Xu Zechen: Running Through Beijing

May brought another sandstorm. The weather forecast called it a historical anomaly. But it came all the same. A day and night of roaring gales, sending sands into the sky. Women wore high-necked sweaters to keep the dust out of their cleavage; men turned their collars up and perched sunglasses on their noses. Rarely was May in Beijing so grave and humorless. Then the winds ceased, like a hundred-meter sprinter halting in his tracks, too sudden for the Meteorology Bureau to keep up. The fine sand hung in the air, turning heaven and earth a dusky yellow, and the pollution indicators went through the roof. The news instructed everyone to stay indoors, and to good effect — Dunhuang worked every day, but even in the sheltered corners sold no more than a couple of DVDs. Sales this poor were unusual, but then again maybe not unlikely — once again there was word of a clampdown, and this time it seemed real. Dunhuang wandered past the police station and saw none of the usual banners—“Protect Intellectual Copyright,” “Crush Piracy,” “Rectify the Audio-Visual Market”—but he was nevertheless circumspect, and for a few days posted no advertisements. Two days prior, he’d been selling DVDs when a young guy with a backpack had come running past, and when he saw Dunhuang he shouted, Run! They’re making arrests! Dunhuang knew him, a good guy, whenever they met they’d have a chat. Dunhuang believed him, and within five seconds had his DVDs in his bag and his bag on his back. He overtook the other guy, and when he looked back after 800 meters or so saw neither him nor the police. Dunhuang wondered whether he’d been played for a fool, but he never ran into the guy after that.

The DVDs sold grudgingly, he hadn’t restocked for a week. The floating dust was eventually brought down with iodide-induced artificial rain, and the sky was once again high and blue. Dunhuang counted his movies, and decided it was time to pay Cosmic a visit.

From across the street, Cosmic looked the same as before, except for two crossed strips of tape over the door. The date on the notice was from two days prior. Dunhuang stood in front of the door, empty pack on his back, weighing his cellphone in his hand. Xiaorong, Kuang Shan. . he thought about who to call, and settled on Kuang Shan. Kuang Shan sounded like an anxious old man on the phone, though he relaxed when he realized it was Dunhuang.

“Brother, I’m fucked.”

Kuang Shan said he’d only just gotten out of the detention center that morning — Xiaorong had needed all the money in the house to get him out. Who would have thought that the police would show up in the middle of the day and push their way past the curtain into the rear storage room. All the pirated DVDs were there, tied in bundles and stacked on the shelves. It was fully stocked — if it hadn’t been for the sandstorm they would have been nearly sold out. Every last DVD was confiscated, they’d arrived with a small van. The van had already been partially filled — clearly Cosmic had not been their first stop of the day. The beeline they made for the curtained back room indicated their familiarity with DVD shops. Given the shocking price of authorized movies, no shop could survive without pirated stock. Luckily, most of the pornography was still under the bed at his house or he never would have gotten out so easily. Kuang Shan and Boss Zhou had been taken together. Both were out now, thanks to payments from family members, of course.

“So what now?” asked Dunhuang.

“Got to catch our breath first,” said Kuang Shan. “Want to stop by for a drink?”

“Sure. How’s Xiaorong?”

“She took it better than me. Women just make no sense. She used to go on and on about earning enough to go back home, but now that we’re broke she isn’t saying a thing, like it was someone else’s money to begin with. I have to say I feel bad for putting her through all this. . You must be ready to restock?”

“Yeah, I’m about out.”

“Talk to a guy named Boss Feng, tell him I sent you. Don’t tell anyone what happened, okay?”

Dunhuang followed his directions to a little restaurant called The Great Swan, and a bearded man met him at the door, saying Kuang Shan had called ahead. He said Boss Feng was out of town and had sent him instead. The DVDs were a few minutes away, in a sort of underground parking garage. Dunhuang followed the beard downstairs and through at least eight winding turns before they arrived at Boss Feng’s “shop.” It was essentially one big trash dump, with DVDs everywhere. The floor was entirely covered in the garish colors of packages and the silver glints of unpackaged discs; everyone inside simply walked over them. It was more DVDs than Dunhuang had ever seen in his life — a space of probably one hundred square meters filled with mountains of DVDs. It was practically a DVD factory. Seeing Dunhuang’s open mouth, the beard casually remarked that this was one of their smaller shops and the selection was limited, he should just pick out what he could use.

This is a real fucking eye-opener, Dunhuang thought as he rummaged. He suddenly seemed laughable to himself — a little clown of a DVD peddler. He filled his backpack and a suitcase then dragged them laboriously across the mountains of movies, feeling even more silly. One pack and one suitcase, only a drop in the bucket to these guys. Kuang Shan must have felt the same way in the beginning, but at least it drove him to open his own shop.

* * *

The prices at Boss Feng’s were even cheaper than Cosmic, and Dunhuang continued to restock there. The clampdown was continuing and he kept a low profile on the streets, out of the sights of the police and city management. Every few days he made the rounds to his old customers: the PKU dorms, the office building at Changhong bridge, and a few other places — in and out, wherever he saw an opening. He continued to get a few calls from old customers as well. If something didn’t feel right he just stayed at home, or went out shopping with Qibao. Or he’d accompany her on deliveries, though things were bad for the fake ID business, too, and her work came in fits and starts. Things between them were good one moment, bad the next — good when they were together, bad when one of them disappeared. But Qibao preferred that to going around joined at the hip.

He still hadn’t gone for a drink with Kuang Shan; he didn’t feel like listening to his woes. Kuang Shan had called him once to tell him that Xiaorong’s belly was starting to show. Laying on his bed and imagining what that must look like, Dunhuang was even less inclined to visit. After a few days of “catching his breath,” Kuang Shan started selling DVDs with Xiaorong. They would start from square one, he said, and Cosmic would rise again. Dunhuang spotted him at the gate of the Forestry University. He’d been planning to sell DVDs there, but when he saw Kuang Shan he stayed on the bus and kept going.

Life was dull for quite some time. The weather was hot, and it was uncomfortable both indoors and out. Outside, the sun scorched him until he was short of breath. Inside, the heat seemed to pass straight through the brick walls and concrete roof. He was uneasy, it felt like something was about to happen. And then something did.

* * *

It was noon and he was drinking beer in a small restaurant outside of Weixiuyuan when the phone rang. The caller’s voice sounded strange and he wouldn’t reveal who he was, only asking where Dunhuang was. When Dunhuang told him the “West Gate Chicken Wing” joint, the caller hung up. Apprehensive, he rushed to pay the bill and leave, but at the door found someone blocking his way. When he looked up his mouth dropped open — it was Bao Ding.

“Going somewhere?” Bao Ding said with a grin.