Su Tong - The Boat to Redemption

The lights had already come on around the piers, including the searchlights at the oil-pumping station, their snow-white beams lighting up the loading docks and the sky above, then creeping across the embankment. Half of our barge was in the light, the other half lay in the water, brooding. The stray cat leaped out of the darkness as soon as I stepped on land and scurried up to the bow of our barge, and I let it be. With Father all alone in the cabin, having a stray cat watch over him was better than nothing.

The evening wind chilled me as my sweat-soaked cotton jersey stuck to my chest and back. Having forgotten to put on shoes, I walked down the newly paved street barefoot, as if prowling the decks of the barge. The soft, slightly tacky surface seemed to be taking pity on the soles of my feet. There was no one to disturb the peace from the embankment to the loading dock. Li Juhua and her co-workers had turned off the machinery at the pumping station when their workday ended. The longshoremen had all gone home. A towering hoist and several light cranes sat quietly in the twilight like strange sleeping beasts. Cargo unloaded during the day had all been taken away, leaving the piers uncannily spacious and quiet.

Too quiet for me. Ghosts are drawn to stillness. As I passed the office of the security group, where a dim light shone through the window, I heard someone intoning a verse or reciting a piece of prose. But that stopped abruptly, and was followed by raucous laughter. Baldy Chen and Scabby Five’s laughter was especially loud, while the woman, Wintersweet, was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. ‘Stop,’ she begged between bursts of laughter, ‘don’t read any more, or I’ll laugh myself sick!’

I tiptoed up to the window, where I listened to what was going on inside. When the laughter died down, Scabby Five recommenced his intonation, and this time I heard a familiar phrase: ‘The water gourd will love the sunflower till the seas dry up and rocks turn to dust!’

My head buzzed as I pressed my hands against my ears. No one was more familiar with that lyrical passage than I. Ah, ‘The water gourd will love the sunflower till the seas dry up and rocks turn to dust!’ It was from page 34 or 35 of my diary, where I wrote down my feelings about Huixian when she was singing with the district opera troupe. Now I knew that my diary had fallen into Wang Xiaogai’s hands. They were reciting passages from it. It was too late for regrets. I’d hidden my diary in the lining of my bag so Father wouldn’t find it. I’d managed to keep it out of Father’s hands, but not theirs, and they were reciting passages from it for their entertainment!

As I stood outside the security-office window, I was both ashamed and angry. ‘Don’t stop, Xiaogai,’ Wintersweet said. ‘Read the juicy passages for us.’

‘These are the only pages I could get my hands on,’ Xiaogai said. ‘Old Cui got some of the others, and Little Chen tore out a few for himself. Huixian got the rest, and nobody wanted to take them from her, since she is the sunflower, and just about everything in that thick little book is about her.’

Break up their little gathering or not? I couldn’t decide. In the end, lacking the courage to burst in on them, all I could do was mutter, ‘We’ll settle scores when this is all over. The time will come. But settle scores with whom? Xiaogai? Old Cui? Little Chen? Or Huixian? Or maybe I should get my revenge on Old Seven of Li Village. I looked up into the sky, then turned to face the riverbank, where barge number seven lay all alone in the deepening twilight. That snapped me out of it. Father was more important than me, and my vow to him took precedence over my lost diary. There was no time to waste, I had to find Zhao Chuntang and bring him back to the barge with me. Every debt has its debtor, and every injustice its perpetrator. I had to get him to apologize to my father.

I headed for the General Affairs Building, but when I got there I realized that my plan had been a case of wishful thinking. I’d arrived too late — all the officials had left for the day. Other than the reception office and a few windows here and there, the lights were all off, including those on the fourth floor. I looked for Zhao Chuntang’s private car, and found it. The Jeep, which had seemed so impressive for a while, had been left idle, sitting dejected in a corner, while its original parking space was occupied by a brand-new, black and very distinguished Volga sedan.

The driver, Little Jia, was washing the car with a hose, turning the ground around him to mud. Skirting the puddles, I went up and asked, ‘Are you waiting for Secretary Zhao to leave the office? Is he upstairs?’

He looked at me askance and said, ‘Who do you think you are, asking after him, and what do you want?’

‘Nothing in particular,’ I said. ‘I just want to report something to him.’

He scowled and continued washing the car. ‘You can tell me what it is,’ he said arrogantly, ‘and I’ll decide if it’s important enough to tell Secretary Zhao. Besides, what could you have to report? Still making trouble over the business of being a martyr’s descendant?’

I was savvy enough about doing business in Milltown to know that cigarettes were a door opener, so I handed one to Little Jia. He took it reluctantly, checked the brand and said, ‘Flying Horse? I don’t smoke those. I only smoke Front Gates.’ He tossed the cigarette on to the front seat. ‘Hah, Flying Horse. You boat people are the only ones who think those are any good.’

But I could see that he’d softened his expression a little, so I said, ‘I promise you, I’m not here to make trouble. It’s nothing important, so please tell me if Zhao has left to go home.’

Another frown. ‘Kongpi, that’s a good name for you. You talk like a kongpi . If it’s nothing important, why do you need to see Zhao Chuntang? He puts in sixteen hours a day in the office, and then entertains guests after work. You should know that investigative teams have been sent down here just about every day, and Secretary Zhao has to go out drinking with his guests.’

He’d piqued my interest. ‘What guests are those? What are the teams here to investigate?’

Again he looked at me out of the corner of his eye; his lips were curled into a hostile grin. ‘Calm down,’ he said. ‘It’s family planning, including vasectomies. This has been a headache for Secretary Zhao. If there are three men in town without vasectomies, Milltown won’t be considered progressive. Since that thing of yours isn’t doing anything, why don’t you get one and perform a service for Milltown?’

I ignored him. Little Jia had given enough information for me to guess that Zhao Chuntang was in the dining hall having dinner with guests, so I walked around to the side of the building and went up to the dining-hall window. In the dim light I saw that there were only two unfamiliar officials sitting opposite one another beneath the window, either eating dinner or talking.

‘No need to look over there,’ Little Jia shouted. ‘Milltown has exchanged its shotguns for cannons. Rank plays a role in entertaining guests these days. High-ranking officials are entertained at the Spring Breeze Inn. I doubt you’ve heard that the inn has private rooms. But you’d be wasting your time going there, because they won’t let you in.’

I took my leave of Little Jia and rushed over to the Spring Breeze Inn, meeting a tall, skinny fellow on the way. He was wearing glasses and had sloping shoulders; he was carrying books under his arms, heading home from school. I knew who he was — Old Cui’s grandson, a local high-school student. Old Cui was forever boasting that the boy was a top-notch student with a bright future. Since people with bright futures generally stayed clear of those with no future, I had no interest in stopping to talk to him.