Serve the People! (17 page)

`Time to celebrate, I think,' the Political Instructor told him. `Guess where you've been assigned a job--the biggest factory in the city, The East is Red Tractor Factory. The manager there ranks higher than a Provincial Governor, or a Corps Commander.'

`Don't waste money celebrating with us,' the Captain cautioned. `Life is expensive in the city, so save whatyou can now. Off you go and pack. You're due to report to the factory the day after tomorrow, which means you'll need to catch a train today to get settled in before your first day at work.'

After this conversation -in truth, no more than a terse, one-way dispatch outlining the logistics of Wu Dawang's expulsion from barracks-the two officers helped him truss up his luggage.

Every last detail had been taken care of- urgently and meticulously, and far, far above Wu Dawang's head. The moment the details of his departure had been settled the Division even sent over a plentiful supply of cardboard boxes and wooden crates for his belongings and rope to secure them. Despite this note of almost unseemly haste, everything proceeded in a perfectly smooth, disciplined fashion. As Wu Dawang's train wasn't due to leave until 12:30 that night, his company laid on a lavish last supper for him, with a farewell meeting to follow.

After dinner the hundred-strong company all in full uniform-stayed on in the mess, perched on small stools. Once a few songs had been sung and a few quotations by Chairman Mao recited, the Political Instructor announced that Wu Dawang was receiving a special early discharge to take up a factory job in the city. The news was greeted with silent astonishment by the assembled company. Immediately afterward, the Head of Management-who, unusually, had come along to bid Wu Dawang farewell in person -gave public notice that the departing Sergeant was being honoured with the Third Order of Merit.

Through diligent study of The Collected Works of Chairman Mao, he read out, Wu Dawang had become an outstanding revolutionary thinker of excellent moral character. Thanks to his overwhelming success in putting theory into practice, he'd been awarded the unique accolade of Exemplary Servant of the People-the only soldier in the whole Division to be thus feted. Why, he asked rhetorically, was Wu Dawang being honoured with a state-allocated job? Because he Served the People with all his body and soul. It should be pointed out that none of them-not Wu Dawang, his Captain or his Political Instructor had known in advance that the evening's performance would end like this.

Finally, the Head of Management and the Political Instructor jointly exhorted the assembled company to learn from Comrade Wu Dawang's example, reminding their audience that the People only re membered and helped those who selflessly Served them. If they all gave something of themselves, as Wu Dawang had, the army would help them, just as they had helped Wu Dawang find a job that would enable him to continue making the utmost contribution to socialism.

Wu Dawang said nothing. Even when he got up to receive his badge of merit and the Political Instructor repeatedly asked him to address a few words to his audience, he merely bowed impassively to his comrades-in-arms, then turned to salute the ranking officers standing alongside him on the stage.

Formal festivities came to an end.

Back at the dormitory, he found his Captain sticking railway labels on the last of his luggage. He flashed Wu Dawang a bitter smile: `I'll be off soon myself,' he said. 'I've) ust had notice of my own demobilization. Everyone who worked in the Division Commander's house is leaving. We've only ourselves to blame: we said what we shouldn't have said. Or at least, someone said too much about the Commander and his wives, though I don't know how it got back to him.'

So that's what's behind it all?'

Another smile. `Maybe it is and maybe it isn't. I'm just guessing.'

Wu Dawang and the Captain stood facing each other, in silence, for some time.

As Wu Dawang's departure approached, a crescent moon rose in the sky and hooked itself precariously over a cloud. When the Management jeep pulled up to drive him to the station, his entire company came out to see him off: to shake his hand, to offer their congratulations, to wish him well. `As long as they keep us on in the army,' everyone seemed to want to say to him, `we'll all try and learn to Serve the People like you.' Wu Dawang had nothing to say to this; he merely shook hands and bid his farewells, until he'd taken leave of one and all and it was time to get into the jeep. He had been determined not to cry, but when the engine fired up his emotions finally got the better of him. As his last journey out of barracks began, the tears rolled down his cheeks.

ALL WAS DRAWING TO A satisfactory conclusion.

Standing by the) eep were Wu Dawang's Captain, his Political Instructor and the Head of Management, who remarked gloomily that now they'd seen Wu Dawang off it would soon be his own turn. He was not yet forty, he said, and would have accepted a demotion happily enough if that would have kept him in the army, but he'd just heard he might be demobilized instead. He had to go and see the Division Commander and beg him to let him stay on. He paused, then smiled wryly at his two fellow officers. `It's every man for himself now. Finish the job off for me, will you? Make sure Wu Dawang gets to the station.'

Once the Head of Management had watched the car drive away, he walked straight over to Division HO. The jeep raced away, its headlamps coursing through the darkness. The moon had risen higher, illuminating the newly bare autumn trees into bleak silhouettes. No nightingales or cicadas disturbed the still night with their chirruping song. By now, lights-out had sounded and each company, hoping that a final display of perfect obedience might win them a last-minute reprieve, had dutifully fallen into a troubled sleep. The vast majority was blissfully unaware that within their very own barracks the final curtain was falling on an unlikely romance. Only the key protagonists and a few of the minor players in our story had any inkling that this microdrama was nearing its end. And, of these, none anticipated the desolate postscript to the affair that would sour the grand finale the army bureaucracy had choreographed.

The jeep sped by first one row of army buildings, then another, past trees and pylons that fell behind it as if felled by the dazzling, bladelike beams of its lights. Wu Dawang sat alone on one side, with the Captain and Political Instructor opposite him, making fussy small talk--had he checked his tickets, there was no time to spare, checking luggage in always took forever-before falling silent. All three men sank so deeply into private, melancholy thought that as the jeep passed by the senior officers' com pound, not one of them so much as glanced in its direction. But just as the jeep was about to leave the barracks, out of the corner of his eye Wu Dawang saw a first-floor light come on in Compound Number One-in Liu Lian's bedroom. It seemed to set something inside him alight, too, flooding his ashen face with colour. He looked back once, twice, at the light. Then, before it was too late, he shouted at the driver to stop.

He braked hard. `What is it?'

Ignoring him, Wu Dawang rummaged for something out of one of his bags, then jumped out of the vehicle and set off toward the house.

`Stop right there!' the Captain bellowed at him.

He did not stop, but he did slow down.

'If you go up to that house,' the Captain went on, at the same volume, you'll pay for it. You're not out of the army yet-your personal dossier's not going out until tomorrow.'

Wu Dawang halted.

The Political Instructor, however, smiled patiently at the Captain. `The Division Commander's still in the office,' he soothed. `Let him go and say good-bye, it's fair enough.'

The Captain fell silent. The Political Instructor leapt down from the jeep and accompanied Wu Dawang on his last walk to the Division Commander's house.

The two hundred metres between the main gate and the Commanders' Compound were far better lit than the rest of the road. Wu Dawang was still flushed, perhaps after his Captain's furious rebuke or in remembrance of the strange, compromised kind of love Liu Lian had offered him. As the two of them advanced, shoulder to shoulder, the Instructor delivered in a hushed voice a final philosophical lecture of a rather different kind from his usual offerings. In all the meetings and classes we've had together, I've told you nothing but lies and empty words. Now you're leaving, I might as well tell you the truth. At the end of the day, we're all here on earth to make our lives a bit better. A soldier born to a worker dreams of becoming an official; a soldier born to a low-ranking official dreams of becoming a highranking official; a soldier from the countryside wants to make it to the city. It might not be what we're meant to dream of, but that's how it is. And though climbing up one rung of the ladder might not sound much as an ambition, it ends up taking most people a lifetime. We both know the Division's going to the wall-almost everyone's going to be sent home. Which means almost everyone in barracks will lose any hope of realizing their dream. Whereas you-in less than three days you've achieved everything you ever hoped for. Remember that when you see Liu Lian this last time--keep yourself in check and make a good final impression. After all, you never know when you might need her to help you out of a tight spot in the future. Hey-are you listening to me?'

`Yes,' Wu Dawang finally replied. `You've no need to worry, Sir.'

They arrived.

After exchanging salutes with the sentry, they reached the entrance to Number One. The rules about lights-out were not as strict for the Commanders as for everyone else, and the Compound's six residences blazed with light while the barracks were sunk in darkness. The sound of singing drifted out from a radio into the night. Through the familiar iron gate, Wu Dawang could see the vine trellis. With only half its yellowed leaves still clinging to its twisted branches, the pale moonlight spilled through it onto the ground before the house like strips of torn white silk. The grapes had finished some weeks ago but a faint, sour-sweet scent of fruit still hung over the trellis. Wu Dawang inhaled deeply, as if wanting to hold the fragrance inside him. He was preparing to open the unlocked gate when the Political Instructor suddenly pulled him back. `I need your help with something,' he said.

The moon shone bright enough for Wu Dawang to notice the embarrassment on the Instructor's face.

Me, help you?'

`You're the only one who can.'

`I'll help if I possibly can.'

`I can see for myself that you have a special relationship with Liu Lian--you're more than an orderly to her. Just before you leave, could you ask her to speak to the Division Commander for me? You see, they told me today I'm going to be demobilized, and I need her to persuade the Commander to let me stay. In all my years in the Division, I haven't made a single mistake. I've been a model Political Instructor, I've won prizes for my work. I don't mind missing out on promotion, but I need to stay in the army another year or two-any company will do. By the end of next year I'll have been here fifteen years, which means my wife can join me whether I get promoted or not. I'll be completely straight with you: my father-in-law is the Head of Militia in his commune and he only let me marry his daughter because he thought if he sent me off to the army I'd be able to get her a job in the city. I had to write him a prenuptial guarantee, swearing that I'd do whatever it took. Help me out, Wu Dawang, get Liu Lian to talk to the Division Commander.'

Wu Dawang stared at him, too surprised by the similarity between the Instructor's marriage and his own to respond.

His superior smiled awkwardly. `I know I shouldn't have asked, but it was my last chance before you left. You go in and do whatever seems right. If she's got company, forget it, but if she's on her own, try and put a word in for me.'

Wu Dawang glanced across at the flower beds and noted that the flowers-the chrysanthemums and peonies especially-needed pruning. Some plants wanted cutting back to their roots in autumn so that they could store up food for the winter and shoot up again in spring. Before he could share this basic piece of gardening know-how with the Political Instructor, so he could pass it on to the new Orderly, they reached the front door. The Political Instructor stepped forward and announced that he was Reporting for Duty.

Who is it?' they both heard Liu Lian shout out from upstairs.

`The Political Instructor from the Guards.'

Her footsteps creaked softly down the stairs.

It was obvious that Liu Lian was alone in the house. Proving himself to be, after all, a man of tact and sensitivity, the Political Instructor pushed Wu Dawang forward, then retreated into his shadow.

The door opened and Liu Lian appeared dressed in a bright red, knitted nightgown, almost as heavy as a coat. Perhaps it hadn't even occurred to her that Wu Dawang might try to catch one more glimpse of her before leaving her hair was dishevelled, her face sallow with fatigue. More importantly, beneath her robe her stomach protruded slightly, but distinctly. She was clearly pregnant. Suddenly aware of the apparent unseemliness of the situation, she glared at the Political Instructor, who gazed off into the middle distance, pretending not to notice. In awkward silence she and Wu Dawang stood facing each other across the threshold, each waiting for the other to speak. Wu Dawang was bewildered-mesmerized-by the bulge of her stomach, unable to take his eyes off it. At last, with a poke in the back from the Political Instructor, he managed a couple of words. `I'm leaving,' he said softly.