The madwoman stood in the middle of a semicircle of people, holding a small triangular flag that bore these words: WIPE OUT JAPANESE DEVILS! She was addressing the crowd, some of whom cheered her on.
Minnie and I jostled through the spectators and reached her. “Give me the flag,” Minnie said.
Yulan stared at her for a moment, then snorted, “No. Don’t you see I’m using it?”
“Come, let’s go home.” I reached out for her arm.
The madwoman stepped aside and said, “You’re just a lackey of the foreigners. You go with her, but leave me alone.” She jerked her thumb at Minnie.
“Please, Yulan. It’s dangerous here,” Minnie begged. “Come home with us.”
“I have no home anymore. Everything was burned by the Japs.”
“Don’t you respect Miss Lou? She was very upset when she found out you were gone.”
“I don’t want to live with that Bible freak anymore. She’s obsessed with Jesus Christ and says we’re all his slaves. Every day she made me memorize poems from the Old Testament. I’m sick of it. I want to be a free woman.”
“All right, you can stay with us,” Minnie offered, “and take any class you want to. We won’t force anything on you, I promise.”
“Go chase yourself, evil American!”
I grabbed Yulan’s wrist to wrench the flag from her hand, but the madwoman shoved me and cursed me loudly.
People whooped and guffawed, and some egged her on. Minnie said to them, “Don’t you feel ashamed to mislead a sick woman? She was molested by the Japanese and lost her mind. You all know what kind of risk she’s running to stand here raving aloud. If you care about your compatriots, you should go away or help us bring her back.”
Some people dropped their eyes and a few started away. Minnie tugged at Yulan’s sleeve and begged, “Please, let’s go home.”
“No! Where’s my home? You sold my parents to the Japs. I hate those Eastern devils. I’ll settle up with them one of these days.”
As if on cue, three Japanese policemen arrived, each wearing a peaked cap with a tiny rising-sun flag printed on the right side. Their appearance scattered the crowd. Even Yulan clammed up in terror.
“You come with us,” one of the police, a glassy-eyed man, ordered her in stiff Mandarin.
The madwoman let out a groan and turned to Minnie and me. “Officer,” Minnie explained, “she’s out of her mind. We’re taking her back to our school and won’t let her out again.”
“No, she attempted to incite a riot and must come with us. She’s an activist against Japan, and we shall question her before we decide what to do about her.”
“Where are you taking her?”
“That’s our business.”
“Can we come with you?”
“No, you cannot.”
“You have no right to detain her.”
“Don’t poke your nose into our work.”
By now the other two policemen had caught hold of Yulan, who was screaming helplessly, her legs bent to hold her ground. Minnie glanced sideways at me, and I felt my left cheek twitching. She rushed forward and reached out for Yulan, but the officer stretched out his arms and blocked her. Then he waved for the other policemen to drag the madwoman away. He turned to follow them.
“Let go of my hands!” Yulan yelled, struggling to break loose. “You smell like a stinky fish shop. Damn it, let your grandma go. Help, help, help me!”
“Shut up, rotten cunt!” The officer slapped her across the face, and instantly she went quiet.
Minnie set off following them, but I clutched her arm and pulled her to a stop. “It’s no use, Minnie. We’d better go back now.”
The officer spun around, having sensed Minnie’s attempt, and spread his arms again. Struggling out of my grip, Minnie lunged at him with all her might. The man dodged and punched her on the jaw. She fell and gave a cry of pain but scrambled to her feet instantly. “I won’t let you take her away!” she shouted, and plunged forward again, blood trickling out of the corner of her mouth.
A middle-aged Chinese man held her by the waist from behind, saying, “Please, Principal Vautrin, don’t follow them!” Another few people stepped over to restrain her. A woman began wiping the blood off Minnie’s face with a silk handkerchief.
Minnie stamped her feet, tears flowing down her cheeks while her nose quivered. “Damn you! Damn you, bastards!” she screamed at the backs of the receding policemen.
31
FOR DAYS Minnie called various offices and visited her friends and acquaintances to find out Yulan’s whereabouts, but nobody could tell her.
Then Lewis, who’d been leading his students in surveying the damage and losses in Nanjing and its surrounding counties, telephoned one morning and said he’d heard that Yulan was in a stopgap hospital near Tianhua Orphanage. Minnie put aside the next semester’s academic calendar she’d been working on and set out for the hospital. She asked me to come along.
The hospital was a decrepit three-story building behind a cinderblock wall topped with four lines of barbwire. It was used by the Japanese military mainly for treating tuberculosis and venereal diseases among the soldiers and prostitutes. Some of the sex workers were so-called comfort women, taken from far away, mostly from Korea and a few from Southeast Asia. We were horrified that Yulan was confined in such a place.
A baby-faced Chinese guard stopped us and demanded, “Pass, please.”
“We want to see a student of Jinling Women’s College,” Minnie said.
“You can’t go in without a pass. This is an army hospital. If I let you in, I’ll be in big trouble.”
“Can I speak to your superior, then?”
“He’s not here right now.”
“Please, let us in,” I begged. “The girl was molested by the Japanese and lost her mind. We want to take her back.”
He shook his head no.
Then we caught sight of Dr. Chu stepping out of the building and heading toward a car. Minnie called to him, and he came over, delighted to see us. He was wearing a cashmere coat and a Homburg with a curled brim and was holding a copper-tipped walking stick. Today he looked more like a rich businessman than a doctor. Minnie explained why we were there.
Dr. Chu whispered to the sentry and slipped a single-yuan bill into his palm. The guard said to us with a fawning smile, “You can go in now.”
Without thanking him, Minnie turned to Dr. Chu and shouted, “Come see us! We owe you one.”
I waved at him too. He took off his felt hat. “Bye now,” he cried. He strolled away with a measured, flat-footed gait, the ends of the long muffler around his neck flapping.
The interior of the building reeked of Lysol and carrion. My breathing instinctively went shallow, but I forced myself to relax, inhaling and exhaling to get used to the foul air. A nurse in a white gown and cap was on her way upstairs; she led us to the second floor and pointed at a door, saying, “Yulan Tan is in there. I can’t let you in, but you can meet her at the small window. You have ten minutes.”
Minnie looked through the square opening on the door and called out, “Yulan, are you in there?”
There was no sound inside. I peered in but didn’t see anyone either. I closed my eyes to adjust to the gloom, then opened them. This time I saw the madwoman cowering in a corner, her knees tucked under her chin. She was alone in the room. I called to her.
Slowly Yulan rose and came over. “What’s this?” she grunted.
I stepped aside to let Minnie speak. “How are you, Yulan?” she asked.
“I’m hungry and cold. Give me a meat pie or a pork bun. I know you have chocolates. Don’t you?”