A Loyal Character Dancer - [Chief Inspector Chen Cao 02] (41 page)

“They can. As a chief inspector, I know how unpleasant things can get for him. This is a joint investigation by China and America. It is not just in your interest, but also in Liu’s, for you to talk to us.”

“What should I say?”

“Well, start from the time when you graduated from high school,” he said, “so that I’ll have a comprehensive picture.”

“Do you really want to know what I have suffered all these years—” Wen could hardly go on with tears trembling in her eyes, “with that monster?”

“It may be painful for you to talk about it, we understand, but it is important.” Catherine poured a cup of water for Wen, who nodded her thanks.

The two of them seemed to be on better terms, Chen observed. He did not know what they had talked about. Wen’s earlier hostility toward Catherine was largely gone. There was a fresh Band-Aid on Catherine’s finger. She had certainly been helping in the kitchen.

So Wen started to narrate in a mechanical voice, as if she were telling a story about somebody else, her face expressionless, her eye vacant, her body occasionally racked with silent sobs.

In 1970, when the educated youth movement swept all over the country, Wen was only fifteen. Upon her arrival at Changle Village in Fujian, however, she found it impossible to squeeze into the small hut with her relative’s three-generation family. As she was the only educated youth in the village, the Revolutionary Committee of the Changle People’s Commune, headed by Feng, assigned to her an unused tool room adjacent to the village barn. There was no electricity or water, nor any furniture except a bed in the room, but she believed in Mao’s call to young people to reform themselves through hardship. Feng turned out not to be, however, the poor-and-lower-middle-class-peasant of Mao’s theory.

Feng started by asking her to talk in his office. As the number-one Party cadre, he was in the position to give political talks, supposedly in an effort to reeducate young people. She had to meet him three or four times a week, with the door locked, Feng sitting like a monkey in human clothes, his hands pawing at her over the red-covered copy of
Quotations from Chairman Mao.
And what she had dreaded happened one night. Feng broke into her room from the barn. She struggled, but he overpowered her. Afterward, he came almost every night. No one dared to say anything about it in the village. He had not thought about marrying her, but upon learning that she was pregnant, he changed his mind. He had no child from his first wife. Wen was desperate. She thought about abortion. The commune clinic was under his control. She thought about running away. There was no bus transportation at the time. Villagers had to ride a commune tractor for miles to the nearest bus stop. She thought about committing suicide, but she could not bring herself to do so when she felt the baby kicking inside her.

So they got married under a portrait of Chairman Mao. “A revolutionary marriage,” as reported by a local radio station. Feng did not bother to have a marriage certificate. For the first few months, she was tempting, young, educated, from the big city—something for his sexual satisfaction. Soon he lost interest. After the baby was born, he became abusive toward her.

She realized there was no use struggling. Feng was so powerful in those years. At first, occasionally, she still dreamed of somebody coming to her rescue. Soon she gave up. In the cracked mirror she saw she was no longer what she had been. Who would take pity on peasant woman with a sallow, wrinkled face, and a baby bundled on her back as she plowed with an ox in the rice paddy. She came to terms with her fate by cutting herself off from the people in Shanghai.

In 1977, after the end of the Cultural Revolution, Feng was removed from his position. Spoiled by the power he had enjoyed, he would not work like a peasant. She had to support the family. What’s worse, the perverted monster now had all his time and energy free for abusing her. And a reason, too. Among other things, he had been accused of dumping his first wife and seducing an educated youth. He attributed his downfall to that and wreaked his fury on her. When he became aware of her intention to divorce him, he threatened to kill her and her son. He was capable of anything, she knew. So things went on as before. In the early eighties, he started to stay away from home frequently—on “business,” though she never knew what he was really up to. He earned little. The only things he brought home were toys for his son. After the death of their child, things went from bad to worse. He had other women and came home only when he was broke.

She was not surprised that Feng announced he was leaving for the United States. If anything, it was rather surprising that he had not gone earlier. He did not talk to her about his plans. She was a worn-out rag he was going to discard anyway. Last November, he stayed at home for two weeks. She found herself pregnant. He had her take a test. When it showed that she was carrying a boy, he was a changed man. He told her about his trip and promised that he would send for her when he was settled in the United States. He wanted her to start a new life there with him.

She understood this sudden change. Feng was no longer young. It might be his last chance to have a child. Hers, too. So she asked him to postpone the trip. He would not. He did make a phone call home shortly after his arrival in New York. After several weeks’ unexplained silence, he called again to tell her that he was trying to get her out. He wanted her to apply for a passport. She was confounded. Wives left behind usually had to wait for years. Sometimes they, too, had to be smuggled illegally. While waiting for a passport, she got a telephone call that alarmed her and she fled to Suzhou.

It was a long narrative, and difficult to follow, as from time to time, Wen was choked by emotion. Still, she went on resolutely, sparing them no painful details. Chen understood. Wen was catching at her last shred of hope; that the cops would let her stay after hearing a detailed account of her miserable life with Feng. Chen grew more and more uncomfortable. He could write his report to the bureau, describing her misery as he had promised, but he knew that it would be useless.

Inspector Rohn was more visibly disturbed. She rose to make another cup of tea for Wen. Several times she seemed on the verge of saying something, but she swallowed her words.

“Thank you, Wen, but I still need to ask you a couple of questions,” Chen said. “So it was in January that he asked you to apply for a passport.”

“Yes, January.”

“You did not ask how things were with him in the United States, did you?”

“No, I did not”

“I see,” he said. “Because you did not want to go there.”

“How do you know?” Wen stared at him.

“He wanted you to leave in January, but according to our record, you did not start applying for your passport until mid-February. Why did you change your mind?”

“Oh, I hesitated at first, then I thought of my baby,” Wen said with a slight catch in her voice. “It would be too hard for him to grow up without a father, so I changed my mind and started the application process—in February. Then I got that call from him.”

“Did he make any further explanation in that last call?”

“No. He just said that somebody was after me.”

“Did you know who that ‘somebody’ was?”

“No, I did not. But I guess he must have had some quarrel about money with the gang. The boat people have to pay a large sum to those thugs. It’s an open secret in the village. Our neighbor Xiong failed to mail money back due to a car accident in New York, and his wife went into hiding because she was unable to pay his debts. The gangsters got hold of her in no time. They forced her into prostitution to pay them back.”

“The Fujian police did not do anything?” Catherine asked.

“The local police wear the same pants as the Flying Axes. So I had to run far, far away. But where? I did not want to go back to Shanghai. The gang might be able to trace me there. I should not bring trouble to my people.”

“How did you decide to come to Suzhou?”

“At first I did not have any specific place in mind. While trying to pack a few things, I came across the anthology with Liu’s business card in it. There seemed to be no possibility of tracing me to him. No contact between us since high school. No one could have guessed that I would turn to him for help.”

“Yes, that made sense,” Catherine said. “The first time you saw him again was on his visit to the factory?”

“I did not even recognize him during his visit. I had not much of an impression of him in high school. He was very quiet. I did not remember him talking to me at all. Nor the loyal character dance described in the poem. But for the poem he sent me, I would not have imagined that it had meant so much to him.”

“It did.” Chen said. “You must have realized the visitor’s identity when you got the anthology.”

“Yes. All those years came rushing back. In the biographical sketch, I learned that he had become a poet and reporter. I was happy for him, but I did not have any illusions about myself. Nothing but a pathetic object for his poetic imagination, I knew. I kept the book, and his card hidden in it, as a souvenir of my lost years. I never thought about contacting him,” she said, wringing her fingers. “I would rather die than go begging to anybody but for the sake of the baby.”

“ ‘Folk east of the river,’” he murmured.

“I had never expected he would help me so much. He’s a very busy man, but he took a day off to accompany me to the hospital. He insisted on shopping for things for me, including baby clothes. And he also promised I could stay here as long as I like.”

“I understand.” Chen repeated after a pause, “I understand the relationship between you, but what will other people think?”

“Liu says that he does not care what other people think,” Wen said with her head hung so low, it looked as if her neck were broken. “Why should I care?”

“So you have decided to stay on here with Liu?”

“What do you mean, Chief Inspector Chen?”

“Well, what’s your plan for the future?”

“I want to raise my son by myself.”

“Where? Liu’s wife has not yet learned about your presence here, has she? It is so close to Shanghai. She may drop in any day. What will she make of this arrangement?”

“No, I will not stay here for long. Liu will rent an apartment for me for the next few months. As soon as my baby is born, I’m planning to leave.”

“As long as the gangsters are still lurking about, I don’t see how you can be safe anywhere. Any move you make, whether back to Fujian or to Shanghai, may bring them down on you.”

“I won’t go far away. I’ll stay in the area. Liu may find a job for me,” Wen said. “Liu has a lot of friends in Suzhou. It will work out, Chief Inspector Chen.”

“The gang will find you.” He lit a cigarette, then stubbed it out after one puff. “It’s a matter of time.”

“No one knows anything about me. Not even my real name. Liu has made up a story about me, saying I am his cousin.”

Chen said, “This is a matter of national interests. I have to make a report to the police bureau. Sooner or later, the gang will have a copy of that report.”

“I don’t understand, Chief Inspector Chen.”

“There may well be a connection between the gang and the Fujian police, as you are aware.”

He noticed the astonishment on Catherine Rohn’s face. Party Secretary Li had insisted on his holding the Americans responsible for the leaks. Chen would worry about Li’s reaction—and hers—later.

“So you cannot do anything for me?”

“To be honest, I have to say we cannot guarantee your safety. You know only too well how powerful those gangsters are. In fact, Liu agrees with my analysis of the situation. What’s more, once they find you, it will surely get Liu into trouble, too. You know what they are capable of.”

“Do you think I should leave because of Liu, Chief Inspector Chen?” Wen said slowly, looking up at him.

“As a cop, my answer is yes. Not only the Flying Axes, but the government will bring pressure to bear upon him.”