Su Tong - The Boat to Redemption

Our fancy sofa was upholstered in blue corduroy with a sunflower pattern. A close look revealed its public-property origin. The wooden armrests were host to many cigarette burns and the back was protected by canvas with the words ‘Welcome to the Revolutionary Committee’ still legible. Given that members of the Sunnyside Fleet owned no private property, not even a chair, our sofa had long been considered the fleet’s most extravagant item. It also symbolized my father’s special status. When he was banished to the barge from the General Affairs Building, all he brought with him was his corduroy sofa.

Safeguarding the sovereignty of that sofa took a lot out of me. None of the barge children could restrain their interest in it, and sooner or later every one of them chose a direct or roundabout way of asking to sit in it. ‘Let me sit in it just once, OK? Please.’

My response never varied. ‘No,’ I said, with a vigorous shake of the head. ‘Not unless you give me half a yuan.’

Now where would they get that kind of money? Besides, they wouldn’t part with it even if they had it, so that kept them out of our cabin. Yingtao’s brother, Dayong, tried to sneak inside once, but I dragged him out and wrestled him to the ground, which incurred the wrath of surprised adults on both sides. Embarrassed by the incident, Father invited Dayong inside to sit on the sofa, but the invitation came too late. Before the boy could step into the cabin, his father slapped him.

‘What makes you think you can sit on that sofa? A privy is more like it!’

Dayong’s mother grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back to their barge, fuming, though not necessarily at her son. ‘What gives a useless brat like you the right to sit on a sofa? No wonder you asked me for half a yuan. Half a yuan just to sit on a sofa? Is it sewn with gold threads or something? Think you’ll get up with a gold-plated rear end?’

That sofa was the last vestige of family honour in my safekeeping, and I was not about to give it up. Money had nothing to do with it. Someone came on board our barge one day and complained about my demand for money. Father nearly twisted my ear off my head. I knew he’d be the one to suffer from my actions and that the sofa would exacerbate our estrangement from the other barges, which was a constant worry to Father, who never stopped stressing the importance of our relationship with the masses. Over time, many of the fleet’s adults followed the example of Yingtao’s mother, forbidding their children from going aboard barge number seven. ‘What’s so wonderful about a sofa?’ they’d say. ‘For half a yuan you’d get your rear end squeezed on to it. Children need to develop a strong will. You’re not to sit on that sofa even if you’re invited to.’

But the unexpected usually changes things. Huixian turned my strict control on its head. She broke all the rules. I still recall how she headed straight for the cabin, where she stuck her little nose up to the glass to see if her mother was there. Ours was the messiest and most mysterious cabin in the fleet. One wall was decorated with a picture of the martyr Deng Shaoxiang cut out of a newspaper. It was just fuzzy enough to lend it a mysterious, ancient quality. Huixian studied it through the window. ‘That’s my grandma!’ she blurted out. Everyone within earshot fought hard not to laugh at her absurd comment, while watching me for a reaction. I disappointed them.

The next thing Huixian spotted was my father, who was sitting on the sofa, a book in his lap, looking back at the girl. He stood up, smiled at her, and pointed humbly to the sofa. ‘Want to try it out?’ he said. ‘Come on.’

The invitation could not have come at a better time. Huixian dried her tears and darted inside. ‘Sofa!’ she cried out, loudly enough for everyone to hear. ‘Sofa! My papa’s sofa!’

What nonsense! How could our sofa suddenly become her papa’s?

‘She says it’s her papa’s sofa!’ A bunch of kids mimicked, hoping to get under my skin.

Not wanting to pick a fight with a little girl, I tried to assess the situation objectively. Her father had probably also sat on a sofa, which meant he might have been an official or someone who lived in the city. I watched as she jumped on to the sofa, like a fledgling returning to its nest. For some reason, the people outside greeted her achievement with applause and a flurry of whispers. They were obviously waiting to see what Father and I would do. His reaction was exactly what they’d expected: he stood close by, hands at his sides, like a doddering old king relinquishing his throne to a little girl. What piqued their curiosity was my reaction. They were eager to see how I’d deal with the girl. I knew that for some of them this would be a test of my fair-mindedness, while for others it was my kindness and decency that were under scrutiny.

I instinctively reached out, just missing grabbing her braid. Before I knew it, she was on the sofa, draping one leg over the armrest as she sank with practised ease into the cushion, a look of satisfaction and gratification spreading across her face. I’ll bet her mother was the last thing on her mind at that moment, for I heard her mutter — more like an old woman than a little girl — ‘I’m beat!’ She looked up at me, then shut her eyes, looked up one more time and then shut her eyes again. This time they stayed shut, thanks to the sleep that had settled in.

‘Put your leg down,’ I said. ‘If you’re going to sit there, do it right, and don’t get our sofa dirty.’

Past being able to open her eyes, she gave the armrest a little kick, and I noticed that she was wearing red cloth shoes, covered with mud. She was also wearing socks, one of which had slid down into her shoe. I turned to look at Father. ‘She’s asleep,’ he said. ‘Let her be.’

I was OK with that, but I said, ‘Her shoes are muddy.’

And so Huixian, like a mysterious gift dropped from the heavens, settled on to the river, on our barge. She was a gift that had come out of nowhere, for good or for ill, presented to the members of the Sunnyside Fleet, whose interest in her was all-encompassing; for the moment, however, no one quite knew how to enjoy their gift. When the fleet’s women and children were reminded of what awaited them, they ran excitedly to barge number seven and gazed at her through the cabin porthole, jostling for position, like a crowd at a zoo. No longer an object of pity, Huixian slept like a baby on my father’s sofa. He gestured to the people to keep the noise down as he covered her with a sweater. It was big enough to cover her from head to toe. Some of the women whispered pleasantly, ‘I’d never have guessed that Secretary Ku could be so big-hearted.’

The children, on the other hand, saw this as an opportunity to get even with me. With contempt in their eyes, they stared at me, wanting to say something I’d hate to hear, but not sure what that might be. Only Yingtao, who was still quite small, was too envious to let the opportunity pass. She stuck her head through the cabin door and glared at me. ‘I thought you wouldn’t let anybody sit on that sofa,’ she said, denouncing my hypocrisy. ‘How come she can sleep on it? How come she didn’t have to pay?’

Standing in the doorway, I had no time to argue with Yingtao. I was too busy watching Father bustle around like an ant on a heated pan after giving up his sofa for her, relinquishing his sole trusty space. He sat down on my army cot, obviously ill at ease as he stared at the girl sleeping on his sofa, a look of anxiety and embarrassment in his eyes. Then he stood up abruptly, waved to me and said, ‘She’s worn out. Let’s go outside and let her sleep.’

Father carried his journal outside with him. He’d begun keeping a daily journal the year he joined the fleet. He may have lost his official position but not the habits associated with it, and he recorded his thoughts religiously. In the wake of the incident that no one talked about, he seldom came out of his cabin, preferring to stay out of the sunlight. He had, as a result, become pale, presenting a stark contrast to the ruddy complexions of the other barge men. He was always ill at ease, particularly in the company of the other members of the fleet. Remorse filled his eyes when he looked at them. People had a pretty good idea why he was so ill at ease, but only I knew the true source of that remorse. He clearly regretted picking up those scissors and, in one rash moment, destroying what little self-respect he had left.