“What’s the note say?”
“I’ll read it to you,” he said. “‘Kaifang, make yourself something to eat. If Dad calls, tell him I’m at the Chili Sauce Shop on People’s Avenue.’ What does that mean?”
I didn’t explain it to him. “Son, I can’t tell you, not now.” I hung up and looked around the office. The ox bone lay on my desk, and I had the vague notion that I ought to take something with me, but I couldn’t for the life of me think what that was. I rushed downstairs. The area around the gate was chaotic, with the people crowding together to get away from the nose-pricking, eye-burning smoke. Coughing, cursing, screaming, the sounds all merged in the air. The clamor seemed to be coming to an end near the building, but only beginning out by the gate. Holding my nose, I ran around the building and slipped out through the rear gate, immediately heading east. I ran past the movie theater into Leatherwork Lane, then turned south and headed for People’s Avenue. The distracted shoe repairmen in shops lining both sides of the lane obviously linked the fleeing deputy county chief to the commotion at the county office building. County residents might not recognize Pang Kangmei if they saw her out on the street, but every one of them recognized me.
I spotted her on People’s Avenue, her and the dog beside her, the son of a bitch. Crowds were running all over the place, disregarding traffic laws, as cars and people came together; horns blared. I crossed the street like a kid playing hopscotch. Some people noticed me, most didn’t. I ran up to her, breathless; she just stared at the tree. But you, you son of a bitch, you stared at me, a look of desolation in your eyes.
“What have you done with her?” I demanded.
Her cheeks twitched, and her mouth twisted into something close to a sneer. But her gaze stayed fixed on the tree.
At first all I saw were some black, oily smudges on the trunk, but a closer look revealed clusters of disgusting bluebottle flies. So I looked even harder, and now I saw the two words and three exclamation signs. I smelled blood. My eyes glazed over and I nearly blacked out. What I’d feared more than anything, it seemed, had occurred. She’d killed her and written on the tree with her blood. Still, I forced myself to ask:
“What did you do to her?”
“I didn’t do anything to her.” She kicked the tree, which sent the flies flitting away with a gut-wrenching buzz. She showed me her plaster-wrapped finger. “It’s my blood. I wrote those words with my blood to get her to leave you.”
Like a man who has been relieved of a crushing burden, I was overcome by exhaustion. I sank into a crouch, and though my fingers were cramped, twisted like claws, I managed to fish a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket, lit one, and took a deep drag. The smoke seemed to snake its way up into my brain, where it swirled amid all the valleys and canals to create a sense of well-being. When the flies were flitting away from the tree, the filthy words had leaped tragically into my eyes. But the flies quickly swarmed back and covered them up, making them virtually invisible.
“I told her,” my wife said in a monotone, without looking at me, “that if she leaves you, I won’t say a word. She can go fall in love, get married, have a child, and enjoy a decent life. But if she won’t leave you, then she and I will go down together!” She turned abruptly and pointed her injured, wrapped index finger at me. Her eyes were blazing as, in a shrill voice that reminded me of a cornered dog, she said, “I’ll bite this finger again and expose this scandal of yours by writing it in blood on the gates of the county office building, the Party Committee building, the Political Consultative Conference building, the local People’s Congress building, the police station, the courthouse, the procurator office, the theater, the movie house, the hospital, and every tree and wall I can… until I run out of blood!”
47
Posing as a Hero, a Spoiled Son Smashes a Famous Watch
Saving the Situation, a Jilted Wife Returns to Her Hometown
Your wife, in a floor-length magenta dress, was sitting in the passenger seat of a VW Santana, smelling of mothballs. The neckline, front and back, were decorated with shiny sequins. My thoughts at that moment? If tossed into a river, she’d turn into a scaly fish. She had mousse in her hair and makeup that turned her face so white it looked like limestone and contrasted starkly with her dark neck; it was as if she was wearing a mask. She had on a gold necklace and a pair of gold rings, intended to give her a regal appearance. Your driver pulled a long face until your wife gave him a carton of cigarettes, which turned his face back to oval.
Your son and I were in the backseat, which was stacked high with packages: liquor, tea, pastries, and fabrics. This was my first trip back to Ximen Village since I’d ridden to the county town in Ximen Jinlong’s Jeep. I’d been a three-month-old puppy then; now I was an adult dog with a full range of experiences. Emotionally, I watched the scenery go by on both sides of the broad, tree-lined highway. There were few cars on the highway, so my driver drove at speeds that seemed close to flying.
My excitement was not shared by your son, who sat quietly, absorbed in the Tetris game he was playing on his electronic toy. His intensity was visible in the way he was biting his lower lip, his thumbs dancing on the buttons. He stomped his foot and puffed angrily each time he missed.
This was the first time your wife, who in the past always took the bus or rode her bicycle back to the village, had ridden in the official car in your name. And it was the first time she’d returned looking like the wife of an official instead of wearing her stained work clothes and not bothering about her hair or face. It was the first time she’d brought expensive gifts with her instead of homemade oil fritters. And it was the first time she’d brought me along rather than locking me in the yard to keep an eye on the house. Her attitude toward me had taken a positive turn after I’d snooped out your lover, Pang Chunmiao; more accurately, I suppose, my importance had, in her eyes, increased considerably She often talked to me about what was on her mind, like a garbage pail for her throwaway comments and complaints. And I was not just her confessor figure, I was, it seemed, a sort of adviser:
“What do you think I ought to do, Dog?”
“Do you think she’ll leave him, Dog?”
“Do you think she’ll go see him at his conference in Jinan, Dog, or will he take her someplace else for a little tryst?”
“Do you think there really are women who can’t get by without a man, Dog?”
I dealt with these interminable questions the only way I could: with silence. I gazed up at her, my thoughts leaping up and down in concert with her questions; sometimes flying to heaven, sometimes plummeting to hell.
“Tell me honestly, Dog, who’s right, him or me?” She was sitting on a kitchen stool, leaning up against the butcher block as she sharpened a rusty knife, the edge of the spatula, and a pair of scissors. Apparently, she’d decided to utilize our chat time to put a shiny edge on all the sharp objects in the house. “She’s younger than me, and prettier, but I was young and pretty once. Isn’t that right? Besides, I may not be young and good looking now, but neither is he. He never was good looking, not with that blue birthmark across half his face. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, and the sight of his face makes me shudder. Dog, if Ximen Jinlong hadn’t ruined my reputation as a girl, do you think I’d have stooped to marrying this one? Dog, my life was ruined, all thanks to those two brothers…” When her complaints reached this stage, tears would moisten the front of her clothes. “Now I’m an ugly old woman, while he’s a prominent official, so it’s time to get rid of the old lady, like throwing away a pair of worn socks. Does that make sense to you, Dog? Is that a sign of conscience?” She sharpened the knife with determination. “I have to stand up for myself. I’m going to hone my body till it shines like this knife.” She touched the edge of the blade to her finger. It left a white mark; sharp enough. “We’re going back to the village tomorrow, Dog, and you’re coming along. We’ll go in his car. In all these years I’ve never once sat in his car, keeping public and private separate to protect his good name. I can take credit for half of the prestige he enjoys with the public. Dog, people take advantage of good people, just like people ride good horses. But no more. Now we’re going to be like those other wives of officials, doing whatever we have to do to show people that Lan Jiefang has a wife, and that she is to be reckoned with…”
The car drove across the newly built Bridge of Wealth and into Ximen Village. The squat old stone bridge stood unused nearby, except for a bunch of bare-assed boys taking turns diving into the river below and sending water
