Hwang Sok-yong - Princess Bari

“Both of our lives depend on this shop,” she said, “so whatever you say is meant for my ears, too.”

“Very well. I have two suggestions for you. Pay back the full amount of the loan before the end of the month, or pay off the principal with interest month by month.” Zhou was speechless.

“What’s the full amount?” Xiang asked.

“One and a half million.”

I couldn’t even fathom that much money. One serving of three dumplings cost one yuan — this was my dinner when times were hard. Xiang stared off into space and laughed in shock.

“And if we can’t pay you back?” she asked.

“You’ll pay us back with your bodies.”

Xiang and I were at a loss for words.

“We need more time,” Zhou said quietly.

“More time? Don’t try to worm your way out of this.”

“I own a small plot of land back in my hometown that I can use as collateral for a loan, but I’ll need time.”

The man thought this over for a moment; then he rose, buttoned up his shirt and put his jacket back on.

“Fine. You have exactly three days.”

“My hometown is all the way in Heilongjiang Province. It’ll take me three days just to get there and back.”

“Yeah? Then I’ll give you two extra days. But if I come back in five days and you still don’t have my money, I’ll gouge your eyes out.”

After the men left, we all sat slumped on the floor and cried quietly. I was crying from fear, but Xiang and Zhou were probably weeping at having their dreams shattered. Then we heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and the bald man who’d threatened us with the broken bottle came back in. He handed two train tickets to Zhou.

“Economy. Looks like I’ll be suffering too, because of you.”

Even after Zhou and the bald man had left for the station, Xiang and I didn’t bother to clean up. We went up to the third floor and sat there in a trance. In the afternoon the masseuses started reporting for work, and came to find us with confused looks on their faces. Xiang barely summoned the strength to send them home, saying we would be closed for a few days.

Early the following morning, we heard someone banging on the door downstairs. Zhou had returned with the bald man, who entered right behind him. The two of them had been drinking. The bald man was red-faced, but otherwise sober, whereas Zhou was dead drunk. Neither had much to say. Xiang and I guessed that they’d come to some sort of agreement, but we had no idea what. Zhou whispered to us to pack our clothes for a trip. He wouldn’t explain why. I threw a few toiletries, underwear and clothing into a bag and followed them. We slipped out without anyone seeing us and crossed Changjiang Road, where we caught a taxi about a block away from our building. We headed to the north side of Dalian Bay to the train station near Ganjingzi Park. The bald man walked ahead and led us to a cheap motel down a dark, muddy alley. The room was cramped and dark, and even the wallpaper was black with dirt. It was the kind of place that was mostly used by migrant workers from other provinces. The bald man disappeared again without a word.

“What on earth are you up to?” Xiang demanded.

“We can’t stay here anymore,” Zhou said. “We have to leave China.”

Zhou had gone to Dalian Station with the bald man in tow to keep a close eye on him. While waiting for the train, he had pleaded for their lives. The bald man listened silently and then asked how much the deposit was on their building, and whether or not Zhou could get it. His change of heart was not out of pity. He was just tired of performing menial tasks in exchange for a few coins from his boss, and was thinking about going into business for himself.

The man asked Zhou if he knew what “snakeheads” were. Back in Yanji, Chen had told Zhou over drinks one night about these gangs of smugglers who worked at the harbour. Zhou remembered that people smuggled out of the country were referred to as “snakes”. The bald man told him the down payment was at least five thousand dollars per snake. Anyone who didn’t have enough could have their family back home write a promissory note for the balance, and any money made abroad could be sent back to the family to pay down the total debt. The interest was nearly thirty percent. Rumour had it that if you missed a payment, one of your family members’ fingers would be cut off and sent to you as warning. After hearing the whole story, Xiang looked shocked.

“Where are we supposed to get that kind of money?” she asked.

“If we can get back our deposit on the store and add it to the cash we’ve saved, we’ll have enough to cover the down payment.”

The following day Xiang and I stayed locked up in the motel room while Zhou, flanked by the bald man and another man, spent the day downtown.

On our last night in Dalian, the bald man’s accomplice showed us where to go. We followed him across the railroad tracks to the wharf. I could hear waves breaking against the sea wall, and even the air was salty. In the dark, the lights of a fishing boat switched on and then the engine roared to life. Faint, shadowy figures appeared. As I stepped closer to the boat, two hands reached down over the side.

“Grab hold,” a voice said.

I was pulled up first. My body spilled over the side and into the boat. Xiang followed right behind me, but when Zhou tried to climb up, the man in the boat shoved him away.

“You only paid for two snakes.”

I heard Zhou shouting: “Xiang! Xiaaang!” into the wind. The man who had taken us to the wharf was holding him back. The engine revved as the boat pulled away. Xiang clung to the side of the boat, howling in misery. The man struck her hard across the face, and Xiang flopped onto the wet deck like a frog.

As she struggled to get up, one of the men said: “If you make any noise, we’ll throw you overboard. Sit there and be quiet.”

The small fishing boat lurched across the harbour to where the large ships were anchored. They pulled up alongside a huge container ship, the sides of which rose up like an enormous wall blocking everything from sight. One of the men pointed a torch up at the deck looming faintly above us and flicked it on and off several times. A dark figure appeared. They called back and forth to each other, and then a rope was lowered. The man who’d been standing at the side of the fishing boat grabbed the rope and tied it around my waist without any explanation. He gave the rope a few tugs, and they started to pull. I dangled in midair, unable even to scream, as they hauled me up. The wind spun me in circles, and my body slammed into the side of the iron ship with a loud clang. As soon as I reached the railing, two men grabbed my arms and pulled me over. I was so dizzy I thought I was going to vomit. They lowered the rope again, and after a moment Xiang was brought up too, her body limp and dangling. Neither of the men said a word to us. They led us into the ship, prodding and shoving us along. Xiang practically had to be dragged. We went down a stairwell with a metal railing and through a low-ceilinged corridor with many high door sills. I kept stumbling. My knee slammed into a chunk of metal, and blood trickled down my shin. Later, I realized we were in the very bottom of the ship. Freight containers were stacked in neat rows, and there were narrow spaces in between where we could sit with our legs stretched out. In the darkness, I could just make out other people sitting with their backs against the walls. Xiang fell across my lap and sobbed, her shoulders trembling.

“Xiang, are you okay? Are you injured?” I asked.

“Shh!” Someone whispered in the dark. “Not a word!”

I quieted instantly. The sound of machinery and metal clanging against metal was constant. After what felt like a long wait, the floor seemed to shimmy, and then the boat began to move. We were off. Xiang and I sat against the wall with our heads touching, and dozed off. The tremendous fatigue that had been building up over the past several days washed over me at once.