Red Azalea Page 11

  My mother came instead of writing back. I was in the middle of spraying chemicals. Orchid told me that my mother had arrived. I did not believe her. She pointed to a lady coated in dust standing on the path. Now tell me I was lying, she said. I took off the chemical container and walked toward my mother. Mom, I said, who told you to come? Mother smiled and said, A mother can always find her child. I kneeled down to take off her shoes. Her feet were swollen. I poured her a bowl of water. She asked how heavy the fungicide-chemical container was. Sixty pounds, I said. Mother said, Your back is soaked. I said, I know. Mother said, It’s good that you work hard. I told her that I was the platoon leader.

  Mother said she was proud. I said I was glad. She said she did not bring anything because Blooming had just graduated from the middle school and was assigned to a professional boarding school. Her Shanghai resident number was also taken away. We have no money to buy her a new blanket; she still uses the one you left. It’s good to be frugal, don’t you think? Mother said. What about Coral? I asked. Will she be assigned to a factory? Mother nodded and said she had been praying for that to happen. But it’s hard to say. Mother shook her head. Coral is afraid of leaving. The school people said that if she showed a physical disability, her chances of staying in Shanghai would be much better. Coral did not go to see a doctor while she was having serious dysentery. She was trying to destroy her intestine to claim disability. That was stupid, but we were not able to stop her. A lot of youths in the neighborhood are doing the same thing; they are scared to be assigned to the farms. Coral is very unhappy. She said she had never asked to be born, she said that to my face. My child said that to my face.

  I placed Mother in Yan’s bed that night. I wanted to talk to my mother but instead fell asleep the minute my head hit the pillow. The next morning Mother said she’d better leave. She said that I should not feel sorry for myself. It shows weakness. And her presence might have increased my weakness and that was not her intention in being here. She should not be here to make my soldiers’ homesickness worse. I could not say that I was not feeling weak. I could not say my behavior would not influence the others. I wanted to cry in my mother’s arms, but I was an adult since the age of five. She must see me be strong. Or she would not survive. She depended on me. I asked if she would like me to give her a tour of the farm. She said she had seen enough. The salty bare land was enough. She said it was time for her to go back.

  Mother did not ask about Yan, about whose bed she had slept in the previous night. I wished she had. I wished I could tell her some of my real life. But mother did not ask. I knew Yan’s title of Party secretary was the reason. Mother was afraid of Party secretaries. She was a victim of every one of them. She ran away before I introduced Yan.

  Mother refused to allow me to accompany her to the farm’s bus station. She was insistent. She walked away by herself in the dust. Despite Lu’s objection to a few hours’ absence, I went to follow my mother through the cotton field. For three miles she didn’t take a rest. She was walking away from what she had seen—the land, the daughters of Shanghai, the prison. She ran away like a child. I watched her while she waited for the bus. She looked older than her age: my mother was forty-three but looked sixty or older.

  When the bus carried Mother away, I ran into the cotton fields. I exhausted myself and lay down flat on my back. I cried and called Yan’s name.

  The day she was expected back, I walked miles to greet her. When her tractor appeared at a crossroad, my heart was about to jump out of my mouth. She jumped off and ran toward me. Her scarf blew off. The tractor drove on. Standing before me, she was so handsome in her uniform.

  Did you see him? I asked, picking up her scarf and giving it back to her. Leopard? She smiled taking the scarf. And? I said. She asked me not to mention Leopard’s name anymore in our conversation. It’s all over and it never happened. I asked what happened. She said, Nothing. We didn’t know each other. We were strangers as before. Was he there? I was persistent. Yes, he was. Did you talk? Yes, we said hello. What else? What what else? We read our companies’ reports, and that was all.

  She did not look hurt. Her lovesickness was gone. She said, Our great leader Chairman Mao teaches us, “A proletarian must liberate himself first to liberate the world.” She scraped my nose. I said, You smell of soap. She said she had a bath at the headquarters. It was their special treat to branch Party secretaries. She had something important to tell me. She said she would be leaving the company soon.

  I closed my eyes and relaxed in her arms. We lay quietly for a long time. Now I wish you were a man, I said. She said she knew that. She held me tighter. I listened to the sound of her heart pounding. We pretended that we were not sad. We were brave.

  She had told me that she was assigned to a remote company, Company Thirty. They need a Party secretary and commander to lead eight hundred youths. Why you? Why not Lu? It’s an order, she said to me. I don’t belong to myself. I asked whether the new company was very far. She said she was afraid so. I asked about the land condition there. She said it was horrible, the same as here, in fact worse, because it was closer to the sea. I asked if she wanted to go there. She said she had no confidence in conquering that land. She said she did not know how she had become so afraid. She said she did not want to leave me. She smiled sadly and recited a saying: “When the guest leaves, the tea will soon get cold.” I said my cup of tea would never get cold.

  Lu turned the light off early. The company had had a long day reaping the rice. The snoring in the room was rising and falling. I was watching the moonlight when Yan’s hands tenderly touched my face. Her hands soothed my neck and shoulders. She said she must bear the pain of leaving me. Tears welled up in my eyes. I thought of Little Green and the bookish man. Their joy and the price they paid. I wept. Yan held me. She said she could not stop herself. Her thirst was dreadful.

  She covered us with blankets. We breathed each other’s breath. She pulled my hands to touch her chest. She caressed me, trembling herself. She murmured that she wished she could tell me how happy I made her feel. I asked if to her I was Leopard. She enveloped me in her arms. She said there never was a Leopard. It was I who created Leopard. I said it was an assignment given by her. She said, You did a very good job. I asked if we knew what we were doing. She said she knew nothing but the Little Red Book. I asked how the quotation applied to the situation. She recited, “One learns to fight the war by fighting the war.”

  I said I could not see her because my tears kept welling up. She whispered, Forget about my departure for now. I said I could not. She said I want you to obey me. You always did good when you obeyed me. She licked my tears and said this was how she was going to remember us.

  I moved my hands slowly through her shirt. She pulled my fingers to unbutton her bra. The buttons were tight, five of them. Finally, the last one came off. The moment I touched her breasts, I felt a sweet shock. My heart beat disorderly. A wild horse broke off its reins. She whispered something I could not hear. She was melting snow. I did not know what role I was playing anymore: her imagined man or myself. I was drawn to her. The horse kept running wild. I went where the sun rose. Her lips were the color of a tomato. There was a gale mixed with thunder inside of me. I was spellbound by desire. I wanted to be touched. Her hands skimmed my breasts. My mind maddened. My senses cheered frantically in a raging fire. I begged her to hold me tight. I heard a little voice rising in the back of my head demanding me to stop. As I hesitated, she caught my lips and kissed me fervently. The little voice disappeared. I lost myself in the caresses.

  Yan did not go to Company Thirty. The order was canceled because headquarters was unable to connect the drinking-water pipe there. We shouted “A long, long life to Chairman Mao” when we got the news. Lu was unhappy. She would have taken Yan’s position if Yan had gone. She said it was the rain. It rained too much and it spoiled her luck.

  It was May. The crops were shooting. For the past five months headquarters had ordered the company leaders to pay at
tention to their soldiers’ political awareness. Only when the minds have politically advanced will the quantity and quality of the products be advanced. This is the key to our economic success. Lu read the instruction loudly to the company. She said that every soldier was required to give a speech at the nightly self-criticism meeting. Lu became angry during these meetings when, as usual, two-thirds of the people dozed off. Lu said that there must be a class enemy hiding in the ranks. We must stretch tight the string of the class struggle in our minds to stay invincible, she said.

  To push us to work harder, Lu also passed down an order: one would be allowed to pee or shit only two times a day during working hours and could stay in the restroom no longer than five minutes. Anyone who broke this rule would be seriously criticized. Only the lazy donkeys shit more than that, Lu said. And lazy donkeys deserve to be ruthlessly beaten!

  When Lu asked Yan to give mobilization talks to the masses, Yan stepped in front of the ranks and said, Please repeat after me: Chairman Mao teaches us, “Trust the people.” She dismissed the meeting in less then one minute. Lu said, We can’t expect the studs to be straight if the beams are not. Yan said, What’s your problem? Tapping her pen on her notebook, Lu said, Comrade Secretary, I think you’ve got spiritual termites in the house of your mind. Yeah? Yan looked at Lu sideways. You know where I got those termites? From you. You’ve got termites fully packed in your head. You have no clean beams or studs in the house of your mind. They were eaten up a long time ago. And now your termites are hungry, they are climbing out from your eyes, earholes, noseholes and asshole to eat up other people’s houses. Yan walked away, leaving Lu purple.

  Although my excuses about the cold weather were becoming less convincing, I still slept with Yan, pretending it was out of habit. Lu became uncomfortable. She said it was not healthy for two people to dissociate themselves from everyone else. She pointed out at a Party members’ meeting that Yan had loosened her self-discipline and was developing a dangerous tendency toward revisionism. She criticized her for divorcing herself from the masses and forming a political faction. Yan told me to ignore Lu; she called her a political bug.

  One afternoon I found my bed had been checked. Later that night I also noticed that Lu’s snoring had stopped; I wondered if she had been listening to us. The next day Lu came and said that she would like to have a talk with me. She asked me what I did with Yan at the brick factory. I said we practiced erhu. She said, Is that all? Her eyes told me she did not believe a bit of it. You know I’ve been receiving reports from the masses on you two. She always used “the masses” to state what she wanted to say. I said, I’m sorry, I don’t understand you. She said I’m sure you understand me perfectly. She smiled. I’ve noticed you two have been wearing each other’s clothes. It was true Yan and I had been paying attention to look our best. It was true that we wore each other’s clothes and I had worn her three-inch-wide belt. I asked Lu if it was a problem. Lu did not answer me. She walked away with a we-will-see smile. The same night a new slogan appeared on the cafeteria wall. It said, “Be aware of the new patterns of the class struggle.” Lu gave a speech at the night’s meeting calling for attention to “hiding corrupters in the proletarian rank.” She emphasized that the company should not allow a tiny mouse shit to spoil a jar of porridge.

  The same night Yan told me that Lu was secretly calling for approval from the upper Party committee for a midnight search in every mosquito net. She suggested that we stop sleeping together. You must obey me, Yan said seriously. I said, All right, but after tonight.

  Yan held me in her arms. I felt as if her arms were about to break my ribs.

  The next dawn I was awakened by an unfamiliar breath on my face. I cracked open my eyes. I saw a blurred head swaying in front of me. I was horrified: it was Lu. She was in our net watching us.

  My heart screamed. I tried to stay in control. I closed my eyes, pretending that I was still sleeping. I began to tremble. If Lu lifted the blankets, Yan and I would be exposed naked. Lu could have us arrested immediately. I felt Lu’s breath harden. My fingers underneath the blankets were taking a firm hold on the sheet. I prayed—to what, I didn’t know. Just prayed. I felt Lu’s head getting closer and closer to my face. Her hand reached my neck and touched the end of the sheet.

  Yan turned to the wall in sleep. Lu’s shadow ducked off. I was paralyzed. When I reopened my eyes, Lu was gone.

  Lu stopped asking me questions. And I noticed that I was followed either by her or some of her trusted followers wherever I went. I had become Lu’s target to attack Yan.

  It was hard not to be able to be close to Yan. The day became senseless. Yan acted tougher than before. She worked hard and showed no emotions. She dragged Lu to be her partner in carrying stones. To exhaust Lu, she took a full hod and walked as fast as she could. Although Lu curled like a shrimp when she was working with Yan, she never complained. As if she knew one day she would win, she bore the pain almost gracefully. A couple of times I saw her wiping off tears at night while taking her study notes.

  You know, I really don’t mind having my body hung upside down or my buttocks pricked by a needle, Lu said to me, raising her head from her notebook with a ghastly smile. Faith is all that I need.

  Three weeks later, one evening after work when there was no one in the room, I begged Yan to stop torturing Lu. I asked her to think about the consequences. I said, Don’t forget that a dog would jump over a wall if forced into a corner. Yan pulled me against the door and said, Lu wants the power, she wants to push me off of my position. It doesn’t matter whether I’m nice to her or not, she’s decided to be my enemy. She knows very well that by breaking you, she can break me. Yan then told me that two weeks ago when she nominated me to be a member of the Communist Party to the farm’s headquarters, Lu voted an objection. She won’t allow a tiger to grow a pair of wings, Yan said to me. Do you understand? You are my wings!

  I said I did not really care to join the Party anyway. But you need the Party membership, said Yan. It’s a weapon for your future. I said, What could you do about Lu’s objection? “If someone takes the initiative to hurt me, I will hurt him back,” Yan recited Mao’s quotation, and continued, I went to headquarters this afternoon. The chief wanted to talk about Lu’s promotion with me. I did the same thing to her that she had done to you. I picked some bones out of her fucking egg. It was successful. The chief dropped the proposal.

  I asked what she was going to do with Lu’s hatred. She said she could care less as she herself was a dog pushed into the corner. We walked on a foggy path stepping on the dew. I said I was tired of life and I hated being a bullet lying in a rifle chamber. Yan said she felt the same way. But it’s better to fight than to be torn alive, she said. It must be fate that we were born at this time. If you can’t go back to your mother’s womb, you’d better learn to be a good fighter.

  Spring Festival Holiday came. To set ourselves up as good examples for the soldiers, Yan and I volunteered to guard the company’s property over the holidays, so that we could spend time together. After the last soldier was gone, at dawn, Yan and I went to the fields to dig radishes and cauliflowers. We cooked delicious soup that night.

  After dinner, late in the evening, Yan and I went for a long walk in the frosted field. I felt that I was completely at peace, both in mind and body. I looked at Yan, her rigid features against the black sky. She was an iron goddess. I once again felt worshipful of her and it made me fall speechless. I walked shoulder-to-shoulder with her. She stared into the far distance, buried in thought. The cold air was brisk. I took deep breaths. Yan was thinking about her future and mine, I was sure. It depressed me to follow her thoughts. What control did we have over our own future? None. The life we were living was our assigned future, just like our parents’: one job for a lifetime—a screw fixed on the revolutionary running machine, not until broken down does it pass.

  Yan took my hand and held it tight. We sat in the dark reeds, depressed and pleased at the same time.

 
; When we got back to our room, Lu appeared unexpectedly. She said that she wanted to replace either Yan or me, so that one of us could have a vacation. We were greatly disappointed, but neither of us said a word.

  The invisible battle between Lu and us was as tough as the frozen salty brown mud. Lu never stopped watching us. She became addicted to watching us. Yan and I lived around her traps. During the day, we rearranged the grain storage and selected the cotton. Yan and I remained silent most of the time. At night we each slept in our own nets and thought about each other. One afternoon I found Lu’s shadow hiding behind the door, listening to our conversation. After I signaled to Yan where Lu was hiding, Yan picked up a wood stick. Pretending she was chasing a rat, she knocked open the door and exposed Lu. Lu smiled awkwardly; she said she was looking for some mosquitoes to clap. Yan was annoyed. One day when Lu was out in the fields, she took Lu’s skull and threw it into a manure pit. Lu turned purple when she got back and could not find the skull. Yan did not admit to the act. Lu did not say any more about the skull but carved the date on the door. When I looked at the dull but determined carving strokes, I could feel Lu’s choking strength. Strap it tight! Yes, tighter! Tighter! One night I heard Lu crying out in her sleep.

  After the Spring Festival, we went every day to hoe the cotton fields. The wind from the East China Sea mixed with sand and felt needle-sharp. It pricked our skin and cracked our lips. Frost damaged the buds. The soldiers were resentful. They swore when the water pipes were frozen in the morning. They picked fights over tiny things like who had more space on clothes strings. It was useless when Lu called for a “united and harmonious family.” Yan was busy looking for Lu’s faults. She wanted to kick Lu out of the company. Lu knew it and was doing the same thing to Yan.

  Yan and I had long stopped meeting at the brick factory, because we could not tell where Lu would send her human watchdogs. Yan’s face was long. She started swearing again. There were executions of all types on the farm. Headquarters was frustrated at the soldiers’ faithlessness. Posters of people being sentenced to death were often seen on the walls. It was called “Killing a chicken to shock the monkeys.”