Sheng Keyi - Death Fugue

In spite of his best efforts at humour, she would not laugh. The shimmer of the waves reflected on her face as she stared at the surface of the water, looking like she was about to make a momentous decision. Tears flowed continuously down to the tip of her nose and then dropped onto the back of her hand.

‘Qizi, I’ve really been wronged. I’m really furious with those sons of bitches. It must be Hei Chun’s doing. I’ll go find them and tell them to take my name off the list, and I’ll tell them that if they mess with me again, they better watch it.’

Mengliu stood up. Qizi grabbed at him. Still looking at the surface of the lake, she wiped the tears from the tip of her nose.

‘You ask other people to take this risk, but then you’re so faint-hearted yourself. Aren’t you ashamed?’ She suddenly looked up and stared at him. ‘You can’t say one thing and do another. There is no way out.’

‘I didn’t say one thing and do another. You know I won’t join an organisation. Don’t worry. I’ll turn it down. I’ve still got a lot that I want to do.’

‘It’s no use turning it down. Maybe you’re already being monitored.’

‘Right now, I just want to kiss you. Let them watch us through whatever telescope or binoculars they want to use.’ He embraced her.

‘We’re finished,’ she said feebly.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Over.’

‘Breaking up?

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘There’s no future for us…anyway, I want to leave the country.’

‘Of course. But Qizi, we planned to do that together.’

‘What I do is none of your business.’

‘You’re my future wife!’ He took her hand and pulled her around to face him. ‘Qizi, nothing is as important to me as you are. I don’t want to lose you. I’ll go and clear it up with them right now.’

As she looked at him she slowly moved into his embrace. ‘I don’t want to lose you either…I want to be with you.’

As she buried her face in his chest, the friction between them sparked promises of love. The sparks lit up their faces and eyes like the midday sun. They looked at each other, eyes locked together, oblivious to everything around them. He held her tightly to him, as if he wanted to press her through his skin and into his internal organs. He leant down and kissed her hard, and everything between them was renewed in the kiss.

‘I want to hear you play ‘The Pain of Separation’ again,’ Qizi said.

‘I didn’t bring it.’ His mouth was unwilling to do anything but kiss her.

She reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out the xun . ‘Everyone knows. Wherever you go, the kazoo is with you.’

‘Can’t we do a different song?’ he asked. He was thinking to himself, We’re so good together, why would we want the pain of separation?

‘No, play that one. It’s my favourite.’

‘Why don’t I teach you? It’s actually very simple.’

‘I don’t want to learn. I just want to hear you play.’

‘What’s my reward?’

‘See how well you play.’

‘First, just one kiss.’

14

In his desire to speak to the little raccoon, Mengliu lost control of himself, as if he’d just run into an old friend he had not seen for years. He did not hope for any response from the child, but simply said what was on his mind. It was like opening a release valve, letting out all kinds of grief, wallowing in guilt and a convoluted assortment of emotions. If the past was a woven garment, then Mengliu had found the end of a thread and was now unravelling it.

‘Someone like you can’t understand. Let me tell you Shanlai, Hei Chun was the best poet, and he looked just like he does in that photo — he was his own imagined king, and imagined… all kinds of crimes. Some of his ideas had merit, but some were unconscionable…Is he alive or dead? Has he turned to ashes? Who knows? No one knows, there’s no news…I cleared out all his things, returned them to his parents, basically treated them like relics. We all thought this way, because he certainly wasn’t the only one who disappeared. Hospitals, roadsides, funeral homes… we looked everywhere. The mothers of the missing youths were wailing day and night.’

‘Why did you run away?’ the little raccoon interrupted, looking at him with cold questioning eyes the colour of chocolate.

‘Um…I didn’t run away…’ Mengliu couldn’t explain clearly. He made a fist and slowly bit his knuckle, as if he could somehow find the answer there.

The little fellow put his book away. ‘You’re a weakling. You’re just a coward who’s afraid to die.’

Mengliu nodded his head woodenly, still lost in his thoughts. He folded his arms and rubbed his hands along his skin, as if he felt cold.

‘You’re right, that is the fairest, most accurate evaluation of me I’ve heard so far…My reputation in the medical community was all in vain. Those who lived by my scalpel were fewer than those who died under it. Publishing academic essays in authoritative journals, posing as a sanctimonious expert engaged in professional analysis, blatantly seeking publicity…All I did to achieve all that was spend a little money and buy space in a few journals. So we produce in abundance professionals without acumen and wicked drunkards. Authority? That never crossed my mind. And as for being a poet… Eh! I am very self-aware. In a money-minded society like ours, you can pass off fish eyes as pearls — there’s always some rubbish mixed in with the good stuff. Just because it’s gold, there’s no guarantee it will shine. How many layers is gold buried under? What I’m saying is…there’s too much garbage with this generation…there are no elite sensibilities. If you want to talk about strength of character, you’re just trying to live on air, bone-chilling air.’

Mengliu wiped his nose with his index finger. Resuming his posture of hugging himself, he continued to ramble.

‘That was really a super-chaotic time. The greed of the masses was shocking. Toilet paper, batteries, clothing, electrical appliances…everyone was crazy. They hoarded everything at home, some even bought two hundred pounds of salt. How many years would they be eating that? I knew someone who bought eight hundred boxes of matches, and another who stocked up on laundry detergent…The stores did not dare to open for business, they just accepted payments through a gap in the door, exchanging cash for merchandise. While they queued, people cursed each other, some even got into physical altercations…And don’t think I’m just making this stuff up. If you don’t believe me, you can go and ask…er…

‘Anyway, another ten years went by, and public morals were declining each day. I’m pretty clear about the hospital’s business today. Patients should be careful when receiving prescriptions. It’s like a private challenge, different from bargaining for the best price at a farmer’s market. The buyer’s the one taking the initiative there. What you’re looking for, at the hospital, is a speedy and thorough recovery, and what drugs you get depend on the doctor, so you hang on his every word. You need to speak very cautiously, and not have any illusions about the doctor’s kindness or compassion or integrity, or that he holds to some high-sounding code of medical ethics…Public health care has become a business. Individual officers scramble in pursuit of lucrative contracts. Whether through departmental contracting or single commissions, the rebates the doctors get from drug companies go toward their personal wealth. As long as something is profitable, then it’s pretty much “anything goes”. They opt for expensive drugs…meaning that cheaper, more effective treatments are now harder to come by. And then there are the substandard medications, which lead to malpractice. People have lost confidence in medicine. It’s becoming a crisis…’