Lilly thought back to the drawings from a day earlier. “That's the character for fire."
Mr. Kan nodded. “You are a very smart girl."
"So this is a character for roasting mutton over fire?"
"Yes. But when ‘fire’ is on the bottom of a character, usually we change its shape to show that it's cooking at low heat. Like this."
* * * *
* * * *
"Originally, roasted lamb was an offering to the gods, and this character, kao, came to mean lamb in general."
"Like a sacrificial lamb?"
Mr. Kan nodded. “I guess so. We had no training and no support, and we lost more than we won. Behind you, officers with machine guns would shoot you if you tried to run. In front of you, the Japanese charged at you with bayonets. When you used up your bullets you looked for more from your dead comrades. I wanted revenge for my dead family, but how could I get my revenge? I didn't even know which Japanese soldiers killed them.
"That was when I began to understand another kind of magic. Men spoke of the glory of Japan and the weakness of China, that Japan wants the best for Asia, and that China should accept what Japan wants and give up. But what do these words mean? How can Japan want something? ‘Japan’ and ‘China’ do not exist. They are just words, fiction. An individual Japanese may be glorious, and an individual Chinese may want something, but how can you speak of ‘Japan’ or ‘China’ wanting, believing, accepting anything? It is all just empty words, myths. But these myths have powerful magic, and they require sacrifices. They require the slaughter of men like sheep.
"When America finally entered the war, I was so happy. I knew that China was saved. Ah, see how powerful that magic is, that I can speak of these nonexistent things as though they are real. No matter. As soon as the war with Japan was over, I was told that we Nationalists now had to fight the Communists, who were our brothers-in-arms just days earlier against the Japanese. The Communists were evil and had to be stopped."
Mr. Kan wrote another character.
* * * *
* * * *
"This is the character yi, which used to mean ‘righteousness,’ and now also means ‘-ism,’ as in Communism, Nationalism, Imperialism, Capitalism, Liberalism. It's formed from the character for ‘sheep,’ which you know, on top, and the character for ‘I,’ on the bottom. A man holds up a sheep for sacrifice, and he thinks he has truth, justice, and the magic that will save the world. It's funny, isn't it?
"But here's the thing, even though the Communists had even worse equipment than we did, and less training, they kept on winning. I couldn't understand it until one day, my unit was ambushed by the Communists, and I surrendered and joined them. You see, the Communists really were bandits. They would take the land from the landlords and distribute it to the landless peasants, and this made them very popular. They couldn't care less about the fiction of laws and property rights. Why should they? The rich and educated had made a mess of things, so why shouldn't the poor and illiterate have a chance at it? No one before the Communists had ever thought much of the lowly peasants, but when you have nothing, not even shoes for your feet, you are not afraid to die. The world had many more people who were poor and therefore fearless than people who were rich and afraid. I could see the logic of the Communists.
"But I was tired. I had been fighting for almost a decade of my life, and I was alone in the world. My family had been rich, and the Communists would have killed them too. I did not want to fight for the Communists, even if I could understand them. I wanted to stop. A few friends and I slipped away in the middle of the night, and stole a boat. We were going to try to get to Hong Kong and leave all this slaughter behind.
"But we did not know navigation, and the waves took us into the open sea. We ran out of water and food and waited to die. But a week later, we saw land on the horizon. We rowed with our last bits of strength until we came ashore, and we found ourselves in Taiwan.
"We swore each other to secrecy about our time with the Communists and our desertion. We each went about our own ways, determined to never have to fight again. Because I was good with the abacus and the brush, I was hired by a Taiwanese couple who owned a small general store, and I kept their books and ran the place for them.
"Most of Taiwan had been settled by immigrants from Fukien several centuries earlier, and after Japan took Taiwan from China in 1885, the Japanese tried to Japanize the island, much as they had done in Okinawa, and remake the penshengjen into loyal subjects of the Emperor. Many of the men fought in Japan's armies during the war. After Japan lost, Taiwan was to be given back to the Republic of China. The Nationalists came to Taiwan and brought a new wave of immigrants with them, the waishengjen. The penshengjen hated the Nationalist waishengjen, who took away the best jobs, and the Nationalist waishengjen hated the penshengjen, who had been traitors to their race during the war.
"I was working in the shop one day, when a mob gathered in the streets. They shouted in Fukienese, and so I knew they were penshengjen. They stopped everyone they met, and if the person spoke Mandarin, they knew him to be a waishengjen and attacked him. There was no reasoning and no hesitation. They wanted blood. I was terrified and tried to hide under the counter."
* * * *
* * * *
"The character for ‘mob’ is formed from the character for ‘nobility’ on one side and the character for ‘sheep’ on the other. So that's what a mob is, a herd of sheep that turns into a pack of wolves because they believe themselves to be serving a noble cause.
"The penshengjen couple tried to protect me, saying that I was a good man. Someone in the mob shouted that they were traitors, and attacked all of us and burned the shop down. I managed to crawl out of the fire, but the couple died."
"They were my uncle and aunt,” Teddy said. Mr. Kan nodded and put a hand on his shoulder.
"The penshengjen rebellion began on February 28, 1947, and lasted for months. Because some of the rebels were led by Communists, the Nationalists were especially brutal. It took the Nationalists a long time to finally put down the rebellion, and thousands were killed.
"In those killings a new kind of magic was born. Now, no one is allowed to talk about the 228 Massacre. The number 228 is taboo.
"I took Teddy in after his parents were executed for trying to commemorate that day. I came here, away from the city, so that I could live in a small cottage and drink my tea in peace. The villagers respect those who have read books, and they come to me to ask my advice on picking names for their children that will bring good fortune. Even after so many men died because of a few magic words, we continue to have faith in the power of words to do good.
"I have not heard from my baby sister for decades. I believe she is still alive on the mainland. Someday, before I die, I hope to see her again."
The three sat around the table, and no one said anything for a while. Mr. Kan wiped his eyes.
"I'm sorry to have told you such a sad story, Lilly. But the Chinese have not had happy stories to tell for a long time."
Lilly looked at the paper before Mr. Kan, filled with characters made from sheep. “Can you look into the future? Will there be good stories then?"
Mr. Kan's eyes brightened. “Good idea. What character should I write?"
"What about the character for China?"
Mr. Kan thought about this. “That's a difficult request, Lilly. ‘China’ may be a simple word in English, but it is not so easy in Chinese. We have many words for China and the people who call themselves Chinese. Most of these words are named after ancient dynasties, and the modern words are empty shells, devoid of real magic. What is the People's Republic? What is the Republic? These are not true words. Only more altars for sacrifices."
After thinking some more, he wrote another character.
* * * *
* * * *
"This is the character hua, and it is the only word for China and for the Chinese that has nothing to do with any Emperor, any Dynasty, anything that demands slaught
er and sacrifice. Although both the People's Republic and the Republic put it in their names, it is far older than they and belongs to neither of them. Hua originally meant ‘flowery’ and ‘magnificent,’ and it is the shape of a bunch of wildflowers coming out of the ground. See?
"The ancient Chinese were called huajen by their neighbors because their dress was magnificent, made of silk and fine tulle. But I think that's not the only reason. The Chinese are like wildflowers, and they will survive and make joy wherever they go. A fire may burn away every living thing in a field, but after the rain the wildflowers will reappear as though by magic. Winter may come and kill everything with frost and snow, but when spring comes the wildflowers will blossom again, and they will be magnificent.
"For now, the red flames of revolution may be burning on the mainland, and the white frost of terror may have covered this island. But I know that a day will come when the steel wall of the Seventh Fleet will melt away, and the penshengjen and the waishengjen and all the other huajen back in my home will blossom together in magnificence."
"And I will be a huajen in America,” Teddy added.
Mr. Kan nodded. “Wildflowers can bloom anywhere."
* * * *
Lilly didn't have much of an appetite for dinner. She had had too much fish and mutton stew.
"Well, this Mr. Kan is no true friend of yours, if he's going to ruin your appetite with snacks,” said Mom.
"It's all right,” said Dad. “It's good for Lilly to make some native friends. You should invite them over for dinner sometime. Mom and I should get to know them if you are going to spend a lot of time with this family."
Lilly thought this a splendid idea. She couldn't wait to show Teddy her Nancy Drew books. She knew that he'd like the beautiful pictures on the covers.
"Dad, what does ‘thalassocracy’ mean?"
Dad paused. “Where did you hear that word?"
Lilly knew that she wasn't supposed to look at things from Dad's work. “I just read it somewhere."
Dad stared at Lilly, but then he relented. “It comes from the Greek word for sea, thalassa. It means ‘rule by the sea.’ You know, like ‘Rule, Britannia! Rule the waves.’”
Lilly was disappointed at this. She thought Mr. Kan's explanation was much better, and said so.
"Why were you and Mr. Kan talking about thalassocracy?"
"No reason. I just wanted to see him do some magic."
"Lilly, there's no such thing as magic,” Mom said.
Lilly wanted to argue but thought better of it.
"Dad, I don't understand why Taiwan is free if they can't talk about 228."
Dad put down his fork and knife. “What did you say?"
"Mr. Kan said that they can't talk about 228."
Dad pushed his plate away and turned to Lilly. “Now, from the beginning, tell me everything that you talked about with Mr. Kan today."
* * * *
Lilly waited by the river. She was going to invite Teddy and Mr. Kan to come for dinner.
The village boys showed up, one after another, with their water buffalo. But none of them knew where Teddy was.
Lilly got into the river and joined the boys as they splashed water on each other. But she couldn't help feeling uneasy. Teddy always showed up at the river after school to wash Ah Huang. Where was he?
When the boys started to go back to the village, she went with them. Maybe Teddy was sick and stayed home?
Ah Huang was pacing in front of Mr. Kan's cottage, and he snorted at Lilly when he saw her, coming closer to nuzzle her as she petted his forehead.
"Teddy! Mr. Kan!” There was no answer.
Lilly knocked on the door. No one answered. The door was not locked, and Lilly pushed it open.
The cottage had been ransacked. The tatami mats were overturned and slashed apart. Tables and chairs were broken and the pieces scattered around the cottage. Pots, broken dishes, chopsticks littered the floor. There were papers and torn books everywhere. Teddy's baseball bat was carelessly lying on the ground.
Lilly looked down and saw that Mr. Kan's magic mirror had been shattered into a thousand little pieces scattered about her feet.
Did Communist bandits do this?
Lilly ran to the neighboring houses, frantically knocking on their doors and pointing at Mr. Kan's cottage. The neighbors either refused to answer the door or shook their heads, their faces full of fear.
Lilly ran home.
* * * *
Lilly could not sleep.
Mom had refused to go to the police. Dad was working late, and Mom said if it wasn't just Lilly's imagination and there really were bandits about, then the best thing to do was to stay home and wait for Dad to come back. Eventually, Mom sent Lilly to bed because it was a school night, and she promised that she would tell Dad about Mr. Kan and Teddy. Dad would know what to do.
Lilly heard the front door open and close, and the sound of chairs sliding on the tile floor in the kitchen. Dad was home, and Mom was going to heat up some food for him.
She knelt on her bed and opened the window. A cool, humid breeze carried the smell of decaying vegetation and night-blooming flowers into the room. Lilly crawled out the window.
Once she landed on the muddy ground, she quietly made her way around the house to the back, where the kitchen was. Inside, Lilly could see Mom and Dad sitting across from each other at the kitchen table. There was no food on the table. In front of Dad was a small glass, and he poured an amber liquid into it from a bottle. He drained the glass in one gulp, and filled it again.
The bright, golden light inside the kitchen cast a trapezoid of illumination upon the ground outside the kitchen window. She stayed beyond its edge, and crouched below the open window to listen.
Amidst the sound of the fluttering wings of moths striking against the screened window, she listened to her father's voice.
* * * *
In the morning, David Cotton told me that the man I had referred to them had been arrested. If I wanted to, I could go help with the interrogation. I went over to the detention compound with two Chinese interrogators, Chen Pien and Li Hui.
"He's a tough nut to crack,” Chen said. “We've tried a few things, but he's very resistant. We still have some heightened interrogation techniques we can try."
"The Communists are very good at psychological manipulation and resistance,” I said. “It's not surprising. We need to get him to tell us who his accomplices are. I believe he came to Taiwan with a team of operatives."
We got to the holding cell, and I saw that they had worked him over pretty good. Both of his shoulders had been dislocated, and his face was bloody. His right eye was swollen almost completely shut.
I asked that he be given some medical attention. I wanted to have him understand that I was the kind one, and that I could protect him if he trusted me. They fixed his shoulders and a nurse bandaged his face. I gave him some water.
"I'm not a spy,” he said, in English.
"Tell me what your orders were,” I said.
"I don't have any orders."
"Tell me who came to Taiwan with you,” I said.
"I came to Taiwan alone."
"I know that's a lie."
He shrugged, wincing with the pain.
I nodded to Chen and Li, and they started pushing small, sharpened bamboo sticks under his fingernails. He tried to stay silent. Chen began to hit the base of the bamboo sticks with a small hammer, as though he were hammering nails into a wall. The man screamed like an animal. Eventually he passed out.
Chen hosed him down with cold water until he woke up. I asked him the same questions. He shook his head, refusing to talk.
"We just want to talk to your friends,” I said. “If they are innocent, nothing will happen to them. They won't blame you."
He laughed.
"Let's try the Tiger Bench,” Li said.
They brought over a narrow long bench and laid one end against a supporting column in the room. They sat him down on the bench
so that his back was straight against the column. Bending his arms back and wrapping them around the column, they tied his hands together. Then they strapped his thighs and knees down to the top of the bench with thick leather straps. Finally, they tied his ankles together.
"We'll see if Communists have knees that can bend forward,” Chen said to him.
They lifted his feet and placed a brick under his heels, then another one.
Because his thighs and knees were strapped tight to the bench, the bricks forced his feet and lower legs up and began to bend his knees at an impossible angle. Sweat dripped from his face and forehead, mixed with the blood from his wounds. He tried to squirm along the bench to relieve the stress on his knees but there was nowhere to go. His rubbed his arms, moving them up and down helplessly on the column until he broke the skin on his wrists and arms and blood streaked the whitewash on the column.
They put in another two bricks, and I could hear the bones in his knees crack. He began to moan and shout, but said nothing that we wanted to hear.
"I can't stop this if you won't talk,” I said to him.
They brought in a long wooden wedge and pushed the thin end under the brick at the bottom. Then they took turns to strike a hammer against the thick end of the wedge. With each strike, the wedge moved in a little under the bricks and lifted his feet higher. He screamed and screamed. They forced a stick into his mouth so he wouldn't bite down on his tongue.
"Just nod if you are ready to talk."
He shook his head.
Suddenly, his knees broke at the next hammer strike, and his feet and lower legs jumped up, the broken bones sticking through the flesh and skin. He fainted again.
I was getting nauseous. If the Communists could train and prepare their agents to this degree, how could we possibly hope to win this war?
"This is not going to work,” I said to the Chinese interrogators. “I have an idea. He has a grandson. Do we have him?” They nodded.
We brought the doctor in again to bandage his legs. The doctor gave him an injection so that he would stay awake.
"Kill me, please,” he said to me. “Kill me."
FSF, September-October 2010 Page 23
