'Go back, you'll catch a chill,' Xiao Xiao said.
'Will you come again?' he asked.
Xiao Xiao gave a nod and went out, slowly pulling the door shut behind her.
But Xiao Xiao did not come again, nor did she reappear at the workplace headquarters of their rebel faction. However, he did not have Xiao Xiao's address. Of that gang of middle-school students, the girl had stayed the longest in their rebel group, but he had no way of finding out what had happened to her. He only knew that she was called Xiao Xiao, which could even have been a nickname used by her schoolmates. But what he clearly knew was that on this Xiao Xiao's breast-below the left breast, no, the right breast, it was his left hand and the girl's right breast-there was almost an inch-long, still raw, blood-red scar. He recalled that the girl was yielding and didn't squirm, but that she wanted to show him the scar. Was it to win his sympathy or to seduce him? She was probably seventeen or eighteen, and still had no hair between her legs, but her body was beautiful, beautiful enough to arouse him. Maybe it was only because the girl was too young, too frail, that he was afraid of shouldering such a responsibility. He didn't know if Xiao Xiao's parents had been attacked, and there was no way of knowing how she had been wounded. Had the girl come to him because of the scar? Was she seeking his protection, someone to turn to? Maybe she was afraid and confused? Maybe she got into his bed hoping to be comforted? But he didn't dare accept her, and didn't dare ask her to stay. For some time after, whenever he took his bicycle out, he would make a detour past the hutong where Xiao Xiao had got off, but he never saw her again. It was only then that he regretted not having got Xiao Xiao to stay. He hadn't said anything kind or comforting to the girl. He was so careful, so overly cautious, and so spineless.
29
'Why were you arrested?'
'I was sold out by a traitor.'
'Were you a traitor? Speak up!'
'The Party examined my history and came to a decision long ago.'
'Should I read this document to you?'
The old scoundrel started to panic, and the bags under his eyes twitched a couple of times.
' 'At a critical juncture in the fight against the Communists, to stamp out disorder in order to save the nation, I was not vigilant, careless about whom I befriended, and was led astray.' Do you remember those words?''''
'I don't recall having said them!' The old man was adamant in his denial, and the sides of his nose began to sweat.
'That's nothing, just the first sentence to prompt you, should I read on?'
'I really can't remember, it was many decades ago.' The old man's tone had softened, and his prominent Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed saliva.
He picked up the document from the table and waved it. He was acting out a repulsive role, but it was better to be the judge than being judged by others.
'This is a copy, the original bears a signature and a thumbprint. Of course, it's the name you had at the time. You had to change your name and surname, surely you can't have forgotten that?'
The old man was silenced.
'I'll read some more sentences to help jog your memory.' He read on, ' 'I earnestly beg the government for a lenient acquittal and hereby sign this guarantee that should there be any suspicious persons ingratiating and aligning themselves with the Communist bandits, I will forthwith report them.' Doesn't this count as being a traitor to the Party? Do you know how the underground Party dealt with traitors?'' he asked.
'Yes, yes.' The old man nodded repeatedly.
'Then what about you?'
'I didn't ever betray anyone…' Beads of sweat began to ooze from his bald forehead.
'I'm asking you, were you a traitor to the Party?' he asked.
'Stand up!'
'Stand up when you speak!'
'Make an honest confession!'
Several members of the rebel faction were all shouting rowdily.
'I… I had to sign the guarantee so that they would let me out…' The old man stood there, trembling. His voice, low in his throat, was barely audible.
'I didn't ask how you were released. If you hadn't capitulated, would they have let you out? Speak up! Isn't that being a traitor?'
'But I… But, afterwards, I reestablished links with the Party-'
He cut him short. 'That was because, at the time, the underground Party didn't know you had capitulated.'
'The Party forgave, pardoned me…' The old man bowed his head.
'You were pardoned? You were brutal with punishing other people. When you punished the masses, you went into a rage and didn't let people off even after they had written a confession. 'Instruct the branches under your supervision to make sure the evidence sticks so that the verdict can't ever be reversed.' Did you say this?'
'Speak up! Did you say this?' someone roared.
'Yes, yes, I made an error. It was the same as having betrayed the Party,' the old man quickly admitted.
'How can it be just an error? You make it sound like it's nothing! You had people jumping out of the building to commit suicide!' Someone banged on the table.
'That… That wasn't me, that was how it was carried out-'
'This was your instruction, you yourself gave the instruction: 'Historical problems have to be linked to actual behavior and need to be thoroughly investigated.' Did you or did you not say this?' this comrade kept at him relentlessly.
'Yes, yes.' The old man was learning to be clever.
'Who is anti-Party? It is you who have betrayed the Party! Write all that down!' this comrade shouted harshly at him.
'What do you want me to write?' the old man asked, looking forlorn.
'Do you need a secretary to write it?' another comrade asked scornfully.
Everyone started laughing and talking all at once. They were excited, it was as if they had caught a big fish. The old man looked up a little, his face ashen. His slack, colorless lower lip began to tremble as he spoke.
'I… I've got a heart problem… Could I have a drink of water?'
He shoved a glass of water on the table to him. The old man took a small medicine bottle out of his pocket, tipped out a pill with his shaking hands, and swallowed it with a gulp of water.
It flashed through his mind that the old scoundrel was older than his own father… Hey! Don't you have a heart attack and drop dead here. He said, 'Sit down and drink up all the water. If you need to, you can lie down on the sofa for a while.'
The old man didn't dare go to the sofa where people were sitting, and looked miserably at him.
He gave up the idea and made a decision, 'Now listen, first thing in the morning, bring a detailed account of your capitulation, and of your betrayal of the Party. Outline, clearly and in full, how you were arrested, how you got out of prison, who were the witnesses, and what confessions you made in prison.'
'Ai, ai.' The old scoundrel immediately bowed and nodded.
'You may leave now.'
As soon as the old man went out the door, his comrades, who were all fired up for action, turned on him.
However, he was a slick talker, and just as mean. 'Do you think he can get away with all this evidence against him? The heavenly net of the dictatorship of the proletariat won't let him escape! Don't let the old bastard have a heart attack and drop dead right in front of us.'
'What if he goes home and commits suicide?' someone asked.
'I doubt that he would have the courage. If he wasn't afraid of dying, he would not have capitulated back then.
