Shan Sa - The Girl Who Played Go

Peking, a city of dust.

Jing comes back with the newspapers under his arms, but every day his face is a little darker: negotiations with the Japanese army have broken down and war is very near. Chiang Kai-shek’s central government is calling upon the Chinese nation to resist the foreign invasion. In the streets the exodus has already started, thousands streaming towards the south with whatever can be carried.

Ever since we arrived in Peking, Jing has forbidden me to leave the hotel room. When he is here, I refuse to get up. He keeps blaming himself for dragging me nearer to danger and death, and guilt makes him irritable. He is becoming disgusting, uglier by the day. His hair has grown too long; he bites his fingernails and eats like an animal.

Lying in a sheet wound round me like a shroud, I argue with him over anything: the overly warm noodles, the bitter tea, the noise of the mosquitoes. The terrible heat eggs me on. Most of the time he responds with contemptuous silence, but sometimes a rage comes over his face, his whole body shakes and he lunges as if to strangle me.

“Go on, kill me!” I scream. “Just like you killed your friends!”

His face contorts into a snarl and I see Min’s ghost flit through his eyes.

I end up giving him my cousin’s address, and ask him to bring Lu to me. Jing is angry at first, but when I tell him that Lu is married he quite happily goes off to find him.

Once he has left I can breathe at last. Without Jing the room feels airy and full of light. I get up, wash my face and comb my hair by the open window.

Our hotel is a large single-story building with rooms arranged around a square courtyard in the middle of which a jujube tree is growing. On the other side of the wall, out in the street, there are children chattering in pure Pekingese. In their intonations I pick out the same accent as the man who played go. His was slightly different: instead of rolling his r ’s, he pronounced them with his lips. My thoughts go back to the Hill of the Seven Ruins where he watched over me as I slept. On the Square of a Thousand Winds he would sometimes open out his fan, but not to cool himself, more so that the gentle breeze would waft onto my face. I feel my heart constrict at the memory. I still don’t understand why he said no. Why do we want to run away when we recognize our own happiness?

Planes are flying overhead. I hear wave after wave of thunderous explosions. People are screaming in the streets. The Japanese are threatening to flatten the whole city.

The air is drier in Peking than in our Manchurian towns. Everything gleams, shimmers and sparkles in the white sunlight before it is swallowed up into an ashen gray. I have only just got up, but I am already tired again. Peking, the city of my ancestors, is a dream from which I cannot wake up.

I go back to bed and slip in and out of sleep. I see my parents’ faces and feel overwhelmed by the sight of them. Then I make my way slowly to the Square of a Thousand Winds, towards the go table. I feel so happy when I pick up the icy stones. The Stranger is there, steady as a statue. Our game continues, evolving along its convoluted route towards the Land of Purity.

At night Jing listens to the tumult of successive skirmishes and falls asleep leaning against the wall. I am suddenly woken by his screams of horror. He has his hands to his head and is struggling like a man possessed. I get out of bed and hold him in my arms. How can I leave him?

At dawn he shakes me awake. He has made up his mind: it is better to head south and risk dying under the bombs than waiting to be massacred here. I regret following my impulses: I wanted freedom and now I am Jing’s prisoner.

“I must talk to my cousin, he’s my only relation here. Keep looking for him. Let’s find him and go with him.”

Jing’s expression darkens.

“I lied earlier when I said he had moved houses. I saw his wife and she’s gone almost mad. Lu’s abandoned her and signed up for the army. He may already be dead.”

“You’re lying! Give me my cousin’s address back.”

“Here, have it, you’ll see for yourself.”

I know that Jing is telling the truth and I cry out in despair.

“I want to go back to Manchuria. We’ve got to go our separate ways. I’m going home, I’m going back to my game of go.”

“It’s too late. There’s no more public transport. All the trains have been commandeered by the Japanese army. You don’t have a choice now, you’ll have to come with me.”

“You’re jealous of Min,” I spit at him. “You’ve taken me away from my town to erase him from my memory.”

“Min slept with you for pleasure. Don’t forget that Tang was everything to him, his big sister, his teacher and his wife!”

Jing thinks he can hurt me, but I burst out laughing.

“You’re wrong. Min’s over! I’ve dug a grave in my heart and buried him. I never loved him, anyway. We made a beautiful couple and that made me proud. I enjoyed making you both jealous. But now I see that it was just vanity, do you understand, the vanity of becoming a woman.”

Jing’s face darkens and he stares at me coldly.

“You may have played your games with my affection,” he says. “But your body is tainted now. No one will marry a girl who’s no longer a virgin. I’m the only man in this whole world who loves you, and I’m ready to take the woman who was defiled by my best friend! There’s no other choice for either of us.”

Min too said that my body belonged to him. As my eyes well up I blurt out: “There is someone else who loves me, and I’ve only just realized that I loved him without knowing it. He’s waiting for me in the town of A Thousand Winds.”

“Liar! Who is he? Where’s he from? Come on, if it’s true, tell me.”

I realize that I don’t even know his name. I know nothing about him except his soul. Seeing my hesitation, Jing calms down a little and takes me in his arms. I slap him, but he manages to kiss my forehead.

“Come with me,” he says, “don’t be a child. We’ll start a new life in Nanking.”

Clouds of flies hover in the air.

On the plain the shells have carved deep craters, the fields have been ravaged and bodies are everywhere. Those that still have their waxy faces lie with their mouths open. Others are just piles of mangled flesh hard to make out from the soil.

As our unit slowly crosses this vast cemetery, I realize that some of our soldiers, having fallen into an enemy trap, fought to the last man. In the sun I feel nauseated, and at that moment I understand that our fight against the terrorists in Manchuria was just a game of hide-and-seek. Only now does the enormity and horror of eagerly anticipated war make itself plain.

In the middle of a deserted village we are caught in a storm of explosions. I throw myself to the ground as the bullets rain down onto earth whitened by weeks of drought. After a brief exchange of fire, we conclude that the unit attacking us consists of just a few diehards who have stayed behind to hamper our progress. The bugle sounds the attack, and the Chinese scatter like rabbits in a shooting match. I aim at the fastest man, just as he is about to reach the edge of the woods. He crumples at the foot of a tree.

At midday a second violent attack; the Chinese are so drunk with despair that they have become ferocious. I lie full-length on a slope with the burning sun on my back, and I catch a waft of a sweet smell that reminds me of the girl who played go. In front of me a soldier hit in the back rolls on the ground screaming. I recognize him as one of my men-we have just celebrated his nineteenth birthday.

I wanted to bury the boy after the battle, but the order to march on is given and I must leave him to the attentions of the next regiment. Inequality continues beyond the grave. The luckiest are burned on the battlefield, while others are thrown into a ditch. But the most unfortunate are gathered up by the Chinese, who cut off their heads and parade them on stakes.