Xu Zechen - Running Through Beijing

She lived in Zhichunli, Dunhuang had to pass through most of Zhongguancun to get there. The worst part was there were no good bus routes between Weixiuyuan and Zhichunli, so he had to transfer or walk half the distance. It took him almost an hour to get there the first time. She lived in the innermost building in her compound, on the top floor. She was pretty, but her expression was always cold, like someone owed her money, and she smoked those thin lady’s cigarettes, sometimes with a lazy, decadent flair, sometimes with it clamped in her jaw. Her aggravation and anxiety were evident. She wouldn’t let him inside, they conducted their transactions through the bars of the security door. Through the door he could see a surprisingly luxurious room, luxurious enough to be shocking. He’d only seen scenes like that on the TV and in movies. He couldn’t understand why someone living in heaven on earth would be so bitter and angry. Once, while making a delivery, Dunhuang couldn’t help asking, “Why do you always watch violent or scary movies? I’ve got a lot of art films here, and some romances, classics, award winners. . ”

Before he could finish, her temper flared. “Just shut up, will you? Do you want me to buy a movie or not?” She hurled her newly lit cigarette onto the carpet, which began to give off a strange smell.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Dunhuang said, turning to leave. “Your carpet’s on fire.”

“I know!” she shouted.

Dunhuang grumbled as he went downstairs. Who do you think you are? Being pretty doesn’t give you the right to have a shitty temper. He decided he wouldn’t deliver to her anymore — it was just a DVD or two, his earnings went straight to the bus conductor, and now he had to get his ear chewed off? But the next time she called to place an order, he went. She was just a girl, why hold a grudge? Also, he continued to be faintly curious about her situation — even a little worried. He’d never seen another person in her room. No matter what else, there was something a little strange about that. Maybe a change of film diet would do her some good. When he was handing over her order Dunhuang thought better of recommending films directly, instead he framed it as small talk, “This apartment complex reminds me of one I saw in a movie. It was a real tear-jerker. . I think a girl would need a whole towel to get through it.” Or else, “Sorry I’m late, traffic was backed up by an accident. A taxi rammed a police car, pretty stupid, right? That happened in this one movie, too, have you seen it? It’s practically as moving as the Bible.” He’d read that last line in a book.

At first, the girl’s expression was as sardonic as always, like she was watching a circus. She saw right through Dunhuang’s little tricks. But after a while her attitude softened and she was a little less impatient. Her cigarette-smoking became a little more graceful as well. But she still never took the bait and asked about other movies. Dunhuang was pleased with this meager success, however, and decided to keep it up. One day, he was sure, the girl would take something other than a violent or scary film.

She called him nearly every other day — Dunhuang considered buying a bicycle. He needed one for the rest of his work, anyway. One morning, he stuck a few want ads for a bike up at Three Corners, and at noon someone called him, asking for a meeting. As it happened, he was selling DVDs not far from Peking University, so he packed his bag and went.

The man was in his early thirties, in a suit and tie, very urbane. He took Dunhuang for a walk past the library, dormitories, and classroom buildings, looking over the rows of bicycles, and asked him what kind of bike he preferred. Dunhuang thought a lightly used mountain bike would be about right, but was worried he couldn’t afford it. The suit said, no problem, we can discuss price. Something like this one here, then?

“Yeah,” Dunhuang said. “Or not quite so nice.”

“All right then,” the suit said. “I’ll see you this afternoon outside the west gate.”

At five thirty that afternoon, Dunhuang arrived at the west gate to find the man waiting by one of the stone lions, wearing sunglasses and sitting on a bicycle that seemed more familiar the more Dunhuang looked at it. The suit hopped off the bike and pushed it across the street to Weixiuyuan. “The money?” he said.

“It looks exactly like the bike we looked at earlier,” Dunhuang said.

“‘Looks like’?” the man said with a chuckle. “It is. It’s just got a new lock, that’s all.”

Indeed, the lock was the only difference. At noon it had had two good-quality locks on it; now it just had a cheap wheel-lock. “This is no good,” said Dunhuang. “What if someone recognizes it?”

“Fuck, the country’s full of bikes exactly like this one,” said the suit. “Who’s going to recognize it? You’re worried? Okay then.” He took a little knife out of his pocket and started scratching at the bike, until there were paint chips all over the ground. “Better?”

Dunhuang hesitated. The suit said, “What the fuck is with you? It’s just a bike, I’d hate to watch you trying to find a wife. You’d end up getting dumped, anyway. If you don’t want it I’m junking it. That guy thought it would be safe with two locks on it. . ”

“I do want it,” said Dunhuang. “I’m just worried what will happen.”

“Fuck-all will happen! How’s this, I’ll give it to you for eighty, that’s twenty off. I’m a good guy, right?”

“All right, deal.” Dunhuang got on the bike, and it felt pretty damn good. He was a fucking bicycle owner. When the suit left he told Dunhuang to get another lock, a good one — this kind of bike was always getting stolen. He also gave him a business card, saying if any of his friends needed bikes, one call was all it took. The card read:

Mr. Zhang, General Manager, “Secondhand” Bicycle Store Phone Number: 133. .

Dunhuang thought the card was a collector’s item. The world was crazy, and this was the proof. He liked his secondhand mountain bike, just being on it made life taste sweeter. Dunhuang had ridden many bikes — Forevers, Phoenixes, Flying Pigeons, even the Shandong-made Great Golden Deer brand — but he’d never ridden one of these, a Giant. A fucking Giant mountain bike. He rode the bike to Zhichunli to deliver DVDs to the girl, feeling even more strongly that he ought to rescue her from her world of gore and horror. He even thought she should try some porn, at least she could learn something. What was the point of all the blood and the guts and the midnight rings?

The girl didn’t take his advice, but nevertheless something had changed. When she opened the door she wasn’t wearing some old pajamas like usual, she had dressed up a little bit, and her hair showed traces of a comb. “Have you ever ridden a Giant bicycle?” Dunhuang asked her. “They’re really fucking good. Don’t laugh, I just bought one today. All the way here I was thinking life is good. Try it if you don’t believe me, I’ll lend it to you. It’s secondhand, I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

At last, the “I hope that doesn’t bother you” got her to laugh. To be precise, it was half a laugh. When she discovered she was laughing, she cut the second half short.

“Thanks,” she said. “Goodbye.” She started closing the door.

Dunhuang called through the rapidly-closing crack, “Have you see The Bicycle Thief ? It’s really good!”

When he came out of the building, the bike was gone. He clearly remembered leaving it there, stuck between two other bikes. The other bikes, both of them wrecks, were still there. He searched all around the building, but there was no sign of it. It had been stolen, that was it. Dunhuang thought immediately of the suit. He hunted up the number and called.