Jia Pingwa - Ruined City

Liu Yue fell silent as a myriad of emotions welled up inside.

The flooding was worse on the streets, which were like rivers. Manhole covers had been removed to help the water drain, but it was actually gushing out from some of the openings, and was nearly knee high. Taking a detour, the old man drew her attention to the scenes along the way — that wall has collapsed; that utility pole fell and broke the line because the ground beneath it has turned soggy. She saw cars stuck in potholes, and a truck and a van stalled on the street after a collision. It looked like the truck had been trying to pass but had rammed into the van. The junkman laughed and she asked, “What you laughing about?”

“What do you think the truck was trying to do?” he asked her. “Everything in the world is sentient. The truck was attracted to the van, so it went over for a kiss and got into trouble. Many good things can only be watched, not touched. Like grabbing a piece of burning coal — you’ll burn your hand.”

She took another look, and it did look like what he said, which made her laugh. But that dismayed her. The old man pulled the cart along like an ill-behaved monkey, picking up a broken plastic basin here and a shoe there. Tossing the shoe onto the cart, he said it looked new, so it must have flowed out from under someone’s door. Too bad there was only one. Why couldn’t a color TV or a bundle of RMB have flowed out instead? She laughed again. The old man said he wasn’t crazy, but he wasn’t far off. Suddenly he shouted, “Junkman! Collecting junk and scraps!”

“I’m on your cart, so does that make me junk?”

“My throat hurts if I don’t shout.”

“Why don’t you recite one of your poems for me if you don’t want your throat to hurt?”

He turned to look at her for the first time since she’d gotten on. A smile creased his wrinkled face, giving him an innocent look in the pouring rain. “You like those, too?”

“Yes, I do,” she said. He took off running; the iron wheels rolled more easily in the water than on dry land, splashing water to the sides as they tore down the street, while his voice sounded in her ears.

Central government leaders travel in flight .

Provincial and municipal leader from limos alight .

County and township leaders ride in Jeeps so bright .

Peasants ride “East Is Red” tractors on the right .

The citizens ring their bicycle bells at night .

He turned his head. “What’s your name, young lady?”

“Liu Yue.”

And Liu sits at water dragon height .

“I don’t want you playing with my name,” she complained. “I don’t like it.” But he ignored her and repeated the lyrics. When the pedestrians standing under eaves to stay out of the rain heard him, they quickly picked up the lyrics. Liu Yue could hear people they had passed singing at the top of their lungs, a pack of howling wolves, each ending the line with “And Liu sits at water dragon height.”

An unhappy Liu Yue jumped off the cart and fell into a puddle. But the junkman, oblivious to what had happened, continued to race down the street.

. . .

When Liu Yue got to the house on Shuangren fu Avenue, it was a chaotic scene. The street and its lanes were teeming with clamoring people, young and old, all ducking under eaves with bundles of various sizes and small electrical appliances wrapped in plastic clothes, rain slickers, and plastic wraps. Police were shouting at residents; some were taken away, while others put up a vigorous resistance. A group of people rushed into the old woman’s yard, demanding that someone place an emergency phone call. Liu Yue’s first thought was that something had happened to the old woman, so she stormed inside to find the house filled with people. The old woman was sitting with her feet up on the rattan chair by the door. Liu Yue ran over and put her arms around her. “Are you all right, Granny?”

“I’m fine. Your grandpa stayed with me all day yesterday and came back today. None of you were here, so he was angry and said he’d whipped his son-in-law. He might have beaten him too harshly. I’m worried he’s hurt your Zhuang Laoshi badly.”

“Nothing like that has happened. He just has a few sores on his back.”

“What are they if they aren’t lash marks? When I was young, there was a carter at the Water Board called Liu Dayu, who spent his salary in brothels and gambling dens instead of on his parents or in finding a wife. One summer when there was thunder and lightning, his back was black and blue, punished by thunder. Your Zhuang Laoshi refused to come over after the whipping. Is he waiting to be punished by thunder?”

“He’s busy, so I came instead.”

“Your grandfather said his son-in-law wouldn’t come, and he was right about that. So he took it out on me, asking me to fry cakes with peppercorn leaves. It’s pouring out there, but the old man forced me to pick peppercorn leaves in the yard, and the wall toppled. Don’t you think that’s strange? The wall fell on their side and killed Shunzi’s hunchbacked mother. You know what Grandpa said? He said he knew why the wall fell on that side; he saw a ghost pushing it, and he smiled at her when she looked up, so she pushed it over onto her. The old man is such a scoundrel.” The old lady fumed. Someone in the house who caught a few of the words she said asked, “So it wasn’t the rain that caused the wall to collapse? Who pushed it over?”

“She says it was a ghost,” Liu Yue cut in. “Granny can’t tell the difference between the human world and the underworld, so don’t believe her. If you do, you can ask her about Grandpa, who’s been dead for decades. Ask her where he is now.”

The old lady frowned, grumbling about how Liu Yue was a counterrevolutionary who was always contradicting her. “I asked your grandpa if he’s still being a playboy over there, and he got mad at me. We had a fight. He didn’t leave until these people came in to use our phone, saying the smell of strangers gave him a headache.” The people around them laughed, now aware that the old woman was weak in the head. Finally someone was able to get through on the phone and shouted at the others, “The mayor is coming with some people to help us. He’s also going to bring a crew of TV reporters, newspaper journalists, even the writer Zhuang Zhidie.” They cheered at the good news and ran out the door.

“With such heavy rain, why does the mayor have to bring him along?” the old woman said. “And to do what? Pump the water out? Grandpa couldn’t get him to come even after lashing him, but he’ll race over when he’s summoned by the mayor. The mayor is an official and so is your grandpa. He’s a chief working for the City God.”

“I think the mayor wanted him to come so he could write something about this.”

“Well, then you go out and take a look. When he comes, make sure to bring him back to burn some spirit money for Grandpa.”

Without a word, Liu Yue changed into dry clothes and went out with an umbrella to see what was going on outside.

The wall had indeed collapsed. A large latrine pit on the other side of the wall belonged to Shunzi’s family. Bricks and rocks had fallen into the pit, causing the human waste to overflow. Next to the pit was a pile of loose bricks. Liu Yue had known that the area was low and that the Zhuang family house had been built on a raised foundation, but she was surprised to have a full view of the lowland houses by simply looking over the wall. The structures on that side followed no rules, with houses built according to the lay of the land; but every house had a tall earthen doorsill to prevent flooding. The crisscrossing lanes slanted in one direction, so water eventually flowed to the center of the lowland and formed a large pond. With three days of rain, a pump to divert the water from the pond to the underground storm drain could not drain it quickly enough; water had surged into nearly half the houses. She jumped through a crack in the wall and saw that Shunzi’s mother had yet to be put in a coffin and taken to the crematorium. She was covered by a white sheet and laid out in the house. It was dry inside, but water was about to reach the steps in the yard. Shunzi’s wife and their fat little boy, both wearing white cloths around their heads, were burning spirit money under the table set up for the body. They had stopped crying, with so many disaster relief helpers around. Shunzi was building a mud levee at the entrance of the yard with one hand and scooping out water with the other.