Ha Jin - Under the Red Flag

After two hours’journey he arrived at Dismount Fort. He went directly to the train station, but he didn’t buy a ticket. From now on, he had to learn to get whatever he wanted without paying a fen. Four beggars were sleeping in a corner inside the hall. Having hesitated for a few seconds, Lu went to join them, lying supine on the cement floor. With the bundle under his head and his army cap covering his face, he soon fell asleep. Though footsteps tapped about and clanking trains passed by, Lu was so tired that nothing disturbed him.

When he woke up, it was already past three in the afternoon. All the beggars were gone except an old man with red-rimmed eyes sitting against the wall and holding an empty bottle in his lap. A locomotive was blowing its steam horn outside. Inside the dim hall a few rectangular patches of sunlight stretched on the floor. Lu’s stomach rumbled and he felt hungry, but first he had to find out how to get to Beijing.

He asked the old beggar about the train schedule, but was surprised to learn that there was no train bound for the capital. The old man said Lu had better sneak onto the midnight freight train to Dalian first. Lu was a little confused by the advice. Then he realized that if he took a passenger train without a ticket, the attendants and the police could easily find him out and kick him off at any station.

After clarifying that, he got up and went out to solve the problem of hunger. Not knowing where to look for food, he walked along Market Street heading downtown. In front of Four Sea Fish Shop were about a hundred people lining up to buy something. Lu was curious and walked over. Seeing mountains of clams and oysters on the mat-covered ground, he felt his mouth watering. The folks here have a good life, he thought. They can have seafood every day. If only I could eat a few oysters. Oh, I’m so hungry. I’d like to bite them with the shells on.

But he tore himself away and took a right turn into Bath Street. The smell of fried leeks was hovering in the air. He caught the aroma and followed it instinctively. After he passed New Life Medical-Herb Store, the sign of Victory Restaurant emerged on the right. Lu hastened his steps to the door. He pushed aside the curtain made of glass beads and entered the restaurant. About twenty diners were inside, but two teenage beggars were already sitting in a corner waiting for leftovers. Lu went to sit beside them and wanted to see how they begged.

A moment later one of the boys got up and walked to a nearby table, where a fat middle-aged man was eating with a small girl, obviously his daughter. Without saying a word the boy held out his hand beside the steaming dishes. The fat man broke his bread and put a piece on the dirty hand. Immediately the other beggar went up to the table and got his share. Lu followed suit and received a chunk of bread too. “All right, no more,” the fat man said, and waved to Lu to go away.

Lu had never thought getting food could be so easy. Just stretch out you hand and you’ll have white, tender, fresh bread to eat. It tasted so good that he thought he had never eaten steamed bread so delicious.

Then a young waitress with slanting eyes came by, carrying a large fried yellow croaker still sizzling in the plate. After putting the dish in front of an old man, she pointed at the three beggars and said, “You stay there and wait until the customers finish, or you get out of here.” Strange to say, her menacing words sounded to Lu like a sweet tune. What a goddess! he thought.

Three other women, in their thirties and forties, were also busy waiting tables, but this young woman was absolutely glamorous in Lu’s eyes. Her skin was whiter than the bread just out of the steamer. He looked at her fingers, so exquisite and almost transparent. And those gorgeous glossy bangs. She ought to be tender and pretty, Lu thought; see what they eat here, all the delicacies from sea and land. Feeding on such food, even a pig would grow smooth and sleek.

Within two hours, Lu was stuffed with jelly soup, fried tofu, fish, oysters, pork, cabbages, pies, noodles, and even a half cup of sorghum liquor. Never at one meal had he eaten so many good things, which made him feel as if he were celebrating the Spring Festival. But something seemed missing. Yes, that young beauty. If only he could get close to her and pinch that pair of white paws. That would be real fun.

Unfortunately, a banquet was served after eight, so the three beggars were turned out. Having no place to go, Lu returned to the train station. The alcohol made him dizzy, yet he was very happy, because he found a beggar’s life more enjoyable than his life at Ox Village. I ate so many good things, he thought, without paying a fen or raising a finger for them. Wonderful. I should stay here for some days, to eat more good stuff. If lucky, I can make a pass at that charming wench. Pretty, so pretty. He made clicks with his tongue, which wiped his lips now and then.

But another voice rose within him: You’ve forgotten all the trouble, huh? Bewitched by your lust for women again? Shame. Your wound hasn’t begun to heal yet, but you’ve begun to forget the pain.

He looked down at his crotch. You little devil of a penis, you’re playing tricks on me again. You can’t take me in this time. I must go, go to Dalian tonight and switch trains there for Beijing. Too much pleasure surely weakens a man’s will. I mustn’t indulge myself. I’ve a long way to travel, to pursue a future of ten thousand kilometers. Besides, it’s always better on the road than at an inn.

He lay on the floor, taking catnaps and waiting for the midnight freight train. At ten o’clock he was roused by voices shouting, “Wake up! Wake up!”

Three militiamen were pushing with their feet the beggars sleeping in the hall. Each of them wore a long wooden club across his back. “Show me your identification,” a short militiaman said to the man lying beside Lu.

The beggar put his hand into a pocket inside his jacket and took out a piece of paper. The militiaman read it carefully and gave it back to him. Then he pointed at Lu and demanded, “Your identification.”

“What identification?” Lu didn’t understand what was going on.

“The paper that allows you to beg around.”

“Where can I get it?” Lu blurted out.

“From your brigade. Do you have it or not?”

“I had it yesterday, but I’ve lost it somewhere. I can’t find it. Sorry.”

The militiaman screwed up his brows. “Lost it? Who can believe you? You didn’t even know where to get it. I think you are an escaped counterrevolutionary. If you can’t prove who you are, you must come with us.”

Lu knew it was no use refusing, so he got to his feet, standing by respectfully. After going through all the beggars, the militia took him to the police station on Old Folk Road. The policeman on duty told him that if he refused to identify himself, they would commit him to a reform-through-labor team. Lu was terrified, because he remembered that a “troublemaker” in his village had been sent to a place like that by the brigade leaders and had died of dysentery there two months later. Without any delay he confessed who he was and where he came from. They telephoned Ox Village and were told that Lu was being examined, and that they should send him back as soon as possible.

“I could tell at first sight that he was a bad egg,” the short militiaman said. He went up to Lu and removed the fountain pen from his breast pocket. “You don’t need this. Pretending you can write, hmm? How many bottles of ink have you drunk?” He dropped the pen into a drawer.

Lu trembled all over, fearing they would search him. He had eleven yuan in his trouser pocket and two packets of expensive cigarettes in the bundle. Luckily, they didn’t bother to look further.