The Fat Years

frequently worked on issues with the Republican Party and its right-wing factions that supported the interests of big capitalists. Some Americans had actually come to Henan to see Gao Shengchan and urge him to oppose the Chinese government’s birth-control policies, but he had refused to do so. To this day American Christian church groups have never invited this excellent Chinese Christian intellectual and charismatic leader of the underground church movement to visit the United States, not to mention visit the White House and meet the president.

What Gao Shengchan was able to do was to insist that the Church of the Grain Fallen on the Ground should not accept monetary contributions from abroad, nor receive Bibles illegally smuggled into China, nor invite non-Chinese pastors to preach in their churches. Some people had actually accused Gao Shengchan of promoting a “No No No” Patriotic Church. Fortunately, up to this point, Li Tiejun and the others had agreed with Gao Shengchan on these important policies; the main reasons being that the Chinese economy was very strong, church members donated a considerable amount of money, and the church had no need of foreign donations and even less need of foreign Bibles.

There was one sort of positive development that sometimes, however, gave Gao Shengchan a major headache. After joining the church, the faithful had a natural cohesion based on their common identity, and they wanted to express Christ’s spirit of universal love by collaborating on common goals and mutually protecting one another. If some brother or sister in the Lord was in trouble, they felt duty-bound to rush to his or her aid. Gao had heard that there had already been many occasions when collusion between businesspeople and government officials had infringed the rights and well-being of the common people, and when members of the underground churches were among those ordinary victims, their brothers and sisters in the faith organized themselves to resist the business and bureaucratic interest groups. In the mind of the government officials, these incidents could easily be regarded as a confrontation between the believers and the regime. Some local officials already regarded the home churches as a thorn in their flesh and they had put a great deal of pressure on the Bureau of Religion to do something about them. If these incidents kept occurring, they might cause the government to reverse its present relatively lenient policy.

This was precisely why the appearance of Little Xi caused Gao Shengchan both joy and anxiety. His face became flushed. The Lord must have guided her to them, thanks be to the Lord.

Ever since the Warm Springs fellowship had been established, he had stood in the yard and guided many lost sheep back into the Lord’s embrace. The difference was that as soon as he saw Little Xi he knew she was not local; she had a certain air of culture about her; she was an intellectual like himself.

After Little Xi had been in Warm Springs a while, Gao Shengchan saw that she read the Bible quite seriously, and that the questions she asked were very sophisticated and not at all trivial. What she most wanted to understand was why they all believed in God and why the church members, after being suppressed and forced underground, didn’t harbor any hatred-on the contrary, they were even happier than anyone else.

“Because we have love in our hearts, because we have the Lord Jesus Christ,” said Gao Shengchan in his sermons.

Little Xi appreciated the mutual concern the brothers and sisters of the fellowship had for one another; it was much more sincere than the class solidarity she had been taught since childhood. This kind of loving friendship recalled to her the intellectuals she’d met in the Wudaokou restaurant during the 1980s. They had also had a similar sort of kindred spirit. Now it was all gone with the wind.

She could not help wondering to herself, If they didn’t have religious faith, could good people in China still keep on being good? In China’s current conditions, with this political system and prevailing social mood, it’s not at all easy to “guard one’s own virtue alone,” as the Confucian philosopher Mencius advised. What kind of moral and spiritual power can make one want to be good? Without religious faith, it’s just too difficult to be a good person.

Little Xi didn’t, however, have the urge to believe in religion. All her life she had been a faithful disciple of materialism and atheism and she could not change her mind. Her reason made her resist the claims of theistic religion.

The only person in the fellowship with whom she could have a high-level discussion was Gao Shengchan, but as the main preacher for all four fellowships, he couldn’t stay in Warm Springs all the time. So Little Xi decided that wherever Gao Shengchan went, she would go with him, listen to his preaching, and ask him further questions.

There was something else about the fellowship that Little Xi was only vaguely aware of. Those humble and devout disciples of Christ also exhibited a mild form of dogmatic self-satisfaction-we alone know the truth-that made her feel somewhat uneasy. Although Gao Shengchan was very enthusiastic when he preached the gospel, in everyday life he seemed to carry a great load of care and a certain melancholy; he also had to cope with his lameness, and Little Xi felt it was very easy to communicate with him. She decided to get closer to him.

Little Xi had no romantic notions, but Gao Shengchan certainly did and was even thinking that it was about time for him to take a wife. But Little Xi was not yet a Christian, and all those posts she put on the Internet under the name of maizibusi might cause trouble.

It was at this stage in their relationship that the Zhang Family Village incident occurred.

Many peasant families in Zhang Family Village were members of the Christian fellowship. A short while earlier the township government, in collusion with a business interest group, had violated their rights and enclosed their land. When the other brothers and sisters in the fellowship discussed this situation, Little Xi was particularly enthusiastic. She explained many legal concepts to them and urged them to defend their legal rights. When everybody learned that she had studied law, they greatly admired her knowledge. They planned out a three-part strategy. First, they would go to the county court and file a suit against the township government; second, they would stage a protest demonstration in front of the township-government headquarters; and third, they would make a real-time record of the demonstration and put all the evidence of the township government’s corruption on the Internet for wider distribution. This last move was because Little Xi told them, “The Internet is the people’s Central Discipline Committee and virtual Public Security authorities.” But some were worried that if they acted this way, the church would be drawn into the peasants’ rights defense movement, with hard-to-predict consequences.

Gao Shengchan talked to Li Tiejun about these developments and asked Li to dissuade the fellowship members from broadening the scope of the Zhang Family Village incident. Who would have imagined that Li Tiejun would turn around and criticize Gao Shengchan? “Old Gao,” he said, “when I have something to say, I say it. Everybody now believes that you and Little Xi are a couple. But she’s become Big Sister Gao-she’s the outside, and you’re the inside. This maizibusi woman is speaking on your behalf!”

A love that passeth all understanding

As they entered Henan Province, Fang Caodi began to recount the many coincidences that had occurred in his life. “Lao Chen, do you believe in coincidence?” he asked.

Lao Chen thought that as a writer of fiction he had to rely on coincidence, but in real life he felt that the value of coincidence was overestimated. He didn’t need to answer Fang Caodi very often because Fang would just keep on talking anyway. Fang had not stopped talking since they had left Beijing that morning. So in answer to this particular question, Lao Chen just shrugged.

“I knew I didn’t have to ask you,” said Fang Caodi. “As a writer, you must believe in coincidence. You know that life is just like fiction, everything is coincidence-if not I would not be driving into Henan with you today.”

“Have you read the American writer Paul Auster’s novels of coincidence?” Lao Chen asked out of curiosity.

“No,” said Fang, “but I’ve read the mystery stories of Seicho Matsumoto. Without coincidence there’d be no fiction.”

“Fiction is one thing,” said Lao Chen, “and real life is something else. Most coincidences are probably predestined. On the surface they look like coincidence, but in the background, ‘Heaven’s net is wide-meshed, but nothing can escape it,’ as old Laozi said. Cause and effect are always there, and there are always clues, but most of the time we can’t see the clues.”

“A really perceptive analysis, Lao Chen,” said Fang, “really perceptive.”

“Wow!” exclaimed Lao Chen, looking at his cell phone. “Zhang Dou has found new posts by