"You say there is no question, she is dead?"
"It’s a certainty! She is dead. Of course the laogai bosses, I am not surprised they never gave you this information! Many people, when they try to go through official channels to learn someone’s fate, are only told: this or that prisoner committed suicide. Eh! Well! How can it be! Do so many millions of those arrested as fan geming, then perhaps interrogated, perhaps worse, actually commit suicide? Of course not! Eh! Lin Boshi. Shi-ma?"
"Shi." Lin looked battered, as if these words themselves were the struggle sessions, the torture, the beatings, the starvation and sickness.
"Is that what they told you, then, when you made your inquiries-that she had committed suicide? Or did they tell you"-Guo twisted his mouth derisively at this particular evasion-"that they did not know her outcome?"
"I did not make those kinds of inquiries."
A balloon of silence dropped awkwardly over the room.
"But, Lin." Alice stumbled. "Why wouldn’t you have done that? Isn’t that the first thing everybody does? I thought you had done that years ago."
"Maybe I should have done it," Lin said softly. "But I didn’t. Wo pa wo renshoubuliao," I didn’t think I could bear it. "And how could I believe what they told me anyway? For that matter"-he turned his searching gaze to Guo-"how can I believe what you are telling me now?"
Guo’s face, for a moment, was as open and wondering as that of a child. "But, Professor Lin, why should you not believe me? It is not as if you have heard competing accounts of your wife’s fate! In fact, all the evidence is on the same side-the two versions I was given of Zhang Meiyan’s ending were completely alike. And, as I told you"-he stopped and nodded sympathetically-"you can go to the place where she is buried. You can see for yourself."
"Even then I could not be sure it was really she who was buried there."
"Ah, Lin…" Alice whispered, though he did not seem to hear.
Guo drew his brows together. Until this moment he had been controlling the conversation. Now it had careened into the not quite rational. "But, Lin Shiyang. How can you tell if any person’s grave truly holds their remains? Eh? You can’t! You merely take it on faith. Faith! It’s what all people-"
"That’s enough, Guo," Alice said softly.
The thin man shrugged.
Lin stood like a stone, not answering.
"Well," Guo said, turning to Alice, "I’ve done what was asked-and more. Have I not? Now. It is my admittedly indiscreet but inescapable duty to remind you that we did not specifically discuss payment for this particular-"
"Stop it." She jabbed a finger at her lips.
He raised his palms in acquiescence.
She yanked out a desk drawer, rifled through the special small folder where she kept her passport. There; some twenty-dollar U.S. bills. She took a couple out. "Take this." She shoved it into his hands. "Now go!"
She propelled him toward the door.
He craned around. "Dr. Lin! A thousand tears of sympathy!"
Lin had lowered himself heavily to the floor. His eyes were closed.
"May the bitter sea grow sweet!"
Alice shut the door hard. She heard Guo’s tinkle of face-saving laughter from the hall, and then the sound of his footsteps, at last, receding.
"Lin," she said softly to him.
He seemed not to hear.
She sank beside him, touched his shoulder.
He twisted his body away.
She laced her hands over her forehead and held it, hard, as if otherwise it might fly apart. Zhongguo yi pan san sha, China is a plate of sand. "Do you believe it now, Shiyang? About Zhang Meiyan?"
"Why do you always press me! Can you not defer your impulses, even once-"
"I’m sorry," she said, suddenly small.
His voice softened. "One hears stories-one never knows…"
"Shiyang."
He was silent. She wanted to touch him but knew, right now, she should not. "You can go on your whole life like this, you know. You can grow old this way. It’s your choice."
He said nothing.
"Or you can accept it."
He nodded reluctantly.
A half-nauseous hook tugged at her, deep down, as she studied his face. He might never change. He seemed to have something inside him that was not on the track the rest of the world was on. Be aware, her senses hissed. Yet within, at the same moment, her heart turned over in tender revolt. She could just handle it, couldn’t she? Accept him, Quan xin, quanyi. She felt a spurt of release. Even with Jian, with all the love, she had not felt this.
Because Lin was just a man, anyway. Damaged. But doing the best he could.
"I should go," he said. "Get dressed."
"Yes."
When the door closed she felt all limp and pulled apart. It seemed like forever before she could get up and start moving around the room, tidying up.
Meiyan was dead.
And she and Lin had only to get through this nightmare.
She snapped the cover up on the bed, straightened the pillow. Of course Meiyan was dead. She’d been gone so many years. Lin just had this wall inside him.
Like me, Alice thought guiltily. On the one side America, English, my childhood, on the other side China and Chinese and life as a woman. No kai fang, no open doors. The wall massive, thick, medieval, like the walls that enclosed the Forbidden City and guarded its secrets and wrapped its emperors in the dreams and illusions which were ultimately to bring down their dynasties. The Great Within.
How many times, in Beijing, she’d contemplated those walls.
This was how she and Lin were alike.
She washed, dressed, sat on the bed, and waited for him to come back. He’d come back in a while, they’d talk, the air would clear. Everything would be all right.
There was a knock on the door. "Lin?" She crossed the room in a few quick steps, yanked open the door.
A fuwuyuan. One she had never seen before.
"You are"-the woman glanced down at a paper she was holding, struggled to pronounce-"Aliss-Manwa-gen-"
"Alice Mannegan?" Her heart sank. "Yes."
The fuwuyuan thrust the folded paper at her. "Dianbao." Telegram.
Alice tore it open. It was from Roger.
Tests back. Prostate cancer. Advanced. Sorry. Advise your travel plans ASAP.
Alice stared at the paper.
"Huidian-ma?" the fuwuyuan said impatiently, Will you reply?
Alice swallowed. The floor was opening up under her. "Not right now. I have to think."
The young woman’s bean-shaped Tartar face was empty. "When you want to reply, contact the cable office. In the bank." Then she turned, closed the door, and was gone.
Alice read the telegram over and over, as if maybe the horror would change into something else. It didn’t. It still read death. Shaking, she opened the drawer, pulled the ling-pai out from under the clothes. She read the inscription through again. How could it be real? First Meng Shaowen. Now Horace.
The door clicked open and Lin Shiyang walked in. "Lin." She stepped toward him, still clutching the ling-pai and the telegram. "I need to talk to you. I’m going to be leaving, as soon as possible-"
"That doesn’t surprise me," he interrupted coldly. He shut the door behind him, leaned against it. She saw his eyes were dark, furious. "But first I need to know if it’s true."
"If what is true?"
"What Guo Wenxiang has just told me! I met him in the courtyard outside. We talked. Is it true, then?"
"You mean Zhang Meiyan? How can I be the one to say? Listen, my heart-"
"You call me your heart! Is that just honey in your mouth? I am not talking about Zhang Meiyan! I am talking about you -Mo Ai-li! I am talking about your secrets. Well! Is it true?"