'd fondled her again, that was all. Other than the bleeding, she didn't feel humiliated like she had the first time.

She actually felt better, since this was the first time in her life that anyone had actually knelt down to her, not to mention that the someone was her teacher. After this, it would be him, not her, who needed to fawn. Yuyang told herself that he had fondled her before, and since it was him again, she had lost nothing in the process. Once, twice, it was all the same, except that it took longer the second time. What did it matter if she bled? What girl doesn't bleed once a month? Besides, he had promised that he would never mistreat her and that he would try his best to keep her in town.

It might have been only a transaction, but it was a substantial one, and well worth it, since she had come out ahead. With the teacher giving her his promise, she could not be unfeeling; and yet she felt bad. It wasn't pain, and it wasn't pleasure, just something that was hard for her to handle. She'd feel a lot better if she could scream. Yuyang might have been young, but no one needed to explain to her what went on between a man and a woman. She would never have consented if he'd asked her to do it. In fact, she would have threatened to scream if he'd asked, and she was grateful to him for not doing that.

It made a big difference to her. He was a man of his word. He hadn't taken off his clothes, so there was no reason to feel bad, just so long as he didn't make her do it with him. He was, after all, someone who had seen the world and weathered many storms; he knew how to take care of things. He showed his ample planning skills with the scheduling. No one would have expected him to ask Yuyang to come to his office every Sunday morning. Who'd have thought he was capable of doing that on a Sunday morning? No one would suspect a thing, which made it perfectly safe, and that put her mind at ease. Besides, her classmates' focus was on Pang Fenghua and the homeroom teacher; the more animated their gossip became, the less attention anyone would pay to Yuyang.

All along, she'd planned to wait till she'd gathered all the necessary intelligence before reporting to Wei Xiangdong, so she had no reason to hurry. One day—it made no difference when—she'd make that little bitch pay. Moving too soon could alert Fenghua, who might escape from her clutches. That would be a terrible loss. But Yuyang's youth betrayed her—she could not keep a secret.

One day, while she was sitting on Wei's lap, she could hold back no longer. She asked him if he knew the identity of the homeroom teacher's love interest. He produced the names of four or five young female teachers, but she shook her head and smiled.

"No, it's someone in my class," she said. His eyes lit up, a strange, eerie glint that seemed aimed at an invisible object. It was the glint of a tiger eyeing its prey. To Yuyang, that glare appeared to send steam into the air, to actually smoke.

"Really?" he asked. Encouraged by the light in his eyes, she nodded with certainty. "You're sure?" he asked.

Without a word, she went back to her dorm room to retrieve her diary and handed it to him. That was Yuyang's style. She'd rather act than talk, and let the facts speak for themselves.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" he asked sternly.

"The right to speak comes only after investigation," Yuyang said.

Nothing happened on campus for several days, which concerned Yuyang. The truly shocking event did not take place until Saturday night, though nothing out of the ordinary occurred during the day. After nightfall, not only did they not send for Pang Fenghua, they actually extended lights-out a full hour later and showed a couple of war movies. The teachers' weekend club was open, so lights blazed on campus, belying any sign of impending doom. At nine-thirty, the usual time for lights-out, Wei, flashlight in hand, made his move, followed by Director Qian, Teacher Huang of student affairs, Director Gao of educational affairs, Deputy Director Tang, several staff members who had applied for Party membership, and seven members of the school security team—a mighty contingent that headed to the dorm room of the homeroom teacher in charge of Section Three of the class of '82.

The lamps around the dormitory were not functioning; it was pitch-black. Stepping lightly, the group moved so silently that the only sound was their heavy breathing, which they were having trouble keeping in check.

When they reached the darkened room, Wei stopped, turned around, and raised his hand to make sure that no one made any noise. The group stood still, like a grove of breathing trees. Wei curled the index finger of his right hand and tapped gently on the door, as if afraid to startle a child on the other side. Nothing stirred, so Wei craned his neck and whispered, "Teacher Peng, please open the door." As if making a deal with the door frame, he repeated, "Teacher Peng, open the door now."

He waited, and then said, "Teacher Peng, I have a key, and I'll use it if I have to." Still nothing stirred inside. So Wei took out his key and inserted it into the hole, but the door remained shut—it was locked from the inside. Now everyone took a deep breath as Wei retrieved the key and raised his voice. "Smash it!"

He snapped on his flashlight, nailing the wooden door with a blindingly bright light. There was a thump on the other side, followed by the flickering of a fluorescent bulb. Peng opened the door, but he hardly resembled the Section Three homeroom teacher or the people's teacher of dialectical materialism, historical materialism, political economics, and the brief history of social development. Seemingly devoid of human form and skeleton, he looked like a chicken thrown into the pot or a dog fished out of the water.

The separate interrogations began that night. Pang Fenghua refused to talk until three in the morning, when, exhausted from crying, she confessed and took responsibility for everything, as if she were the one who had done all the unspeakable acts. Then she clammed up and resumed crying.

By comparison, the homeroom teacher had a better attitude. After seven or eight cups of boiled water, he responded to every question. But his interrogation was interrupted when he began spitting blood, thanks to the boiling water he'd gulped down.

How careless could someone be? How had he not sensed how hot the water was? And how had he managed to gulp it down like that? He must have been scared out of his wits. Fortunately, he cooperated by telling them everything, including the first kiss, the first embrace and who had initiated it, whose tongue had first entered the other's mouth, whether they had fondled each other and how, and who had begun fondling first and where. He told them everything, sometimes more than once because Wei kept repeating his questions, and Peng had to repeat his answers.

Wei's eyes lit up each time Peng responded, and Wei's skin twitched as if he were in pain or, perhaps, in ecstasy. He seemed to be enjoying himself, but Peng was less forthcoming when it came to sex. He hemmed and hawed, trying to evade the issue. Naturally, Wei would not let him off the hook, and he followed up with tough, carefully crafted questions, not giving Peng a chance to deny anything.

"When did you first go to bed together?" Wei asked.

"We didn't," Peng replied.

"The two of you had to be in bed because everyone saw how the sheets, the blanket, and even the pillows were all rumpled. How can you deny it?"

"We did go to bed, but not like that," Peng insisted.

"Like what then?" Wei was relentless.

"We were in bed, but we didn't do it. Honest, we didn't go to bed like that."

"Oh? What do you mean by 'like that'?"

"I mean sleeping together. We didn't sleep together."

"Who said you were sleeping? If you were, you wouldn't have been able to get up to open the door."

"I don't mean going to sleep. I mean having a relationship."

"What kind of relationship?"

"Between a man and a woman."

"And what is that?" Wei demanded.