“A vice minister.”
“That’s big!”
“I know. Obviously they’ve run out of candidates for the top jobs. Under normal circumstances no one would think of me for a position like that. But I mustn’t serve in a puppet government. That would be treason and no one would forgive me for that. Imagine what would happen to me if China wins the war.”
“Do you believe we will win?”
“I’m not sure, but the uncertainty doesn’t justify any official role in a puppet government. I cannot ruin our family’s name that way. Besides, our son’s already in the Japanese clutches.”
“I agree. Did you decline the offer?”
“Of course not. I couldn’t turn it down flatly. That would be suicidal, so I told him I would seriously consider the offer. The man talked at length about saving our country by taking a roundabout path.”
“What does that mean?”
“He said we should cooperate with the Japanese so that we could at least prevent some parts of China from being totally destroyed and annexed. I couldn’t contradict him.”
“That kind of talk is based on the assumption that Japan will win the war.”
“True, but what should I do?”
“When are you supposed to give him an answer?”
“In three days.”
“Can’t you hide somewhere? Say, go to Searle’s or Lewis’s?”
“Well, the national puppet government will be established here, so if they find out I’m still in town, they’ll never leave me alone. Heavens, it looks like I can’t stay here anymore.”
I was glad Yaoping wasn’t swayed by the temptation, though he used to talk a lot about how he liked Japan, even Japanese things (he had once owned a Seiko pocket watch with a compass on the inner side of the copper lid). But this wasn’t just a matter of his personal integrity or preserving our family’s name. If he served in the prospective puppet government, he might be killed by the underground partisans. Even if they didn’t finish him off, he would eventually be punished by the Nationalists or the Communists. He would become a public enemy and our family would suffer on his account.
Having talked for hours, we decided that he should leave for Sichuan to join his university there. We considered whether all of us should go with him, but thought that this would attract too much attention. Besides, I could not abandon my job here. I urged him to set off without delay.
The next evening he left for Cow’s Head Hill in the south, where he could stay with a friend temporarily. He took along a handbag and a duffel stuffed with half a dozen books and two changes of clothes. Having no travel permit, he would walk and hitchhike to get out of the areas occupied by the Japanese, and then eventually take a boat or train inland. I gave him all the cash we had, about eighty yuan, and told him not to drink too much tea, which might aggravate his arthritis. Before getting on the rickshaw, he hugged me, Liya, and Fanfan, saying he would miss us terribly. Then he climbed into the vehicle, waving at us. We watched his lean face blurring in the dark until it vanished.
33
RUTH CHESTER WROTE BACK, saying they’d found a place in Shanghai for the five blind girls. We were delighted, and Minnie asked Rulian to send the girls there. The blind girls were reluctant to leave, but we assured them that they’d be better educated and better cared for in the specialized school. Better yet, Shanghai was safer than Nanjing. Minnie gave them each three yuan; the cash had been donated by a Japanese officer, Major Toshikawa, who had visited Jinling twice and was moved by the classes, saying that his daughter was going to a Christian school in Kobe. We didn’t tell the girls, or anyone else, where the money was from, but the five recipients were happy.
On the afternoon of January 4, we set out for the Hsia Gwan station in a large car Minnie had borrowed from Lewis. She was at the wheel. I always admired her ability to do things most Chinese women couldn’t do: driving, cycling, playing ball games, keeping a dog, hiking. When we had pulled onto Ninghai Road, I reminded Minnie, “Remember when you said you’d teach me to drive?”
“I haven’t forgotten. Of course I’ll do that. When the war’s over, I’ll build my own house here and buy myself a little car.”
I was pleased to hear that. If only I could be as capable as she. A lot of people here regarded her as “a real man,” respecting her stately physique and her ability as a leader.
When we had passed Fujian Road and were approaching Yijiang Gate, we saw more houses leveled — the area was more desolate than it had been the previous winter. The site of the former Communications Ministry was now an immense compound fenced by barbwire, in which more than a dozen huge shacks stood as storehouses for military supplies. Along the way most of the deserted buildings had been torn down, the bricks and wood piled up ready to be shipped away. But the area near the train station was alive with people. Peddlers were hawking goods, while small shops lined the streets, offering soft drinks, fruit, snacks, cigarettes, and liquor. A handful of scalpers hung around the station, a three-story white building topped with a cupola and a spire, and were waving tickets at passersby.
All the trains ran on Tokyo time now, an hour behind China time. Inside the hall of the station, people were standing in two lines for tickets. One was short and only for Japanese passengers, while the other was long, with more than one hundred Chinese people waiting. At its end was Rulian. But the wicket at the head of the long line remained shut, and only the short line was moving. Near us stood a slim Japanese clerk in a blue uniform and a cap with a shiny black peak. We worried that Rulian and the girls might miss the train. Minnie went up to the man and said, “See those words?” She pointed at the slogan pasted above the front door, which declared in big characters: WE MUST UNITE TO BUILD A PROSPEROUS EAST ASIA!
The clerk nodded without speaking. Minnie continued, “Don’t you think the way you’re treating these Chinese passengers may contravene Japan’s policy and undermine the union of East Asia?”
He grinned knowingly, showing his tobacco-stained teeth, but he still said nothing. Then he slowly sauntered back into the office, and a minute later the other wicket opened, selling tickets to the Chinese in line.
Outside the windows a train pulled in, shuddering a little as it came to a stop and disgorged hundreds of passengers. The new arrivals didn’t have to wash their hands in Lysol or rinse their mouths with disinfectant anymore, and the guards frisked only two young men as they exited. Life was returning to normal, though the police still checked everyone’s papers.
Rulian came back with six train tickets and two platform tickets, and together we led the blind girls out of the hall. After checking in their baggage, we reached track 2; at the west end of the platform, about four hundred Japanese soldiers were lounging around, some lying on stretchers and some sitting on the ground paved with concrete slabs. A few men flailed their arms, groaning and shouting. Twenty or so young Japanese women — some in their late teens — moved among them, handing out rice cakes and water in canteens. A few fed the soldiers who were all bandaged up. Beyond them stood a sleeping car, in which some wounded officers were smoking and drinking tea, while others played cards. The windows of the car were partly fogged — it must be warm in there. Although the wounded men on the platform were cared for, to me they still looked like bundles of garbage scattered around in the glaring sunlight. The scene reminded me of the wounded Chinese soldiers I’d seen here just over a year ago. What a different sight this was. Yet these men were in some fashion similar to those Chinese men abandoned by their generals. Every one of them looked miserable, wasted, and aged.
Ahead of the sleeper for the officers stood three flatcars loaded with vehicles — trucks, sedans, ambulances, steamrollers, jeeps — waiting to be shipped to Japan. Now I understood why the Japanese confiscated automobiles driven by the Chinese.