Chu Ju's House (8 page)

“He is a fool to risk arrest for speaking the truth.”

“But Quan, you risked being arrested for money.”

“That is different,” Quan said.

I thought it was indeed different, and I liked Quan less.

Though I liked him less, I could see how much pleasure Quan took in showing Shanghai to me. He led me into a park where trees grew and there was
a pond where children were feeding giant carp as large as pigs.

All the while, Quan filled my ear with bragging about the city. It was as if the city were someone with whom he had fallen in love. “Shanghai has fourteen million people. Imagine that.” He smiled proudly as if he had met each person, but I trembled at such a number.

Nearby was a bazaar with a thousand things I had never seen the likes of: cages of crickets, some cages labeled
FIGHTING CRICKETS
and some labeled
SINGING CRICKETS
. There were things to put here and there in a house, and elegant clothes to wear. When I lingered over a silk scarf, thinking of the worms, Quan said, “Spend a few of the yuan that are left on the scarf. It is payment for making the trip.”

I shook my head. “No payment is needed,” I said. “I did it for Han Na.” Certainly I had not done
it for Quan. “But there is one thing. I want to send a letter.”

Quan bought me paper and a stamp, borrowing a pen from the shop owner. At last I wrote to my parents, for they would look at the postmark, and seeing it was from a city of many millions, they would not think of looking for me.

It was growing dark, and all around us the buildings began to light up as if they were gigantic fireflies. All the automobiles in the world circled above us on a road that seemed to hang from the heavens. Ahead of us was a river.

“The Huangpu,” Quan said, and there was deep pleasure in his voice. “You must see the Waitan, the walkway along the river. It is the most beautiful walkway in the world.”

Along the walkway were great buildings and hotels and parks and music playing and the delicious smells of food. On the river were hundreds of illuminated junks and barges hung with lanterns, so the Huangpu was a river of light. Crossing the river was a bridge strung with more lights and held up by a cobweb of iron threads. On the other side of the river was a great soaring tower that must have reached into heaven itself. It was lit with a thousand lights.

“That is the Minzhu, the
dian-shi
tower,” Quan said. “It is called the Oriental Pearl. You can take an elevator to the very top. The building going up over there beyond the tower will be the tallest in all the world. It will be in that building that money matters all over Asia are decided.” There was much pride in his voice. He might have put up the building himself, controlling all the money matters under his hand.

With such marvels I understood why Quan wished to stay in the city. It was not the money. The money he sent to Han Na. It did not matter to Quan if he worked all day at hard labor, if at night he could have all around him, and at no cost, sights such as this. Quan was surely in love with the city.

“When I return,” I said, “I'll explain to your mother how beautiful the city is and how to you the beautiful city is worth the danger.”

Quan grasped me roughly by the shoulder.
“You said that you told my mother that you were going to visit your family.”

“Yes, but that was only so she would not worry that you were in jail and I was going alone to Shanghai. When I return I can tell the truth, for you are free and I will be home.”

“No. You must promise to say nothing to my mother about coming here to Shanghai. You must keep telling the story of your visit to your family.”

I stared at him. “How can I do that? After I left, Han Na must have seen that the yuan you sent were all gone. She will think I stole them.”

“She will forgive you. You are a young girl, and she is fond of you and needs your help.”

“No, she will never forgive me for stealing. I can't tell her such a lie.”

“You must.” Quan grasped my shoulder more tightly, until I cried out with pain. “Listen,” he said, “would you have her die? That is what would
happen if each morning she awoke to think I might be arrested again, in jail like that woman's son-in-law you told me about, perhaps forever. She could not live with such a worry.”

I saw that Quan did not care what Han Na thought of me. He cared only that his mother should not learn he had been in a detention center. Yet how could I be sure he was not right, that such worries would kill Han Na and I would be the doing of it?

“Swear you will not tell her,” Quan said.

At last I promised. Quan smiled and led me to a food stall. Using Han Na's money, he bought me dumplings with bits of duck, and chive pancakes, but I could not swallow them for worrying about what Han Na would think of me. Quan ate them for me. First my food went to the greedy man on the train and now to Quan. I thought bitterly of how many my misery had fed.

On the way to the station we passed a street filled with dancing people and blaring music. I stopped to look at the crowds, but Quan pulled me away. “Not for your eyes,” he said. “Evil things go on there.” I asked myself why Quan would want to live in such a city, with evil on streets he must pass each day.

When we reached the station, Quan did not wait with me for the train but hurried out into the night to enjoy his freedom in the firefly city he loved so much, while I boarded the train to return to Han Na and tell her my lies.

As miserable as I was on the train, I did not want my journey to end. Rather than face Han Na, I would have been content to hurtle along forever. When the train reached our village, I had to force myself to get out. A soft rain was falling, but I hardly noticed it. As I walked from the village to Han Na's house, I was seeking an excuse to explain the taking of Quan's yuan. I had made a promise to Quan to keep his secret, but I did not see how I could face Han Na.

The sight of our crops shook me from my thoughts. No one had tended the land. I had been gone less than three days and already there were
bugs on the squash, the weeds stretched higher than the radishes, and the sweet-potato vines were choking the cabbage heads. I had been dragging my feet, but after seeing how the crops had been neglected, I walked faster, afraid that Han Na was ill and had taken to her bed.

It would have been usual for me to walk through the door without knocking, for it was my house as well. Now I knocked. While I waited, the speech I had rehearsed flew away.

It was a new Han Na who opened the door. She was more stooped, her face thinner, her hair uncombed, her voice harsh. “Why did you come back? There is no place for you here and no money left for you to steal.”

Her words were worse than a slap. “There is a little money left,” I said, handing it to her. “I used only what I had to.”

“If your family needed money, why did you not
come to me?” Han Na asked. “I would have given you all you asked for. Why did you steal what Quan worked so hard for? There is no place in my house for you.”

“Han Na, the field is untended. Let me take care of it. I can sleep in the courtyard.”

“The field is nothing to me. I was only keeping it for Quan, and for you if Quan did not return. I no longer care for the field.”

My heart leaped at the words
and for you
. All the time we had been working and living together, Han Na had looked upon me as her own child, someone to whom she might give the land. I saw all that I had lost. I was crying now and, worse, so was Han Na. The truth shut inside me tore at my heart like a wild dog desperate to escape. Quan had warned me that learning he had been arrested would destroy his mother, but what could be worse than this? Just as the wild dog was ready to spring
out, Han Na shut the door.

The journey with little sleep and much worry had tired me. I longed for a place to lie down. The courtyard was forbidden to me. I thought of Ling, but Han Na might have told Ling's parents, and Ling had promised to say nothing of the real purpose of my journey. The Zhangs would be no more willing than Han Na to have me in their home. I resigned myself to spending the night stretched out in some field in the rain and the darkness. “Even Ling's water buffalo has a roof over his head,” I said to myself.

At the thought of the buffalo I began to climb the hill. It was nearly dark. I slipped from shadow to shadow, keeping well away from the Zhangs' house.

Three sides of the stable were closed to the weather. The stable roof was thatched with rice straw. I heard the buffalo moving about. Though
his large size frightened me, I told myself that Ling said he was a great baby. I crept inside and was relieved to see that the brute was tethered to a stake, so a part of the stable was out of his reach. I sank down on a heap of rice straw, the smell and the warmth of the animal all about me. In a moment I was asleep.

When I awoke at the crow of the
gong-ji
s, I saw a line of light along the horizon. The water buffalo grunted and stirred in his sleep. Hastily I ran from the stable and climbed down the hill. Minutes later I was in Han Na's field, taming the sweet-potato vines, pulling weeds, and picking the bugs off the squash. I worked all morning, but Han Na never came. At noon I ate some radishes and raw cabbage, worried that even the little I put into my mouth was an act of theft.

By afternoon the field was as it should be, and I decided I must leave. It seemed that no sooner did
I find a house for myself than I had to run away, but what else could I do? Han Na had said there was no place for me. I had started on my way when something made me decide to say good-bye to Ling. I started up the hill. At one house I passed, I saw a family in its courtyard. How I longed to be part of such a family again, to have a house to live in, to sit at a table and lie on a bed and have someone with whom I could talk.

Ling was in the orchard, a pail of dirt on either end of his shoulder pole. The moment he saw me, he dropped the pole and ran to meet me. “Chu Ju! I am so glad to see you! What trouble you have made for yourself! My parents wanted Han Na to send the police after you, but she wouldn't do it. I kept my promise to say nothing, but now you will have told Han Na the truth. Is Quan free? Is he coming home?”

“No. He will never leave the city. It is like a
box of toys to him. He cares nothing for the land.”

Ling shook his head. “And little for his mother.”

“I think he cares for his mother. He sends her money, and he worried that she might learn what had happened to him.” I was not fond of Quan—how could I be when he had made me so miserable?—but I saw that he had been caught by the city. If he had to choose between my misfortune and his mother's, why should he not choose mine?

“Chu Ju, you have told Han Na the truth?”

“No. I promised Quan I would say nothing about his being in the detention center. He will never come back, and Han Na would always be worrying that he would be arrested again. I can't do that to her. But Ling, she sent me away last night.”

“Sent you away? It was raining. Where did you sleep?”

I couldn't help smiling. “I slept in your stable, beside the beast.”

“Are you to spend the rest of your life with a water buffalo! Han Na loves Quan, but she loves you as well. When Quan left, she still worked in the paddy and cared for her garden. When you left, she shut herself into the house. I wanted to tell her the truth, but I had promised to say nothing until you returned. Now you are back and now I'm going to tell the truth.” Ling started down the hill.

I ran after him. “Wait! What of my promise to Quan?”

“That was your promise. I made no such promise.”

Ling marched down the hill. I had to run to keep up with him. The whole time, I was begging him to wait but he would not listen. He only marched on.

At Ling's loud knock Han Na opened her door and came out into the courtyard. When she saw me standing behind Ling, she said, “There is nothing to
be said. It is better for you, Ling, to keep away from such a girl as that.”

“Han Na,” Ling said, “you must listen. You don't know the truth.”

“There is no truth to learn from such a person,” Han Na said. “All but a few of Quan's hard-earned yuan gone for who knows what foolishness. I would never have thought it of her.”

In one breath Ling said, “The money went to pay a fine so Quan could be released from a detention center.”

Han Na sunk down upon a chair and stared at us. “What are you saying? Quan is in Shanghai. Chu Ju went to her family.”

“No,” Ling insisted. “Quan was arrested because he had no residence permit. Chu Ju made the trip all the way to Shanghai to pay the fine with Quan's money.”

Han Na looked at me. “Is that true?”

I nodded.

“But how is it you knew this, Chu Ju, and I didn't?”

“Quan put it in his letter and told me to say nothing. I didn't read that part to you. Quan said to take his yuan and bring them to the detention center in Shanghai so that his fine could be paid.”

“You traveled to Shanghai by yourself? If such a thing was asked, Quan should have asked it of me.”

I dared to put my hand on Han Na's, and a great weight was lifted when her hand grasped mine. “Han Na, Quan thought the trip would be too much for you.”

“And would he have a girl of sixteen wander alone in such a city? Why didn't he come back with you? He will be arrested again in no time.” I felt Han Na's hand tremble in mine.

“Quan knew you would worry. That's why he wouldn't let me tell you. But Han Na, Quan says he
will not make the same mistake again.”

“You must write him to come home.”

“Quan will not come home. Han Na, let me tell you what the city is like for Quan. He knows every part of it as we know our paddy and as Ling knows his orchard. The city is not for me or for you or for Ling, but it is full of wonders and very beautiful by night. Quan sees only the beauty. He will never come back.”

Ling said, “I'm going to tell my parents the truth. I'll stop back later. Before you ask Chu Ju more questions, Han Na, you should give her something to eat and let her clean herself. She smells like a water buffalo.” Laughing, Ling hurried away.

Han Na quickly put a bowl of rice and some hard-boiled eggs before me. As she boiled water for tea, she said, “Eat first, and then you must tell me how you made such a trip and how my son is.”

I told of the train trip and the woman who
helped me, saying nothing of how that woman's son-in-law had been arrested for speaking the truth. I told her of the underground train and the noodle shop and all the places Quan had taken me in the city.

There were tears in her eyes. “I see that I may never think of my son coming home.” After a bit she was calmer. “Can you forgive me, Chu Ju? The words I said to you yesterday were terrible.”

“But I deceived you,” I said.

“It was Quan who deceived me. Now let us have nothing but truth between us. Tell me why you came here and why you were wandering about alone. Who are your family, and why are you separated from them?”

I wanted the truth between us as well. I told Han Na the story of my parents and my grandmother and of Hua. “I could not let them sell my sister.”

Han Na groaned and took me in her arms. “Terrible, terrible. But Chu Ju, what must your mother and father be feeling? At least I know where Quan is. You must go to them and tell them that you will always have a home here.”

I shook my head.

“I cannot make you, Chu Ju, but you must begin to think about it. The day must come.”

I did begin to think of it. A great longing that I had put aside came over me. Even if there were a son now, if I went back just for a short time there would be no question of anyone discovering I was another daughter. I would come and go quickly. For nearly two years I had put such thoughts out of my head. I had said to myself that I would never return, that my family was lost to me forever. Once I began to think of returning, I could think of nothing else.

Still, the months went by and I did nothing further about such a visit. I worried about leaving Han
Na, for she grew a little weaker each day. She seldom went into the field now. When Quan's letters came, she hardly listened to the words he wrote. The money she put aside, no longer counting it. Once she said to me, “Chu Ju, the money is here when you are ready to make your journey home.” She sighed. “I think you should make the journey, but I am afraid if you do, you won't come back to me.”

“Han Na, this is my home now.”

The last of the vegetables were harvested, and in March Ling brought the water buffalo and plowed our field.

“Here is your friend,” Ling said. “He tells me he is lonesome at night for his old roommate.”

After the field was plowed, Ling tied up the beast and together we sat beside the field in the shade of a clump of bamboo and ate our lunches, sharing our bean curd and pancakes and gratefully
drinking our boiled water. The smell of the new earth was pleasant. A flock of black-and-white magpies explored the freshly plowed field for worms. The spring sky was a cloudless blue, and the bamboo leaves barely rustled in the still noon air.

I had never told Ling the story of my family. I told him now.

At first he listened as if I were telling some story out of a book, hardly believing in the tale. As I told the story, he saw the tears in my eyes and he believed.

“Chu Ju, how you must have loved your sister, but what might have happened to you could have been worse than what might have happened to your sister.”

“No. I had my freedom. No one could have bought and sold me. I might have been hungry, but that would have been the worst of it.”

“You were lucky. There are evil men who
kidnap grown women. But tell me, now that you are older will you go back and see your family?”

“I don't know. Han Na is my family now, and she needs me here. If I returned, my grandmother would say I was coming back to make trouble for them. Hua would still be in danger.”

“Chu Ju, I cannot say I would have done as you did, but I cannot say what you did was wrong. Only how sad your parents must have been to lose such a girl as you.”