Outside the gate stood Yulan, her arms akimbo, her face smeared with rouge, and her hair combed back into an enormous bun that made her look seven or eight years older. She’d been living with Miss Lou and had snuck back to campus again. “Shame, shame on you, Little Jap. Come out and face justice!” she cried, licking her chapped lips. A crocheted saffron shawl was draped over her shoulders.
“Stinking slut!” Ban cursed.
Minnie went up to the sixteen-year-old boy and said, “You mustn’t let her disturb you like this.”
“She calls me all kinds of names whenever she sees me. Please, Principal Vautrin, give me something else to do so I won’t have to go off campus. I’m scared of her — she waits for me out there all the while.” He then turned to yell at Yulan, “Buzz off, psychopath!”
“Come out, shameless scum!” she shouted, jabbing her forefinger at him while squishing up her face.
“Go fuck yourself!”
“Stop deflowering girls!”
“Go to hell!”
“Monster! You’ll be fried in hell, in a big cauldron of oil!”
“Leave me alone!”
Minnie shook Ban by the shoulder. “You shouldn’t exchange words with her like this. You’re only kicking up a row.”
At this point Miss Lou appeared and pulled Yulan away, while the madwoman went on calling Ban “a pancake-faced Jap.” Hu, a gateman now, asked Minnie whether he should let Yulan in if she came to campus again. “Don’t stop her if she comes for meals,” Minnie told him.
Hu nodded his balding head without another word.
Later Minnie assigned an elderly man to step in for Ban and sent the boy to Shanna to work as a custodian for the Homecraft School, but the trouble with him was far from over. He often clashed with others, wouldn’t listen to Shanna, and even called her a “Japan worshiper” because she used a Japanese facial cream. He seemed particularly fond of fighting with girl students and wouldn’t mend his ways in spite of Shanna’s repeated warnings. As her patience was wearing thin, Shanna declared she’d have him fired sooner or later.
As I mentioned before, I didn’t like Shanna that much; she always called me “Anling,” though I’d told her time and again that she should call me Mrs. Gao. I might be even older than her mother. What’s more, Shanna often wore flowered clothes as if she were a teenager, and she’d hum silly popular songs, such as “I Want You” and “A Boat of Happiness.” As a young lady from Shanghai, she had no idea what a hell Nanjing had gone through last winter.
28
IN EARLY DECEMBER, without informing us beforehand, my son, Haowen, came to see us. He slipped through Jinling’s front gate, wearing civvies — a bowler hat, a peacoat, and suede shoes. He looked slightly taller than he had five years before, perhaps because he was much thinner and more muscular. He walked with a straight back, more like a man, yet his face was no longer bright. He was twenty-seven but looked like he was in his mid-thirties. His dad, sister, and I were all shocked but elated to see him home. At first I was somewhat unnerved, assuming that he had deserted. Then I thought that it was high time for him to quit the Imperial Army, whether it was by desertion or discharge, as long as he was back home. But he said that his hospital unit was on its way to Luoyang, that they let him off at Nanjing to deliver some documents at the army’s headquarters and also to see his parents. Tomorrow he’d have to head north to catch up with his unit.
I told Liya to sit at the front door with Fanfan in case someone barged in. Yaoping took Haowen into the inner room while I let down all the window curtains.
It was already twilight and the marketplace had closed; there was no way I could get groceries for a decent meal. I hurried to the poultry center and bought five eggs from Rulian, saying I had an important guest and needed her to do me a favor, since the eggs were not for sale. For dinner I steamed some salted dace on top of rice, fried a bowl of peanuts, sautéed napa cabbage with dried anchovies, and scrambled the eggs with scallions. Yaoping had begun restocking his liquor cabinet since he resumed teaching, though most of his wines and liquors were fake. When the table was set, I told Liya to bolt the door, and then we all sat down to the best meal I had cooked since the fall of the city.
Haowen poured rice wine for everyone and said, “Dad and Mom, forgive me for causing you so much pain and anxiety. I came home just to see if you’re well. At present, there’s no way I can do anything to make your life comfortable, but when the war is over, I’ll do my best to be a dutiful son.”
Waving his narrow hand, his father said, “No need to talk like that. Let’s just enjoy a quiet meal.”
“I’m so happy to see you home, son,” I said, with tears in my eyes. “We can’t give you a better dinner, but we will when you come back next time.”
“Brother, let’s touch cups,” Liya proposed.
We all took a drink of the wine, which tasted thin and watery. Haowen dipped a chopstick into his cup and gave Fanfan a drop of the wine. The child liked it and wanted more. That made us chuckle. Liya told her brother, “Don’t give him any more. You’ll make him drunk.”
So I poured some water into a wine cup and dropped in a tiny lump of crystal sugar. Whenever Fanfan wanted another drink, Haowen would give him a drop of the sweet water in place of the dark stuff we’d been drinking. The boy cried out, “White wine, more.” That made us laugh again.
My husband and son went on talking about the war as we ate. Now and again I would put in a word. Yaoping felt that China, poor and backward, couldn’t possibly win this war, but Haowen thought differently.
“In fact, the morale is very low among the Japanese troops,” he said.
“Why so? Haven’t they already occupied half of China?” his dad asked.
“But Japan doesn’t have the manpower to control all the territory it has seized. What’s worse, its army has suffered horrendous casualties and cannot replenish the reduced units. The Japanese did not expect China to resist so stubbornly.”
“You mean they cannot find enough soldiers?” I asked.
“Yes. They’ve been recruiting men from Korea, Taiwan, and other places, but those are not experienced troops. The army is much weaker now.” Haowen’s eyes sparkled as he spoke, reminding me of the boy he used to be. He put a shriveled peanut into his mouth and continued, “Originally they planned to finish the war in three or four months, but now they don’t even know how to bring it to an end. China is like a vast swamp into which they’ve been sinking deeper and deeper, though they’ve kept winning battles. The longer they fight, the harder it will be for them to pull out. The soldiers miss home and complain nonstop. It’s difficult for the officers to keep discipline. As a matter of fact, Japan might turn out to be a loser if this war drags on for too long. The politicians and top generals in Tokyo simply don’t have a clue how to make an end of it.”
“They should have made plans for all the possible ways to end it before they started it,” Yaoping said. “That’s common sense.”
“Human beings can be stupider than animals, which are never afflicted with megalomania,” Haowen added.
“Brother, what will you do after the war?” Liya asked, her cheeks glowing with a red sheen raised by the wine.
“I haven’t completed my degree yet. Maybe I will return to medical school.”
I knew he meant to rejoin his wife, but I made no comment. Yaoping sighed and said, “The Imperial Army is too savage. I’m afraid the two countries will remain enemies for a long time.”
After dinner, we sat at the tea table and resumed talking. Haowen was holding Fanfan and made him laugh now and again. The boy was as happy as if he had known his uncle for ages. Haowen tickled him and raised him above his head, and the three-year-old also straddled his neck for a horse ride. I could see that Haowen would be an indulgent father when he had his own children. Even before his teens, he would say he wanted to have a wife and three kids when he grew up. He had been born to become a family man and must love Mitsuko dearly.