by Cai Jun
As the teaching director, Yan Li could have done things in the library; so he poisoned Liu Man to shut her up. The next day, he could have snuck into my room to plant the bottle with the leftover oleander juice—killing two birds with one stone.
Huang Hai detained me, despite hearing my theory.
So I was a high school Chinese teacher locked up in a tiny, dark cell, right next to killers and rapists. Other prisoners started beating me almost as soon as I arrived. I tried to fight back but was only beaten even worse. When Huang Hai interrogated me, he saw my bruises and asked the warden to give me a new cell. Now I was bunking with common thieves and embezzlers, so I had a fighting chance.
My fiancée didn’t visit me once while I was locked up; my all-powerful future father-in-law was absent, too.
Huang Hai said he’d talked to Gu Qiusha, but he didn’t tell me what was said. I couldn’t guess from his silence. Even though the crowded cell was hot, I had a scary premonition that chilled me to the bone.
Was this punishment for what I’d done that summer?
Friday, June 16.
Huang Hai finally released me. He said he’d been unable to find a connection between Liu Man’s murder and me. No traces of my fingerprints or hair were at the scene. Liu Man’s autopsy didn’t implicate me, either. The police leaned toward the theory that I’d been framed. I almost collapsed into Huang Hai’s arms with relief. The man who’d sent me to prison was proving to be my savior.
After collecting my belongings from police custody, I put on the watch Qiusha’s dad had given me, and I put away my wallet and keys. I finally looked into a mirror: I had a clean-shaven head, dark bags under my eyes, cuts and bruises, and the first white hairs at my temple. I looked like a corpse ready for a coffin, not a twenty-five-year-old man.
Those ten days in jail were definitely the longest ten days of my life.
I spent all my cash after getting out. I had just enough to buy a new shirt. I went to a bathhouse to scrub away all the grime. I rubbed my skin raw with soap. Finally, I was ready to go see my fiancée. Luckily, my bus pass had not been lost.
I rushed to the publishing house where Qiusha worked. The receptionist at the front desk said that Qiusha was in an important meeting and she’d left word that I was to wait for her at home.
Go home?
Half an hour later, I arrived at my newly remodeled apartment. It was on the twelfth floor of a building in the quiet part of downtown. I’d been regularly inspecting the renovation’s progress, but now my keys didn’t work. Nobody answered the door, either. A neighbor lady that heard me knocking came out and said that someone had changed the locks yesterday.
I kicked the door, and then regretted the deep dent I’d caused. This was my home. What was wrong with me? My toes burned as I hobbled to the elevator.
It was summer, and the temperature was over 30 degrees Celsius. All sorts of swampy odors festered on the bus, but that didn’t stop me from almost falling asleep. The dense clusters of buildings outside the window gave way to spotty construction, until finally, a steel factory with smokestacks appeared. The bus stopped on Nanming Road. The school entrance stood between two expansive walls. A brass plaque that read “Nanming High School” hung above the door.
Friday was when the boarding students went home. People were surprised to see me, and no one—teachers and students alike—dared talk to me. I saw Ma Li and his roommates. Even they avoided me. Students faded away from me like a receding tide leaving behind a dry island.
“Mr. Shen, please come to the principal’s office.”
The creepy voice had snuck up behind me. I turned and saw Yan Li. Why was he still here? Shouldn’t he be in jail?
I followed him in silence. As we turned at the staircase landing, he said in a low voice, “That cop, Huang Hai, came looking for me a few days ago. You actually told him what I did?”
I didn’t want to speak to Yan Li. I could guess what his next words might be: Do you have evidence? Any photos? I already talked with the principal about this. Who would believe a murder suspect?
I arrived at the principal’s office still having not said a word. The principal’s face was pale. He kept wiping sweat from his brow. Seven years ago, he’d personally given me the award for fighting the fire. He’d also decided to sponsor me for guaranteed admission to Peking University. Three years ago, he’d stood at the school entrance to welcome me back and give me a place to live. Just last month, he said he’d pay a visit to my future father-in-law.
“Mr. Shen, I am very glad to see you. I announced an important decision today: Based on your immoral conduct and your violations of the ethical code for People’s teachers—and to protect our school’s reputation—we have decided to terminate your position. Effective immediately.”
For a long time I stood like a statue before truly understanding what he’d said. I spit out two words: “Thank you.”
The principal was surprised by my reaction. He exchanged looks with the teaching director before shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but there’s another announcement you need to hear. Top-level administrators have decided to terminate your Party membership as well.”
“Fine. I just want to tell you that I am innocent. I didn’t kill anyone, and the police believe me. Why are you doing this?”
“Mr. Shen—” The principal realized that I was no longer a teacher. “You’re just twenty-five. You have a long road ahead of you. Don’t be discouraged. Everyone has setbacks. You went to an elite university, and you will always be able to find a good job. You might even do better elsewhere.”
“Who decided to terminate my job and Party membership?”
“It wasn’t me. The city’s Education Bureau made the call about your job, and no one at the school disagreed. The Party committee voted unanimously, too.”
“But the Bureau chief just spoke to me last month about grooming me for the future.”
The principal turned his back and sighed. “Things change.”
He was trying to make me leave. I didn’t want to have to beg like a dog.
The teaching director walked me downstairs. He whispered, “Mr. Shen, there’s something else. Your room will only be available to you until Monday night. By Tuesday morning, it will be a Ping-Pong room. Please start packing now. Let me know if you need help with anything.”
I shook for half a minute, my shoulders spasming like the wings of a wounded bird. Finally, I turned to Yan Li with a clenched fist, but he was long gone.
The night wind blew the scent of oleander toward me. I stood for a long time like a dead man. The cafeteria was already closed. Not that I was hungry, anyway.
I returned to my room to find that it had been turned upside down. My books were scattered all over the floor, and students’ homework had disappeared. I was no longer their Chinese teacher. Frantically, I searched for the only possession that mattered to me. I fell to the floor and looked everywhere. I finally found the dim strand of beads in a pile of trash in the corner. Holding it tightly, I carefully cleaned and kissed it.
Next, I restored the room to the way it was before my arrest. Imagining what might happen if I called my fiancée, I thought it best to let Qiusha and her dad have a good night’s sleep.
Lights off. In bed.
In another three days, this bed would no longer be mine.
Who would sleep on that big Simmons mattress in my new apartment?
CHAPTER 7
The next day—June 17, 1995. Early morning.
I changed and took the bus downtown. I wanted to catch them before they left the house.
It was ridiculous to think of it now, but I remembered being so excited and clumsy during my first visit to my girlfriend’s place. I’d carried all sorts of outdated gifts, and Qiusha made fun of me. Her dad was easygoing, however. He talked about the education system’s problems from his perspective as
a university president. Luckily, I was prepared. I showed off my unique point of view, which really impressed him.
At 9:00 a.m., I arrived at the Gus’ home. I tidied my clothes and hair and, with a shaky hand, rang the doorbell.
There was no response, so I ran to Qiusha’s office and learned both father and daughter had left home in one of the company cars. They were supposedly taking a vacation in Yunnan.
I looked up and let the sun sting my eyes as I imagined my fiancée’s face melting out of focus. I’d never in my life wanted to see anyone as much as I wanted to see her in that moment. Had she abandoned me just like everyone else?
I arrived at the six-story apartment building before noon. I pressed the fourth-floor doorbell.
“Who is it?”
A woman in her forties opened the door. She held a spatula and was confused by my unexpected arrival.
“Is Prosecutor Shen Yuanchao home?”
I knew who she was, but she didn’t seem to recognize me.
Before she could reply, a middle-aged man appeared next to her. He frowned and said, “I know why you’re looking for me.”
He pulled me into the apartment and told his wife to keep cooking. Then he sat me down on the sofa and closed the living room door.
“She does know who I am, right?”
“Yes, but she hasn’t seen you for seven years.” Shen Yuanchao poured me a cup of tea. “You don’t look too good.”
“You heard?”
“Shen Ming, does anyone else know what we know?”
His formality made me grimace. Of course that was his biggest worry.
“I’ve never said anything. But for some reason, there was a rumor going around at school last month.”
“It’s obvious that someone is out to get you.”
“They want to kill me!”
Shen Yuanchao paced the living room. “Who else knows?”
“Other than my grandmother and the three people here, no one else knows.”
“Don’t suspect my wife—she would never say anything.”
“That’s not why I came here.” I didn’t know the proper way to ask; I had no choice but to just spit it out: “Can you help me?”
“To vindicate you?”
“The police already let me go. They know I was framed. Others don’t know yet.”
“I’m worried about what I’ll have to do if you were framed and the police send your file to the Supreme People’s Procuratorate to make a case.”
Shen Yuanchao had a face like a hero popular in those 1980s Chinese martyr movies. It disgusted me whenever he said things like this.
“What would you do if I died?”
This made him pause and frown. “What happened?”
I told him about losing my job and Party membership, as well as how my fiancée’s family was avoiding me. I stopped talking when I couldn’t describe what lay ahead for me. I finished my tea and then nervously chewed up and swallowed the tea leaves.
He listened to me calmly before asking, “What have you been doing recently?”
“Not too much. Preparing to get married, renovating our apartment, and helping students with exam prep.”
“Have you been unfaithful to your fiancée in any way?” He patted my shoulder. “You’re twenty-five years old, and you know what I am asking.”
I couldn’t answer while looking him in the eye.
“You’re not telling me everything,” he said.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I can tell you yet. That’s not what I’m dealing with right now.”
“Everything is connected. Trust me. As a prosecutor, I’ve dealt with so many criminals. I know everyone’s motive and what they’re thinking.”
“Give me a break—I am not a killer. I am the victim here!”
“You’re too young to handle this on your own. If you tell me everything, I might be able to save you. This is the only way I can help you.”
I unbuttoned my collar and looked out the window. The sun was beaming down on his Kaffir lily. I shook my head and said, “No, I can’t.”
“That’s unfortunate.” He walked behind me and whispered into my ear. “You remind me of myself when I was your age.” He continued pacing the room. “Are you hungry? You can eat with us.”
Before I answered, he went to the kitchen to let his wife know. It was noon and I had nowhere else to go. The hosts brought out the food. This was the first time I’d ever taken a meal in their home.
Two rumors had circulated about me at Nanming High a few weeks earlier.
The first one involved Liu Man, the prettiest girl in the senior class. She was supposedly having an affair with me. The romantic version had us reenacting a classic romance novel, Outside the Window. The more sordid version claimed that while Liu Man was out sick, she was actually having an abortion.
The second rumor said that I came from a lowly background. That unlike the information recorded in my residency registration, my father who was executed when I was seven wasn’t my biological father. My biological mother was a frivolous woman, and I was an out-of-wedlock child born into shame.
The story about my being born out of wedlock was true. The man who gave me life now sat right in front of me: Prosecutor Shen Yuanchao.
I’d never admitted who he was, however, and he’d never acknowledged me as his son.
His wife had known about this for a long time. She should have remembered who I was. She showed no animosity and instead kept adding food to my bowl. It was the first proper meal I’d eaten since being in jail for those long ten days.
After lunch, Shen Yuanchao walked me downstairs and outside. I didn’t know what else to say. As I prepared to leave, he stopped me with a light hug. The last time he’d hugged me was over ten years ago.
The one o’clock sun was fierce. We stood in the shade of the oleander trees for a moment before he said, “Be careful.” Then as his lips shook, he added, “My son.”
He’d finally called me his son. But I never called him Dad. I nodded awkwardly and left.
This was the last time he ever saw me.
I got back to Nanming High School two hours later. The old man from reception called out, “Mr. Shen, the hospital called—you need to get over there right now!”
CHAPTER 8
My grandmother was fading fast.
It was almost 11:00 p.m., and I was at the Zhabei District’s Central Hospital. The scents of alcohol and disinfectant filled the ER. Under the sickly light, the pale walls revealed human-shaped glob stains. A lonely old man was abandoned on a stretcher, his only company the IV dripping into his veins. When he died, the nurses would ask the on-call doctor to do some perfunctory resuscitation, then he would be sent to the mortuary with disgust. A woman had just been sent in; she was young and pretty and looked like she was in college. Her shiny dark hair draped over the bed, and the scent of her shampoo was still strong. A middle-aged couple trailing the stretcher cried and said she’d taken a whole bottle of sleeping pills. The on-call doctor pumped her stomach. The woman’s mom said, “She’s pregnant” and then proceeded to curse some man. The young woman was unable to throw up the pills. The doctor put out his hands in resignation. Just when the family was about to kneel in front of the doctor, a bunch of people rushed in holding a bloody young man with a knife sticking out of his chest. He looked clean-cut, not at all like a thug. A woman fell upon him and cried, “He’s just a baby, just a baby.” The doctor tried for a few minutes and shook his head, saying, “Prepare for a funeral.”
“He’s just a baby.”
It wasn’t yet dawn. I waited by my grandmother’s side, stroking her white hair until her EKG showed a flat line. The doctor signed the death certificate and left in silence.
This was Sunday, June 18, 1995, at 4:44 a.m. My grandmother was sixty-six years old.
I was ca
lm and didn’t shed one tear. I arranged for everything. By daybreak I was in the hearse. I wasn’t at all afraid to be with my grandmother at the funeral home. I had no other family, and no one else was going to pay attention to an old housekeeper. The family she worked for sent 200 yuan. My fiancée and her family never met my grandmother. There was no need for a memorial. All she needed was for me to say good-bye to her. I was the person she loved the most in this world.
I signed my name so many times that day. Once the final piece of paperwork was filed away, I watched her slight body being sent into the cremation chamber. I thought of the expression “Every hope dashed.”
I picked up her still-hot remains and placed them in the urn, which I kissed. I had no money for a cemetery plot. My hands were covered in my grandmother’s ashes, but I didn’t want to wash them. On my arm I pinned a black sash with a small red patch that showed my grandson status. I boarded the bus to Nanming High.
It was late when I got back, and I was exhausted. As I walked into my room, I noticed that someone else was there, too. I picked up a wooden rod and was about to hit him on the back of the head when he turned and shouted, “Hey, it’s me.”
Yan Li backed away in a panic. Could he be any slower? How could this be self-defense?
He raised a big chain of keys.
“Don’t worry! I’m on call tonight. I was just checking your room.”
As I lowered the rod, he noticed my sash. “Mr. Shen, I apologize—I didn’t know your family had a funeral today.”
I stood at the door and stared at him. If looks could kill.
Yan Li wanted to linger. “Mr. Shen, you still haven’t packed? The workers are coming to set up the Ping-Pong table the day after tomorrow. Can you move out by tomorrow night?”
Nonchalantly, he walked to the desk and fingered my strand of beads.
“Don’t touch that,” I shouted in a rage, charging at him and grabbing his arm. I didn’t expect him to struggle. He may have been in his forties, but he was taller than me, and strong. As we both tumbled to the floor, I heard the strand of beads breaking and scattering.
