Hulan slowly opened her eyes and stared at David. "I'm only responding to what you saw."
"I saw a woman who jumped from a building and died." "Look at it with me: A woman gets her arm half torn off. She loses a lot of blood. She's probably in shock. She can't walk off the factory floor-"
"Aaron Rodgers said he carried her to his office, but that doesn't mean she couldn't walk."
"I'm telling you she couldn't walk." Hulan waited for David to challenge her again. When he didn't, she continued, "He takes her somewhere-"
"His office…"
"And goes for help." David nodded, and Hulan went on. "Now, you're suggesting that Xiao Yang gets up, climbs a set of stairs, somehow finds her way onto the roof, goes to the edge of the building, and jumps?" "That's what happened."
"David, think about that building. If you were on the second-floor roof and you jumped, do you think you would die?"
"Probably not, might break an ankle, though." He smiled, but Hulan would have none of it.
"So you'd go feet first?"
"Yeah, I suppose."
"Then how do you explain the fact that Xiao Yang landed ten feet from the building, with her head crushed?"
"What are you suggesting?"
"Someone threw her off the building," Hulan said gravely.
David disagreed. "If you jump, your body's going to have a forward trajectory. Even if she landed on her feet, she'd have to fall forward or backward. If the circumstances are right, the • momentum could be enough to cause that damage."
"Three weeks ago Miaoshan supposedly kills herself. Today Xiao Yang also kills herself. Doesn't that seem strange to you?"
"Look, it's terrible what happened to Miaoshan, and it's sad what happened to that poor woman today, but you're seeing murder where there's only suicide. These things are tragic, but that's all they are."
On another day, maybe in other circumstances, Hulan might have heard these words differently. Instead she filtered out everything except for what she took to be his condescension.
She stood and put her purse on her shoulder.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"I'm not sure yet."
"You're not going back to the factory."
Hulan's eyes flashed. "Are you telling me what I can and cannot do?"
"You said a day, Hulan. You were in there two days."
She looked at him in anger and disappointment. "You're a lawyer. You're supposed to look at things logically. Where is your brain, David?"
"You say that just because my interpretation deviates from yours?"
Hulan shrugged indifferently.
David didn't know where his next words came from and regretted them the moment they left his lips, but he said, "I forbid you to go."
Her eyes were cold as she said, "You're not my father." Then she left the restaurant.
12
WITHOUT THINKING, HULAN GRABBED A TAXI AND ASKED to be dropped at the bus stop for Da Shui Village. When the driver said that the last bus had already left for the day, she asked if he'd take her. Speaking into the rearview mirror, the driver said, "You're a Beijinger. Why do you want to go there?"
"You look at me and see only my face and my clothes," Hulan said. "Since that is the case, you know I also have money."
That seemed a good enough answer for the driver. He made a U-turn, stepped on the gas, and headed out of town. Soon the city lights were left behind them, and only the taxi's headlights illuminated the deserted road. Hulan stared out into the darkness. Again and again she went over the words of her argument with David. How could he tell her what to do? How could he see Siang and Peanut and Mayli and Jingren all as faceless, uneducated peasants? How could she be with someone like him? She felt as trapped as she had the day David and Zai had discussed her activities as though she weren't at the table with them.
At the crossroads, Hulan pointed left. Soon after, she asked the driver to stop. She got out of the car and paid her fare, supplementing it with a tip. But he waved away the extra money. "I have seen this on American television shows," he said. "And they say tips are now given in Beijing, but I cannot accept."
"Please take it," she said. "I was rude before, and tired. I hope you'll forgive me."
"Ha!" he said. "I thought you were just showing your city ways. So we are both mistaken." He looked out into the black fields. "You're sure this is where you want to be?" When Hulan nodded, he said good night, then sped away. In the far distance she could see the glow of Taiyuan 's lights. In another direction Da Shui's electricity provided another smaller proof of civilization. But other than these two gentle luminescences, the night seemed an opaque blanket. Hulan walked along the road for a short way, then dipped down onto a raised pathway. Eventually she came to Ling Suchee's small compound.
She entered the tiny courtyard and was surprised to see Suchee sitting on a low-slung bamboo chair talking to a man. He looked very much at home as he sat on the metal cover of Suchee's well. Suchee introduced him as her neighbor, Tang Dan, and Hulan as an old friend.
"I've met your daughter," Hulan said, trying to camouflage her distress with the usual pleasantries.
Tang Dan gave a customary response. "She is disobedient and ugly." He regarded Hulan frankly, and she returned his stare. His eyebrows were bushy over dark eyes. A few white whiskers jutted from his chin. His stomach pressed against his shirt. His sandaled feet were callused and rough. The only family resemblance between Tang Dan and his daughter was in the strength of their jaws.
"She's at the Knight factory," Hulan said. "Siang is safe."
"I wasn't worried," Tang Dan replied. "When she comes home this weekend, I will make her see sense. By Monday morning all obstacles will be removed and she will once again obey."
The words "When a daughter, obey your father" ran through Hulan's mind. Then she thought of Slang's headstrong ways, her stubbornness, her sense of entitlement, and wondered which of the two-father or daughter-would win in this contest of wills.
With a grunt Tang Dan heaved himself to his feet. His legs bowed out under him. "Good night, Ling Suchee, Liu Hulan."
"See you tomorrow," Suchee responded.
As soon as Tang Dan left the courtyard, Suchee beckoned Hulan inside.
A few minutes later, Hulan sat at the small table in Suchee's single room, sipping tea. Etiquette prevented Suchee from asking her guest what she was doing here this late at night, so she went back to an earlier chore of making shoes. Silently she took some paste made from flour and water and applied it to sheaf after sheaf of cut newspaper, taking pains to press the sheets together so that there were no bubbles or uneven areas. Wordlessly Hulan watched her friend, remembering back to the days of the Red Soil Farm and how she herself had spent long evenings making the papier mache soles, then dying them red in a vat tinted with soil, and sewing on scraps of cloth to create the tops.
"I've told you about David," Hulan said. Suchee nodded and continued her work. "Many years ago in America I left him with no explanation. It was cruel and unforgivable. All those years since that time I've been lonely. Of course, there were other men, but they meant nothing. Then, when David came back into my life, I wanted nothing more than for us to be together again. I thought we could be happy together, but I don't think we can."