“I’m sorry I didn’t bring any. I’ll remember next time.”
“Get me out of here, please. If you don’t help get me out of prison I’ll die in a day or two.”
“We’ll try our best.” Minnie took off her light woolen coat with its gray fur collar. “Here, you have this for now, all right?” She rolled it up and pushed it through the opening.
I put my head closer to the window to observe the madwoman, who threw the coat around her shoulders. She kept staring at Minnie, her pupils contracting. She wiped her dripping nose with the back of her hand. Then she grinned pathetically and said, “Get me out of here, please!”
“I will. But try to be patient for the time being, all right?” Minnie said.
“You don’t know how they torture me.”
“What do you mean?”
“They beat me if I don’t obey them.”
“Listen to them, then. Just don’t let them hurt you.”
“I don’t want to open my pants for every Jap. They burned my buttocks with cigarettes. D’you want to see it?”
“Sure.”
The madwoman dropped the coat on the cement floor, undid her belt, and turned around. On her behind were some twenty bloody burns; they looked like red beans and peanuts. Minnie closed her eyes, two big tears coursing down her right cheek.
“Beasts!” I said under my breath.
We left the hospital. Heading back to Jinling, we ran into two boys, seven or eight years old, whipping a top on the side of Canton Road. The toy jumped about while spinning and leaning sideways. As we were passing by, one of the boys lifted his scarred face and taunted Minnie, “Foreign devil! Foreign devil!”
We were surprised but didn’t respond. The other boy stopped driving the top and said to his pal, “Why call her that? She’s Miss Hua Chuan.”
“That’s right,” I spoke up. “Your mother ought to teach you some manners.”
Minnie was shivering a little from the chilly wind, holding the collar of her jacket with her hand. The scar-faced boy stared at her, then turned to his pal. “You mean she’s the American principal?”
“You bet.”
Then they both started chanting, “Principal Hua, the Goddess of Mercy! The Goddess of Mercy!”
“Shush, don’t call me that!” she told them.
But they went on shouting “The Goddess of Mercy!” as they scurried away with the top, slashing the air to make loud cracks with their leather-tipped hemp whips.
Minnie shook her head. Dried leaves were scuttling ahead of us like a swarm of mice, mixed with candy wrappers and banknotes no longer in circulation.
MINNIE SPOKE to Plumer Mills, the chairman of the semidisbanded International Relief Committee, to plead with him for help. But Yulan was just an individual; she did not belong to any organization, and her detention would not impair the relationship between Japan and any social or religious group, so Plumer couldn’t figure out a way to rescue her. Dr. Chu was the only person who might be able to help us. He didn’t work at the hospital but might have connections there.
Minnie invited Dr. Chu to dinner at Jinling, and gave me thirty yuan for the party — not much, but enough to make the occasion festive. I prepared the food in my home and had several Chinese over besides the two American teachers, Donna and Alice.
Minnie was amazed by the dinner, saying she’d never thought it would be so lavish. She wondered if I had spent some of my own money. I had, though just a few extra yuan. I joked that we Chinese were obsessed with food and face, so even in a time of distress like now, we’d still make the best use of the pleasure life could offer, turning a meal into a small feast. There was roast chicken, a large fried bass, smoked duck, and braised pork cubes. Yaoping took out his only bottle of Five Grain Sap and some apricot wine.
Minnie thanked Dr. Chu and proposed a toast on behalf of the college and the women whose menfolk had gotten out of jail in June. We all clinked cups and drank. Alice and Donna wouldn’t touch alcohol, so they chose tea instead, but Minnie had to drink some to please the guest of honor and the host, my husband, who didn’t speak much but smiled continually. At last he could enjoy himself a little. Meanwhile, I was busy making sure that every dish was served properly.
Dr. Chu was wearing a conventional quilted robe, which made him resemble a country gentleman, with his hair parted down the middle. “Tell me, Mr. Gao,” he said to Yaoping, putting down his cup after another swig, “how much did you pay for this Five Grain Sap?”
“Four yuan a bottle.”
“No way can you get the genuine stuff here for that price.”
Yaoping chortled, “I can taste it’s fake too, but this is the best available on the black market.”
“This is good enough — it tastes like it’s brewed only from sorghum. It brings back happy memories, though.”
“Yes, we can drink this as One Grain Sap,” Yaoping said flatly.
Rulian translated their exchange for Alice and Donna, who both giggled.
When Minnie mentioned Yulan, Dr. Chu told her, “I don’t know if I can help get Yulan out of the hospital, but for the time being I can get you a pass so you can visit her.”
“Thanks,” Minnie said.
I knew he was a sincere man, and if he could have done more, he would have. Dr. Chu talked about the situation in Zhenjiang, his hometown. The Japanese had taken that city a week before Nanjing the previous winter and destroyed a good part of it. “It was worse than here,” Dr. Chu said. “They killed a lot of people and the town is still rather empty. My parents’ house has become an officers’ club, a cabaret of sorts.”
Somehow everyone at the table spoke in a calm voice despite the sad topic. Donna shook her head, a mass of tawny curls, rolled her long-lashed eyes, and said, “Don’t you Chinese hate the Japanese?”
“I hate the traitors more,” Shanna replied.
Rulian said, “If the Chinese keep selling our country, we deserve to be enslaved.”
I shot her a dirty look, but she continued, “I mean, China can be conquered only from within.”
Batting her gray-blue eyes, Alice seemed to understand their conversation merely in part and said, “When I was in Japan, most people there were polite and gentle. Certainly they believed the war was good for their country, but very few of them were vicious and violent. To be honest, I felt quite safe there.”
Minnie translated her words for the guest of honor and my husband. That made the table silent for a moment. Then Dr. Chu said, “In war, victory justifies all sorts of violence. A complete victory means to have finished off the enemy. In fact, I believe that the Japanese committed all the atrocities as a celebration of their victory, as a kind of reward and gratification. That’s why they acted with so much bravado and even beheaded people as a sport.”
“That must be true,” Minnie agreed. “On the other hand, some of the soldiers who came to our campus later on were polite and well behaved, totally different from those brutes who were here last winter.”
“I just hate every one of them,” I joined in.
“Oh, come on,” Yaoping said, “you’re supposed to love your enemies.”
That had the table in stitches. In the other room, Fanfan prattled in his sleep while Liya was humming a lullaby, her voice sweet and childlike.
Dr. Chu stood, raised his cup, and proposed a toast with so much emotion that his mouth went a little askew. “Let’s drink to this great woman.” He pointed at Minnie. “She not only sheltered ten thousand women and children from harm’s way but is also devoted to educating the weak and the impoverished. Let me say this: she’s a real man — superior to any man in this city. China doesn’t lack clever people — we Chinese are way too smart and too pragmatic. This country needs people with sincere hearts willing to serve and take pains.”