I assume that you are married by now. If so, give your wife my regards. My family is well, and we moved to Georgia last summer. Now we live in a northeastern suburb of Atlanta, where I run a small restaurant. The work is hard and weary; most of the time Pingping and I have to put in more than twelve hours a day. But so far we have managed to survive. In truth, we have prospered to some extent. We bought a house nearby, which has a lake, about twenty acres large, in the backyard. You see, I am a laborer now, a professional cook, but I won't complain. Frankly, I feel rather content with our situation. At length we have settled down in a corner of land we can call home.
The other day when I was reading your story, I felt as if we had been separated for a lifetime. You must be a different man now, but I'm sure that with this publication your life must have changed, opened to great expectations.
Please keep me posted about your new publications. There is a decent Chinese bookstore here that carries some magazines published in China, and I can follow your success from this side of the earth. Work hard and write with more heart and vision. Your friend,
Nan Wu
He thought about expressing his view on the novella candidly in a postscript, but changed his mind, unwilling to let Danning suspect he was jealous. He didn't know Danning's current address, so he sent the letter in care of the editorial department of Harvest, trusting they'd forward it to him.
In front of the Dollar Store at Beaver Hill Plaza stood a mailbox. Nan went out to drop the letter. It was muggy and hot outside, a mass of heat rubbing his face, but two adolescent boys were biking around in the parking lot, crying at each other happily and from time to time letting go of the handlebars of their bicycles while their legs kept pumping away. The heat didn't seem to bother them at all. These days it was so humid that when Nan drove on the street, he often saw waves of water ahead of his car. He had thought he might be losing his mind, seeing things, but Pingping told him she had also seen such puddles on the asphalt. Overhearing them, Tammie giggled and said, "That's just a mirage. It always appears on roads in the summer, even in the North too." Tammie had once lived in upstate New York for a year and had dreaded the winter there.
"That's true," agreed Pingping, "but you see it here more often."
Nan had never seen such shadowy water on the roads in Massachusetts, but again, he could have been too absentminded to notice it. How he hated the Georgia summer, when the damp heat reduced people's appetite, causing his business to flag, its clientele dwindling. Mr. Wang assured him that this was normal and that business would pick up after mid-September.
5
JANET and Dave Mitchell came to dine at the Gold Wok one evening. Dave was six foot one and seemed to have gained weight recently, weighing at least 240 pounds. He was a little bald and wore glasses that barely shielded his large gentle eyes. Both Nan and Ping-ping liked this reticent man, who never raised his voice and always smiled like a young boy when Tammie brought him and his wife their order, to which Nan would add something extra, a plate of teriyaki beef or a bowl of Peking ravioli. Dave would wave at Nan and say in a thin voice, "Thanks!" When he lifted a teacup, it would almost disappear in his huge hand, whose skin was as fair and hairless as his face.
Dave had once told Nan that he was a Republican, though he had grown up in a housing project in Camden, New Jersey, raised by his mother alone. Nan wasn't a citizen yet and couldn't vote, or he'd have argued more often with Dave over politics and the upcoming presidential election. He couldn't understand why Dave, a beneficiary of the welfare system, was adamantly against it. Once he asked him about this, and Dave replied, "I don't want to pay too much income tax and I hate a big government. If the Democrats win the election, they'll jack up taxes again."
"But you don't have to be a Republican to oppose a big gahvern-ment," Nan said.
"No. I may join the Libertarian Party anytime."
"Why not be a Democrat?"
"The Democratic Party is anti-white males."
Nan didn't know what to make of that.
This evening the Mitchells had come later than usual. There were so many customers that Pingping couldn't chat with Janet and Nan had to stay in the kitchen, cooking constantly. But the Mitchells seemed purposely to outstay the other customers, and when the room had finally quieted down, Janet beckoned Pingping, wiggling her forefinger. Pingping went up to her and said, "Don't do that." "Do what?"
"Move your fingers that way. It make me feel like slave or servant, like you can pull me around just by move your finger."
"All right." Janet smiled, her high cheeks coloring. "Golly, you're so sensitive. I won't do that again. Listen, I want to ask you something."
"Sure." Pingping sat down, hoping this was not about the surrogacy again.
"Have you been to Nanjing?" Janet asked. "Where?"
" Nanjing, the big city on the Yangtze River." "Ah, I see. No, I never be there, but my father's family is from somewhere near that city. You want to visit China?"
"I'm not sure. Dave and I have been thinking of adopting a baby girl."
"That's wonderful. But are you sure you want to raise Chinese kid?"
"Not one hundred percent sure yet. Tell me what you think." "Everybody can see she's not your daughter." "Dave and I thought about that too. We won't mind. As a matter of fact, we like Chinese babies."
"Why not adopt American baby?"
"That'll be very hard. You don't have a choice here. It's the biological mother who chooses the adoptive parents. Besides, you have to wait a long time, sometimes several years. And you have to hire a lawyer. It's outrageously complicated and expensive. That's why a lot of people go to other countries to adopt babies. Dave and I have met some couples who have Chinese baby girls. They're all happy." "Why do the Chinese abandon girl babies?" Dave said. "People in countryside need boys to work in fields, so they don't want girls," replied Pingping.
"Why won't some Chinese families adopt them?" asked Janet. "I guess because each family can have one baby only."
By now Nan had joined them, standing by listening to their conversation. He put in, "Zer one-child policy has a lot to do wiz it. If you already have a baby, you cannot have anozzer. So some families throw away girl babies to save zer quota for a boy. Feudalistic mentality, you know."
"Are the babies healthy?" Janet went on.
"Don't worry about that," answered Pingping. "Very few Chinese in countryside eat drugs. Many people can't afford food, no money for drugs and alcohol. The parents are young, healthy, and clean, but some of them can't read and write."
"We're not worried about that," Janet said. "We can give a good education to the child we raise."
Pingping had meant to say that although the babies were healthy, you couldn't know anything about their parents' education and intelligence. She didn't explain and asked Janet instead, "You really think adoption?"
"We've contacted an orphanage in Nanjing. Once we hear from them, I'll let you know. We'll need your advice."
"Sure. Nanjing is famous for beautiful girls."
Nan added, "Women there usually have smoos skin and fine figures. It's a majar city, and I went there once for a conference."
"That's good to know. Dave and I may go to the orphanage if we decide to adopt."
As the conversation continued, Nan left quietly to tidy up the kitchen. He was glad that the Mitchells were thinking of adoption, which meant they might not bring up the subject of surrogacy again.
6
NAN didn't expect Danning would write back within a month. Usually a first-class letter traveled more than ten days from the United States to China. In this case, Nan 's letter had reached his friend via the magazine; the detour must have taken an extra few days. Dan-ning wrote in a loopy, cloudy hand: