Хеннинг Манкелль - The Man from Beijing

Hong Qiu was sitting backwards on her horse as it trotted into the future. Ya Ru knew that she would fail.

‘We will never become enemies,’ he said. ‘The members of our family were pioneers when they first set out to escape decadence and decay. It’s just that we have different views on the methods that should be used. But of course I don’t bribe anyone, just as I don’t allow anyone to buy favours from me.’

‘All you think about is yourself. Nobody else. I find it hard to believe that you’re telling me the truth.’

Ya Ru was angry. ‘What were you thinking sixteen years ago when you applauded the old men leading the party who ordered the tanks to crush the protesters in Tiananmen Square? What were your thoughts then? Did it occur to you that I might well have been one of them? I was twenty-two at the time.’

‘It was necessary to take action. The stability of the whole country was threatened.’

‘By a thousand students? Come off it, Hong Qiu. You were afraid of something quite different.’

‘What?’

Ya Ru leaned forward and whispered to his sister. ‘The peasants. You were afraid they would turn out in favour of the students. Instead of starting to think about new ways forward for our country, you turned to weapons. Instead of solving a problem, you tried to conceal it.’

Hong Qiu didn’t answer. She looked her brother unblinkingly in the eye. It occurred to Ya Ru that they both came from a family that only a couple of generations ago would never have dared to look a mandarin in the eye.

‘You should never smile at a wolf,’ said Hong Qiu. ‘If you do, the wolf thinks you mean to attack.’

She stood up and placed a parcel tied with a red ribbon on the table.

‘I’m worried about where you’re headed, my little brother. I shall do all I can to make sure our country is not transformed in a way that will shame us. The big class struggle will return. Whose side are you on? Your own, not the people’s.’

‘What I’m wondering at the moment is which of us is the wolf,’ said Ya Ru.

He started towards his sister, but she turned away and left. She stopped in front of the blank wall. Ya Ru walked over to his desk and pressed the button that opened the hidden door.

He returned to the table and unwrapped the parcel Hong Qiu had given him. It contained a little box made of jade. Inside the box was a white feather and a stone.

It was not unusual for him and Hong Qiu to exchange gifts incorporating private riddles or messages. He understood instantly what her gift meant. It referred to a poem by Mao. The feather symbolised a life thrown away, the stone a life — and a death — that had significance.

My sister is warning me, Ya Ru thought. Or perhaps challenging me. Which path shall I choose to follow for the rest of my life?

He smiled at her present and decided that for her next birthday he would commission a handsome wolf carved from ivory.

He respected her stubbornness. She really was his sister, as far as strength of character and willpower were concerned. She would continue to oppose him and those in the government who followed the same path. But she was wrong to condemn the developments he supported, which would once again transform China into the most powerful country in the world.

Ya Ru sat down at his desk and switched on the lamp. He slid a pair of white cotton gloves onto his hands very carefully. Then he began once more leafing through the book Wang San had written and that had been passed down through the family from generation to generation. Hong Qiu had also read it, but had not been gripped by it in the same way as her brother.

Ya Ru turned to the final page of the diary. Wang San was eighty-three years old by then, very ill, and he would soon die. His last words expressed his worry about dying without having done all the things he had promised his brothers.

I’m dying too soon. But even if I lived to be a thousand, I would still die too soon as I would not have succeeded in restoring our family’s honour. I did what I could, but it was not enough.

Ya Ru closed the diary and put it away in a drawer, which he locked. He took off the gloves. He opened another desk drawer and produced a thick envelope. Then he pressed the intercom button. Mrs Shen answered immediately.

‘Has my guest arrived?’

‘Yes, he’s here.’

‘Ask him to come in.’

The door in the wall slid open. The man who entered the room was tall and thin. He moved smoothly and nimbly over the thick carpet. He bowed to Ya Ru.

‘It’s time for you to leave, Liu Xin,’ said Ya Ru. ‘The beginning of the Western New Year is the most appropriate time for you to carry out your task. All you need is in this envelope. I want you back here in February, for our New Year.’

Ya Ru handed over the envelope. The man took it and bowed.

‘Liu Xin,’ said Ya Ru. ‘The task I have given you is more important than anything I’ve ever asked you to do. It has to do with my own life, my own family.’

‘I shall do what you ask.’

‘I know you will. But if you fail, I beg you not to return here. If you did, I would have to kill you.’

‘I shall not fail.’

Ya Ru nodded. The conversation was over. Liu Xin left, and the door closed silently. For the last time that evening Ya Ru spoke to Mrs Shen.

‘A man has just left my office,’ said Ya Ru.

‘He was very taciturn but friendly.’

‘But he has not been here to see me this evening.’

‘Of course not.’

‘Only my sister, Hong Qiu has been here.’

‘I haven’t seen anyone else. Nor have I noted down any name other than Hong Qiu in the diary.’

‘You may go home now. I’ll stay for a few more hours.’

The conversation was over. Ya Ru knew that Mrs Shen would stay until he had left. She had no family, no life apart from the work she carried out for him. She was his demon guarding his door.

Ya Ru returned to the window and gazed out over the sleeping city. It was now well past midnight. He felt exhilarated. It had been a good birthday, even if his conversation with Hong Qiu had not turned out as he’d expected. She no longer understood what was happening in the world. She refused to acknowledge that times were changing. He felt sad at the realisation that they would drift further and further apart. But it was necessary. For the sake of his country. She might understand one day, despite everything.

However, most important, this evening, was the end of all the preparations, all the complicated searches and planning. It had taken Ya Ru ten years to establish exactly what had happened in the past and draw up his plan. He had almost given up on many occasions. But whenever he read Wang San’s diary, he had been able to find the necessary strength once again. He had the power to do what San could never have achieved.

There were a few empty pages at the end of the diary. That is where Ya Ru would write the final chapter when everything was over. He had chosen his birthday as the time to send Liu Xin out into the world to do what had to be done. He now felt relieved.

Ya Ru stood motionless by the window for a long time. Then he switched off the lights and left through a back door leading to his private lift.

When he got in his car, which was waiting in the underground car park, he asked the chauffeur to stop at Tiananmen. Through the tinted glass he could see the square, deserted but for the permanent presence of soldiers in their green uniforms.

This is where Mao had proclaimed the birth of the new People’s Republic. Ya Ru had not even been born then.

The great events that would soon take place would not be proclaimed in this square in the Middle Kingdom.

The new world order would develop in deepest silence. Until it was no longer possible to prevent what was going to happen.