‘Mum, is it true that Heaven won’t come out unless I disappear?’ Nannan asks, as Meili rises to her feet.
‘No, no, what made you think that?’ she answers, looking distractedly at the visitors jostling past.
‘You said you’re afraid of giving birth to Heaven because you’ve already got me.’
‘No, it has nothing to do with you,’ Meili replies, taking Nannan’s hand and following the crowd into the main hall. When they reach the Golden Buddha, Meili prostrates before it like everyone else, but forgets what she should be praying for. On her left, she hears a young man pray for success in his university entrance exams, and on her right a taxi driver pray for a prolonged rainy season that will bring him more customers. Her mind clearing at last, she clasps her hands together, looks up at the Buddha and prays that her mother’s cancer will be cured, that her brother will be released safely from the labour camp, and that Waterborn is not begging on a street corner but is being looked after by a nice family who give her good meals three times a day . . . The loud murmur of voices around her makes her lose her train of thought. She gets up, takes Nannan’s hand and goes to look for the statue of the Golden Flower Mother.
‘I don’t want to see the statue,’ Nannan moans. ‘It’s too crowded in here.’
‘Wait for me over there, then,’ Meili says, ‘and don’t go wandering off this time.’ As Nannan heads to the entrance, Meili proceeds to the less crowded area at the back where the huge Golden Flower Mother statue stands. She lights an incense stick, goes down onto her knees, and performs repeated prostrations, turning to the side when she reaches the ground so as not to squash her belly. Then she sits down with legs crossed, takes a deep breath, and looks up at the Golden Flower Mother’s scratched and childlike face. For a moment, she thinks she sees the painted mouth curl into a smile. Then she blacks out and sees a young girl walking down a dusty path on a sunny day, a hemp sack of autumn leaves swung over her shoulder. She can hear the girl laugh, but can’t see her mouth moving. The girl has just crossed a dense forest, and her face is as scratched as the rosy cheeks of the Golden Flower Mother statue . . . Suddenly the stump of Meili’s left index finger begins to throb like a sightless eye searching for light. Little Heaven stretches out and rams its head into Meili’s lungs, then turns in a circle and punches her navel. After taking a few minutes to compose her thoughts, Meili addresses the statue, saying, ‘Golden Flower Mother, your powerful eyes have seen the Five Lakes and Four Seas. I am a simple woman from Nuwa County, and am pregnant for the fourth time. Although the government doesn’t want my child to be born, and my child doesn’t want to be born either, as her mother, I think I should give birth to her, for a mother must not only conceive children, but also release them into the world and watch them grow. So I entreat you, Golden Flower Mother, tell me how this will end? What does the future hold for me? Good fortune or calamity?’
The Golden Flower Mother statue looks down impassively and says: ‘Praise be to Amitabha, Buddha of Infinite Light. Life is a sea of suffering – but turn your head and there is the shore. In time, you will cross the sea, transcend the cycle of birth and death, and reach the other side. But before then, you must deliver the child within you and allow it to accumulate its own karma.’
‘Oh, Mother, I am an outcast. Wherever I go, people tell me this isn’t my home. If I give birth to my child in a place where I don’t belong, will she be destined to a life of misfortune?’
‘You have journeyed through the red dust of illusion, and through suffering have achieved profound wisdom. But your sorrows cannot compare to mine: I have never known the happiness of marriage, the joy of motherhood. At fourteen years old I was snatched from my parents and declared the Goddess of Childbirth. After that, no man dared come near me. At the age of forty, still alone and unloved, I threw myself into Womb Lake and drowned. My bones are still lying on its muddy bed.’
‘I never knew you drowned yourself! So you really have seen through the red dust! I thought about killing myself too, a few years ago, but realised that if I went ahead with it, I’d be killing my unborn child as well. But, Sacred Mother, things aren’t so bad for you, surely? You must have amassed great karma through your work in this temple, helping bring new life into the world. And look at all the delicious offerings you’ve been given: chicken, wine, sesame oil, rice—’
‘No, my life hasn’t improved since I died. Don’t be fooled by my sumptuous robes and ornate flower headdress. Since the foundation of the Communist Dynasty, I’ve been persecuted mercilessly. When Emperor Mao advocated later marriages and fewer children, I was dragged from the altar and locked in a storeroom, deprived of daylight. Then Emperor Deng brought in his One Child Policy, and my temple was converted into a grain depot. Now, two decades later, it’s been demolished to make way for the Heaven Township Stock Exchange.’
‘Well, at least you’re in a nice place now.’
‘You think it’s nice having to squeeze myself into this dark corner, cheek by jowl with all the other gods, and rely on the offerings of strangers? I was only brought here on condition that I consent to be an ambassador for the wretched family planning policies. Have you read the slogan they’ve hung above my head, threatening women with forced sterilisations and abortions? What a wicked disgrace! For thousands of years I was the Goddess of Fertility and Childbirth, but this depraved dynasty has turned me into the Goddess of Fewer Births. Before long I’ll be the Goddess of Abortions! I tell you, death is much worse than life.’
‘Cheer up, Sacred Mother. You’ve been fortunate enough to experience the dual realms of life and death. Your blessings have protected countless expectant mothers and granted their babies safe births.’ Sensing Heaven begin to writhe and kick again, Meili straightens her back to give it more room to move.
‘Yes, I’ve tried to comfort myself with that thought. Although I’ve never been loved by a man, I’ve watched baby girls being born into the world, grow into women and then prostrate themselves before me, asking me to grant their own babies a safe birth. Seeing the joy that each new life brings to a family consoles my sad heart, but can’t fill the void of having no children of my own.’
‘Being a mother in this country isn’t easy, Sacred Goddess. If you returned to the world and fell pregnant, you’d soon start thinking you were better off dead.’
‘Mortals may feel no shame slaughtering innocent life, but if they force us gods to endorse their barbaric acts, what will become of the world? Praise be to Amitabha, Buddha of Infinite Light. I have said enough. It’s time for you to go.’
Just as Meili is about to get up and leave, she pauses and says to the statue, ‘Just one more thing, Sacred Mother. Six months after we fled our village, my second baby, Happiness, was murdered by family planning officers. But the baby’s spirit has followed me ever since, and has reincarnated a second and now a third time. It’s a peculiar spirit that seems to have no gender or fixed identity. Sometimes it seems to be lodged inside the fetus in my belly, sometimes it seems to be looking down at me from above. Sometimes I feel it’s looking back at me from a future realm, as though my present is its past. And on some occasions, I’ve felt that it exists in a completely separate realm that somehow overlaps with ours. But when I try to put these feelings into words, my mind spins and time seems to go into reverse. This third reincarnation has been the strangest. I should confess to you now: the baby has been inside me for five years. I’ve read of a woman whose pregnancy lasted sixty years, but when she finally gave birth, the baby was dead and as hard as stone. I can’t bear to think that I’ll never hold this child in my arms. Please help me, Sacred Mother.’
‘The infant spirit will follow you until it achieves successful reincarnation. If it can’t reincarnate before you die, it will return to your place of birth upon your death and reunite with your soul. Remember, the universe is in perpetual flux, changing constantly from yin to yang and from yang to yin, from being into non-being, then back again. If, through the cycle of deaths and reincarnations, you accept the flux and do not oppose it, eventually you will achieve a state of perfect peace and happiness . . .’
A crowd of pregnant women has gathered behind Meili, waiting to light their incense sticks before the Golden Flower Mother statue. Wiping tears from her eyes, Meili rises to her feet and kicks her numb legs about until the feeling returns. She pushes her way through the crowd, but when she reaches the entrance, there is no sign of Nannan. She remembers that Nannan has one hundred yuan on her, and presumes she’s gone to buy something to eat. She walks out onto the front steps and scans the food stalls below.
Her mobile phone beeps. Tang has sent her a text: Through your beautiful dark eyes I saw straight into your heart. A smile hovers around her mouth. The thought that her physical appearance is appreciated lightens her mood. From her fake Louis Vuitton handbag she takes out her pocket mirror and retouches her lipstick. The red looks too garish in the daylight, so she presses a handkerchief to her lips to soften the effect. Against the lipstick, her teeth gleam like ivory. Her eyes are still red from crying. She wishes she’d brought her kohl with her and could draw a dark line along the lashes ending in an upward flick . . . The Golden Flower Mother has never experienced love or affection, Meili thinks to herself. I too have endured many hardships, but at least I have a husband and a daughter. Happiness is within reach. Now that Golden Flower Mother has bestowed her blessing, I will ask Kongzi to consult his almanac and select an auspicious date for Heaven’s birth. Do you hear that, little one? Next time I come to this temple, I’ll bring a jacket for the pretend baby in Golden Flower Mother’s arms, and she’ll make sure that you’re born quickly and safely and that our family will at last be complete.
Wondering whether Nannan has gone to the toilet, Meili goes back into the temple to look for one. On her way, she sees a canister of fortune sticks, and leans down, selects two and tosses them onto the ground. They both land painted side up. Knowing this augurs bad luck, she picks up the sticks and throws them down again. This time they both land the other side up: calamity. Beginning to panic, she goes back to the entrance to look for Nannan. As she studies the faces of every girl in sight, she is suddenly hit by the horrifying thought that Nannan may have been abducted. With a sick feeling of dread in her stomach, she widens her scrutiny to include a man’s leather jacket, a boy’s woollen jumper, a woman’s cropped hair and large earrings. Spotting a red collar peeking out over an orange sweater, she shouts, ‘Nannan! Where are you going? Nannan!’ The girl turns round, but it isn’t her.
She phones Kongzi and tells him to leave his meeting and come at once, then she goes to scour the surrounding streets. After the heavy rainfall, the whole of Foshan appears to have turned dark green. Beneath a line of distant trees, motorbikes in waterproof covers stand parked like forest creatures waiting in ambush. Again she returns to search the temple, then comes out once more and sweeps through the crowded streets, her head darting from left to right like a mother eagle in anxious flight. She questions every hawker outside the temple, asking each one if they’ve seen a girl of Nannan’s description, but they all say no.
Kongzi and Tang turn up and help with the search, but by duskfall there’s still no sign of her. At last, they decide to report her disappearance to the police. When they leave the station an hour later, Meili is in despair. She staggers down the steps, her tear-soaked hair hanging over her face, with Kongzi and Tang supporting her on either side. Clenching her maimed left hand, she turns to Kongzi and says, ‘Think, think – which other friends might she have gone to?’
‘Her only friend now is Lulu. I’ve phoned Cha Na six times, but she says they haven’t seen Nannan all day.’
‘The police refuse to help us,’ Meili moans. ‘What if she got onto a long-distance bus? Three buses leave Foshan every hour.’
‘But she hasn’t any money to buy a ticket,’ Kongzi says, loosening his tie.
‘She was given a hundred yuan today for Spring Festival. Oh God, I must sit down . . .’ Her belly tight and aching, she places a hand on the concrete step and gently lowers herself onto it. The coconut tree on the other side of the road stabs the upper air like a green umbrella.
‘I’ll phone my mother tomorrow to see if she’s made her way there,’ Kongzi says, sitting down beside her and struggling to stay calm.
‘Does Nannan know her address?’ Tang asks.
‘Yes, she’s posted four letters to her. I made her address the envelopes herself. Last week she sent her a copy of the photograph I took of her class in front of the Ming theatre.’
‘Well, let’s check the long-distance bus station, then,’ Tang says. ‘Did you read about the child-trafficking gang that was busted in Guangzhou last week? The men hung around train stations, tricked young girls into boarding their vans, then sold them to brothels in neighbouring cities.’
‘The police said they won’t open a case on Nannan until she’s been missing for a month,’ Kongzi says, his anger rising again. ‘But by that time, she might have been carted off to a nightclub a thousand kilometres away, or sold as a wife to a peasant in some mountainous backwater. Well, I’m not budging from here. I’ll stay on these steps until the police agree to help find her.’
Tang’s phone rings. ‘Thanks for returning my call, Director Wu,’ he says. ‘Yes, it’s my friend’s daughter . . . Eleven years old . . . We’ve just spoken to them – I’m outside the station right now. I asked if we could see Sergeant Zhang, but they wouldn’t let us. I know he’s a good friend of your brother’s, so I was wondering if you could give him a call and persuade him to open a missing person’s case and send out a search party . . . Wonderful. Thank you so much.’ Tang hangs up and says, ‘That’s promising! Sergeant Zhang is second in command at that station. I’ll go and get us something to drink. You two wait here.’
‘I’ll wait here, but Kongzi – you go to the bus station,’ Meili says, placing her mobile phone on her lap, yearning for it to ring with news. She still can’t accept that Nannan has disappeared, that this is really happening to her. Apart from her four-week absence, she and Nannan have never spent a day apart . . . If I lose Nannan, it will be like losing an arm, she says to herself. No, it will be worse than that, much worse.
If I lose her, I will die.
As this thought sinks in, she almost passes out, then her head begins to throb as she remembers the sound of Nannan wailing as a baby. When Nannan was three months old, she cried inconsolably for two days. Meili couldn’t work out what the problem was. At last, her neighbour Fang came round, checked Nannan’s ears, mouth and bottom, then lifted the folds of her neck and discovered that they’d become raw and infected from drops of breast milk that had collected inside.