Mengliu kissed Qizi extravagantly, but even with his most dazzling gestures he could not move her. She wasn’t in the least bit confused. Her expression was sober, her eyes misty, and there was some sadness in her smile. She put her hands on Mengliu’s chest and slowly pushed him away, saying, ‘There’s a demonstration this afternoon. We should get back.’
Mengliu, burnt by her expression, suffered a moment of heartache. She was an intelligent girl. He was becoming more and more aware of that.
‘Let’s take a break first. We’ll find a farmhouse where we can scrounge a meal. We’ll fill our stomachs and then make a decision, is that okay?’
She was obviously a little tired. Leaning against him, she said in a soft voice, ‘I love you.’ He kissed her again, this time plainly and passionately, and he got more of a response. She returned his kiss, and he felt her melt in his arms, as if she were about to flow right out of his grip. He pulled her into a tighter embrace, feeling himself to be an infinite chamber, able to furnish her body, and her life, with riches.
After some time, she raised her head from where it lay on his chest and said, ‘I know you’re concerned about the Unity Party business. Hei Chun was right, we all have a responsibility. Escaping is cowardice.’
Her words pierced Mengliu like nails, setting off a burst of misgivings. He turned to the window and looked out across the distant assortment of trees, flowers and farmhouses with a frown.
She leaned lightly against his back and said, ‘None of us knows what kind of feathers we wear, but at least we can make them as brilliant as possible.’
He turned around. Her eyes seemed to have been washed clean by the pristine countryside. They were emitting a strange glow.
‘So you want to forget about going overseas?’
She thought for a moment, then nodded in agreement.
‘You won’t regret it?’
She looked at him and said resolutely, ‘I won’t regret it. I want to be with you.’
He suddenly felt that her strength was propelling him toward the sunlight, and he felt bright and clear. Yet there was still a part of him covered in shadows. He knew that he was the only one who could drive the shadows away. He asked himself, Does it have to be like this? but he could not come up with an answer.
When they reached the city, the demonstrators had arrived in Beiping from everywhere.
Mengliu stood astride his bike on the side of the road, drooping as if he had been drenched in heavy rain. He hunched his body down, hands on the handlebars, and drew his neck into his shoulders, as
if the rain were unbearable.
Qizi leaned her bike against the trunk of a tree. As she looked down the road, her expression was the same as Mengliu’s.
They saw Hei Chun directing the contingents of demonstrators, with a strip of fabric tied around his head. He was full of energy, and resembled a revolutionary from a film as he swaggered in front of the slogans on the banners that fluttered in the wind like flags.
Mengliu noticed that a darkness had fallen over Qizi’s face, and her ears were inflamed. He signalled her with his eyes, and pushing his bike walked in the opposite direction, away from the demonstration. Beside the mighty torrent of people rushing towards Round Square, he and Qizi were like a pair of fish swimming against the current, furiously shaking head and tail in their efforts to reach a buffer zone. By the entrance to the Green Flower, they saw Shunyu at the window watching the action. She winked and waved to them.
There was not a single customer in the bar. Her father was wiping glasses at the counter, wearing the expression of a man who was smoking a pipe. His eyes were half closed, and his teeth were clenched on one side. His hair flew and curled chaotically, and his face was flushed.
They sat at the window, their stomachs rumbling. Their morning meal had long since been burned up, but they had no appetite now.
There was an unceasing flow of demonstrators before the bar’s entrance.
Mengliu could not look at the street any longer. Taking out his chuixun, he began to blow a few bars in his frustration, then put it back into his pocket.
Shunyu’s father brought over some food, saying amicably that it was all free. After a while, he brought a jug of wine and said with enthusiasm, ‘I’m very happy to have a few glasses of wine with some young people.’
Mengliu understood that this was his way of rewarding them for not participating in the march. He also wanted to take the opportunity to find out about the young people’s ‘ideas for the future and feelings about life’.
‘I used to play the xun pretty well when I was young,’ he said pleasantly, sighing. ‘The life of a soldier is monotonous, and my comrades-in-arms would pester me all day to play for them. Comrades like to hear the chuixun, isn’t this the popular taste? But the senior officer of our unit thought the tunes were negative and depressing, that they wouldn’t boost morale, so I wasn’t allowed to play any more — though he said a harmonica would’ve been all right. Fuck him! That was only his personal preference. But he was the senior officer, and I was just a soldier. My fingers were itching to play, but I had to control myself and obey orders. The army is inhumane. It doesn’t talk reason…So, look at those people outside. Processions, sit-ins, even if they create a greater disturbance, it’ll all be the same. It’s futile.’
Shunyu’s father rattled on. Some regular customers came in and called to him, and he hastily greeted them. When he came back, the alcohol made him all the more flushed.
‘Shunyu said you two are going overseas to study. That’s good. Such an opportunity isn’t easy to come by! You’ll definitely have a brighter future,’ he continued. Then he turned his criticism on his daughter. ‘I just don’t understand, my girl, why you are reluctant to go abroad. Go add something to your life, like plating something with gold, learn from other people…To tell the truth, there’s a lot of things worth studying overseas…Really, a lot.’ He munched on some roasted peanuts and, his face coming alive, he said as if to himself, ‘This faecal matter has been going on for several months now, hasn’t it?’
Mengliu said cautiously, ‘Off and on for about three months.’
The old man’s nostrils flared, snorting out alcoholic fumes, and he took a hesitant sip of his wine. He seemed about to speak, but held back.
‘I hear that representatives have met with the people, and they have negotiated. It seems they’ve agreed to find some experts to come and study the matter again, and to publish their findings about its DNA.’ Shunyu glanced at her father. Seeing that he didn’t object to what she had said, she continued, ‘But there’s still one condition the official representatives haven’t agreed to.’
‘What condition?’ It was Shunyu’s father who asked, breaking his own rule that no one should speak of politics, much to everyone’s surprise.
‘Father, do you really want to hear about it?’
‘Silly girl. If you’re going to talk about the situation, at least do so clearly.’
Shunyu said, ‘It’s about admitting that people from the Wisdom Bureau got beaten up.’
‘The Wisdom Bureau people were beaten up?’ her father asked.
‘Yes, the newspaper made false claims, saying that it was the police who had been beaten.’
Shunyu’s father took a deep breath, and then muttered, ‘The newspapers always lie, but it’s hard to believe they would stoop so low.’
No one replied to his mumbling, since he clearly didn’t expect an answer. This was his usual attitude. He had his own way of dealing with things.