The old lady came to suddenly, but her eyes still looked glazed over. “Who are you?”
“It’s me, Yueqing. Don’t you recognize me?”
The old woman, her mouth hanging open and her lips quivering, began to cry. At the sight of her mother weeping, Niu Yueqing could not hold back her own tears. At first mother and daughter were crying over the same thing, but soon they were engrossed in their own sad thoughts, which only made them cry harder.
It took considerable effort for Niu Yueqing to get her mother inside so she could ask the old woman why she hadn’t recognized her own daughter. Her mother said she had not been able to sleep for three nights, and there had been a buzzing in her head. But when neither her daughter nor her son-in-law came to see her, she tied her daughter’s clothes in a bundle to hang in the dry well in the yard to summon Niu Yueqing home.
“You lost your soul, Yueqing, and I got it back for you.”
Niu Yueqing knew that her mother was losing touch with reality again, but this dazed look was something new. Mother and daughter had always been close, and she thought that her mother must have intuited something, which made Niu Yueqing start crying again.
“It’s all my fault, Mother. I should have come to see you sooner so you wouldn’t be like this. I will never leave you again. I’m going to live here, cook you three meals a day, sleep with you at night, and talk to you when we’re awake. Mother, what do you feel like eating?”
When she said she wanted some noodle soup, Niu Yueqing went into the kitchen to prepare it. She removed the lid from the pot and saw that it had not been washed thoroughly, and that too made her sad. For over a decade, she had devoted most of her care to Zhuang, with little concern for her mother; she had let her mother down, the person closest to her in the whole world.
With her daughter around, the old lady’s face regained signs of vitality, but she kept saying that the wall needed to be washed because the corners were crawling with centipedes and scorpions. When Niu Yueqing poured her some water, the woman complained about the knot of worms in her bowl; when her daughter drew water for her to wash her feet, the old lady said there was an even larger knot of worms in the basin. At bedtime, Niu Yueqing would not let her mother sleep in the coffin and made a bed large enough for both of them. Saying she couldn’t sleep, the elderly woman talked about how chubby and well behaved Yueqing had been at the ages of three and four, and then she waved a fan at Niu Yueqing’s feet because they were covered with flies. She must wash her feet the next day, the old lady added. Niu Yueqing turned to sleep facing the old lady and, with her mother’s arms around her, sobbed.
. . .
Zhuang Zhidie, Meng Yunfang, and Zhou Min looked all over the city for Tang Wan’er, but after searching nearly every one of the main streets and small lanes, they were still unable to find her. They then went to see Zhao Jingwu, who had been drinking alone for days. He still looked dejected, so Zhuang said, “Liu Yue was dead set on marrying Dazheng. I tried many times to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t listen. I said, ‘Liu Yue, if you put aside Jingwu’s good looks, his talent alone would likely bring him great success, and you would want for nothing.’ But she was too shortsighted. She even said, ‘Zhuang Laoshi, you’re like the man who draws a picture of a flatbread to stave off hunger.’ You see, that’s how she looked at it, and there was nothing I could do. I’m not her father, we’re not even related, so I couldn’t control her mind even if I could restrain her body. Since that’s what she wanted, we had to let her be.”
“I think it’s a good outcome,” Meng said. “I was unhappy when I first heard that Jingwu and Liu Yue were getting engaged, but I couldn’t say so. Now that she’s married to that cripple, just you wait and see — he’s going to suffer.”
“What do you mean, Meng Laoshi?” Zhou asked Min.
“My wife told me she once went to a bathhouse with Liu Yue and discovered that the girl was born under the star of a white tiger, someone who could kill a man without a knife. I read that in a book.”
“You don’t have to say any more,” Jingwu said. “I’m not the type to kill myself over a woman. To each his own. If she didn’t want to marry me, it wouldn’t have worked. Like they say, a melon that’s torn from the vine won’t taste as sweet. I hate myself for being worthless. Too bad she only cared about the advantages in front of her. You’ve come today, and I appreciate your concern. So don’t go yet; I’ll go get something to drink with you.”
“We feel better now that we know what’s on your mind,” Zhuang said. “If you feel like drinking, come to my house some other day, and we can drink ourselves silly. But we’re on an urgent mission today, and we need you to join us. Did you know that Tang Wan’er has disappeared?” Zhuang followed up with details, leaving out the part about her disappearance at the movie theater.
“Elder Brother Zhao,” Zhou Min said tearfully, “what’s happening to us? Your woman married someone else, while mine has disappeared. We’ve combed every corner of the city, but there’s no sign of her. I’m afraid she’s run into some terrible people and was either killed or kidnapped by human traffickers.”
“Stop that nonsense,” Zhuang said. “She had no enemies in this city, so who would do her harm? And she’s too smart to be tricked. Jingwu, you have many connections and you know people in all walks of life, so we will need your help to find her.”
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? The underworld has gotten into this sort of thing lately. I do know someone, and we’ll likely find out if she’s fallen into their hands.”
They took a taxi to Beixin Street, crossed a lane, and stopped at a shop with a wreath on the door. Telling the others to wait, Zhao walked in to speak to an old woman making papier-mâché flowers. He came right back out. “Muzi is out.”
“Who is Muzi?”
“Someone who has access to the criminal world,” Zhao said. “He studied martial arts as a youngster and has become very good at it. Let’s get something to eat and then come back later.”
They went to a restaurant, and the moment they got there, Ruan Zhifei pulled up with a woman in a car. The car stopped, and Ruan got out. “I was on my way to see you,” he said to Zhuang. “Imagine running into you here. What luck.”
Meng glanced at the woman in the car. “Another of your women?” he whispered.
“No, she’s my assistant. I’m too lazy to get a divorce right now. So you’re free to be out window-shopping, I see. Hop in. We’re recruiting fashion models; it’s a recent fad at dance halls. I have four already. Come tell me what you think.”
“We have something important to do, so you’ll have to go on without us.”
Meng wanted to get Ruan to help with their search, but he kept his mouth shut when Zhuang gave him a look.
“What are you into now that’s such a big secret? Well, I’ll leave you to it. Give me a ring when you want to come check out the models.” He ducked back inside the car and said something to the woman before driving off amid salacious laughter. The four men walked into the restaurant.
The place was packed, so Zhao Jingwu got in line to place their orders. The other three found an empty table and sat down next to a table where two young men were whispering furtively. Then a stocky fellow outside looked in through the window. Annoyed by the flattened face against the windowpane, Zhuang said to Meng, “Another sluggard,” then turned to block the man’s view. A moment later the man walked in; he was not tall, but he had a square, solid build. Without getting in line, he bought four oily flatbreads and carried them two in each hand to the young men’s table. Without a word, they got up to leave, but he reached out, still holding the flatbreads, and said, “Give me a hand, pals, and roll up my sleeves for me.” They silently did as he asked, and spotted the yellow insignias sewn onto them. “A cop!” They spun around to leave, but were stopped by oily flatbreads slapped against their cheeks.