by Liu Zhenyun
Finally feeling at ease, he threw the blanket aside and got up to open the door.
“You were out all night,” Lao Deng demanded. “What were you up to?”
“I’ve been here all along.” Liu feigned ignorance before putting on a puzzled look. “I don’t often sleep that soundly.”
“Someone’s looking for you, you know.”
“Who?” Liu was surprised.
“Your son. He’s called five times in the last hour. He wants you to pick him up at West Station.”
It wasn’t the people he’d feared, but the news was a bit of a shocker.
“What’s that good-for-nothing coming here for? Why didn’t he tell me?”
“You know I have insomnia,” Lao Deng grumbled. “Well, his calls pretty much ruined a night’s sleep. It’s that bastard Ren Baoliang’s fault. Why did he have to stick the phone in the storage room? I’m going to smash that damn thing.”
It was two in the morning when Liu got to the station. Had it been daytime, there would have been a teeming throng. Now, the square was nearly deserted, with only a few people milling around. But there were plenty of people lying on the ground, sleeping this way and that, some with glaring eyes, some snoring loudly, some grinding their teeth, out in the open for all the world to see. There were yet others who were awake, chewing bread on the steps while glancing around shifty-eyed. Others sat on their luggage, carrying on lackluster conversations that were interrupted by an occasional yawn. A couple from who knows where were standing by a pillar, the woman leaning against it in the arms of her man, who seemed to be biting her.
Liu made three rounds of the square but failed to find his son; now he was worried. It was the dull-witted boy’s first time to Beijing, and he could have gotten lost, maybe even been kidnapped to be sold. Losing his son would be so much worse than losing the pack. His son had probably come to Beijing for his tuition precisely because Liu could not send it after losing his pack. If he now lost his son, it would be because of the pack, and Liu could not stop cursing the thief as he continued his search.
After reaching the western edge of the square, he was about to turn back when he heard someone next to a pillar cough in his direction. He turned and saw his son standing there. It had only been six months since he’d last seen him, but the boy had grown taller and darker, with a bit of stubble in the space above his lips. The boy was bigger too—tall and big, dark and big. The father kept getting thinner while the son grew heavier. No wonder Liu hadn’t noticed him earlier.
But why hadn’t the boy spotted him? Why hadn’t he come out to greet him? Why make his father anxious?
Liu Yuejin was even more surprised to see a woman next to his son. In her midtwenties, she was wearing makeup in the middle of the night, dressed in a halter top over a pair of pink crop pants and sandals. Maybe his son hadn’t noticed his father because he was kissing her when Liu walked by earlier. Liu was confounded by this sudden development, and neither father nor son knew what to say. That turned Liu into a scold.
“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you home studying?”
He immediately regretted saying that, wishing he hadn’t started their conversation this way. His son had come to Beijing because he’d failed to send him the tuition money, so his question was the same as slapping himself in the face. But Liu was in for more surprises.
“Study?” His tall, big, dark, and overweight son came straight to the point. “I won’t lie to you. I quit school three months ago.”
The shock quickly turned to rage, as Liu bellowed:
“You quit? Is that it? Without a word to me.” He was seething now. “Why did you keep asking for tuition money if you’d quit? To cheat your own father?”
What incensed Liu most was the fact that he’d lost his pack because he’d been on his way to send his son the money. Without the trickery the boy had pulled on him, Liu would not have suffered as he had. If not for the woman, he’d have gone up to give the boy a kick in the rear.
“So what have you been doing now that you’re not in school?” he roared.
“Mom told me to go sell liquor with my stepfather.”
This son of his was an endless source of surprises that night. Too proud to take money from his ex-wife, Liu had spent six years working like a dog to support his son, and finally when the six-year period was nearly up, his son went over to his mother’s side without breathing a word to him. Liu had worked for nothing for six years, and his pride meant nothing. He stomped the ground to give force to his resentment.
“You’re switching to your mother’s side? Do you know what she’s like? She was a worn-shoe, a loose woman, seven years ago.” He wasn’t done. “And your stepfather? Know what he does? He sells fake liquor and should have been shot long ago.”
“That was then. Now he makes the real stuff,” his son said coolly. “You don’t have to yell like that. I had a row with them yesterday, so I came to see you.”
“Over what?” Another surprise for Liu.
“Mom had a baby last month, and they’ve treated me differently ever since. I wanted to choke that little bastard, but of course I couldn’t.”
That was the surprise of surprises. His ex-wife and Li Gengsheng had a baby? She was in her early forties and he was likely in his mid-forties. How amazing. Liu was feeling even more distressed now.
“They violated the family planning law. Why doesn’t anyone do something about it?”
While father and son were engaged in their heated discussion, the haltered woman quietly tugged on Pengju’s sleeve. Getting the hint, he changed his tune.
“Oh, by the way, this is my girlfriend, Mai Dangna.”
Putting aside the argument with his son, Liu Yuejin sized up the woman and decided he didn’t like her, and not just because of how she was dressed. She didn’t seem to care how she looked or what others thought of her; clearly she was not the girl next door. He recalled Yang Yuhuan, from the Manli Hair Salon, who had the same attitude toward herself and the world. For a prostitute, it’s okay to have that appearance and bearing, but for his son’s girlfriend, that troubled him. Taking his son to the other side of the pillar, he was savvy enough not to refer to the woman as a prostitute.
“Mai Dangna. Why does that sound so familiar?”
“None of your business. Her parents called her Mai Jie, Wheat Stalks, and it was too rustic for her taste, so she changed it, to sound like Madonna.”
Liu didn’t care about the name enough to pursue the topic.
“When did you two get together?” he whispered.
“Two months ago.” His son looked impatient.
“She looks so much older than you.” Liu was taking the long way round. “She isn’t your girlfriend, is she?”
Ignoring the question, Pengju went back to the girl, followed by his father. She didn’t seem interested in the conversation between father and son. When she saw them arguing, she smiled and came up to Liu Yuejin.
“Uncle, Pengju is always telling me how well you’re doing in Beijing. He had a falling out with his mother, so we’ve decided to see if we can get something started here.”
“Get something started? What is it you want to start?”
“Aren’t you always bragging about sixty thousand yuan over the phone?” his son said. “Well, let’s have it.” He pointed to the woman. “Mai Dangna can do foot massage, so we want to open a foot massage parlor here.”
Liu Yuejin felt like crying. In the past they’d fought over the phone when he couldn’t come up with the money the boy wanted. His son would demand to know if his father really did have the money, which was why Liu brought up the sixty thousand. His son had no idea where the money had come from nor did he know it was only a promissory note. Worse yet, the note had vanished along with his pack.
18
Zhao Xiaojun
Liu Yuejin became homeless the moment his son showed up with his girlfriend.
Father and son argued all the way from the train station to the constru
ction site. Liu Pengju kept questioning his father about the money and Liu, unable to explain the intricate details, eventually said,
“Okay, I have it, but I can’t spend it yet.”
“Why not?”
“It’s in a CD and I’ll lose big if I cash it in now.”
He had said the same thing to his son many times over the phone, which was why Pengju was suspicious in the first place. Liu then grumbled about his son’s actions, not about transferring his allegiance to his mother and her fake-liquor salesman without telling him, but about not getting any money out of that no-account couple. How could he have let them off so easily? Why leave empty-handed after staying with them for three months? It was an empty betrayal, or worse, like losing the rice bait along with the chicken you meant to steal.
“So you’re saying you refused to send me money in order to force me to live with them so I could get money out of them. Is that what I’m hearing?” his son demanded.
“That’s not true.” Liu was deflated. “I just realized that you’ve been exploiting the situation between your mother and me,” he added. Then his anger found another target. “So the man no longer sells fake liquor? He’s making the real thing now, is that it? So he managed to put one over on everyone and become legit, is that what you’re saying? And nobody says a word?”
They went on like that until they reached the site. Liu opened the door and they walked in, luggage in hand. Liu Pengju and Mai Dangna were disappointed by the look of the room, with vats and bottles strewn all across the floor. No one who lived like that could possibly have sixty thousand yuan.
“You’ve been lying to me all these years,” his son complained.
Disheartened, Liu did not respond. He’d begun worrying about the living arrangements. Before he could come up with a solution, his son said gruffly:
“We’re staying here, what about you?”
The surprises just kept coming. His son had already decided he’d be in charge; this was his place and now he was asking where Liu Yuejin would stay. What upset Liu most was his son’s declaration that they would stay in his place, not live together like a couple planning to marry. They were linking up, that was all. Liu was about to erupt when the woman said:
“We don’t want to put you out, Uncle. We can get a hotel room.”
The concession notwithstanding, they were intent upon sleeping together, which meant this probably wasn’t the first time. It was too late for him to do anything about that, and it was very late; he was tired of arguing, so he said darkly:
“You can stay here. I can find a dozen places to spend the night.”
Liu was barely out the door when his son locked it behind him. He turned to see his son’s arms around the woman, as the light reflected their intertwined shadows on the curtain. Then he saw those shadows fall onto his bed before the light was turned off. Rustling sounds emerged from inside, followed by unrestrained moaning and groaning. Liu froze on the spot, not to eavesdrop, but reminded of how eager he’d been nineteen years earlier as a bridegroom. Instead of feeling his age, he was affected by how things could change so quickly.
Walking away from the dining hall, Liu realized he had no place to go. He could easily find a place to sleep—the construction site, for instance—where he could squeeze in among the hundreds of workers; but he didn’t want to go there. He had nothing to say to those men. He’d once been able to shoot the breeze with them, but no longer. They would not be good conversation partners when he had so much on his mind. Besides, they were endlessly inquisitive and had the disagreeable habit of always digressing, either jumping from topic to topic or mixing everything up. The dormitory was no place for him.
But so much had happened in a single day that he needed to talk to someone or he’d burst. If not those workers, who else? Ma Manli at the Manli Hair Salon. It was past three in the morning; she’d surely be in bed and would be upset if he knocked on her door at that late hour. Yet his feet refused to follow his rational train of thoughts and took him up one lane and down another. He could not suppress his joy when, even from a distance, he saw that the lights were still on inside.
By the time he reached the shop, he was in for another surprise; he heard people arguing inside. Through the window he saw it was the same old problem—Zhao Xiaojun, Manli’s ex-husband, was having it out with her. They were alone, since, obviously, Yang Yuhuan was long gone. At first Liu thought that Zhao was there for the thirty thousand Manli’s brother owed him, but not this time. Flushed and unsteady, Zhao was drunk.
“Just this one time.” He had his arms around her and was pushing her toward the room in back. “Just this time.”
So he’d come for sex. This was worse. Even drunk, Zhao was stronger than she was; or maybe he was stronger than usual because he was drunk. In any case, he had picked her up. She was kicking out like a little chick, and since she couldn’t grab hold of him, she held onto the doorframe.
“No fucking way! We’re divorced, so this is rape. Do you hear me?”
“Call it rape if you want.” Zhao was barely coherent. “I’m not letting you off this time.”
They struggled against the flimsy doorframe, and when he tried to pry her hands loose, they crashed to the floor. On his way down, Zhao bumped his head against a stool, which fell apart under his weight. He lay injured on the floor, while she, cushioned by him, was unharmed. She got to her feet and picked up a pair of scissors from the barber’s stand.
“I’ll bury this in you if you ever try that again.”
Still dazed from the fall, Zhao did not understand what just happened, and when his head finally cleared, he noticed the scissors in her hand.
“Okay, we won’t do that, but I want my money.”
So it was about money, after all. Manli refused. “I don’t owe you any money.”
“You’re his sister, so now that he’s run off his debt is your responsibility.”
“He stopped being my brother when he started doing business with you.”
“If you won’t pay me back,” Zhao said as he struggled to get up, “let’s get remarried.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
Finally getting to his feet by holding on to the barber’s chair, he picked up a razor. But instead of pointing it at her, he held it against his own neck,
“I’ll kill myself if you won’t marry me again.”
Liu was dumbfounded, not by Zhao’s threat but by his desire to marry Manli again. Liu had always thought that his frequent visits to the salon were motivated only by money, never sensing that he had other ideas. Why divorce her in the first place then? Manli would have none of it.
“Don’t just hold it there. You have to open the artery.” Then she said, “A tough guy? You don’t look the part.”
Now that she’d seen through him, his embarrassment turned to anger and he ran at her with the razor while she fended him off with the scissors. Knowing that something terrible was about to happen, Liu had no time to think. He kicked open the door, rushed in, and wrapped his arms around Zhao, though he had no idea what to do next in the ex-couple’s fight over money and remarriage. It wasn’t his place to say anything, since intervening had always backfired in the past. All he could do was focus on Zhao’s drunken state by shaking the man and shouting:
“Hey, wake up. Come on. How much did you have, anyway?”
Zhao indeed had had too much to drink and Liu’s action only confused him even further. He slumped in Liu’s arms.
“Who are you?”
Liu didn’t know what to say. It should have been an easy question to answer, but not on this night.
“A friend.” He was evasive, but inside he was cursing. “You owe me a thousand yuan, you dumb fuck.”
Zhao stared at him blankly, unsure what he meant by “friend,” giving Liu the break he needed to take away the razor.
“Let’s go somewhere and talk this out,” Liu shouted into Zhao’s ear.
“W-wh-where?” slurred Zhao.
“S
omewhere where we can get a drink.”
Zhao was elated by the suggestion.
“You mean it? I’m not drunk, you know.”
“I know. That’s why we’ll get something together.”
With that, he managed to get Zhao out of the salon, but had no idea what to do next. As he was walking out, he turned and saw Manli throw away the scissors and slump down tearfully on the fallen doorframe. Once he deposited Zhao somewhere, he’d go back to console her and ask about this divorce and remarriage idea. She’d been cool to him for quite some time, making it hard to bring up these questions, but now he had an excuse and maybe she wouldn’t be so off-putting this time. Liu forgot about his own troubles as he dragged Zhao out to the main road, where he planned to leave him on a bus bench. That would help sober him up and the location would ensure his safety. But even though he was addled by drink, Zhao remembered Liu’s promise. He glared at him when he realized where they were headed.
“Where are we going? You damned liar.” He struggled to turn around. “I’m going back. I’ve got unfinished business.”
Liu had no choice but to keep going. After crossing a couple of intersections, they made it to a 24-hour diner run by a Mongolian. It was called Ordos Restaurant, but had no more than five or six tables. The menu promised Mongolian barbecue, stir-fried beef and mutton, and noodles. Zhao was happy to see that Liu had found a drinking establishment, one that was deserted at such a late hour. The cook was asleep, there were no more hot kebobs or other hot dishes, and the glass case on the counter was home to only some cold vegetarian dishes that were by then tired and wilting. A bow-legged Mongolian girl with bright red cheeks and bloodshot eyes, who’d probably spent half her life on a horse, came up with what food was left and some liquor, after which she returned to the counter and fell asleep. Liu hadn’t wanted Zhao to drink any more, but the man wouldn’t hear of quitting and downed three glasses in a row. Then he wanted to toast Liu, who had no interest in drinking, as he was reminded of his recent troubles, losing one pack and then finding a purse.
