The Far Side of the Night

by Jan-Philipp Sendker

  Gao Gao remembered another contact. Yu Xiang was also a friend from university. When she called, he was in Singapore. He would be back in ten days’ time at the soonest. He’d be pleased to see her next time.

  One more hour to go till they were in Beijing.

  Her last hope was Hong Mei, the daughter of a woman from her church. She visited her mother regularly and also came to their church services, even though she was a Buddhist. Gao Gao always liked talking to her. She was a madwoman. She spent her life saving dogs and cats. She fought for animal rights though even human rights were on shaky ground in China. But she was fearless. She had lain down in front of lorries to block them from delivering cats to Guangdong province for human consumption. She had simply trusted that the driver would not drive over her. Placed his humanity under duress and appealed to it. Total foolishness, Gao Gao thought, if you really considered everything. There was a fine line between courage and stupidity. Last year, Hong Mei had travelled to the famous dog meat festival in Yulin and gone on hunger strike in protest, at the People’s Square. The dog meat eaters had not taken kindly to that at all and she was badly beaten up. The police had intervened to take her to safety in the end.

  Hong Mei recognized Gao Gao’s voice immediately. Of course she could stay overnight with her at short notice. Yes, even with her visitors. It would be quite cramped but for one or two nights it would be no problem. As long as no one was allergic to cat- or dog-hair. She shared her home with twelve pets.

  II

  The city looked dark, almost sinister through the tinted windows. There were hardly any people on the streets and most of those who were walking around had strips of gauze tied over their mouths and noses. Paul could not see much through the windscreen either. By his estimation, the visibility was only a hundred or two hundred meters at most before street lights, traffic lights, buildings, trees, and cars disappeared in a dense gray-brown haze. At first Paul thought it was mist or smoke fumes, but Gao Gao told him that the whole of Beijing was enveloped in a thick cloud of smog. That was normal at this time of year.

  A young woman’s voice was giving her directions on her mobile phone. As far as Paul could make out they were driving north on the first ring road then past Houhai lake and turning off Gulou Dongdajie into a narrow street.

  Her house was in a hutong somewhere between Lamma Temple and the bell tower. He knew the area from visiting Beijing before. If he was not mistaken, the journey from here to the US Embassy would take between twenty minutes and an hour, depending on the traffic. They just had to drive eastward up to the second ring road. It wasn’t far from there.

  Gao Gao drove them quickly and confidently through the city, but had trouble maneuvering the wide van up the narrow alleys. Suddenly she braked hard. The diners at a street restaurant had to get up and move their foldable tables and chairs away in order for her to get through.

  At some point they stopped in front of a gray wall. Someone opened a red gate for them from the inside and it took Gao Gao several attempts to get the mini-van through the narrow entry into the courtyard.

  Paul saw immediately that they could not stay here long. The house consisted of two small cramped rooms and a kitchen. There were cats everywhere. On the table. On the shelves. On the bed. On the couch. Three dogs were barking as if their lives depended on it. They were so small that even David was not frightened of them. The place stank of cat litter. When they were all standing in the kitchen, the room was full.

  They heard a child cough in the house next door. Someone was snoring loudly somewhere. They could hardly have found a worse hiding place. Here the neighbors would know everything.

  “I didn’t know there would be so many of you,” Hong Mei said somewhat helplessly, though not in an unfriendly tone. “But we’ll manage somehow. Are you hungry or do you want something to drink?” Without waiting for a reply, she put mugs and a Thermos flask of tea on the table.

  She pulled a drawer out from under a dresser and took out blankets and pillows. Gao Gao, Christine, and David could have the bed and Hong Mei would sleep on the sofa.

  Zhang suggested that he, Paul, and Da Lin could sleep in the minivan.

  Something in Paul resisted this. He did not want to spend the night without David and Christine. He suddenly had a childlike fear of separation.

  “Should I sleep in the mini-van?” Gao Gao asked.

  “No, no,” Paul said.

  Each of them took a pillow and a couple of blankets and got into the minivan. Paul made a bed for Da Lin on the second row of rear seats. He would sleep in the middle row and Zhang settled himself into the front passenger seat, leaning it back as far as it would go.

  It was chilly in the van. It was going to be a cold night. Da Lin had fallen asleep after only a few minutes. Paul laid his own blanket on the boy as well.

  Zhang sat in front and looked back at them both. “What are we going to do with him?”

  “We’ll take him to his mother tomorrow.” Paul knew that this was not the reply to Zhang’s question. “Or do you have another suggestion?”

  Deep in thought, Zhang chewed at the nail of his little finger. “And what if the police are waiting for us at her place?”

  Paul had not thought of that. Da Lin’s mother was the only lead for the police and her address would be the first place they would look for him.

  “What do you know about her?”

  Paul thought for a moment. “Not a lot. She’s called Yin Yin and from what I understand from Luo, she wanted to go to one of the coastal cities to earn money. She ended up in Beijing and works in a factory here.”

  “Officially? Is she registered in the city?”

  “No idea. Probably not. It would be very unusual for someone in her situation.”

  “If she hasn’t registered then the authorities don’t know where she is. There are a hundred million migrant workers. She could just as well be in Shanghai or Shenzhen. Do you have the name of the factory and her address?”

  “Only her address. And a mobile phone number.”

  “That’s good to know in an emergency. We’ll have to see if the police are waiting for us at her place tomorrow. Maybe I should go first and you should stay with Da Lin in the van to begin with. I’ll attract the least attention.”

  Paul nodded. “And what if . . .?” He did not finish his sentence. There were too many “what-ifs” going through his head.

  What if the police do know where Yin Yin lives?

  What if she’s moved away in search of work?

  What if she doesn’t want her son?

  There were no answers to any of these questions, and he could not expect Zhang to have them either.

  “Tell me, how did you get to Hongyang?”

  “It was difficult. My nephew gave me a lot of money. That helped. Buses. Taxis. Pick-up trucks. And still I had to make a few detours.”

  “What will you do when we’re gone? Will you go back to Shi?”

  “I can’t do that. There are too many people there who know who helped you.” He stroked his thin beard thoughtfully. “I know an abbot in Tibet. He’s the leader of a small, semi-official monastery. It’s very remote. That will be a good place for me to disappear to for a while.”

  “Didn’t you say that you’d had enough of religion in your life?”

  Zhang strained his face into the faintest of smiles. “That’s right. Maybe I’m not strong enough for a life without religion.”

  “I doubt that. I don’t know anyone who is stronger than you are.”

  Zhang did not respond. Paul started feeling the cold.

  “Would you like my blanket? I’m warmly dressed.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Paul wrapped himself in the blanket thankfully. “What don’t you go back to Shenzhen?”

  “What would I do there?”

  The harsh, almost abrasive tone in which Zhang spoke made Paul think that his friend had already thought about this and rejected the idea. He was not
sure if he should say what he was thinking. “Maybe see your son?” he asked carefully.

  Zhang’s eyes narrowed and his lips thinned until they almost disappeared. Paul feared an angry reaction but instead Zhang wrestled with himself for a long time before he replied. “I don’t know . . .” he said at last, and repeated himself. “I don’t know . . .”

  Three words in which there was so much longing and sadness that Paul did not know how to respond.

  He looked out of the window. A door opened and a neighbor staggered into the courtyard. He was clearly drunk and did not notice them.

  Zhang spoke into the silence. “Getting to the embassy doesn’t mean you’ll be safe.”

  “What do you mean? Surely they won’t hand us over to the Chinese police?”

  Zhang tipped his head from side to side. “The policeman is dead. You’re wanted for murder. Or as accessories to murder. The authorities won’t let you leave the country before that is cleared up. There are no witnesses apart from the boy. There could be difficult negotiations.”

  “Do we have an alternative?”

  “No. At least in the embassy you won’t need to fear Chen and his henchmen.”

  Before Paul fell asleep he thought about Christine. He felt such longing for her that it was almost a physical pain.

  When Justin was ill, he and Meredith had turned away from each other without realizing it. When they did become aware of it, it was too late. It was a little different with Christine. He was full of anger and sadness. He did not understand her. Sometimes he wanted to shake her and scream at her. He withdrew but he was not turning away.

  How he yearned to lie down next to her now. To simply put his arm around her and feel her warmth. Her smell. But he was afraid that she didn’t want him to be close to her at all.

  During their journey in the van he had tried several times to stroke her head from behind. She had shrunk back every time.

  Touching her would have made him feel so much better.

  III

  There was only room for one person on the narrow bed but they had squashed onto it anyway. Gao Gao lay next to the wall and fell asleep in minutes, snoring. David lay half on his mother and thrashed around in his sleep. Christine felt too hot. Her whole body itched but it was so cramped on the bed that she could not scratch herself. One of the cats jumped onto a shelf above them in one big leap. She was afraid that it would land on them any moment. A pounding pain crept from her tensed shoulders into her head.

  One of the dogs howled in his sleep.

  She could not stand being cramped any more. She slid out of the bed and lay down on the floor. It was hard and cold.

  She crept into the kitchen to see if there were any chairs that she could place side by side. She found only three stools that were too small to sleep on.

  A clock above the door showed that it was 2:13 a.m.

  She found a pile of old towels that smelled of cats. She took them from the shelf, thinking that she could create a makeshift sleeping place for herself in a corner.

  “Can I help?”

  She turned. Hong Mei was standing behind her.

  “I didn’t mean to give you a shock,” she said.

  “It’s very cramped in bed. I can’t sleep.”

  “Ah, I thought so. You’re welcome to sleep on the couch.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m not tired.”

  Christine was hesitant about accepting the offer. It was the middle of the night. Why was the young woman not tired? What else could she do at this hour?

  “I don’t need much sleep,” Hong Mei added, as if to reassure her.

  “Do you have any pills for a headache?”

  “No, I’m sorry. I never get headaches.”

  “Any painkillers at all?”

  She shook her head.

  “Shall I make you some tea? That might help?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Shall I massage your shoulders?”

  Christine was unnerved by Hong Mei’s helpfulness. What did this woman want from her? “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.”

  There was a grayish-white cat with big eyes on the couch. It jumped up and arched its back as Christine approached. Hong Mei picked it up and carried it into the kitchen.

  The couch was too short but it was fine if she drew her legs up to her chest. She heard Hong Mei making tea and sitting at the table. David murmured in his sleep but Christine could not make out what he was saying. After that it was quiet again.

  She was wide-awake and felt thirsty. She got up and went into the kitchen. Hong Mei was slumped over the table with her head on her arms, asleep. Next to her were a ring binder and a pile of newspaper cuttings.

  Two cats slunk silently around her and watched her every movement with suspicion.

  Christine drank a glass of water and lay down on the couch again. She drew her legs up and pulled the blanket up till it covered half her head. When her eyes finally closed it was already getting light.

  _________

  Hong Mei had bought warm steamed buns and vegetarian dumplings for breakfast. She made tea and unearthed biscuits from a drawer. But no one apart from her and the children had any appetite. Paul and Zhang shared a bun and Gao Gao ate a dumpling and bit into a second one but put it down again, staring blankly into the distance. Christine did not touch anything. No one spoke.

  Paul was standing next to her. She felt his hand on her shoulder but pulled away with the excuse that she was helping David with his meal.

  She had not done it deliberately. It had been her body’s automatic response, not something she had thought about. That made it even worse. She did not want to lose Paul. She did not want to raise a child on her own for the second time. To have a second failed marriage. To go to bed alone once again, to wake up alone. To spend lonely evenings in front of the television. To have no one to satisfy her body’s desires. All the things her mother would say. Everything would be much worse than it had been the first time. She loved Paul more than she had her first husband and David was closer to his father than Josh had ever been. And there wouldn’t be a third chance for her.

  She wanted to talk to Paul. But how was she to explain what she herself did not understand?

  The fear was too enormous. She had crawled into the deepest corner of her soul and left no room for any other feelings. Her strength was ebbing. Under the pressure, she was beginning to crumble, to dissolve, to become another person. The Christine she had known before this journey had disappeared into a thick mist that grew ever more dense.

  IV

  They turned into a narrow street. Da Lin pressed his face to the window in order to see better. He saw a shop selling fruit and vegetables. A tea shop. Stray dogs. A restaurant had put tables out on the street under some trees. A few diners were already sitting there drinking beer and eating. A man squatted by the curb mending his bicycle tire.

  He could not see any policemen or police cars.

  They passed a run-down building with a large neon sign on it. They must have got it wrong. This was not a factory, not as far as he could see. Not even a small one. This was a hairdressing salon. That was emblazoned on the sign. There were several women sitting in front of the salon, all wearing very short skirts and extremely tight T-shirts.

  “Is this the right address?” Gao Gao asked, sounding doubtful.

  “Yes,” Paul said.

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded.

  They drove on, turned right three times and finally stopped in front of the salon.

  “I’ll ask for Yin Yin,” Zhang said.

  “I’ll come with you,” Da Lin said from the rear.

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Paul said.

  “Yes, it is,” Da Lin said, and before anyone could say anything he had opened the door and jumped out onto the street.

  Paul quickly got out of the van. As they walked towards the salon, Da Lin reached out to hold his hand. Both their hands were icy cold.


  “I think we’re in the wrong place,” Paul said. He stood still.

  Da Lin did not reply but tugged him forward.

  The women looked them up and down briefly, not seeming unfriendly, but indifferent.

  “We’re looking for Yin Yin,” Paul said.

  “Who are you?”

  “Friends.”

  “She doesn’t have any friends,” one of the women said. The others tittered.

  “She is my mother,” Da Lin said, in a quiet but determined voice.

  The women fell silent immediately. They looked away and did not speak.

  “Where can we find her?” Paul asked.

  When the women did not answer, he repeated his question politely. When there was still no reply, Paul opened the door to the salon and they went in. It was warm inside and reeked of perfume. Three women were lounging on the sofa staring intently at a large screen. A narrow stairway led to a kind of gallery and there was a curtain in the doorway.

  “We’re looking for Yin Yin,” Paul said again.

  “She’s with a customer,” one of the women said, without taking her eyes off the television.

  They heard low groans and the squeaking of bedsprings from a room at the back.

  Da Lin gripped Paul’s hand and looked up at him. “What do they mean she’s with a customer? Where is my mother?”

  “She’s not here. She’ll be back soon,” Paul said, hurriedly pulling him outside.

  They waited in the car. Da Lin could tell from the grownups’ faces that something was not right. They reacted to what Paul told them with an embarrassed silence. Christine had hugged him. How could his mother have a customer when she was not even there? Or was there another salon where she was working?

  They saw a man leave the salon. Soon after that his mother came out and looked up and down the street.