Old Town (59 page)

“Sir, do you still remember your medical orderly, Young Li?”

O heaven! What is this!
It was a few moments before the doctor’s trembling hands could unlock the gate with a clattering of the crossbar. Young Li opened his arms and tightly hugged the doctor. Sobbing in a sorrow which seemed bottomless he said, “Sir, sir, I should have come to you sooner.”

The doctor stood there simply dumbfounded until he accepted that this man was the Young Li with whom he had lost contact so many decades ago. Then instantly he burst out uncontrollably in tears of joy and sorrow. “Young Li, I looked for you so hard!”

They weren’t related by blood but they were closer to each other than if they had been. These two reserved and restrained Old Town men could no longer control their emotions.

The doctor touched the wounds and tracks of blood on Young Li. He brought him under the light in the main hall and looked him up and down and all over. Then once again sorrow overwhelmed him and he wept deeply.

Second Sister came back with the travel pass issued by Ah Ming and froze in fear at the scene before her. Her instincts told her that this battered stranger was very dangerous.
Will Ninth Brother be keeping this dangerous man in their home?

The doctor didn’t tell his wife who this person was and when he asked her to clear out all the various objects from the garret and lay down bedding, she didn’t immediately respond.

Young Li stood up in front of Second Sister’s frightened and suspicious gaze and said, “Sir, Madam, I only came to see you. Now I can go.”

“Honored comrade, please go in peace. Take care of yourself.” The doctor, just then taking some medicine and instruments from the glass cabinet, spun around in fury.

“Where do you want him to go? Don’t you see his whole body’s covered with wounds?”

In all the decades of their married life, Ninth Brother had never uttered such a strong rebuke. Second Sister bore this wrong in silence, and forcing a smile, said to the visitor, “Of course, let Dr. Lin bandage up your wounds before you go.”

“Young Li, I don’t allow you to go. I won’t let you take one step away from me!” the doctor said with finality.

Suddenly Second Sister realized who this was. This was a person Ninth Brother could give up his own life for. She hurried into action. She locked the main gate and cleaned out the little garret. Since there was nothing in the house that this man could wear, she rushed to make him a set of clothes late that very night.

I didn’t know a man was being hidden in the garret. What I could sense was different was that Grandpa’s ears suddenly improved and, in fact, became especially sensitive. At the least suspicious sound outside of the gate he would bring his face up to the crack and peek out. He no longer mentioned going to P Town to see my mother and stepfather. Nor did he any longer sit in the rocking chair, eyes closed and spiritually recharging. Nor did he simply gaze blankly at the top of the wall.

One day, there was a furious pounding on the gate. Grandpa raced up to the garret as nimble as a rabbit and with a stranger in tow, told me to take him through the back door and find Shuiguan. After about an hour, Grandpa came to the side of the city moat to bring him back home. Grandma called me to the kitchen and made me swear never to tell anyone that there was a stranger hiding in our house. After she counted off all the people I was closest to, Rongmei, Chaofan, my cousins, also Uncle Baoqing, I solemnly swore this oath, keenly proud to be qualified to join in a mutual offense-defense pact with Grandpa and Grandma.

From that day on, the stranger no longer hid in the little garret. Our little family of three became a family of four. We passed the time with the deck of cards and the sets of military and elephant chess that my cousins had left here. The armed clashes out in the streets became more and more violent. Locked in the house, we played poker and chess. My happiness knew no bounds.

Grandma never told me what this man’s name was, only that I should call him Uncle. I liked this amiable and approachable uncle and deep inside wondered whether or not he might be my real father. No one in the family had ever mentioned my real father to me. The first time my mother brought my stepfather home, she told me that
he
was my father. But I knew that northerner was not my father. Great-Auntie had long before told me in secret all about my life. She said my mother and father had divorced and my father was a big official in some far distant place. If this “uncle” were my real father, would I hate and resent him?

Little me, wracking my brains all by myself trying to solve the riddles of my life…and every time falling into clouds and mist eighteen miles long.

Just like that, all the fighting stopped. Perhaps the ordinary citizens of Old Town had quickly grown weary and disgusted at having to spend their days cooped up at home. Many people were beginning to experience shortages of the food they had stocked. The watery rice gruel my grandmother made became even more watery.
Could our rice jar now be in a critical state?
However, overnight the two factions that had been trading fire now shook hands and exchanged words of peace. This, nonetheless, left me with a deep regret.

In the veil of darkness, the main gate and the rear door were still locked. Under the 15-watt lights in the main hall, Grandma did her sewing off to one side while Grandpa, Uncle, and I played poker. I taught them to play Winner. Whoever lost would get their noses rubbed. Grandpa often lost and he would always obediently stick out his nose for me to rub. His nose was pronounced and bony. Even though I got used to his sober and humorless expression, every time I rubbed his nose I would invariably feel a bit tense as I hesitantly reached out my hand. Whenever I lost, shamelessly I would hide under the table or dash about to avoid my own nose rubbing.

I was just burrowing under the table when the sounds of fierce gunfire came in from outside. Suddenly everyone in the room just froze like statues, but after a few seconds like this, we recognized the sounds of firecrackers. These were followed right afterward by gongs and drums on every side. Outside the gate someone was shouting, “Dr. Lin, the highest instructions have come down from Beijing. It’s the ‘Great Alliance’ now. No more fighting!”

I couldn’t hold myself back and, snatching the keys from Grandma’s hand, I burst out the gate to see what all the excitement was. The parading contingents came from the East Street crossing and passed through West Gate. Flags and banners were fluttering and the sounds of percussion and the shouts of slogans shook heaven and earth. A few hours earlier the two factions had still been at each other’s throats. Now like brothers who had gone through all kinds of awful things together, they laid down their weapons, and with tear-washed faces, held each other tightly as they paraded through the streets. In the seething tumult I found Chaofan and Rongmei whom I hadn’t seen in so many days. We had shaken off our captivity and now there was no controlling our fun and games.

Grandpa and Uncle didn’t come outside. On the street I picked up several flyers and a big unexploded firecracker and jubilantly returned home. However, the atmosphere there was anything but reassuring. Grandpa had slipped back to his old ways, sitting over there, but a thousand miles away. Uncle was by his side. Grandma signaled me by her expression to go to my own room.

The next morning, Great-Auntie’s uproarious voice awoke me. Old Town’s buses today had resumed their routes and she had ridden the first bus over to West Gate. I supposed that Uncle would avoid Great-Auntie by hiding in the garret. After I finished breakfast, I grabbed our worn-out deck of cards and climbed upstairs to find him. But the place was empty. Even the bedding that had been spread out on the floor was gone.

My own period of happiness came to an abrupt halt at the same time as the violence in Old Town ended.

3.

T
HE
G
REAT
C
ULTURAL
Revolution was just like a raging wild-fire. The number of loafers on Old Town’s streets grew steadily, and the Lin family’s own Young Turks also became idlers. Baoqing had been fired from his job by the rebel faction, and right after him, Baosheng too. They had been only ordinary cadres in their organizations, so they never had their turn at being struggled and their bad family background disqualified them from struggling anyone else. All they could do was go home, cook meals, and take care of the children. Their wives were still on the firing line of the Revolution, though.

Bored in their inactivity, the two brothers often rode their bicycles, each with a child packed on his back, to meet at West Gate. Later, Old Town’s idlers began to popularize cock fighting and Baosheng and Baoqing became quite skilled at raising these fowl. They would each buy a batch of newly hatched chicks and from these nurture a few fierce and aggressive cocks. Every few days they would bring cocks back to West Gate to fight and the ones that lost would become a tasty dish later that day.

The cockpit was set up at the gateway under the oleander bush and two multicolored cocks of a famous English breed would begin the combat. Those West Gate folk at loose ends all gathered around the Lin gate to enjoy all the fun and excitement.

The doctor sat expressionlessly in the main hall. Clearly his two sons had disappointed him again. Both had just passed thirty, that age at which Confucius said he had taken his stand.
How could they cast their youth away for no reason like this? With the world so disordered and many relatives and friends still shut up in the cowsheds, how could they just pursue fun and games like this and not feel that they were committing sin?
Second Sister said, “What can you make our two sons do?”
That’s right, what can we do?
But he was firm about not wallowing in the mud with them. He didn’t watch the cockfights, not one little bit of them. And he did not eat that meat either. While both sons ate and chatted away at the dinner table, he would just close his eyes and restore his spirit. He would open his eyes again only when, fully sated, they left West Gate.

First one, then another special-case team came to West Gate. They were the special mailmen during periods of emergency and Dr. and Mrs. Lin would welcome them in. The doctor sat over there, Second Sister right next to him. The investigators would ask something and she would loudly repeat it. When they asked a question you had to give an answer. Time and again the reply would not be what was asked. From the teams’ questions, doctor could determine what kind of predicaments that Baolan and Ah Jian, Baohua and Big Zhang, Enchun, and even Young Li, were each in. And from his dealings with the various teams and their questions, the doctor could glean different bits of information. First, they would say that such and such a person was still alive. Next, they would explain this person’s problem was not so great that he or she could never make a complete turn-around. Certain people had already been released from the cowsheds, one of these being Baosheng’s old superior, Deputy District Chief Bai. Now he too was a lay-about and a few days before had come to the Lins’ gateway to enjoy the cockfights.

That night Young Li resolved to go back to the cowshed to give himself up to the authorities. His reason for this was the Party Central Committee’s newly issued instruction, “Struggle verbally, not with weapons.” So this was his moment to surrender. He was already resigned to what was in store for him and made mental preparations to return to his village and work the land. He had been the son of Tongpan District peasants. For peasants like them, even a trip to Old Town was beyond their wildest dreams. He had spent the greater part of his life following the tides of war in the north and the south and had been all over China. He was now content. If he died, he would have no regrets. He had gotten the doctor to believe in the Communist Party. His good achievements should be sufficient to compensate for his historical stain. He was sure he would quickly receive permission to hang up his armor and return to the fields.

The doctor listened to Young Li’s analysis and, his eyes closed, wondered whether he should go on keeping him here. The reasons Young Li presented were indisputable, but he himself couldn’t shake a feeling of unease. The times were just too anarchic. Who knew what would happen next? However, if he concealed him at home, how long would it take before all this ended? He stood up silently and went back into the bedroom, turned off the light, and said a prayer. In his heart he cried out “Father!” and his tears flowed. It had been a long time since he had last prayed. He had already felt there was no communication between him and God. Was it he himself who had turned away, after all, or was it that God cut him off?

He returned to the main hall with a bleak expression on his face. “Way back then, when we ran off from Division Commander Hu, we had God’s protection the whole way, and everywhere we could take on and turn the dangers to our advantage. Now, though, I don’t hear the voice of God. Will you join me in a prayer?”

Young Li looked blankly at the doctor. “Sir, I am a Communist. I joined the party when I was nineteen years old, more than twenty years ago.”

The doctor didn’t reply, but bowing his head he thought for a moment and said, “Then go. I’ll see you off.”

After all the revelry, the streets appeared unusually deserted, and bits and scraps of firecrackers rustling in the wind added to the dreariness. They walked in silence from West Gate to Drum Tower. Not a word was spoken between them, but each was immersed in the very same memory: the scene when they parted on the fisherman’s boat on the Yangzi. This separation had lasted thirty years. And today—how long will this parting last before they met again?

Up ahead was the compound of the municipal Party committee. Stopping right where he was, Young Li said, “Sir, don’t go any farther. Take good care of yourself. We will definitely meet again.”

The doctor felt so sad that he couldn’t speak. He didn’t have the strength to wave farewell. Young Li strode along like a soldier setting out for battle, his head proudly held high. The doctor quietly followed him right to the main entrance of the compound. It was nighttime and there was a soldier armed with a rifle at the sentry post. All about was utter silence.

All he could do was wait for the arrival of the special-case team to get news of Young Li. This anxiousness was just like what Second Sister had felt so many years before when she had waited for the postman. The doctor was the only person who could vouch for Young Li regarding that period in his history. He was going to relate this period of Young Li’s life as it happened. Back then, when Division Commander Zhang’s unit bivouacked at Tongpan District, Young Li was only fourteen years old. His mother tearfully sent him into the army so he’d have food to eat and clothes to wear. The doctor still remembered the boy’s first day in the camp—he had been so hungry he wolfed down five bowls of rice.

The doctor waited days on end. Finally, Young Li’s special-case team that he had so longed for, finally arrived. As she always did, Second Sister sat beside him playing the role of loudspeaker. When he heard Young Li’s name, the doctor didn’t wait for the loudspeaker to be turned on, but just stood up and with great feeling related the story. When he got to the part about the death of Division Commander Zhang, he started to cry. “After Division Commander Zhang sacrificed his life…”

A young member of the special-case team pounded the table and shouted, “You’re not allowed to prettify the Guomindang reactionary faction!”

The three members of the special-case team clenched their fists and loudly shouted the slogan, “Down with the Guomindang reactionary faction!”

Baosheng and Baoqing, who were just then enjoying themselves by the gate, threw down their beloved cocks and ran into the house.

The doctor said, “Young man, you ought to learn a bit of history. That was during the War of Resistance against Japan. Division Commander Zhang gave his life for the country. So, how is it he doesn’t deserve the word ‘sacrifice’?” Ashamed, the young man flew into a rage and kept pounding on the table and threatening to arrest this reactionary old coot.

“Dad, you have to cooperate with the special-case team and report everything you know to the authorities,” Baosheng said.

The doctor was infuriated. “What do you know?”

Baosheng also had an obstinate temper. “Dad, you should take the Revolution’s stand and state the facts.”

The doctor struck the table repeatedly. “Facts are facts!”

All of this frightened Second Sister half to death and she ran off to call for reinforcements. She told Ah Ming to quickly call for several “red armbands” to “arrest” the doctor.

Ah Ming brought a number of people and said to the special-case team, “This old reactionary geezer is under our charge. We were just getting ready to lock him up.”

Several men pushed forward and carried him off.

After the Great Alliance, Old Town established a multileveled revolutionary committee. Ah Ming was the chairman of the West Gate Revolutionary Committee. The doctor wrote out the statements vouching for Young Li in the little wooden building of the revolutionary committee. For his statements to be effective, he came to terms and compromised by writing, “In this battle Division Commander Zhang died under Japanese artillery fire.”