Mountain Girl River Girl (8 page)

As the morning whiled away, Pan-pan came to realize that Lao Zhang had another motive for taking her sightseeing. From time to time she stopped and pointed, making comments like a tour guide. “Look over there, Pan-pan, on the corner. See the woman who’s selling tea-boiled eggs? She’s not a local. She probably came here to find a good job, but look what happened: She ended up cooking and selling eggs on the street. Heaven knows where she goes to wash and where she sleeps at night.”

Lao Zhang then pointed out a young woman leaning against a brick wall outside a store, with her hand outstretched. “See that? I’m sure she’s from the countryside, too. How awful! She should be at home with her family instead of begging on the street.”

By the time they stepped into Lao Zhang’s courtyard, Pan-pan was wracked with self-doubt. What had happened in the past few days was more than she had experienced in her entire fifteen years. At home, everyone she knew, including her father, had assumed that her decision to leave home was because of her cursed fox smell, no matter what she had said about wanting to see the world beyond her village. Pan-pan had overheard Xin-Ma talking to her father. “Like mother, like daughter,” she’d said. “If someday she wants to get the problem fixed, you can’t stop her as you tried to do with her mother. And what’s a better place than the nation’s capital? It has proper hospitals and real doctors.”

Was that why her father hadn’t argued hard against her plan? Was he afraid if he tried he would only push her farther away and harden her decision—and cause another tragedy? Ah-Po must have harboured the same fear. After swallowing her original objections, she had been more than willing to dig out Sun Ming’s address. Or were they all, like Lao Zhang, waiting for her to discover on her own that the outside world was a crueller place than she could handle?

The next morning, Pan-pan could feel the heat of the sun on her back as she headed toward the train station to collect her bag and bedroll. But as on the previous day, the sun soon got lost behind the haze. Around her the trees were coming into leaf and the pale yellow willow twigs dangled over the sidewalks as if to greet the morning pedestrians. The scene reminded Pan-pan of home, where the flowers had already been in bloom when she left.

Pan-pan was glad to be alone again, glad to be out of Lao Ma and Lao Zhang’s house for a change, to be away from her lingering sense of awkwardness and embarrassment. The night before, when Pan-pan thought everyone had gone to bed, she had risen from her cot and crept out to the bathroom. Fearful that someone might hear her, she had closed the door before starting to wash Lao Zhang’s blouse. But a few moments later, Lao Zhang had appeared outside the door.

“Don’t worry about it, Pan-pan,” she said quietly. “Leave that for tomorrow. We’ve bought a little washing machine. Go to sleep now.”

Pan-pan stared down at her suds-covered hands. “I … I’m almost finished.”

“All right,” Lao Zhang replied. “But listen, Pan-pan. Don’t ever let small things crush you. Lift up your head. No one is perfect in this world.” Then she went back into the house.

Later, tossing and turning on the cot, going over and over Lao Zhang’s words, Pan-pan sighed. Of course she knew. She knew from the morning she washed my clothes. And so did the boys. Is that why they were so silent each time she appeared, why they excused themselves so quickly from the dinner table? Lao Zhang said they were shy in front of strangers. Pan-pan wasn’t so sure.

Pan-pan found Lao Ma in a small office at the station, jammed with desks, benches, and chairs. Phones were ringing, fingers tapping on the outside windows; both were ignored. There had been a few train delays, Lao Ma explained to her, but the passengers were too impatient and too demanding. He asked one of his co-workers to take Pan-pan to get her luggage from the storage room before he picked up a ringing phone. “Go back home. I’ll see you tonight,” he called out, covering the mouthpiece.

Pan-pan slung her bedroll over her shoulder, picked up her bag, and slowly lurched out of the station, making her way down the stairs. Lao Zhang had pressed a twenty-yuan note into Pan-pan’s pocket, her taxi fare back to the house. But at the corner of the busy square, Pan-pan stopped and put down her bag and bedroll. Despite Lao Zhang’s words of comfort and despite the fact that neither she nor Lao Ma had given any hint that they’d noticed her fox smell, Pan-pan was growing more anxious the more she thought about her problem. It was just a matter of time before their sons turned against her, a smelly stranger in their house. Besides, Pan-pan had no doubt that as soon as she walked through the door, Lao Zhang would start in on her again, urging her to return home.

In spite of all that had happened, Pan-pan felt she couldn’t just slink back to the village of Western Clouds. For one thing, she would lose face; but more important, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she threw away her dreams after one little bump in the road. Yes, she would carry on with her journey.

But she had no money, except the twenty-yuan taxi fare. Pan-pan let out another anguished sigh as she looked across the bustling square, at the people, the cars and buses, the ringing bicycles—all rushing to and fro with a purpose, a place to go, a destination to reach.

Chapter
Eleven

With her bedroll as a cushion, Pan-pan sat leaning against the bottom step of the staircase leading to the train station. She closed her eyes, lifted her face toward the sun, and enjoyed the solitude, free at last from the talking, thinking, and unending self-consciousness of the past three days. She had been showered with enough metaphors, wise expressions, and quotations to last a lifetime.

A high-pitched voice, an accent she recognized, caused her eyes to pop open. Pan-pan sat up, searching for the source. No more than five metres from her stood a young woman wearing a heavy brown corduroy jacket, despite the humidity that had been looming over the city for the last couple of days. While the jacket hung loosely on her tiny frame, her pant legs ended inches above her plastic flip-flops. Pan-pan leaned forward for a better look. The young woman’s face needed a good scrub, as Ah-Po would have said. But the discoloured patches on her cheeks were not dirt spots, nor birthmarks, Pan-pan realized. They were bruises. Her greasy hair dangled in strands, brushing her shoulders. Her accent, similar to that heard in Guizhou Province, placed her as a native of Sichuan, the province just to the northwest of Pan-pan’s village.

She’s about my age, probably a lonely traveller like me, Pan-pan said to herself. Yet the young woman had only a small bag with her, swinging weightlessly on her wrist. She was trying to stop a woman passerby.

“Auntie, could you tell me where I can buy a train ticket to Shanghai?”

“Shanghai?” The elder woman grimaced as if she had just swallowed a live worm. Tucking her purse deeper into her armpit, she snarled, “Don’t come any closer! I know your type. One minute you’re asking for information, the next you’ll be gone with my money.”

“You don’t have to insult me,” the young woman replied.

“Take a look at yourself,” the woman kept on. “A ticket to Shanghai?” she chuckled. “You’re about as believable as those beggars over there. You’re young, and you have no missing arms or legs. Why can’t you work to earn a living instead of fibbing and stealing?”

“Stealing?” the young woman shouted. “I’m not a thief, you old goat. And I’ve never cheated anyone in my life.” She turned around, facing the small crowd that had formed around the two of them. “I have my own money. I’ll show you if you don’t believe me,” she said, thrusting her hand into the cloth bag.

“Don’t!” Pan-pan shouted as she jumped up and charged toward the gathering, thrusting one arm in front of her like a magic wand. “Don’t take it out!”

O
VER A GLASS OF TEA
in a food stall behind the station, Pan-pan and Shui-lian sat and talked, ignoring the owner’s scornful looks after they had repeatedly refused to order more drinks. Hours slipped by as they chatted. Morning rolled into noon. Sipping their tea and sharing a sweet bun, they exchanged their experiences, concluding that they had both been derailed on their way to their destinations, and their goals remained as far apart as the two cities they had intended to reach: Beijing to the north and Shanghai to the south.

But they seemed to draw strength from each other’s stories, agreeing that neither should go back to her old life in the mountains or on the rivers.

“Not until I have found a job and made something of myself,” Shui-lian said determinedly. “Something other than a river
ku-li
.”

“So why not come to Beijing with me? We can look for work together,” Pan-pan replied, a smile appearing on her face as she set down her empty glass.

“Why don’t
you
come with
me
to Shanghai?” Shui-lian countered.

“Beijing is the capital, so it’s better.”

“How do you know? You’ve never been there,” Shui-lian demanded, her voice rising. “I heard that Shanghai is bigger and has a lot more people than Beijing—which to me means more factories and more job opportunities.”

“Maybe so, but large or small, you don’t know anyone there, while I have a connection in Beijing. Remember I told you about Sun Ming, the girl from Beijing, who was sent down to my village and lived with my family before she returned home? I have her address. We can look for her when we get to the capital, and she can help us find work.”

Shui-lian burst out laughing. “You also told me all that happened about thirty years ago. Even if this Sun Ming still lives there, she may have forgotten your family. She certainly won’t know you. You weren’t even born yet!”

“That’s true,” Pan-pan answered calmly. “But, still, it’s something. More than you’ve got in Shanghai.”

Shui-lian fell quiet, avoiding Pan-pan’s eyes as she thought for a moment. “It’s not just that. I asked Jin-lin to tell my mother I was heading to Shanghai. What if—” She stopped, biting her lip.

“Sorry, I forgot that part. As far as my family knows, I’m already in Beijing,” Pan-pan said bitterly. “Look at us: two warriors wounded already, before the battle is launched. Anyway, even if I was willing to go to Shanghai with you, I don’t have the money for a train ticket.” She pulled some money from her pocket. “This is all I have left, and it belongs to Lao Zhang. My taxi fare. Lao Ma’s explained to me that I have two options. One, to accept a free ticket to Beijing; the other, to let them pay my way back home. You know what, Shui-lian? Either way is a sort of dead end because I have no money. It was all stolen. What will I do if I can’t find Sun Ming in Beijing? I’ll be totally alone in a strange city.”

“You’re not backing out, taking their offer, are you?” Shui-lian sounded more worried than alarmed. She had been talking tough, making it seem that her mind was made up about Pan-pan going to Shanghai with her. The truth was that, after her short encounter with Pan-pan, she didn’t just like this easygoing and level-headed young woman—who was, Shui-lian thought, the kind of daughter her own mother would have wished for—Shui-lian felt she could trust Pan-pan. She knew she had found a friend in this young woman from a neighbouring province. Of course, she would never share everything with her as she did with Jin-lin, she cautioned herself, especially the account of her rape on that horrible night. She would tell Pan-pan about being abducted by a gang that sold women into forced marriages, and about being arrested and released, but no more.

“No, I’m not backing out,” Pan-pan assured Shui-lian but without much conviction. Time was running out, she reminded herself. She had to make a decision one way or the other, and soon.

After the food stall owner glowered at them again and shooed them away, Pan-pan suggested they walk and talk some more to clear their heads. “But let’s avoid the area around the train station,” she added. “Lao Ma must be looking for me by now. He and his wife are probably worried that something has happened to me.” She then stopped, lowering her head as if making a confession. “I’m grateful for their help, but I can’t deliver what they want.” She straightened the criss-cross tie on her bedroll before slinging it onto her back. “I feel like if I refuse to go home as they wish, I’ll be throwing ashes in their faces in return for the sack of coal they gave me to save me from freezing to death. You understand what I’m saying, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. I went to school too, you know,” Shui-lian said defensively as she picked up Pan-pan’s bag. Although she didn’t quite get the ashes and coal part, the meaning was clear. Listening to Pan-pan talk about Lao Ma and Lao Zhang and their kindness toward her, a stranger, Shui-lian couldn’t help feeling a little envious.

“I bet Comrade Guo was disappointed as well when she returned to the inn and found out that I’d left on my own despite her advice. She offered to buy me a train ticket home. Probably also express class,” Shui-lian felt compelled to say. Yet, in spite of Guo and her sympathetic words, Shui-lian didn’t share Pan-pan’s belief in the essential kindness of people. Da-Ge and the men who had raped her, Jin-lin, and the others had made that impossible.

A
MAN’S VOICE
came out of nowhere as Pan-pan and Shui-lian were about to cross a busy intersection. “Are you looking for work, young misses?”

Shui-lian started, panic in her eyes. Pan-pan quickly reached out to catch Shui-lian by the arm before her friend lurched into the path of an oncoming truck. Pan-pan was still laughing at Shui-lian’s reaction when she turned around to see the man who was the cause of the commotion. She looked up into a pair of friendly eyes behind thick spectacles.

“I’m very sorry if I startled you,” the man apologized, smiling and revealing gaps between his upper teeth, which explained the hissing sound like leaking valves that Pan-pan had heard when he spoke. His politeness and gentle voice put Pan-pan at ease right away. He was about Ah-Po’s age, tall, lanky, and slightly stooped, and his face was a map of folds and creases.

“Old Uncle, were you talking to us?” she asked.

“Don’t say anything to him!” Shui-lian insisted. “And don’t call him ‘uncle’! He’s a wolf in a lamb’s coat! Let’s go!” She grabbed Pan-pan’s arm.

“Stop! You’re hurting me!” Pan-pan protested loudly, struggling to free herself. “What’s the matter with you, Shui-lian? I want to hear what he has to say. For heaven’s sake, what are you afraid of? It’s broad daylight and there are hundreds of people on the street. Besides, there are two of us. He can’t eat us alive, can he?”

“You’re making a mistake, Pan-pan. You can’t get ivory from the mouth of a dog. Men are all the same. All they do is tell lies and trick you,” Shui-lian grumbled, reluctantly releasing Pan-pan’s arm. “A pig’s fart will smell a hundred times better than whatever comes out of his mouth!”

“What a temper! What a way to talk!” The old man said in a trembling voice, visibly shaken. “Why don’t you listen to what I have to say before you run out of animals to insult me with?”

Shui-lian glared at him, her chest heaving.

“I don’t like to chase after strangers on the street, especially young women, but I’m just doing my job.”

He took off his khaki cap, using his open palm to smooth a head of white hair. “I recruit workers for a shoe factory on the northern outskirts of Bengbu. The factory won’t hire me to work there because I’m too old to be productive. My hands are slow and my eyesight is poor. It’s only interested in young people, young women in particular. And only non-locals.”

“I’ve never made shoes,” Pan-pan answered, her voice trailing. Turning to Shui-lian she said behind her hand, “Remember what we’ve talked about? We need money.” Back to the old man, she patted the bedroll on her back and the bag slung across Shui-lian’s shoulder and added, “You can see yourself that we’re not locals. Will you hire us?”

“Don’t listen to him!” Shui-lian jerked her head, facing Pan-pan, her voice cracking and pleading. “That’s how they all start, making job offers because that’s what you want to hear. I know what I’m talking about. They’ll promise you the moon and the sun, anything to hook you.”

She swung around to challenge the old man, her eyes boring into his. “If you want us to believe you, you’d better take us to the factory yourself.”

To Shui-lian’s surprise, a smile reappeared on the old man’s face, bringing more creases around his eyes. “I’m happy to oblige your request. But first, let’s find a quiet place to sit down so that I can tell you more about it. I’ve been on my feet since the crack of dawn. Please keep in mind,” he paused, casting a long glance of disfavour at Shui-lian, “I’m going to ask you some questions, and I have to be satisfied with the answers before I can sign you up for the job.”

A
N HOUR LATER,
the interview, held in a snack bar over bottles of orange pop for Pan-pan and Shui-lian and a glass of beer for himself, was concluded. Forms had been filled in and, most important, Shui-lian’s doubts and fears had been calmed by the old man’s reassurances, and by the fact that they would be travelling to the factory on a public bus, with other passengers. The recruiter, who asked the girls to call him Lao Zhou, walked Pan-pan and Shui-lian to the city’s long-distance bus station and waited in line with them for tickets. Outside there was a constant coming and going of vehicles, and jostling crowds. Tickets in hand, Shui-lian and Pan-pan joined another line in a sheltered area. Lao Zhou, who, it turned out, was a retired middle-school history teacher, motioned Shui-lian aside, out of earshot of the other passengers.

In a hushed voice he reminded her that at no time should she tell anyone in the factory that she was from Sichuan. She and Pan-pan must pretend to be cousins, on her mother’s side, as he’d written on their employment forms. Earlier, during the interview, Lao Zhou had emphasized that the owner of the factory, a wealthy businesswoman from Taiwan who now lived in the United States with her American husband, was said to dislike Sichuan natives. One rumour had it that her discontent was rooted in her unhappy family history. Another claimed that years ago she had had a similar factory outside the city of Suzhou but had shut it down because of, in her words, “the high cost of land and taxes and dwindling profits.” The truth was, Lao Zhou whispered, the workers there had tried to organize a union, demanding higher pay and benefits.

“Benefits?” Shui-lian had asked, frowning. “What are they? The workers were paid, weren’t they? What else did they want that made the boss so mad she closed the factory?”