Peter May - The Runner

They watched as she leaned into the shelter through a large opening on the far side and poured a scoop of batter mix on to a large hotplate. She dragged it into a perfect circle before breaking an egg on to it and smearing it over the pancake. From a jar she sprinkled the pancake with seeds and then flipped it over, steam rising from it all the while. Above the roar of the traffic in Ghost Street and the blasting of car horns, they could hear the repetitive rhythmic thumping of sledge-hammers on concrete as demolition men worked hard to reduce the city around them to rubble.

Mei Yuan was smearing the pancake now with hoisin and chilli and other spices from jars around the hotplate before throwing on a couple of handfuls of chopped spring onion. Finally she placed a square of deep fried, whipped egg white in its centre, folded the pancake in four and scooped it up in a paper bag. Li handed it to Sun who looked apprehensive. ‘Go on,’ he said. ‘Try it.’

Reluctantly, Sun bit into the soft, savoury, spicy pancake which dissolved almost immediately in his mouth. He smiled his surprise. ‘Wow,’ he said. ‘This is good.’ And he took another mouthful, and another. Li grinned. Mei Yuan had already started on his.

She said, ‘I have the answer to your riddle. It really was too easy.’

‘Riddle?’ Sun looked perplexed. ‘What riddle?’

Li said, ‘Mei Yuan and I set each other riddles to solve each day. She always gets mine straight away. I usually take days to figure out hers.’

Sun looked from one to the other in disbelief before taking another mouthful of jian bing and saying, ‘Okay, try it on me.’

Li looked faintly embarrassed. ‘It’s just a silly game, Sun.’

‘Let the boy see if he can work it out,’ Mei Yuan said.

Li shrugged. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘What is as old as the world, but never older than five weeks?’

Sun thought for a moment, then he glanced suspiciously from one to the other. ‘Is this a joke? There’s a catch, right? So I make a fool of myself.’

‘There’s no catch,’ Li said.

Sun shrugged. ‘Well, then, it’s obvious,’ he said. ‘It’s the moon.’

‘Hah!’ Mei Yuan clapped her hands in delight. ‘You see? Too easy.’ Then she looked thoughtfully at Sun. ‘You know, I could have made a better riddle out of it with you.’

Sun was taken aback. ‘How do you mean?’

‘Your name is Sun. In Roman letters that would be spelled S-U-N. Which in English means the sun, in the sky. Given some time I could have made an interesting wordplay with sun and moon to create a riddle just for you.’

‘You speak English?’ Sun was clearly astonished at the idea that some peasant woman selling snacks on a street corner could speak a foreign language. Then suddenly realised how he must have sounded. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…’

‘Do you speak English?’ Mei Yuan asked.

He shrugged, embarrassed now. ‘A little,’ he said. ‘Not very well.’

Li grinned. ‘Mei Yuan graduated in art and literature from Beijing University.’

‘But life does not always follow the path we plan for it,’ she said quickly. ‘Do you have any English books? My passion is reading.’

‘I’m afraid not,’ Sun said, clearly disappointed that he could not oblige. Then suddenly he said, ‘But I have a friend whose English is excellent. He has many books. I’m sure he would be happy to lend you some. What kind do you like?’

‘Oh, anything,’ Mei Yuan said. ‘History, literature…’ she grinned, her cheeks dimpling, ‘…a good detective story…’

‘I’ll see what he has.’

Li reached over and pulled out a book stuffed down the back of her saddle. It was where she always kept her current book, pages read in snatches between the cooking of pancakes. ‘ Bon-a-part-e ,’ he read, ignorance furrowing his brow. ‘What is it?’

Her face lit up. ‘Ah,’ she said, ‘the life of Napoleon Bonaparte. You know him?’ Her eyes flickered between them.

‘Not personally,’ Sun said.

Li shook his head.

‘He was a dictator in nineteenth-century France,’ she told them, ‘who conquered nearly all of Europe. He died in lonely exile, banished to a tiny island in the South Atlantic. Some people even think he was murdered there. It is a fascinating story. I can lend it to you if you are interested.’

‘My English wouldn’t be good enough,’ Sun apologised.

‘Put it on the shelf for me,’ Li said, and he stuffed it back down behind the saddle. He had almost finished his jian bing , and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, licking his lips. ‘So what do you have for me today?’

Mei Yuan’s smile widened, lights dancing mischievously in her dark eyes. ‘This is a good one, Li Yan,’ she said. ‘It is the story of Wei Chang.’ And she wiped cold red hands on her apron. ‘Wei Chang,’ she began, ‘was born on the second of February in the year nineteen twenty-five. He was a great practitioner of I Ching , and people would come from all over China to seek his advice and learn the future. One day, on his sixty-sixth birthday, a young woman came to see him. Before anything else he explained to her how important numbers and calculations would be in correctly interpreting her situation and prospects. For that reason, he said, he would not ask her name, but would instead give her a unique number. In that way they could keep a record of her readings. Then he explained how he would arrive at that unique number.

‘He would take that day’s date, put her age at the end of it, then reverse it — so that it would be easy for her to remember. So he wrote down the date, and when she told him her age, he could not believe it. Looking at her in astonishment he said, “In all my sixty-six years this has never occurred before. And to think that it has happened on my birthday. This is a most auspicious day for both of us.”’

Mei Yuan paused and looked at them both. ‘Why did he say this?’

Li and Sun looked at her blankly, to her great delight.

Sun said, ‘I think I prefer your riddles, Chief. They’re a lot easier.’

Li was lost in thought. ‘Obviously something to do with the numbers,’ he said.

‘Think about it,’ Mei Yuan told him, ‘and you can tell me tomorrow when I make you another jian bing .’

Li nodded. ‘Did you see Margaret this morning?’

‘Yes.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘I am doing my best, Li Yan, to educate her in the niceties of the traditional Chinese wedding. But she seems a little…distracted.’ She paused. ‘She said to say hi, I’m not sure why, because she’ll see you at the autopsy.’

Li knew immediately from her tone that she disapproved. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Mei Yuan,’ he said pointedly, clearly drawing a line that he did not want her to cross. He dropped a ten yuan note in her tin.

‘And your young friend?’

‘Try keeping me away,’ Sun grinned. ‘You don’t mind if I bring my wife sometime? She always complains I keep her tied to the kitchen and never take her out for a meal.’

Li cuffed him playfully around the head. ‘Cheapskate,’ he said.

When they got on to the ring road heading north, Sun said, ‘So you’re going ahead with it then?’

Li looked at him, but Sun kept his eyes on the road. ‘With what?’

‘The wedding.’

Li guessed that everyone in the section must know by now. Tao, too. He would no doubt be waiting in the wings to fill his shoes. ‘Yes,’ he said simply.

Sun refrained from comment. Instead, he asked, ‘When do your parents arrive for it?’

‘My father gets here from Sichuan tomorrow,’ Li said. ‘Margaret’s mother flies in from America the day after.’ He grimaced and blew air through clenched teeth. ‘I’m not looking forward to it. Two people from opposite ends of the world, and from either end of the social spectrum. I can’t see how they’re going to get on.’