Pathological

by Jinkang Wang

  It truly was a farmer’s meal: steamed chrysanthemum greens, stewed vegetables, twice-cooked pork, mutton noodle soup. Granny Sun’s habit of eating her food while squatting at the kitchen door hadn’t changed, and she wouldn’t move no matter how they tried to drag her to the table. Instead, they had to respect her wishes. The three visitors had almost finished their meal when she broke in from her perch, smiling. “Jin, and Sister Mei, it’s good that you’re here. After the meal, you can help me deal with an important matter.”

  Both Jin and Mei Yin said, “Whatever it is, just ask.” Granny said, “You have to urge this grandson of mine to hurry up and find a wife. He’s thirty-six this year! Sister Mei, try to reason with him. I know he respects you more than anyone in the world. You’re sure to sway him.”

  Before Mei Yin even opened her mouth, Sun Jingshuan blurted out, “Granny, there’s no point asking Sister Mei to persuade me. You’re barking up the wrong tree there—she’s not married herself. In fact, I’m just following her example—I’ve made up my mind that I won’t get married until Mei Yin does.”

  This last line might have sounded like a joke, but Jin could feel a deeper meaning behind it. He figured that Director Mei must be in her forties, quite a bit older than General Manager Sun. But then, she looked young with her simple clothes and slender figure, and would be a good match for Sun. Without knowing how Mei Yin felt, though, it seemed best if he pretended not to notice. Laughing, Mei Yin proclaimed loudly to the old woman, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll be sure to advise him when I have the time!”

  After the meal, Jin said he had to return to the city for an afternoon meeting. The other three walked Jin to the door, and after they’d said good-bye, the county chief walked down the gravel path back to the facility entrance. As he went, Xue Yu suddenly called out, “County Chief Jin, I’ll walk you out. I have something to discuss with you.”

  He caught up, and the two men strolled along the path, wild grass and dried twigs snapping beneath their feet. Jin said, “Xue, what’s up?”

  Xue Yu smiled. “Nothing’s up. I just wanted to leave the two of them alone.”

  Meanwhile, after saying good-bye to Jin and heading back inside, Mei Yin had tried to help Granny Sun with the dishes, which alarmed the elderly woman. “What’s this? This won’t do! How could I allow an honored guest to do any housework!” She insisted on chasing Mei Yin and her grandson into the living room, while she busied herself in the kitchen. Sun Jingshuan poured Mei Yin some tea, then sat opposite, silently gazing at her. “Sister Mei,” he said, “don’t listen to my grandmother. I’ve made up my mind, and unless you’re willing to get married, I’ll stay single my whole life.”

  Mei Yin sighed and said nothing, watching the steam rise from her cup. Sun went on. “The age difference simply isn’t a problem. It’s not like we’re that far apart. I think that’s a kind of destiny.”

  Mei Yin shook her head. “I don’t mind about our ages. That’s not the problem.”

  “Then what is? Can you tell me?”

  She was silent for a moment. “I’m afraid that I’m an unlucky lizard.”

  “Lizard?”

  “There’s a Russian legend about a goddess who protects copper mines and malachite, I can’t remember her name, but her true form is a lizard. She lures young miners into falling in love with her, but brings them only bad fortune—even though that’s not her intention.”

  Sun Jingshuan laughed. “I’m Chinese, I don’t believe in these Russian superstitions. Actually, ever since I joined the Crucifix Society, I’ve been prepared for bad fortune.” He looked straight at her. “Sister Mei, I know you’ve got something on your mind.”

  Mei Yin had intended to keep silent, but with Sun’s gaze fixed on her, she found words spilling out. “When I was thirty, the year before I opened the facility here, I fell in love. He was a Russian, and even though we never formally married, I’ve always regarded him as my husband. Later he killed himself and—his suicide had something to do with me. Since that time, I’ve been unable to get close to any other man emotionally.”

  “Sister Mei,” he answered tenderly. “I guessed long ago that you must have had your heart broken before. It doesn’t matter, I’ll put it back together again very carefully. You know how good I am at fixing things.”

  Mei Yin silently watched this young man, saying nothing, but she had been warmed by his words. If she could have a man by her side, a shoulder to rest on when she grew weary, it would surely lighten the burden placed on her by the Godfather. Sensing the slight change in her attitude, Jingshuan plucked up his courage. He walked to her, sat beside her, and put his arm across her shoulders.

  Mei Yin didn’t stir from his embrace, so he went on to boldly kiss her. She let him, placidly kissing him back, and soon their blood was boiling. His lips awakened urges in her that she’d forced into hibernation for many years now, and they stayed locked in their embrace for quite some time. It was Mei Yin who first calmed down and gently pushed him aside, ruffling his hair and saying, “Jingshuan, I know how you feel, but please give me some time to think it over, and we’ll talk about it the next time I visit. Is that all right?”

  “Of course.”

  “I should go now. The children at the orphanage are waiting for me. Where’s Xue? Is he back yet?”

  “I’m afraid he might be leaving us alone on purpose. He’s rather sneaky.”

  Mei Yin smiled and nodded. Just as she pulled out her cell phone to call him, it rang—an American number. After hearing what the caller had to say, she answered heavily in English, “All right, I’ll be there tomorrow.”

  Hanging up, she turned to Jingshuan. “That was my adoptive father’s personal physician. His heart disease is acting up again, and he’s just gone back into the hospital.”

  “Is his life in danger?”

  “He said they discovered it early, so he shouldn’t be at risk. But then my father’s eighty-six, so it’s hard to say.” She sank into thought for a minute. “Get the office to arrange a plane ticket as quickly as possible. If I hurry to Zhengzhou now, I’ll be able to get the next flight to Shanghai, and from there to San Francisco.”

  Xue Yu knew Ms. Mei would be anxious, so he drove as fast as possible. When they were almost at Nanyang, Mei Yin said, “I think we still have time to stop at the orphanage. The children know I’m coming to Nanyang, and they’ll be waiting to see me.”

  “All right, but we mustn’t stay too long. Better to be a little early to the airport than a little late.”

  The car wound its way through the narrow alleys before finally reaching the orphanage. Hearing the horn, Mother Liu and Mother Chen bustled out, but Xiaoxue was ahead of them, the first to reach the car and fling herself into Mei Yin’s arms the instant she stepped out, shouting, “Mommy Mei, Mommy Mei, you’re back! Mommy Mei, I missed you so much.”

  Mei Yin held her and stroked her face. “I missed my daughter Xiaoxue too.” They snuggled for a bit, then she said, “Say hello to your Uncle Xue.”

  Mei Xiaoxue stared up and said curiously, “Uncle Xue, hello. Do you have the same name as me? I can be Little Snow, and you can be Big Snow.”

  Xue Yu tweaked her nose. “Silly child, not ‘Xue’ as in snow. Xue is my surname. I’m called Xue Yu.”

  Xiaoxue smiled awkwardly and hid behind her Mommy Mei. A dozen or so of the younger orphans who weren’t at school yet came surging out then, clustering tightly around her, babbling loudly like a nest of sparrows. Mei Yin’s face lit up and she hugged every child, then greeted the two mothers. Mother Liu said, “Director Mei, the children have longed for you so much, especially Xiaoxue. Today she specially asked to stay home, and she’s been running in and out the whole day.”

  “I’m so sorry I can’t stay longer,” said Mei Yin. “I got a phone call an hour ago saying my father’s very ill, so I need to hurry back to America. I won’t be able to see the kids who’re at school now, and I won’t be around for the birthday celebration either. Please explain this
to the children for me. I’ll make it up to them. The birthday cake for today’s been ordered, so you should enjoy that, and when I get back from the States I’ll get an even bigger one.”

  Hearing that she was leaving right away, the children stopped smiling. Xiaoxue’s tears began flowing. Mei Yin quickly pulled the girl to her and scolded her. “Xiaoxue, look at you! You’re the oldest of all the children, and I was hoping you’d help me to comfort them. Instead, you’re the first one to start crying. Don’t be sad, I’ll be back in two weeks at the most. I won’t go to Wuhan then, I’ll come straight here and celebrate your birthdays with you. How about that?”

  Mei Yin hugged them all again, said good-bye, and hurried away. As he started the engine, Xue Yu noticed Xiaoxue by the entrance, waving, her eyes once more full of tears.

  The car sped onto the expressway. “Xue,” said Mei Yin. “You’re good with children. Thanks for stepping in earlier.”

  “I’m like the king of the children, wherever I go—I always end up having fun with the kids. Ms. Mei, you can tell that these kids feel very close to you, maybe even more than a birth mother.”

  Mei Yin sighed lightly. “Yes. These thirty-two children bring me a lot of happiness. Whenever anything clouds my horizons, I just come here and the bad mood vanishes right away.”

  “That girl, Xiaoxue, seems especially close to you.”

  “She was the first orphan we took in, even before the orphanage opened. I’ve seen the most of her, so our relationship naturally runs deeper.”

  Mei Yin’s phone rang at that moment. It was General Manager Sun. “Sister Mei, the connecting flight has been arranged, you’ll be in San Francisco by morning the day after tomorrow. Li from the Zhengzhou office admin department will meet you at the airport. Have a good trip, Mei Yin. I’ll wait for you to come back,” he said, his meaning clear to Mei Yin.

  “All right. Thank you.”

  Mei Yin didn’t say a word for the rest of the trip, as her anxiety for her adoptive father grew. In the more than twenty years since she’d left him, she’d only seen him twice. He was an old man. Besides the story he’d told her, of the first time he’d seen her, the memory that was burned deepest into her mind was in Africa, the year she turned twelve, when he brought her there to see the wildlife, the wildebeest herds so vast they blotted out the sun, murderous crocodiles in the rivers, lions glaring at their prey from the grass, vultures shuffling along the ground, not to mention the terrible epidemic in the Yambio region of the Sudan . . . It was after this trip to Africa that her adoptive father became the Godfather.

  Three hours later, they’d arrived at Zhengzhou Airport, where they found young Miss Li waiting for them at the entrance. She handed over the tickets and a little leather case, saying, “General Manager Sun said to get you a change of clothes and some toiletries. It was a rush, but I did the best I could. I hope Director Mei will understand.”

  Mei Yin thanked her. After saying good-bye to everyone, she walked through security with her new leather suitcase.

  September 2016—San Francisco, USA

  Mei Yin arrived in San Francisco on the morning of the third day, where her father’s personal physician, Dr. Kenrick, met her at the airport. The doctor said old Walt had been in grave danger; his heart had experienced tissue death, nearly costing him his life. He was recovering reasonably well, and while he couldn’t be discharged yet, he was no longer at risk. Mei Yin finally allowed herself to stop worrying. Before working at the CDC, her father had taught at the University of San Francisco, so he and his wife had chosen to live here after retirement, in a seaside home by the Pacific. They once joked, “Living here, it feels as if we’re closer to our Chinese daughter.”

  Mei Yin and the doctor sped along Bayshore Freeway to the UCSF Medical Center, where they found Walt still hooked up to a drip, his heart monitor emitting a low, monotonous beep. He was in good spirits, though, propped up in his raised bed. When he saw his daughter come in, he spread his arms wide and grinned. “My little Cassie’s come back!”

  Mei Yin ran to him and gently pushed down his left arm, which had a drip tube coming out of it, before hugging him. “Dad, you scared me. I thought I’d never see you again.” She was a little choked up, but still smiled. “But I was sure you wouldn’t be beaten so easily.”

  Walt smiled back. “I’ll be beaten in the end. No one can overpower the will of God, and I’m an old man of eighty-six. If you don’t get to see me next time you’re back, you shouldn’t be sad.”

  Dr. Kenrick said he’d leave them alone to chat. Mei Yin said good-bye to him and came back to the bedside, where she studied her adoptive father. Although they often saw each other over the Internet, it was only now that she truly realized how old he’d gotten, with sparse white hair and age spots on his face and the backs of his hands. His skin was withered, and his collarbones formed deep hollows. She sighed. “Dad, I shouldn’t have left you, especially after Mom died.”

  Walt waved this away reproachfully. “Don’t say that, there’s nothing wrong with you making your way in China. That was definitely a good move. See how well Heavenly Corp. is doing, the thirty million the Society invested has already increased to one billion. The tens of millions we get in dividends every year is an important source of funds for us.”

  “That’s mostly the work of our general manager—that young man’s done really well. I’ve brought him into the Crucifix Society. He was one of eleven new members. I’ll give you the list later. I hope to have their crosses inscribed by the time I head back to China.”

  “No problem. Of all the countries in the world, we’re expanding the fastest in yours.”

  “It might be as you said, China’s collectivist ideology is well suited to our teachings.”

  Walt gripped his daughter’s hand and asked tenderly, “And your marriage? In your last letter, you said you might be making a decision.”

  “Yes. It’s the manager I just mentioned, Sun Jingshuan. He’s proposed three times now. He’s thirty-six years old, so by the Chinese zodiac, he’s a full cycle younger than me—we’re both born in the year of the tiger. I’ve never dared to say yes, because according to Chinese superstition, one hill can’t hold two tigers, and the marriage would be doomed!” She burst into laughter.

  “Well then, why not make the decision now? The age difference isn’t an issue.”

  “True, it’s not. But if I agree, I’ll have to have at least one child, despite my age, otherwise his granny would die of sadness. After she married into the Sun family, you could say she practically forgot her own surname. Now all she longs for is for the Sun family name to continue. She’s stubborn about it—it’s hard for a Westerner to understand. Even young people in China don’t understand, they think it’s just outdated rubbish. But the way I see it, this too might be in keeping with God’s morality—focusing on the continuation of the species rather than the life or death of any individual.”

  After a moment, she went on. “She’s a good woman, and I respect her a lot. If I decide to accept her grandson’s proposal—or, to put it the Chinese way, to marry into the Sun household—then I couldn’t bear to disappoint her. That’s my only hesitation.”

  “Having a baby in your forties isn’t a problem at all. The oldest mother in the world was around sixty-seven, I think.”

  “I know. I think I’ll make my decision before going back to China.”

  “Child,” said Walt, smiling, “you’re deciding to have a baby because of an old granny who wants a great-grandchild. You may have lived in the States for more than a decade, but you’re fundamentally still Chinese. An American woman would never take all that into consideration.”

  “Yes, that’s true. I didn’t used to think this way, but living in China, there’s a sort of weight in the air that you can’t resist.”

  She continued. “Now, no more talking. Close your eyes and have a rest. You mustn’t tire yourself out or get too excited, it’s bad for your heart.”

  Before he shut his ey
es, Walt said, “This talk of God’s morality reminds me of something. In the last few years, an independent forum called ‘God is Here with Me’ has sprung up. It’s heavy on philosophy, and its viewpoints are mostly quite extreme, but some of the content is brilliant. Everyone posts on the website, though there’s also a regular meeting at a college, once per season, and quite a few people come from abroad to attend. I’ve been a part of it ever since it was founded, trying to find like-minded people, and sure enough, a few have come my way. Why don’t you go on my behalf this time? You can expand on the point about traditional morality for your speech. The gathering is tomorrow, at the UCSF School of Medicine.”

  “All right.”

  He closed his eyes, but said after a moment, “I have another reason for wanting you to go. While you’re there, look out for someone called Zia Baj. He was a student of mine more than ten years ago, an extremely talented virologist, Afghan or Pakistani, I can’t remember, a Pashtun tribal leader’s son from the border region. Anyway, I didn’t stay in touch with him after I retired, but I ran into him a few months ago at one of these meetings. After more than a decade, he’d changed a great deal. His words were—how can I put it? All the speeches at the meetings are very extreme, even heretical, but he seemed to have a sort of bloodlust, too. Keep an eye on him.”

  “You mean . . .”

  “I’m not sure yet. I think this man might be of use to us. Let’s see.”

  The next morning, Mei Yin headed to a conference room at the UC San Francisco School of Medicine. The room held an oval table, with places around it for more than forty people, most of which were taken. Mei Yin found an empty seat, and was greeted politely by those around her. In front of each person was a bottle of mineral water, and in the middle of the table were several inexpensive potted plants. An electronic blackboard stood at one end, and on the lectern was a bow-shaped mask that covered each speaker’s eyes. Her father had explained that this was one of their little rituals. Before speaking, everyone had to disclose their real identity, to show that each speaker was taking responsibility for his or her words. Next, they’d put on the mask, symbolizing a moving away from the subjective, taking an objective standpoint, which is to say, a godly one.