Mountain Girl River Girl (17 page)

Pan-pan couldn’t help butting in. “But that would be like buying your own house back at a much higher price!” She tried to imagine how Ah-Po and Dad and Xin-Ma would react if they were forced to leave their home and were never allowed to live in Yunxi Village again. “And where are your neighbours now?” she asked.

“Gone. All scattered around like worthless dirt. Most of them are in the new suburbs, far away from schools, workplaces, and hospitals. The government calls it fair compensation, but I call it robbery in broad daylight.” His voice broke. “And even if I was willing, what about my mother? She has to get treatment twice a week at the Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital, which is two streets away from here. If we move, how can I get her there? Thirty kilometres each way? All I have is my old tank of a bike, and I have to work two jobs to support her, her medical costs, and myself.”

Pan-pan and Shui-lian looked awkwardly at each other. If earlier they had convinced themselves that they were the only poor souls wandering the streets of this glorious city, they now both realized they were wrong.

“Listen.” Lao Feng spoke again, breaking the stillness. “If you have no place to stay while looking for your relative, I can put you up for a couple of days.”

“Really?” Pan-pan exclaimed.

Beside her, Shui-lian averted her eyes, shifting her feet uneasily. “Let’s talk about it first,” she hissed to Pan-pan from behind clenched teeth.

“Do you have a better place in mind?” Pan-pan shot back.

“Listen,” Lao Feng broke in. “You two think about it. But let me make it clear. I am willing to put you up for a few days, but not inside the house.” He looked directly at Shui-lian. “We have only two small bedrooms, and my mother needs her rest.” Pointing to the open space between the house and the remains of the wall he added, “Over there. You can move the stuff out and clear a spot. I have an old tent my parents bought many years ago after the Tangshan earthquake. I can set it up for you if you want.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” Pan-pan said, nudging Shui-lian with her elbow.

“Yes. It’s very kind of you,” Shui-lian replied, forcing a smile.

“Don’t get too excited,” said Lao Feng, “I’m not offering you a five-star hotel. Besides, it’s an exchange, if you agree. I’d like you to keep an eye on my mother when I’m at work. I have two jobs, both part time. I’m a traffic controller. That’s a fancy title for someone holding a red pennant, standing in a busy intersection during rush hour. A new effort to force drivers, cyclists, and pedestrians to obey the traffic rules. I’m also a night watchman on a construction site for a new sports complex, guarding the building materials. My mother’s recovering slowly but steadily thanks to acupuncture and other traditional treatments. She’s able to speak again and move around a bit in her wheelchair, but from time to time she still needs help. Does that sound okay with you two?”

“Yes,” Pan-pan and Shui-lian chirped at the same time. “But—”

Lao Feng put up his hand and interrupted Pan-pan. “I can’t promise you anything with regard to finding your relative. Do you know how many people used to live here? Tens of thousands. Finding her will be like searching for a sewing needle on the bottom of the ocean. But I’ll ask around. That’s all I can do.”

Chapter
Twenty-Three

Pan-pan and Shui-lian stood quietly, watching with fascination as Lao Feng set up the blue tent on the cleared patch of ground next to the house. They crawled inside to spread out their bedding, and, looking around, giggled. The tent was large enough for four people to lie down. It heated up quickly, but they felt as contented as if they were in paradise. Just the two of them, away from strangers and probing eyes. What novelty! Earlier, Lao Feng had insisted they come into the house and have something to eat, out of the heat for a while. There they met his mother, a white-haired old woman who insisted on feeding herself, using a spoon to scoop the rice into her mouth, half of which fell onto the table.

Before Lao Feng left for work that evening, he gave his mother a brass bell to ring in case she needed help. The pear-shaped bell reminded Pan-pan of the one her teacher had used for recess and for resuming classes at the village school. This one produced an intense clang that Pan-pan assured Lao Feng they’d hear easily.

Pan-pan and Shui-lian thanked Lao Feng for the food and the flashlight he offered and went outside. Darkness was slowly falling, yet the heat lingered, refusing to depart. Pan-pan and Shui-lian sat down on a broken roof beam facing the ruins, listening to the noise of the city in the background.

Shui-lian lifted her face, staring at a vast sky mapped with stars. It reminded her of her days on the water, which she had come to miss more than she ever thought she would. Thinking about home, she felt tears well up in her eyes. What would my mother say if someone told her I was sitting outside a broken house among rubble and garbage in downtown Beijing, looking at the same sky and stars she sees above the deck of the family boat? What would she do if she learned that three months away from home I had lost half a thumb? Shui-lian hadn’t heard one word from her family. How could she? She wondered if Jin-lin had gone back to see her mother yet, or if her family had tried to find her. She lowered her eyes, nervously surveying the shadows between the heaps of bricks near and far.

Lao Feng had assured them that they had no need to worry about their safety staying outdoors. Because of the demolition and chaos, this was one of the safest places in the city: No one in his right mind would bother to come here, even if he were invited.

Nevertheless, Shui-lian still had a hard time falling sleep, even after Pan-pan offered to take the spot nearest the tent’s opening. Eventually she drifted off. But she soon woke up screaming, feeling something fumbling at her thin cotton trousers. All the fear and horror she had tried to repress rushed back. She twisted to get herself free, frantically flapping her good hand to defend herself, shouting at the top of her lungs, “They’re here! They’re here again!”

Pan-pan jerked awake. She rolled over, stroking her friend’s forehead and murmuring that no one else was in the tent, that Shui-lian was safe. When Shui-lian quieted and slipped back to sleep, Pan-pan reached for the flashlight. She gasped when the beam caught a pair of tiny red eyes glaring at her.

After a moment’s hesitation, the rat skittered away, reluctantly leaving behind a mess of crumbs from a dried bun Shui-lian had left in her pocket. The scene reminded Pan-pan of the days at Niavia. Although rats were no strangers to Pan-pan, she hadn’t expected to see them in the factory, still less travelling in groups in broad daylight, inside the workshops and dorms. Worse still, their overgrowing population had attracted snakes, which crawled freely into the compound from the nearby fields. Most, after a feast of rat, would slither away again. But a few stayed, coiling up under the sewing machines and cutting tables, ready to send the workers running away in panic.

E
ARLY THE NEXT MORNING,
light infiltrated the mesh windows of the tent. Shui-lian trailed Pan-pan into the house, wondering for the first time if she had made a mistake, following Pan-pan here, instead of going somewhere else. Lao Feng wasn’t home yet from his night job, so they helped his mother out of her bed and into her wheelchair. In her faltering manner of speaking, she asked Pan-pan and Shui-lian to call her
Da-Ma—
Elder Mother—and insisted they sit down and have breakfast with her.

As Shui-lian was preparing the food, Pan-pan looked around her. The house was divided into two sections. Half of the main room was taken up by a sofa and two big chairs, opposite a TV set. A square table and a few wooden seats dominated the other half. Two closet-like bedrooms made up the back of the house. Through the side window, Pan-pan could see a small shed in the corner of the yard—the washing place, she guessed.

Shui-lian and Pan-pan sat down to a meal of cold rice porridge, boiled eggs, and shredded pickled vegetables. Afterward, with the dishes done and the floor swept, Pan-pan told Da-Ma that she and Shui-lian would be outside in the yard. If she needed them, she should just ring the bell. Da-Ma nodded but kept murmuring, “It’s hot outside. Too noisy. Too dusty.”

The sun was up now, the sky a burst of light. The temperature was rising fast, indicating another scorching day ahead. Shui-lian shaded her eyes with her good hand, squinting toward the direction where the grinding and shattering were already underway, funnels of dust rolling in clouds.

“Pan-pan, I’m going to gather some bricks to weigh down the bottom edges of the tent walls and prevent rats from getting in again. Besides, I’m afraid it might be blown away in a thunderstorm.” She made a wide sweep with her arm. “There are enough bricks here in the yard. It won’t take me long.”

Shui-lian was afraid that if she remained sitting next to Pan-pan, she might admit to her friend that she was feeling depressed and missed her home and family. Earlier, when she opened her eyes and saw the tent’s filmy blue walls, she thought for a moment she was back home, under the awning of her family boat. Her heart had filled with a sense of happiness and relief. Minutes later, the desolation surrounding the tent reminded her of the harsh reality of their situation, the bleakness of the odds of finding Sun Ming, let alone a job. She and Pan-pan had listened to Lao Feng talk about his search for work, tramping from one place to another. Shui-lian wondered about her chance of ever making a living in the capital. Who would hire her—even if she still had two whole thumbs, which she didn’t? She couldn’t live in a tent for the rest of her life, even if she was allowed. What would happen to them if they ran out of money? There were too many questions, but not even one answer. She needed to be busy, to keep her mind off these worries and her homesickness, or she might break down in front of Pan-pan, who had made such a sacrifice for her.

Of all the things scattered among the wreckage—the toys, the clothes, the broken furniture and other household items—what had caught Shui-lian’s eye was the loose bricks lying all over the place. Most were shattered, but many were still whole. And judging from the way the workers were going, all the bricks, as well as everything else on the ground, would soon be scooped up, dumped into trucks, and carted away. She couldn’t help feeling sad and angry. When she was a child, she often heard her father and mother and other river
ku-lis
talk about their dreams of living in a house with a strong roof and solid walls. Years later, it was that longing that had led her into the hands of Da-Ge. Here, surrounded by a field of jumbled blue-grey bricks and black roof tiles, she wished she could take all of them home, whole or broken, to build a house for herself and her family on the bank of the Jialing River.

“Good idea,” Pan-pan responded. “How about letting me collect them? You stay here and keep an ear open for Lao Feng’s mother. I don’t want your hand to get infected.”

“Don’t worry about my hand. It’s healing,” Shui-lian said, swinging the sling to make her point. “I’m afraid if I sit around any longer I’ll have calluses on my bum.”

They set to work right away, picking through a mound around the skeletal remains of the doorway. Shui-lian lifted a brick, shook it free of dust, and tucked it under her left arm. She then took up another one in her free hand and walked back to the tent, where she placed the bricks so as to hold down the tent’s skirt. Slowly a low barrier, two bricks high, formed around the tent.

As the morning wore on, without meaning to, the two of them had put up a little wall, extending out of Lao Feng’s courtyard.

“What are you two doing? Building the Olympic Village?”

Pan-pan and Shui-lian straightened up and found Lao Feng standing behind them, shaking his head and laughing.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Lao Feng,” Pan-pan apologized. “We got carried away. Did we miss Da-Ma’s call?”

“No, no, nothing like that. My mother is fine.” Lao Feng stopped chuckling, but his eyes still danced. “Wow, herringbone style!” he added, cocking his head to take a closer look at the wall, now about half a metre tall and two and a half metres long, winding through the rubble. “A miniature of the Great Wall!” he said cheerily, squatting on his heels and examining one of the curves. “Where did you two learn such a skill?”

“Not me. She did it,” Shui-lian said, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

“It’s not a big deal,” Pan-pan said with a shy smile. “Everyone in my village knows how to put up a wall in this way, including kids.”

When Pan-pan was a child she had watched her parents and Ah-Po at the laborious task of making mud bricks, the only kind of bricks they could afford. First, Dad would trudge to the mountainside with a shoulder pole and two large pails. There he dug earth with a hoe and carried the dirt home. No one in the village would even think of using the precious earth from the terraced fields. As Dad made trip after trip, the brown soil accumulated in a pile. At the same time, Mom and Ah-Po were busy chopping rice straw into two-centimetre lengths, to be mixed with the dirt before water was added. More mixing, and endless beating and pounding with heavy spades. On warm days, Mom would take off her shoes and socks and trample the mixture with her bare feet, until straw and earth were well blended into a thick paste. Dad would then carefully scoop the paste into a row of wooden moulds. Hours later—if it happened to be a good drying day—Pan-pan’s mother would gingerly nudge the moulds free one by one. Dad taught young Pan-pan how to stack the bricks, once they were hard enough to be picked up, in rows, in a herringbone pattern that allowed them to dry further without crushing one another. Unless the bricks were properly hardened, he warned young Pan-pan, anything built with them would collapse.

While Pan-pan had no clear idea why she and Shui-lian were putting up a wall in the midst of a ruin, she was as baffled as Shui-lian why these bricks, which the farmers in the village would have loved to have, were treated like worthless trash. How could she express her anger to the man who was so kind as to give them a place to stay, and who might help them find Sun Ming?

“We’re bored sitting around. We just want to do something,” was all she ended up saying.

Lao Feng stood up. “I understand. But it’s getting too hot. Why don’t you take a break? I’m home now. Link Plaza is just around the corner. Go and have a look, and cool yourselves down. The entire place is air-conditioned.” He took some money out of his pocket and handed it to Pan-pan. “Go. Buy some ice cream. My treat.”

“No, we can’t take your money,” Pan-pan said.

“We’ll go,” Shui-lian cut in. “But we have our own money.”