The Dark Road (26 page)

‘About an hour ago.’

‘Why did you come here? Where were you planning to stay?’

‘I was just passing through, on my way to the train station.’

‘Education?’

‘Primary school.’

‘Where were you travelling from? Take off your belt.’

‘I’m not wearing one,’ Meili says, slapping Old Wu’s hands as he runs them up her legs.

‘Put all your cash and valuables on the table, then,’ Old Wu says, pointing at her aggressively. ‘If you try to hide anything from me, I’ll fucking kill you!’

‘All I have is the thirty yuan I made from selling eggs this morning. Comrade, can I ask you something?’

‘What?’ the officer behind the desk says, looking up.

‘The sign outside said Custody and Repatriation Centre. So is this a prison? Have I committed a crime?’

‘No, it’s not a prison.’

‘What is it, then?’ Meili says, her voice shaking.

‘It’s a place that houses undesirables like you. We’ve been ordered to evict 300,000 peasants and vagrants from the city before the National Day celebrations next week, and you’ve fallen into our net, I’m afraid.’ He hands her the registration form, tells her to sign at the bottom, then passes her a sponge filled with red ink, two blank sheets of paper and tells her to sign and fingerprint these as well.

‘But there’s nothing written on them. What am I signing for?’

‘None of your business. Just get on with it.’

Meili does as she’s told.

‘Now take her to the warehouse!’ The officer files away the forms, brushes some orange peel from his desk and takes a sip from his mug of tea.

Meili follows a policewoman into a warehouse in the backyard. The interior is dark and cavernous. A single bulb hangs from the high ceiling. There are no beds, just numbered rectangles painted in yellow on the concrete floor. Meili is taken to number 15. A narrow path between the rectangles leads to a large plastic bucket at the far end for the detainees to use as a toilet.

‘Where do we go to make telephone calls, comrade?’ Meili asks a girl with glasses who’s lying on the rectangle next to hers.

‘You’ll have to wait until the morning.’

‘Where do you come from?’ Glancing around her, Meili notices that all the detainees are women. Some are crying, others are eating and chatting, but most are curled up like shrimp on their yellow rectangles.

‘Me?’ the girl says with a look of unease on her face. ‘I’m a graduate. I came to Changsha to find work.’

‘Ah, you must be very knowledgeable then. So can you tell me, is this a prison?’

‘Look at point number 8 of the notice on the wall: “Voluntarily confess your crimes and expose the crimes of others.” So it’s obvious they consider us to be criminals.’

‘I’ve only had one baby out of quota,’ Meili says. ‘Is that enough to get me locked up?’

‘It’s nothing to do with family planning. You’re here because you’re a peasant, and peasants aren’t allowed in the cities unless they have a temporary urban residence permit. Surely you know that?’

A female correctional officer sticks her head round the door and shouts, ‘Shut up and lie down, you scum. The light goes out in five minutes!’

‘I beg you, government lady, let me go home,’ a voice cries out. ‘My son’s alone in the flat. What if he walks onto the balcony and falls over the rails?’

‘You can’t just abduct people in broad daylight and lock them up for no reason,’ another woman says. ‘You’re behaving like gangsters.’

‘I’m not a peasant. I was just having a meal in a restaurant after work. Is that against the law now? Please let me go. Look, I have a train ticket to Guangzhou. It’s leaving in two hours. My uncle will be waiting at the other end to collect me.’ This girl has a fashionable bob and a smart dress and could easily pass for a city dweller were it not for her thick rural accent.

‘It’s strange that they should arrest you – you don’t look like a peasant at all,’ Meili says to the graduate, then scans the room again while the light is still on, breathing the unfamiliar, pungent smells of perfume and unwashed bodies. The graduate looks away, her expression blank. ‘So, when were you arrested?’ Meili asks her.

‘Three days ago,’ she replies. ‘There’s no one in this city who can help me. I warn you, if your family or friends don’t bail you out, you’ll be sent to a labour camp for three months. You must phone someone and ask them to rescue you.’

‘No, I’m a family planning fugitive. If any of my relatives turn up here, they’ll have to confirm my identity, and I’ll be sent back to the village and be forced to pay a huge fine.’

‘To think that we’re illegal residents in our own country!’ the graduate says, sitting up and smoothing her hair back. ‘God, what a stench. This place is a cesspit.’

‘It’s much nicer than the hut I’ve been living in,’ Meili says, scratching a loose flake of paint from her yellow rectangle. ‘It doesn’t smell nearly as bad as our duck enclosure, and there are fewer mosquitoes here, too. I wouldn’t mind staying a few days. But I’m worried about my daughter. My husband just sits down and drinks beer all evening. What will they eat?’

‘How old-fashioned you are. Don’t worry about them! What about you?’

‘Well, as Confucius said: “Men are the sky, women are the earth.”’

‘Patriarchal nonsense! Just wait until he leaves you for another woman.’

‘Only men from the cities behave like that. We peasants are much more traditional. My husband would never leave me.’

‘How do you know? There are no certainties in life. I never imagined my boyfriend would leave me and I’d end up having to sell my body.’

‘You’re a prostitute?’ Meili says in disbelief.

‘Yes. They arrested me while I was talking to a client in a hotel lobby. Look at point number 10: “Individuals involved in prostitution and whoring will undergo re-education and reform through labour for a period of six months to two years.” That’s what I’m heading for.’

‘But you wear glasses. You’re a graduate, for goodness’ sake! How did you get into this mess?’ The light is turned off. Meili smells a whiff of dirty nylon socks that reminds her of Kongzi. She still hates him for giving Waterborn away, but understands what drove him to it. If she were released now, she’d rush back to the hut and demand that he bring Waterborn home.

‘I came to Changsha last year to look for my boyfriend and tell him I was pregnant with his child,’ the graduate explains. ‘But when I found him, I discovered he was engaged to someone else. I was so distraught I went straight to a backstreet clinic and had an abortion. Love only strikes once – when it dies, you’re a walking corpse. After the abortion, I was too ashamed to go home. I ran out of money and needed to find work. I didn’t care what I did.’

‘How dreadful,’ Meili says, trying to find words to console her. Her eyes have become accustomed to the dark, and she can see the small flowers embroidered on the collar of the graduate’s blouse.

‘These custody centres are just moneymaking rackets,’ the graduate says. ‘If you can’t find anyone to pay your bail, local crooks will pay it for you, at a discounted rate, then sell you for double the price to village police who run labour camps up in the mountains. You’re forced to work on the fields for three months for no pay. They call it the “bail trade”. The city authorities get the bail money, the crooks make enough to build themselves villas in the countryside, and the village police can retire early on the profits from the labour camps. So everyone’s happy.’

‘Why’s the bail so high?’ Meili says, then thinks about the thirty yuan that the police confiscated from her.

‘They charge thirty yuan a night. It’s more expensive than a hotel! Then there’s the urban beautification fee, management fee, meals. If you can’t pay the bail, you’ll just have to come along with me to the labour camp.’

‘How will my husband and daughter cope on their own for all that time?’ Meili says, regretting her impetuous decision to storm off.

‘If your husband comes to bail you out, he’ll have to hand over at least a thousand yuan,’ the graduate says, shifting to the side so that Meili can share some of her mat. Then she opens her handbag and takes out a mobile phone.

‘Is there really no one in this city you can call?’ Meili asks, her eyes drawn to the phone. Until now, she’s only ever seen one on the television.

‘There’s no point calling anyone. This is the second time I’ve been caught for soliciting. I was allowed to pay my bail the first time, but this time they won’t take my money. Prostitutes are only given one chance.’

‘My parents could never raise a thousand yuan. They wouldn’t even be able to afford the train ticket here. And I don’t want to ask my husband to bail me out. I stormed off in a fit of anger. It would be too humiliating to have to beg him to come to fetch me . . . Tell me, what’s your name?’

‘Wang Suya.’

‘I’m Meili. I’ve never spoken to a university graduate before. Is that a mobile phone you have there?’

‘Yes. It cost me four thousand yuan. But the battery only lasts two hours. Have a look if you like.’

Meili takes the phone, presses it to her ear, then rolls it around in her hands. ‘Amazing,’ she says, giving it back to her. Through the darkness, Meili can see that the woman on her right is doubled up in pain. ‘What’s the matter with her?’ she asks Suya.

‘She’s had diarrhoea for three days. And the guards have the gall to say she’s faking . . .’

Meili leans over and shakes the woman’s arm. ‘Sister, you should go to hospital and get some medicine.’

‘Poor thing,’ Suya says. ‘The officers beat her up before she’d even had a chance to sign the registration form . . .’

The woman opens her eyes and whispers to Meili, ‘You’re a mother, aren’t you? I can tell you, then. I’m six months pregnant. When I arrived, the officers asked me to give them telephone numbers. I told them my village doesn’t have electricity, let alone a phone connection. So they punched me and kicked me in the belly. I think they killed my baby. I can’t feel it moving any more.’

‘They beat you up just because you couldn’t give any numbers?’ Meili says, wondering which ones she’d give if they asked. If she could remember Weiwei’s number, she’d phone him right now and ask him to rescue her. She doesn’t have any numbers for Guai Village, so she wouldn’t be able to contact Kongzi, even if she wanted to. The only number she can remember is Kong Zhaobo’s, but if she gave it to the police, they’d find out her history and send her back to Kong Village. She’s relieved she didn’t put her parents’ address on the registration form. Closing her eyes, she realises that this is the time she would be giving Waterborn her last feed. Her breasts feel tender, swollen, and as hard as rock. The sweet-smelling milk leaking from her nipples has drenched the front of her shirt. She rolls onto her side and squeezes the milk out onto the concrete floor to relieve the pain.

KEYWORDS:
stone cold, follow the chicken, urban residence permit, white cotton scarf, green breeze, re-education through labour.

WHEN THE BUS
leaves the Custody and Repatriation Centre’s cement-walled compound, Meili has a sense of freedom. She’s reminded of the day they took Weiwei down the Xi River, when the wind blew through her hair and sleeveless dress and the hot sun shone on her arms . . . Outside the window, busy crowds jostle along the pavements, past concrete-bordered flower beds crammed with pink and red chrysanthemums. A mother in a short denim skirt pushes a pram past a bridal portrait studio. A young couple in white stand hand in hand waiting for the pedestrian lights to turn green. Sunlight spills onto trees, asphalt roads and parasols shading ice-cream carts, and swirls between passing cars and a department store’s revolving glass doors. Everyone looks happy and bright as they shop for this evening’s National Day celebrations.

A man at the back of the bus shouts, ‘See that tall glass building over there? Our team of workers from Henan built that.’

‘And that’s the orange crane I operate. Look, my hat’s still on the dashboard!’

‘I work in that office next to the Starbucks,’ says a woman on the seat behind. Then spotting a colleague crossing the street, she bangs on the window and shouts: ‘Li Na! It’s me! Tell the boss I’ve been detained!’

‘Shut your mouths!’ the burly man at the front shouts, jumping to his feet.

‘This area’s nothing special,’ Suya says, noticing the look of wonder on Meili’s face. ‘See that TV tower? All the grand hotels and office blocks are there. A guest at one of those hotels offered me three thousand yuan to spend the night with him.’

‘I don’t want to hear about that,’ Meili says, feeling uncomfortable. ‘This city’s so huge. I bet it would take two days just to walk from one end to the other.’ She stares at the succession of shop windows, mesmerised by the televisions, leather sofas, denim jackets, high-heeled shoes, brogues, satin slippers . . . ‘I’d love to walk down this street. Not to buy anything, just to gaze into the windows.’

‘If you did what I do, in one year you’d have enough money to open a beauty salon, just like that one,’ Suya says, pointing to a window with a poster of a woman with long blonde hair, lying in a bath filled with bubbles.

‘I have a husband, and even if I didn’t, I’d still never do what you do.’

‘Why did you run away, then, if he’s so important to you? Why waste your youth living with a man you don’t love?’

Meili stays silent. Last night, she said to Suya, ‘I’ll never divorce Kongzi. As the saying goes: If you marry a chicken, you must follow the chicken.’ Suya laughed and told her she was a fool.

When the bus leaves the city, a green breeze carrying the scent of bamboo and wild grass blows in through the open window. Meili hasn’t washed for days, so she turns her face to it and inhales large draughts. The patches of leaked milk on her shirt begin to dry. When travelling by bus, the city and the countryside are only a few minutes apart, but for a peasant the distance always feels insurmountable. Meili is frustrated that although she’s not pregnant, she’s still considered to be a criminal for daring to enter a city. Her dream of living a modern urban life seems remote and unattainable.

At dusk, the bus reaches a village high in the hills and stops outside a compound of brick buildings. The two wooden signs outside the gate say
YANG VILLAGE POLICE STATION
and
YANG VILLAGE LABOUR CAMP
. In the setting sun they seem cast in bronze.