some of them were her friends and some were suitors; there were also some unsuccessful suitors who then joined her gang of friends. She was one of those women who had only male friends and, at the same time, seemed quite unaware of the fascination she held for men. She actually believed that all her male friends were just mates. I never pursued her romantically, and she never showed any interest in me, either. Later on I thought she had married a foreigner and moved to England, but now it looked like that had fallen through. Anyway, it had been seven or eight years since I’d had any real contact with her.

I’d been worried about her being a troublemaker. She wasn’t one of those intellectual-style dissidents, but political trouble had been dogging her for decades, all because she was too outspoken and too stubborn. She hated injustice and thus easily offended people. In the past, many people had been willing to help her, including some foreigners. But today foreigners like that have disappeared-none of them want to upset the Chinese Communist Party. Foreigners willing to risk offending the CCP don’t get a visa. Everybody around her was living the good life and couldn’t be bothered with her. They were all avoiding her, and that’s why she’d told me last time that everyone around her had changed.

After talking to Big Sister Song and Little Xi, I’d felt that Little Xi must be in trouble again. Now I was convinced that she’d been under surveillance there in the park next to the National Art Museum.

If I hooked up with her, wouldn’t she bring me trouble? My life was so good now; everything was going along smoothly and I felt extremely happy. Why should I risk it? If I saw her and she expressed the least bit of interest in me, I wouldn’t be able to control myself. I found her sexually very attractive, which scared me. I hadn’t felt like this about someone for a long time. If I took an emotional leap and we really got together, I could guarantee that we would not be able to get along. She still imagined me the way I’d been ten years ago, when I’d agreed with her on everything. But I’d become one of those people she said had changed. Our present frames of mind were as different as our understandings of China’s current situation. I was certain that we would never be able to agree on anything. I remembered when Chen Shuibian had run for reelection in Taiwan-many of my male friends supported the Nationalist Party while their wives supported the Democratic Progressive Party, and they split up over this.

I sat there in front of my computer staring blankly at the piece of paper Big Sister Song had given me. Suddenly it dawned on me that I had not been able to write a really good novel. Perhaps my life was too peaceful, I just felt too happy. I felt no pressure. Who was it that could tear me away from this excessive feeling of happiness and good fortune? Little Xi, obviously.

Written on the scrap of paper was the yahoo.com e-mail address feichengwuraook. Next to it were the words “If you’re not sincere, don’t bother, okay?”

2. NEVER FORGET

Little Xi’s autobiography

I am Wei Xihong. Everyone calls me Little Xi.

I don’t know where to start; I don’t know how the world has become what it is. I’m just afraid that many things may be forgotten later, so I want to write them all down and store them in this Google file.

Somebody is following me. But I haven’t done anything wrong. So why are they on my tail?

Maybe I’m just too nervous. Maybe there is nobody following me at all, and I’m just overly suspicious.

If somebody is following me, it’s bound to have something to do with Wei Guo. How did I ever give birth to such a monster?

Ever since he was born, he has frightened me. He had a face like a little angel, but he lied, ingratiated himself with his teachers, ingratiated himself with anyone who could do him any good, and bullied anyone weaker than he was. His character was just naturally cruel. Okay, so he was like that from childhood. Now he writes letters informing on his classmates, getting them into trouble with the authorities, and persecuting them. He is always spouting empty slogans, pretending to embrace a wonderful idealistic morality.

Does he have his father’s genes, or my genes, or has he inherited his character from my father? Or is he just the result of the worst possible combination of bloodlines?

He blames me for not telling him who his father is, and I can understand that. He actually curses my friends using the Cultural Revolution term “monsters and demons”! He says they are dubious characters who could have a bad influence on his future. He laughs at me for resigning my position as a judge and says that I’m too stupid to be his mother.

If that 1983 crackdown on “spiritual pollution” and crime had not made me understand clearly that I was not suited to be a judge, I would still be part of the Public Security system today. I think I’m constitutionally unable to adapt to this political system. I studied law only to please my father.

My father can probably be considered one of the first judges in the New China. In the 1950s, he participated in the drafting of the new Constitution. I remember when I was a child and my father came home, Mother would tell us not to make any noise. We were all afraid of my father. He never once gave me a hug. My mother was probably more afraid of him than anyone else. I remember my mother never smiled if he was around. After he died, she became another person. She was reborn, and even her voice seemed louder. My mother didn’t say much about the things my father did, but no doubt he must have persecuted and ruined quite a few people.

My father himself was persecuted and put in prison during the Cultural Revolution. He was released only when he became ill. In 1979, after the college entrance examinations had been reinstated, I graduated from Number 101 Secondary School. Fully aware of my father’s wishes, I listed the Peking College of Political Science and Law as my first university choice. I wanted nothing more than to become a judge after graduation. I thought that, like my father, I was a prime candidate for being a judge in our republic.

My mother had told me in private that my personality was not suited to studying law. She told me to study science and engineering, and keep out of trouble. At the time I didn’t agree and felt furious with her. I wanted only to make my father happy and figured that my mother was a housewife with no practical experience or understanding. People are so strange. When people treat us badly, we do what they want us to do; when people treat us well, we pay no attention to them at all.

During the trial of the Gang of Four, I watched the televised proceedings with my father. Father’s temper had grown even worse after the Cultural Revolution; he was very hard to get on with and he often swore at us. He didn’t achieve the success he longed for in his later years and he took his hatred to the grave.

While I was in college, people had their Rightist status removed and many who had suffered miscarriages of justice during the Cultural Revolution received political rehabilitation. Even the Gang of Four were given a trial, and state-appointed lawyers to defend them. I was full of hope for the future and utterly confident that the Communist Party intended to create a society governed by the rule of law.

I graduated in 1983 and was assigned to a county-level court under the Beijing jurisdiction to serve as a legal clerk-secretary. That was when my nightmare began.

I was twenty-two years old when I arrived at my work unit in August. Everyone else there had just finished studying Party Central’s August 25 document “Decision on Severely Cracking Down on Criminal Activity.” They briefly explained the “spirit” of the document to me and then they let me get to work. I’d always hated to see the guilty prosper and the innocent suffer, and so I was naturally very much in favor of the Party and government’s policy of severely and rapidly punishing criminal activity according to the law. I was certain I would not be soft on criminals. What I didn’t know, however, was that the “severely and rapidly” that I had in mind was not the “severely” or “rapidly” that they practiced. Maybe I hadn’t had enough psychological preparation, and perhaps my idea of the rule of law was too far removed from reality. In any case, the problems began as soon as I started work.

The correct procedure in criminal cases was for the Public Security Bureau to arrest people, the prosecutor’s office to bring charges, and the judges to decide the verdict and the sentence. In order to process cases rapidly the Public Security Bureau, the prosecutor’s office, and the legal division each assigned two people. All of us worked in an office of the Public Security Bureau. The arrest, investigation, decision, and the sentencing all took place

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