Bi Feiyu - Three Sisters

She began to reminisce, recalling the dark days when she had been treated unfairly. There had been her son’s dangerously high fever in the countryside, which, since he’d had a seizure, had required half an hour of emergency treatment; and there was the nearly fatal food poisoning her daughter had suffered at the age of four. All these sad moments in her life evoked sympathy. She began to cry as she turned to Director Qian. “Is there a child anywhere who never gets sick? Is there one who never makes a mistake?” Qian could say nothing. Like a gentle breeze and a spring shower, her words caressed and sprinkled the students’ minds, drizzle by drizzle, bit by bit, and drenched their hearts. Lowering their heads, they shed tears of remorse. Teacher Huang dried her tears and continued, “I’ve asked the school’s Party committee for one last chance, two more days. I’m convinced that the student who made the mistake will repent by admitting it; that she’ll go to the post office and mail me the money and coupons, things that do not belong to her. As a mother and a Party member, I promise you that we will handle the matter internally so long as you send everything back. Please believe me, my dear children. Don’t trust to luck in this matter. The police have taken fingerprints from Pang Fenghua’s case. They know and we know who has touched it. Once the police come to campus to make an arrest, it will be too late.” She was anxious, fervently and tearfully hoping that the guilty student would own up to what she’d done. “Please believe me, my dear children, this is your last chance. You don’t want to break your mother’s heart.”

Her plea was so ardent, her expression so intense that she actually choked on her words several times, nearly crying out loud. Those words warmed the hearts of the students, brightened their eyes, and stoked their courage. The result was immediate. A money order arrived Monday morning after the second period. But Teacher Huang was caught in a bind, a truly serious bind. The original plan, elementary and simple, had been to find the thief by matching the handwriting on the money order. Who could have predicted that there would be not one, but four money orders? No matter how you looked at it, the pilfered twenty yuan could not possibly have returned quadrupled. By comparing the handwriting with that on student essays, Director Qian and Teacher Huang found three matches: Kong Zhaodi, Wang Yuyang, and Qiu Fenying. The fourth sample could not be immediately assigned because it had been written with the left hand. Slamming the four money orders down on Qian’s desk, Teacher Huang said, “Take a good look. Can you tell who it was?”

Qian smiled and sighed. “Old Huang, you’ve had twenty years of political experience, positive and negative. When someone comes forward to take the blame, what’s the problem?”

Slapping the back of her right hand against her left palm, she said, “What I mean is, what do we do about the eighty yuan?” Qian fished out the one with unidentifiable handwriting and placed it before her. “Cash this and return the money to Pang Fenghua.”

“What about the other three?”

Qian put the three money orders in his drawer and locked it. “Leave them here for now.”

“Sixty yuan is not a small amount, and we shouldn’t let it go to waste.”

“How would we be doing that? How?” Qian asked.

Confused, Huang asked cautiously, “What exactly are we going to do with the money?”

“Look at you. What can I say? With some matters, we mustn’t be too detail-oriented. Sometimes it’s better to leave an issue hanging rather than try to resolve it. That’s all I’ll say for now. So put this aside and don’t mention it again, all right? It’s over.”

The stolen money had been returned, and everyone in the school now knew; they could breathe a sigh of relief. “I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me.”

What better result could they have hoped for?

None.

Their relief was followed by anticipation as they waited to learn the identity of the thief, but the outcome was disappointing. Four or five days passed, but no punishment announcement was put up on the bulletin board, a clear indication that the theft had indeed been dealt with internally. Yuyang was filled with gratitude and happiness for escaping what can only be described as a “near death.” And yet, gratitude and relief aside, she felt somehow wronged. Why? She had confessed to something she hadn’t done by sending in money. On the other hand, what options did she have? The police had taken fingerprints, and she could not recall whether she had ever touched Fenghua’s case. Maybe yes, maybe no. But common sense would dictate that not touching it would have been just about impossible because the girls shared a dorm room.

What if the police had retrieved Yuyang’s fingerprints and publicized the fact? She’d have been in hot water, and that was a risk she could not afford to take; it was simply too big of a gamble. She told herself that it was better this way, since no one could be sure of anything. The other students could play their guessing game if they wanted to, so long as she avoided an outright disaster. As the saying goes, “Take a step backward and you can see the whole world.”

In any case, Yuyang finally managed to get a good night’s sleep, and what could be better than that? But why hadn’t anyone spoken to her yet? Was this what they meant by “internally”? It must be. So the leaders had kept their word and she had reason to trust them. She should stop her second-guessing now that they had decided on leniency; otherwise she would not be worthy of their good faith.

Responding to the new situation and conditions at the school, a security team was formed the day before the new year arrived. A special fund was set up to purchase yellow army overcoats for each of the security guards, who were also given army belts. At the inaugural meeting, Director Qian made it clear that the coats and belts were public property and were to be returned upon graduation. The guards were instructed to treat their new uniforms with care. Completely ignoring his admonition, the students carried their coats over their shoulders and cinched the belts around their waists in order to show that they were special. That, of course, was perfectly understandable since it was an honor to be chosen for the school security team. These items showed that the users were class activists and had been elected democratically by secret ballot and then screened carefully by the school administration. Only one student, boy or girl, could be selected from each class.

Director Qian called a meeting for the team, stressing the importance of their mission to protect the school and ensure the integrity of the people’s property. He stood up and shouted, “Can you do that?”

“We can,” they replied in unison, the boys’ deep, powerful voices merging with those of the girls, which were crisp and resonant, and seemed to linger forever in the rafters of the auditorium. Pang Fenghua’s was among them.

How in the world had the loss of money increased Pang Fenghua’s popularity on campus? It was as if she’d not only lost money but had found some and returned it, or had done something quite courageous. Naturally, it didn’t make her smug; on the contrary, she was more humble than ever, a perfect example of an outstanding student who excelled both in her studies and her temperament. All that went to show how much she had changed, which caused Yuyang to wonder why she couldn’t be lucky enough to lose a little money. Things like that simply didn’t happen to her.

Fenghua had received enough votes in the security team election for a second-place finish. Even Yuyang had voted for her. In retrospect, Yuyang realized that this made no sense. She just went ahead and cast her vote—people are strange animals.