own fates. But is this ever true? Not long ago, Gu Shan, a daughter of Muddy River, was wrongfully sentenced to death. She was not a criminal; she was a woman who felt immense responsibility for our nation's future, who spoke out against a corrupt system with courage and insight, but what became of this heroine who acted ahead of her time?”
Teacher Gu's hands trembled as he tried to pull himself out of the armchair. The woman continued to talk, but he could no longer hear her. He struggled to open the notebook, his hand shaking so much that he tore several pages before finding an intact one. “I will beg you only for this one thing now,” wrote Teacher Gu to his first wife.
May I entrust myself to you when I can no longer trust my wife of thirty years? Only in our culture can a body be dug from its grave and put on display for other people's political ambitions. Could you please agree to oversee my cremation? Do not allow traces of me to be left to my current wife, or anyone, for that matter.
“Comrades with conscience!” the woman continued to speak over the loudspeaker. “Please come to the city square and speak up against our corrupt system. Please come to meet and support a heroic mother who is perpetuating the legend of her daughter.”
Stupid women, Teacher Gu said aloud. He put on a coat on top of his pajamas and got ready to go and post the letters.
THE YARD WAS QUIET in an eerie way when Tong woke up before daybreak. He opened the gate, hoping to see an eager Ear waiting for him outside, but apart from a few early-rising men loading their bicycles with bamboo boxes of offerings for their outings, the alley was empty. Tong asked the men about Ear, but none of them had seen the dog.
Tong left the alley, and at the crossroad of two major streets, he caught the first sight of people walking toward the city square. They were silent, men with hats pulled low over their eyebrows, women with half of their faces wrapped in shawls. Tong stood by the roadside and watched the people pass, sometimes in twos but mostly single file, each keeping a distance from the person ahead of him. Tong recognized an uncle from his father's work unit and greeted him, but the man only nodded briefly and then walked faster, as though eager to get rid of Tong. The shops on the main street would be closed for the day, and there was nothing but the public event to attract people to the town center. Perhaps Ear, a gregarious dog that always enjoyed boisterous events, would be found there. Tong waited for a gap to join the procession.
The eastern sky lit up; another cloudless spring day. The main street was quiet in spite of the growing number of people coming in from side streets and alleys. No one talked, and crows and magpies croaked in the pale light, louder than usual. People nodded when they saw acquaintances, but most of the time they focused on the stretch of road in front of them. A few men loitered in front of the shop doors that lined both sides of the main street, their faces too covered by hats or high collars.
“Are you still looking for that dog of yours?” someone said, with a tap on Tong's shoulder. He looked up and saw the young man from the previous day, grinning and showing his yellowed teeth.
“How did you know?” Tong said.
“Because he'd be here with you otherwise,” Bashi said. “Listen, I'm a detective, so nothing escapes my eyes.”
“Have you seen my dog?”
“Do I look like someone who wouldn't tell you if I'd seen him? But I do have a tip for you. You've come to the wrong place. Nobody here and nobody there”—Bashi pointed in the direction of the city square—”cares about your lost dog.”
Tong knew that the man was right. How could he ask people about a small dog when they had more important things to think about? He thanked Bashi nonetheless and moved toward the city square, wishing that the man would stop following him.
“I know you're not listening to me,” Bashi scolded. He pulled Tong out of the procession. “You can't go there alone.”
“Why?”
“How would you get into the city square by yourself? Do you have an admission ticket? They won't let you in without a ticket.”
Tong decided that Bashi was lying, and turned to leave, but Bashi grabbed his shoulder. “You don't believe me?” he said, and brought out something from his sleeve. “See, here's the ticket I'm talking about. Do you have one?”
Tong saw a white paper flower, half-hidden inside Bashi's sleeve.
“Look at these people. They all have a white flower in their sleeves or under their coats. If you don't have one, they won't let you in, because they have to make sure you're not spying for their enemies. Did you see those men in front of the shops? Look there. Why aren't they going to the square?” Bashi paused and savored Tong's questioning look. “Let me tell you—they look like secret police to me. How can you prove that you are not working for the police? Of course you're too young for that, you could say but you're too young to go to a rally also. Unless you're with someone older.”
Tong thought about Bashi's words. They did not quite make sense but he found it hard to argue. “Are you going there?” Tong asked.
“See, that's a question a smart boy asks. Yes, and no. I'm going there, for a different reason than these people are, but if you're looking for someone to tag along with, you've found the right person. But here's one thing you have to promise me—you need to listen to me. I don't want you to get lost or trampled by the crowd.”
Just then the woman announcer's voice came from the loudspeakers. Both Tong and Bashi stopped to listen. When she finished, Bashi said, “I didn't know that Sweet Pea was behind this. So it must mean the government is behind the rally now. Bad news, huh?”
“What's bad news?”
“Nothing. So, do you want to come with me?”
Tong thought about it and agreed.
“I'm old enough to be your uncle already,” Bashi said. “But I'll give you a discount this time, and you can call me Big Brother.”
Tong did not reply but walked with Bashi. When they reached the city square, Tong realized that Bashi had
