The Beauty of Humanity Movement (133 page)

“Do you have a licence to operate a business?” one of the officers asks without inflection.

T
must confess, no. “We are just helping out a friend for a short time.”

“Helping him run a business.”

“It’s more like a community service,” says T
.

“Where money changes hands.” The officer shakes the tin can on the table, then tips it over, pocketing the money they are collecting to buy a new cart for the old man.

“This is a donation box, comrade,” says T
. “For our friend because he has been in an accident. For the doctor’s bills.”

“And who is this friend of yours?”

“Old Man H
ng,” T
says, then curses himself for having given away the old man’s name.

“Of course,” says the officer. “We should have known.”

“Sir, you have to try this,” T
says, stepping forward with a bowl, remembering how his father had seduced the foreman of the crew at the hotel under construction on West Lake. “It will—”

The officer smacks the bowl out of T
’s hand, sending noodles and broth in the direction of some of his customers, who duck but are not, unfortunately, spared. The old man hears the crash and is thump- thumping above with his cane. “What’s the matter?” he shouts from the second floor.

The officers are up the stairs before T
has a chance to reply. The exodus of customers begins, but not before they voluntarily pay a second time for this morning’s ph
, stuffing coins and damp bills into T
’s hands.

H
ng stares at the yellow ticket in his hands. Three million đ’ông for operating a business without a licence? H
ng is tempted to screw the yellow paper up into a ball and swallow it. To delight in shitting it out the other end. Has anything really changed since the Party’s bold proclamation of greater freedoms? At least he is not on his way to prison right now for calling the officer a machine rather than a man—blind to
the beauty of humanity, cold to the touch. Not long ago the police would arrest you if your brother had committed a crime. They would arrest you for wearing the wrong shoes or receiving a letter from abroad. They would arrest you on suspicion of anti-revolutionary sentiment if you were heard to have complained that the rice you stood in line waiting for all day was full of maggots.