Ha Jin - Under the Red Flag

When they reached the entrance to the office two policemen were already in there. A stalwart middle-aged man—the director of town police, Zu Ming—came out to meet her. Surprisingly, he smiled at her and held out his large hand. “Congratulations,” he said in a clear voice.

Lanlan was bewildered and dared not stretch out her hand. All the brigade leaders were standing behind the policemen and smiling at her without any trace of ill feeling. She was gawking at them.

“Congratulations, Comrade Lanlan,” Zu said again, coming closer. She gave him her hand. He shook it and said, “We heard from the County Police this morning that a prison escapee had entered our area. He raped a woman in Sand County two days ago. The man you killed yesterday is the very criminal on the loose. Thank you, comrade. You helped us get rid of a class enemy. You must’ve had a terrible fright. Please forgive us for coming so late.”

Without a word, Lanlan collapsed to the ground. She cried at the brigade leaders, “I told you it’s not my fault, but you didn’t believe me.” She gasped for breath, kicking her feet and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Everybody blamed me for his death. You all bully me, a poor woman who just lost her husband. Oh where, where can 1 find justice!”

With a red face Secretary Chian went up to her and said, “Lanlan, don’t be so upset. It’s over now. The man isn’t the lunatic, and we made a mistake. You did a good thing. We’re all proud of you.”

Director Zhang meanwhile told a young man to bring over a strong bicycle, a Big Golden Deer, to carry her home.

Though the case was resolved, Lanlan didn’t seem to feel better. In one week two men had died in her house. What else could she be but a jinx to men? Who would dare to come close to her? She knew that the villagers thought her this way and that she would have to remain a widow for a long time. Looking in a mirror, she found herself resembling her aged mother more than before: her round eyes had grown broader, two dark curves appeared beneath the lower eyelids, her mouth was sunken a little, her lips took the shape of a heart, only her nose was still delicate and pretty. A gray hair stuck out on her forehead; she got hold of it and pulled it off. It was a long one and she threw it to the ground. She remembered the saying: “One smile makes you look ten years younger, while one worry turns your hair white.”

That evening Aunt Wang came. She sat on the edge of the brick bed and put Kai on her lap. The boy gave out laughter as the old woman stuck her head again and again in his belly, tickling him. Lanlan poured a cup of boiled water for Aunt Wang and sat down at the other end of the bed.

Then the old woman said what was on her mind; she wanted Lanlan to consider marrying Widower Bao.

Though Aunt Wang said they were a natural couple, Lanlan couldn’t help knitting her brows. That man is almost fifty, she thought. He’s too old for me. She’s making fun of me. He could be my father.

Aunt Wang seemed to read her thoughts and said, “Lanlan, don’t think he’s old. Look at the way he walks, and the strength he shows when working in the fields, and his big hands and thick shoulders. Don’t tell me that man is old. Oh, my goodness, what an appetite he has. He eats a basin of noodles at one—” She held her tongue and regretted mentioning his appetite, since no woman liked a big eater. She added, “An older man is more considerate, you know.”

“Aunt Wang, I’ll think about it,” Lanlan said.

“All right, take your time. We’ll wait for your answer.”

After the old woman left, Lanlan felt tired and decided not to go to her mother’s so soon. She would stay home for a few days to recover from the exhaustion.

The next evening Aunt Wang came again. From then on she came almost every day, playing with Kai and helping Lanlan with housework. Lanlan didn’t like it, and by and by she was annoyed by the old woman’s presence in the house. For sure she was grateful to her, for sure she would do something in return, but not marrying her brother-in-law in such a hurry. Of course, she knew that since the villagers thought of her as a jinx, there would be few men who were interested in her, but why couldn’t she wait? She was not so cheap that she would make do with any man, even an old scarecrow like Widower Bao. She was not so weak that she couldn’t live without a man in her house. Someday she might marry a man who was even better than her late husband. Things would change as long as she waited patiently. Who knows, the spring breeze may blow again, she kept saying to herself.

A week later a middle-aged reporter arrived at Sea Nest Village. His task was to write about Lanlan’s brave deed. At the interview in her house, he had her describing the event from the beginning to the end. The brigade leaders accompanied the reporter, and Secretary Chian kept saying she was the best young wife in the village.

Lanlan couldn’t understand why there was so much glory in killing a man, vicious as that thug was. She wouldn’t do it again. No, even for ten thousand yuan she wouldn’t. So she told them plainly, “I was scared. I am still scared. I’ve burned all the clothes I wore that day. At night I always see a shadow in the outer room. Sometimes I wake up screaming like a man’s on top of me. Oh heaven, I can still smell him in the house.”

The reporter smiled amiably and said, “Don’t be so scared. You’ll get over it soon.” He was writing down her words.

She noticed that his hands had long fingers. The black fountain pen was moving rapidly and spitting out one character after another. She had never seen such male hands, which apparently had nothing to do with farm work. None of the women in the village had hands so delicate. She gazed at his handwriting, which was beautiful. He must be a good writer, who could make words flow like a stream and float like clouds.

When she added water to their teacups, she stole a glance at the reporter. He was handsome, with a pale face, a mouth having upward corners, and a straight nose. His large eyes had double-fold lids. In every way he was different from those country men she knew. She found herself breathing strangely and couldn’t help glancing at him time and again.

The interview ended, and the men stood up and were ready to leave. Lanlan asked them to stay for lunch, saying she would cook long noodles with oysters, but Director Zhang said the brigade’s kitchen had prepared a meal. She realized they would have a feast there, so she didn’t insist.

They went out of the house. The reporter thanked her and shook hands with her. His hand was smooth and warm. She watched them walking to the front gate. He was taller than the other men and his gait was full of ease.

“Lanlan, you’re in the newspaper,” Ailian shouted when they were hoeing beets four days later.

“Really? What does it say about me?”

Ailian read the article in Red Star , the county’s newspaper, to Lanlan and the villagers gathering around. The title said, “A Brave Woman and Good Wife.” The article described how Lanlan had fought an escaped criminal to protect her chastity; she was so brave and so determined that she wrestled with the man and stabbed him to death. It ended with a petition that such a good woman deserved a reward, just as a soldier would be awarded a merit citation or a promotion for his outstanding service.

All the commune members in the field congratulated Lanlan, but she was puzzled a little. She wasn’t that good. When she stabbed the thug she had never thought of her husband at all, not to mention preserving her chastity for him, a dead man. But she didn’t say anything, because she believed the handsome reporter must have helped her in secret. She mustn’t appear as if she didn’t know how to appreciate favors. Calm though she seemed, she couldn’t concentrate on the hoeing. Again and again her hoe cut down some seedlings. She cursed herself under her breath and kicked tufts of weeds to cover up the felled beets.