“We give him the electric bath,” Dr. Mai said to me a moment later.
“What?” I asked, wincing.
“We treat him with the electric bath.”
I turned to Baowen. “How is it?”
“It’s good, really soothing.” He smiled, but there was a churlish look in his eyes, and his mouth tightened.
The nurse was ready to take him for the treatment. Never having heard of such a bath, I asked Dr. Mai, “Can I see how it works?”
“All right, you may go with them.”
Together we climbed the stairs to the second floor. There was another reason for me to join them. I wanted to find out whether Baowen was a normal man. The rumors in our factory had gotten on my nerves, particularly the one that said he had no penis — that was why he had always avoided bathing in the workers’ bathhouse.
After taking off our shoes and putting on plastic slippers, we entered a small room that had pea-green walls and a parquet floor. At its center lay a porcelain bathtub, a ghastly thing, like an instrument of torture. Affixed along the interior wall of the tub were rectangles of black, perforated metal. Three thick rubber cords connected them to a tall machine standing by the wall. A control board full of buttons, gauges, and switches was mounted atop the machine. The young nurse, burly and square-faced, turned on the faucet; steaming water began to tumble into the tub. Then he went over to operate the machine. He seemed good-natured; his name was Long Fuhai. He said he came from the countryside, apparently of peasant stock, and had graduated from Jilin Nursing School.
Baowen smiled at me while unbuttoning his zebra-striped hospital robe. He looked fine now — all the bruises had disappeared from his face, which had become pinkish and smooth. I was frightened by the tub, however. It seemed more suitable for electrocuting a criminal. No matter how sick I might be, I would never lie in it with my back resting against that metal groove. What if there were a problem with the wiring?
“Does it hurt?” I asked Baowen.
“No.”
He went behind a khaki screen in a corner and began taking off his clothes. When the water half filled the tub, the nurse took a small bag of white powder out of a drawer, cut it open with scissors, and poured the stuff into the water. It must be salt. He tucked up his shirt sleeves and bent double to agitate the solution with both hands, which were large and sinewy.
To my dismay, Baowen came out in a clean pair of shorts. Without hesitation he got into the tub and lay down, just as one would enter a lukewarm bathing pool. I was amazed. “Have you given him electricity yet?” I asked Nurse Long.
“Yes, some. I’ll increase it little by little.” He turned to the machine and adjusted a few buttons.
“You know,” he said to me, “your son-in-law is a very good patient, always cooperative.”
“He should be.”
“That’s why we give him the bath. Other patients get electric cuffs around their limbs or electric rods on their bodies. Some of them scream like animals every time. We have to tie them up.”
“When will he be cured?”
“I’m not sure.”
Baowen was noiseless in the electrified water, with his eyes shut and his head resting on a black rubber pad at the end of the tub. He looked fine, rather relaxed.
I drew up a chair and sat down. Baowen seemed reluctant to talk, preferring to concentrate on the treatment, so I remained silent, observing him. His body was wiry, his legs hairless, and the front of his shorts bulged quite a bit. He looked all right physically. Once in a while he breathed a feeble sigh.
As the nurse increased the electric current, Baowen began to squirm in the tub as if smarting from something. “Are you all right?” I asked but dared not touch him.
“Yeah.”
He kept his eyes shut. Glistening beads of sweat gathered on his forehead. He looked pale, his lips curling now and again as though he were thirsty.
Then the nurse gave him more electricity. Baowen began writhing and moaning a little. Obviously he was suffering. This bath couldn’t be so soothing as he’d claimed. With a white towel Nurse Long wiped the sweat off Baowen’s face and whispered, “I’ll turn it down in a few minutes.”
“No, give me more!” Baowen said resolutely without opening his eyes, his face twisted.
I felt as though he were ashamed of himself. Perhaps my presence made this section of the treatment more uncomfortable for him. His hands gripped the rim of the tub, his arched wrists trembling. For a good three minutes nobody said a word; the room was so quiet that its walls seemed to be ringing.
As the nurse gradually reduced the electricity, Baowen calmed down. His toes stopped wiggling.
Not wanting to bother him further with my presence, I went out to look for Doctor Mai, to thank him and find out when Baowen would be cured. The doctor was not in his office, so I walked out of the building for a breath of air. The sun was high and the snow blazingly white. Once outside, I had to close my eyes for a minute to adjust them. I then sat down on a bench and lit a cigarette. A young woman in an ermine hat and army mittens passed by, holding an empty milk pail and humming the song “Comrade, Please Have a Cup of Tea.” She looked handsome, and her crisp voice pleased me. I gazed at the pair of thick braids behind her, which swayed a little in the wind.
My heart was full of pity for Baowen. He was such a fine young man that he ought to be able to love a woman, have a family, and enjoy a normal life.
Twenty minutes later I rejoined him in his room. He looked tired, still shivering a little. He told me that as the electric currents increased, his skin had begun prickling as though stung by hundreds of mosquitoes. That was why he couldn’t stay in the tub for longer than half an hour.
I felt for him and said, “I’ll tell our leaders how sincere your attitude is and how cooperative you are.”
“Oh, fine.” He tilted his damp head. “Thanks for bringing the books.”
“Do you need something else?”
“No.” He sounded sad.
“Baowen, I hope you can come home before the New Year. Beina needs you.”
“I know. I don’t want to be locked up here forever.”
I told him that Beina had written to his mother, saying he’d been away on a business trip. Then the bell for lunch rang in the building, and outside the loudspeaker began broadcasting the fiery music of “March of the Volunteers.” Nurse Long walked in with a pair of chopsticks and a plate containing two corn buns. He said cheerily to Baowen, “I’ll bring you the dish in a minute. We have tofu stewed with sauerkraut today, also bean sprout soup.”
I stood up and took my leave.
When I reported Baowen’s condition to the factory leaders, they seemed impressed. The term “electric bath” must have given their imagination free rein. Secretary Zhu kept shaking his head and said, “I’m sorry Baowen has to go through such a thing.”
I didn’t explain that the electric bath was a treatment less severe than the other kinds, nor did I describe what the bath was like. I just said, “They steep him in electrified water every day.” Let the terror seize their brains, I thought, so that they might be more sympathetic toward Baowen when he is discharged from the hospital.
It was mid-December, and Baowen had been in the hospital for a month already. For days Beina went on saying that she wanted to see how her husband was doing; she was eager to bring him home before the New Year. Among her fellow workers rumors persisted. One said the electric bath had blistered Baowen; another claimed that his genitals had been shriveled up by the treatment; another added that he had become a vegetarian, nauseated at the mere sight of meat. The young woman who had once declared she’d leave her door open for him had just married and proudly told everybody she was pregnant. People began to be kind and considerate to Beina, treating her like an abused wife. The leaders of the assembly shop assigned her only the daytime shift. I was pleased that Finance still paid Baowen his wages as though he were on sick leave. Perhaps they did this because they didn’t want to upset me.