GU HUA A SMALL TOWN CALLED HIBISCUS ============================ Part 1 A Small Town in the Hills (1963) ------------------------- The Local Customs The small town of Hibiscus lies in a valley bordering the three provinces of Hunan, Guangdong and Guangxi. From of old travelling merchants have spent the night here, gallant men have gathered here, and troops have contested this strategic outpost. A stream and a river flow past it, converging about one li away so that it seems like a narrow peninsula. South of the ferry lies the way to Guangdong; west of the stone arched bridge, the highway to Guangxi. In some reign or other a local magistrate, wanting to display his benevolence or to have his refinement recorded in the district annals, had hibiscus trees planted along the banks of the jade-green stream and river, to beautify the place with flowers and green shade. He also sent labourers to dig a lake in the marshland at the foot of the back hill. Here lotuses were planted, fish were raised, the lotus seeds and roots accruing to his yamen. Whenever the lotus or hibiscus bloomed, this plain in the Wuling ranges seemed rich and verdant. The roots, trunks, flowers and bark of the hibiscus all had medicinal value. The lotus, apart from yielding seeds and roots, had big leaves as round as green gongs, on which dragonflies alighted, frogs poked up their heads, and dewdrops rolled. When picked, porters travelling some distance wrapped up rice and vegetables in these leaves; cakes could be steamed in them; they also served as covers for pedlars' loads or the bamboo basket of women going to market, or as hats for the boys minding buffaloes.... Hence the names Hibiscus River, Jade-leaf Stream and Hibiscus Town. The main street of Hibiscus was not big. Paved with flagstones it was wedged between a dozen shops and a few scores of houses. These buildings were so packed together that if one shop stewed dog-meat, the aroma filled the whole street; if some child cell and knocked out a tooth or smashed a bowl, the whole street knew of it; neighbours often overheard the secrets girls confided to each other and the jokes between young married couples, then regaled the whole town with these tit-bits. If brothers fell out or husband and wife came to blows, the whole place was in a turmoil as all rushed to intercede. On days when there was no market, people fixed up long bamboo poles between their upstairs windows and those across the street, to sun their clothes and bedding. The wind blowing from the hills made these flutter like flags all the colours of the rainbow. And the clusters of red peppers, golden maize cobs, pale green calabashes and gourds hanging from the eaves formed bright borders on either side. Below, people came and went, cocks crowed, cats and dogs padded to and fro - it was a distinctive sight. It was a neighbourly little town: at every festival the townsfolk treated each other to food and drinks. On the third of the third lunar month they made cakes; on the eight of the fourth month they steamed rice flour and meat; on the Double Fifth they prepared sticky rice dumplings and realgar-and-mugwort wine; on the Double Sixth some families had early fruit or vegetables; on the Double Seventh some had early rice; for the Mid- autumn Festival they made mooncakes; on the Double Ninth they picked persimmons; in the tenth month there were weddings; on the eighth of the twelfth month they made sweet rice porridge, and on the twenty-third saw the Kitchen God up to heaven.... Although the ingredients used by each household were much the same, clever young housewives introduced variations to give a distinctive flavour, and loved to have their cooking praised by the neighbours. Even on ordinary days, if some household had prepared fish, flesh or fowl, they were bound to give the neighbours' children a little, so that they would skip home to show it off to their parents. Later, their mothers would bring the children over to sit and chat for a while, as an expression of appreciation. Though Hibiscus Town was so small, on market-days thousands of people gathered there. The main market was held on the flats by the river behind the town where a long pavilion stood, left from the old days. It had stone pillars, wooden beams and a black-tiled roof but no walls. Opposite it stood an old stage blotched with grease-paint. Just after Liberation, they kept up the old tradition of holding nine markets a month, on every day with a three, six or nine in it. From eighteen counties in three provinces came Han merchants, Yao hunters and physicians, and Zhuang pedlars. There were two markets for pigs and buffaloes, stalls of vegetables, fruit, mushrooms and edible fungus, snakes and monkeys, sea-slugs, foreign cloth, daily necessities and snacks.... The place swarmed with people, rang with a hubbub of voices. If you looked down from the back hill on fine days, you saw turbans, kerchiefs, straw hats; on wet days, coir capes and umbrellas of cloth or oiled paper. The people seemed to be floating on a lake. Whether cold-water vendors or brokers many of them made their living from these markets. One poor fellow in the town was said to have built up his fortune by collecting the dung from the two cattle markets. In 1958, the year of the Great Leap Forward, as everyone had to smelt steel and boost production, district and county governments restricted village markets and criticized capitalist trends; so the Hibiscus markets were reduced from one every three days to one a week, finally to one a fortnight. By the time markets disappeared, it was said, they would have finished with socialism and entered communism. But then Old Man Heaven played up and they had bad harvests, on top of which the imperialists, revisionists and counter-revolutionaries made trouble. It wasn't so bad their failing to make the great leap into communism; but instead they came a great cropper, landing back in poverty with nothing but vegetable soup in the communal canteen, and nothing in the market but chaff, bracken-starch, the roots of vines and the like. China and all her people developed dropsy. Merchants stopped coming to the market, which was given over to gambling and prostitution. Fighting, stealing and kidnapping spread.... Then towards the end of 1961 the county government sent down instructions to change the fortnightly market into one every five days to facilitate trading. However, so much damage had been done that Hibiscus market could no longer attract all those merchants from far away. No longer was Hibiscus famed far and wide for its cattle markets, but Hu Yuyin's rice-beancurd stall did a flourishing business. Hu Yuyin was about twenty-five then. The customers who came to stand, sit or squat by her stall eating a bowl of beancurd were in the habit of calling her "Sister Hibiscus". Some jokers even called her "Hibiscus Fairy". Of course that was exaggerating, but she did attract attention with her black eyebrows, big eyes, face like a full moon, high breasts and graceful figure. According to Gu Yanshan, manager of the grain depot, "Sister Hibiscus's flesh is as white and tender as the beancurd she sells." She served customers cheerfully, affably and deftly, making no distinction between friends and strangers, between those smartly dressed and those in rags. She would see them off with a smile: "Another bowl? Like some soup to wash it down? Well, see you at the next market." Besides, her utensils were spotless, she served large portions and flavoured her beancurd well; so she did better business than other stall-holders. As she charged ten cents a bowl, with soup thrown in gratis, her stall was always thronged with customers. "Do business with a smile, you'll make a pile." Yuyin had learned this from her parents. Her mother was said, as a lovely girl, to have been sold to a brothel, then to have run away with a young man to this border town. They changed their names, told no one where they came from, and opened a small inn which did good business. Not until they were in their forties and had importuned Buddha with incense, was their only child - Hu Yuyin - born to them. In 1956, the year of the socialist transformation of capitalist enterprises, Yuyin and her young husband joined the Hibiscus farming co-op and became a peasant household. Only in the last couple of years had they started selling beancurd. At first Yuyin had taken a bamboo basket to market to peddle cakes of bran and wild herbs, later on cakes of sweet- potato flour. Then she set up her beancurd stall. This was not carrying on a family business; her miserable life had taught her to make a living out of it. "Sister Hibiscus! Two bowls, please, with lashings of pepper!" "Fine, I'll make it so hot that you get belly-ache!" "Will you cure my belly-ache for me?" "You silly ass!" "A bowl of beancurd, missus, and a dram of spirits!" "Here's a bowl with more soup to cool you off, comrade. You can buy liquor from that stall opposite." "Sister Hibiscus, a bowl of your beancurd, white and soft as the palm of your hand. That'll see me home." "Here you are. With a tongue like yours, your wife should make you kneel and tweak your big ears." "I'd rather you tweaked them, sister." "You lout, I hope my beancurd blisters your tongue. In your next life you'll be born dumb." "Don't curse me. Don't want to lose an old customer, do you?" Even when cursing someone, Yuyin smiled and her voice was music to his ears. She chatted and joked with her customers as if they belonged to the same family. In fact some of these customers turned up each market-day. First, Gu Yanshan, the manager of the grain depot. A bachelor in his forties, a northerner, he was an honest fellow. For some reason or other, the autumn before last he had suddenly notified Hu Yuyin that she could buy sixty pounds of rice seconds from his depot for each market. The young couple were so grateful for having their grain supply guaranteed that they nearly kowtowed to thank him. Each time Gu sat at her stall, silently watching the deft way Yuyin served her customers, he seemed to be admiring her youthful good looks. Because he was such a decent sort, however, this never gave rise to gossip. Then there was Brother Mangeng, Party secretary of Hibiscus brigade. A demobbed soldier in his thirties, related to Yuyin's husband, he was her "adopted brother". His visit to her stall each market-day to eat two free bowls of beancurd implied that this was a legitimate business, and showed all who came to the market that it had the support of the Party secretary. Another man who never paid for his beancurd was Wang Qiushe, Autumn Snake Wang, an activist in every political movement. He was in his thirties too, with a rotund face and ears, who normally looked like a laughing Buddha. But whenever the government sent a work team down to start some movement, he would run himself off his feet, blowing a whistle to summon the townsfolk to meetings, at which he would take the lead in shouting slogans. He took the night shift too to stand guard over bad characters. When the movement ended he seemed to shrink like a deflated balloon. A glutton for meat and fish, he spent three times as much as other people on food. Plumping himself down on the bench by the beancurd stall he would say brashly, "Two bowls, missus. Chalk it up." Sometimes, to her face, he would slap Yuyin's husband on the back, joking, "What's wrong, brother? Married all these years and still no bun in the oven. Do you need lessons from someone?" Husband and wife, flushed and angry, could not lose their temper with him. Although Yuyin disliked this cadger, she couldn't afford to offend him and so she always served him with a smile. Another strange customer deserves special special mention. This was Qin Shutian, known as Crazy Qin, one of the Five Categories of bad characters. He had started off all right as a music teacher in a middle school and a director of the country's song and dance ensemble. But in 1957 he wrote a dance drama containing some folk-songs which was declared reactionary, anti-Party, and so he was made a Rightist, dismissed from his job and sent home to work on the land. He stubbornly denied that he opposed the Party and socialism, simply admitting that he had made love to two women. He persuaded Party secretary Li Mangeng to change his "Rightist" label for that of "bad character". There was no end to his specious arguments. He came to Yuyin's stall when not too many people were about, cheerfully humming a line or two from some song. "Crazy Qin! What devilish tune is that?" someone might ask. "It's from the Guangdong dance Up We Go." "Are you going up, a bad character like you? You're sinking lower and lower." "Quite right. I've gone from bad to worse, must reform...." In Yuyin's presence Qin was on his best behaviour. And because she felt that he had been unlucky, she often added extra oil and spice to his beancurd. The traders who came to the market were a mixed lot. Apart from decent people there were hypocrites, opportunists, speculators, swindlers and vicious characters of every kind. But enough has been said about Yuyin's main customers for the time being. For some years, life in China has been like a market. So the characters in my story have no fixed roles but will simply take the stage in turn to perform for readers. The Manageress Although so small, Hibiscus had three state-run shops: a department store, grocery and eating-house, one in the middle and one at each end of the flagstone street. They were thus in an excellent position to control all the town's commercial activities. The manageress of the eating-house, Li Guoxiang, newly transferred from the county's Bureau of Commerce, was particularly sensitive to the free market in Hibiscus. On market-days she kept a careful eye on the snack stalls, as these lured away so many of her potential customers. Like the old-style wife of a town head, she thrust out her small breasts to make a tour of inspection of the market, finally zeroing in on the beancurd stall. She was struck by the "Beancurd Beauty's" attraction for customers, quite apart from her good service and winning ways, "Confounded men!" she swore to herself. "They're like greedy cats prowling around that beancurd stall." Obviously Sister Hibiscus was her chief rival. One market-day Li Guoxiang picked a quarrel with Sister Hibiscus. It started over a trifle. Yuyin's husband Li Guigui, the town butcher, had taken some finely shredded pork to the market. Fried with chilli it smelt most appetizing, and each bowl of beancurd was topped up with this - without any extra charge. So people were queueing up in front of the stall and some of them ate several bowlfuls, with the result that the state-run eating-house had very few customers. That would never do. Li Guoxiang hurried over to the stall and thrust out her left hand on which she sported a watch. "Show me your trading licence," she demanded. At once Yuyin put down her ladle and said with a smile, "I pay the tax regularly to the tax-office after each market, elder sister. Everybody in town knows me...." "Your licence. Show me your licence! If you haven't one, I'll send my assistants to take over here." Yuyin was taken aback. "Please don't, elder sister," she pleaded. "I'm selling a bit of beancurd, all open and aboveboard - not on the black market." The people waiting for beancurd were provoked into taking her side. "She has her stall, you have your eating-house. Why butt into her business? It's not as if she'd trample anyone's grave." "Don't poke your nose everywhere! Get away from here!" "Why not clean up your own shop, get rid of all that rat shit in your noodles. Ha, ha...." Finally Manager Gu of the grain depot stepped forward to patch things up. "Forget it, we're all fellow townsfolk. Just go and ask the town management committee and tax-office." Li Guoxiang was furious. She wanted to denounce them for encouraging capitalism. Hibiscus was a small town but it had so many shady characters, all trying to pull the wool over her eyes! Li Guoxiang had worked in the personnel department of the county Bureau of Commerce. She was the niece of Yang Min'gao, in charge of finance and trade in the county committee, and she had won herself a name in the criticism of capitalist trends in commerce. It was said that in 1958 she had proposed that the Bureau of Industry and Commerce should make a clean sweep of all the stalls and pedlars in the county. Her exploits had been reported in the provincial paper, and she had become quite a personage. She very soon joined the Party and was promoted. But nothing is ever plain sailing. Just as she was about to be made a vice- commissioner, word got out about her affair with an official in the county committee, because when she went to hospital for an abortion she had to confess who had got her in the family way. In order to protect such a promising your cadre, the matter was hushed up. Even the doctor who had performed the abortion was suddenly transferred to Dongting Lake a thousand li away, to take part in the drive to wipe out schistosomiasis. And Li Guoxiang had to go down to Hibiscus to manage the eating-house - she hadn't even landed the job of a section chief. Li Guoxiang was thirty-two that year. A difficult age for an unmarried woman who was unfit to be the wife of a decent high official but who would not stoop to marrying a man in a low station. But who could she blame? Her whole youth had been a series of frustrated love affairs. At twenty-two when she joined the revolutionary ranks, she looked round for a suitable husband. Her first love was a platoon leader in the Military Service Bureau, who had one pip on his shoulder; but in those days girls used to recite: One pip's too low, Two leave me cold; Three pips are best, Four pips - too old. So she quickly ditched that platoon leader and found a three-pip company commander who was not too old and had just divorced his wife in the countryside. However, he had a cheeky, bouncing boy who the first time he saw her called her "stepmother". That made her steer clear of the company commander. Her third love affair was also a flash in the pan. Then in 1956, when the Party called on its members to master science, she found herself a bespectacled intellectual in the Water Conservancy Bureau. They went steady for a year, until he was labelled a Rightist. Hell! What a close shave! She immediately broke with him. Now she was determined to find a section chief, even at the cost of becoming a stepmother. But this was easier said than done. Ten years had slipped away and with them her youth. Politically she was doing fine, but her chances of a good marriage were receding. Sometimes she felt quite desperate. First thing every morning she looked in the mirror, and while she did her hair her heart sand. Her eyes, once so big and bright, were dull now and blooding- flecked. with dark circles under them and crow's-feet round them. Her cheeks, once rosy and dimpled, were sallow and flaccid.... Heavens, why should a girl deprived of love ages so quickly? Now that she was unattractive, left on the shelf, how she envied women who were happily married. If she were lawfully married, her illicit affair in the county town would be forgotten. Who didn't sow a few wild oats before marriage? On coming to Hibiscus this year she had sized up the Party members and cadres and discovered that the only eligible man was the northerner Gu Yanshan, the manager of the grain depot. A regular old bachelor, he had a bristly beard, dressed sloppily, and liked to drink. But someone in charge of the local bank divulged that Manager Gu's deposit was "over a thousand". Politically and financially he was up to par; too bad he was on the old side. Still, one couldn't have everything. And as the saying goes, "An old bridegroom dotes on his wife." Of course, it did occur to her how disgusting it would be to sleep with this swarthy fellow with his bristly beard - it would make her flesh creep.... But she was past her prime now, she must take action. She started to make up to Manager Gu, asking archly, "Old Gu, shall I get my cook to fry you a tasty dish to go with your liquor?" Or batting her eyelids at him she said, "Manager Gu, we've got a new consignment of spirits, and I've had two bottles put aside for you...." "Aiya, your collar's so dirty! Shall I make another one for you?" Normally speaking, a man of his age should have been fired by such approaches; but this old bachelor was like damp wood, he didn't catch fire, didn't even smoke. How provoking Li Guoxiang had to pocket her pride and give him a prod. One evening the Party members of the supply co-operative and grain depot were summoned to a meeting. There was no electricity in Hibiscus then, and the meeting-place was lit by a sputtering paraffin lamp. The manageress ambushed herself in the dark at the foot of the stairs. As soon as Gu arrived she stepped up to him. "Not so fast, Old Gu! These stairs are as dark as a coffin. Can I take your hand?" He casually took her arm. Give Li Guoxiang an inch, she'd take an ell: she nestled up to him. He reeked of liquor, she of scent. But on the pitch-dark stairway no one could see them. "Oh you've been drinking again? You reek of spirits," she giggled. "What's come over you, clinging to me like a vine? Let go before someone comes." He was really as wooden-headed as a tree. She pinched his arm, exclaiming, "How dumb you are! When a tasty morsel's offered to you, why not eat it?" "You've brought your eggs to the wrong market," Gu retorted. "I understand spirits, but you're not to my taste!" Heavens, what way was that to talk? How provoking! Luckily they'd reached the door of the meeting-hall. So, saying no more, both standing on their pride, they went and found their seats as if nothing had happened. Fancy being snubbed by a bachelor in his forties! Li Guoxiang ground her teeth. Of course the waitresses in her eating-house had no idea what had happened, but they saw that her eyes were puffy the next morning, and she was in a foul temper. For no reason at all she stormed at one girl: "Are you a tramp, coming to work in that short skirt? Want to show off your plump white legs, do you? Disgusting! Are you apeing that beancurd pedlar? Shameless creature! Our state-run eating-house must set a good political example. Write a self-criticism for your Youth League secretary, analysing what made you doll yourself up like that!" A few days later the manageress discovered why Old Gu had snubbed her. All because of that "Beancurd Beauty", sister Hibiscus. Though she was a married woman, he supplied her at government expense with sixty pounds of rice seconds for each market! Calling them seconds was just his trick. They must be up to something on the sly. "Who are you, Hu Yuyin, and who am I? Yet you lord it over this small town!" She fumed over this for days, going so far as to gloat that Yuyin was childless. "What use are good looks if you can't have a baby!" She rather preened herself on her own two abortions.... Well, Gu Yanshan, Hu Yuyin, just you wait. Once I've dug in here, I shall show up your shameless carryings-on. In Her private life, Li Guoxiang often found herself stranded, but politically she forged full-sail ahead. Now that she had come down to Hibiscus, she decided to find the brigade's Party secretary and investigate the situation here, then make plans accordingly. Brother Mangeng and Sister Hibiscus The banks of Hibiscus River had been planted with many hibiscus trees, said when old to turn into hibiscus spirits and take the form of bewitching girls to accost men passing by - one fine moonlight night someone had seen a troupe of them romping in the river, each with a handsome young man. Indeed, young men were drowned there every summer; so some foolish boys in the town both dreaded and loved the river, and the best swimmers among them hoped to meet the hibiscus fairies. The authorities wanted to build up the militia and, as this was endangered by such superstitious tales, they got schoolchildren to dig up the hibiscus and sow castor-oil seeds instead to provide lubrication oil for the air force. The lake behind town had been planted with lotuses, but after communes were set up it was transformed into paddy fields. Still, a dozen or so big trees overgrown with creepers were left by the wharf; and it was a mystery how they had escaped being felled to smelt steel. Some said that hibiscus wood was not strong enough to make charcoal. Some said that hibiscus wood was not strong enough to make charcoal. Some insisted that these trees provided shade for passers-by. With the berries which covered the creepers like miniature bronze bells, they were reflected in the jade-green river and seemed to set its quiet water tinkling. Brother Mangeng, the secretary of the brigade, had been demobilized in '56 and assigned to the district government, in the department of civil administration. Here by the ferry he had seen the only daughter of Innkeeper Hu. She had just finished washing a basket of clothes, and was leaning forward to watch the fish darting between the rocks. So when Mangeng came down the bank to wait for the ferry, the first thing he set eyes on was her lovely face reflected in the water. For a second he wondered if he had stumbled upon a hibiscus fairy. Which family could this beautiful girl belong to? He found her bewitching. Disregarding the tales about hibiscus fairies, he walked over, his eyes fixed on her enchanting reflection. So two young faces appeared in the water bright as a mirror. The girl jumped with fright and flushed, dabbling one hand in the water to shiver the reflection, after which she sprang up and eyed him angrily. Then both stood there petrified, open-mouthed. "Yuyin, how you've grown...." "Brother Mangeng, so you're back...." They had known each other as children. Mangeng, the son of the old ferryman, had gone up the hills with Yuyin in search of bamboo shoots, mushrooms and firewood. On opposite hills or cliffs they had serenaded or sworn at each other in fun. She might sing, "If you dare come here you'll get a surprise: with my sickle I'll kill you and gouge out your eyes." Little Mangeng would sing back, " Pretty girl over there, don't dare come to my side, or I'll veil you in red silk and carry you off as my bride." They sang a whole series of provocative songs, neither winning and neither losing. Yuyin swore, "You wretch! Who wants to be your bride? Pah!" Sometimes she wondered: Let's see if this lout really sends me a bridal sedan-chair. As they grew older and wiser and Mangeng joined the army, Yuyin would blush at the memory of those songs which made her pleasantly flustered, her heart beating fast. The two young people were standing face to face on a stone slab, but both had lowered their heads to look at their shoes. Yuyin was wearing cloth shoes she had made herself, Mangeng, the gym-shoes issued him in the army. It was midday and very hot, cicadas were chirruping shrilly in the trees, and the ferryman on the other bank - Mangeng's dad - must be napping in the shade on some cool rock. "Yuyin, your hands are as white as if you'd never done a stroke of work...." Having broken the silence Mangeng looked down again. He could have kicked himself for his tactlessness. "The idea! I work all day long. Don't wear a straw hat or carry a parasol, but somehow I don't tan.... If you don't believe me, look at my calluses." She spoke softly, as if to herself, but he heard each word. She pouted, wanting to show him the palms of her hands; but she hesitated to stretch them out to him. He smiled ruefully and reached out to feel her hands, but instantly drew back his own. "Yuyin...." He screwed up his courage to stare fixedly at her, a question in his wide eyes. She knew intuitively what was in his mind. "I'm in the clear ... all on my own," she told him. "Yuyin!" His voice faltered. He tensed and held out his arms. "Don't you dare!" She fell back a step, her eyes brimming with tears like a little girl being bullied. "All right, later...." Mangeng calmed down, feeling as protective as an elder brother. "Better go home. Don't keep your folks on tenterhooks in the inn. Give them my best regards." She picked up her basket, nodding. "Dad and mum are getting old and doddery...." "I'll come and see you one of these days, Yuyin." By now the ferryboat was crossing the river. Yuyin nodded again, her chin touching her collar. Then she climbed the steps with her washing, looking back every three steps. Mangeng went back to the district government grinning all over his face. The district secretary Yang Min'gao was a local man and made a point of training local cadres. Of the score or so of youngsters in the district committee and district government, Li Mangeng was the one of whom he thought most highly. His class origin was good and so was his conduct; he was capable and ideologically sound. He had come back from the army with a good record, having won four merit citations in five years. Plans were afoot to abolish the district government and amalgamate different townships, and Yang was to work in the county in charge of finance and trade. He proposed to the county committee that young Li Mangeng should be made the head and Party secretary of Hibiscus - a large township in the hills. They had consulted Mangeng, and would soon confirm his appointment. Yang's smart niece in the county Bureau of Commerce had just come to the district to investigate the supply and marketing work. Naturally she had all her meals in her uncle's hostel. And Secretary Yang, deliberately or by chance, always sent for Mangeng to join them. Mangeng had heard that this niece of Yang's was fast. She had chased men like a monkey picking corn-cobs, dropping one after another. So at the table he sized her up: Yes, she was smartly turned out. Before sitting down to eat she would take off her beige jacket of mercerized cotton, under which she wore only a collarless, sleeveless blouse revealing her plump white arms and neck in a highly suggestive way. Left and right under the cotton above her high breasts were what looked like two small buttons. Even Secretary Yang, normally so serious, would smile imperceptibly at the sight of his niece's plump white hands and the soft hollow of her throat. His niece had poise, having seen something of the world, and her expressive eyes kept sweeping over Mangeng as if to suck out his soul. He had never been subjected to such a searching scrutiny by a girl, and often flushed up to his ears. Then, feeling clumsy, he hung his head as if to count the legs of the stools and table. After four meals together, they were addressing each other as "Little Li". The third day, after Secretary Yang had seen his niece off, he asked Mangeng with a smile, "Well, how about it? What do you think?" Mangeng was slow in the uptake. "Think about what, Secretary Yang?" he asked. It was really like playing a lute to an ox! How could a demobbed soldier in his mid-twenties be so dumb? They had just seen off a girl like a flower, yet this oaf asked her uncle what "How about it?" meant. That evening, Secretary Yang had a serious talk with Mangeng, an act of condescension on his part for which any other young cadre would have shown appreciation. In his capacity as an uncle and a superior, he had mapped out in detail the young couple's family life and political future. Once again he asked, "How about it? What do you say?" To his surprise Mangeng stuttered, avoiding his eyes, before finally blurting out, "Thanks a lot for your concern, chief. Please give me a few days to think it over...." Yang glowered angrily, tempted to bellow, "Who do you think you are? A piddling cadre giving yourself such airs!" Mangeng found a chance to go back to Hibiscus. Whether he and Yuyin met again to talk things over I have no means of knowing. But in those days it was the rule that all Party members and activists must get permission from their Party branch before they could get married. This was to ensure that Party members came from the right background, had no bad social connections and could be trusted. A few days later honest Mangeng respectfully reported his intentions to Secretary Yang. "Congratulations, so you've fallen for the beauty of Hibiscus," drawled Yang Min'gao, lolling on a couch. After a good meal with drinks he was picking his teeth with a match. "We knew each other as kids hunting together for bamboo shoots and mushrooms...." Mangeng's face was red. "What's her class origin?" "Small traders, I suppose. Like well-to-do middle peasants...." "You suppose? What way is that for someone in civil administration to talk? What's the task of Communists?" Yang Min'gao sat up alertly, his eyes as bright as twenty-five-watt bulbs. "Well, I...." Mangeng looked like a boy caught robbing an orchard. "Representing the Party, Comrade Li Mangeng, I'll tell you: that innkeeper in Hibiscus was a gangster before Liberation. His wife's even more mixed, she was a prostitute. That's why her daughter's so deductive, see?" Yang Min'gao lolled back again on the couch. After working here all these years he knew the social connections and class origin of everyone in these parts. Mangeng Hung his head, close to tears. "According to the Marriage Law, Little Li, you're free to choose your wife. But the Party has its rules too. So make your choice: either keep your Party membership or marry the innkeeper's daughter." Secretary Yang had struck to principles. Naturally he said not a word about his peach of a niece. Army life had been simple; being demobbed was complex. Like a tree blighted by frost, Mangeng lost weight. Nor was that all. When the new town heads were announced, his name was not on the list. He was assigned as a cook to one township government. Instead of going there to report for duty, Mangeng went back to the ferryman's adobe cottage in Hibiscus to help his ageing father. He had never risen high, so this was not much of a fall. It was only right for a boatman's son to be a boatman too. He knew the trade. One fine moonlight night he met Yuyin again on the wharf by the river. It was easier for them to meet now that he was a ferryman. "It's all my fault, Brother Mangeng...." Yuyin wept. Her pretty face reflected in the water was as lovely as the full moon. "Don't cry, Yuyin, you'll break my heart...." An ex-soldier like Mangeng could not cry, not even if slashed with a knife. "I know, Brother Mangeng. You had to choose between the Party and me. And I'm ill-fated. The year I was thirteen a blind fortune-teller predicted that I'd be the ruin of my husband - I haven't told anyone this...." She broke down and sobbed. In all her life she had never hated anyone, never been hated. But now she hated herself. How could she be so superstitious seven years after Liberation? But Mangeng hadn't the heart to remonstrate. She was too pathetic, too frail, like the easily disturbed reflection of hibiscus in the water. "Brother Mangeng, will you be my adopted brother? Take me as your younger sister, as we can't...." Her devotion would have melted iron. Mangeng, quite beside himself, threw his arms around her and kissed her on the mouth. "Brother Mangeng, good brother, dear brother...." She sobbed on his shoulder. Her trust in him made him responsible for her. He released her, determined never to let her down. In that instant their relationship changed. The simple moral principles of the local people prevailed. "From now on you'll be my dear younger sister, Yuyin.... Though there's the river between us, we're living in the same town. As long as I live I swear to look after you." That was a solemn vow. When Li Guoxiang, manageress of the state-run eating-house, went to see the brigade secretary to ask about the class origin and conduct of Hu Yuyin, she found she had approached the wrong man. Not till she went down to the wharf did she realize that this was Li Mangeng whom she had met in the district government. To hell with it! She stopped in the act of stepping on the the ferry. "Manageress Li! Where are you off to?" Confronting her was the "activist" Wang Qiushe who had just got off the boat. Wang Qiushe was in his mid-thirties, sturdily built and neatly dressed. As she smiled at him politely it suddenly struck her: Why, of course, this "activist" must know all about Hu Yuyin - it should be easy to get it out of him. So they walked off together and found out in the course of conversation that they had much in common, like two old friends reunited after a long separation. The Owner of the Stilt-House This Wang Qiushe whom Li Guoxiang met at the ferry was quite a character. Originally a hired hand, he had ranked even lower than poor peasants, who belonged to the semi-proletariat. This made him a genuine proletarian. There was no tracing his ancestry as he had come here years ago as an orphan. So he had no relatives, no complex social connections. With this spotless record, pure as driven snow, he was fitted to soar to the sky or to go abroad. Unfortunately he couldn't pilot a plane or speak any foreign language - this was the fault of the old society. He had lived since boyhood in a tumbledown temple and acted as town-crier for five years. By the time of Land Reform he was twenty-two, glib and nimble, smart enough to run simple errands and ingratiate himself with the local bigwigs. Of course they had sometimes cuffed him or kicked him for no reason; so at meetings to pour out past grievances he described himself as brought up on tears and bitterness, clouted on the head, trampled underfoot, so poor that in his late teens he still had no pants to wear, no rope to hang himself. Thus he became a land-reform "activist". With his ready tongue he should have qualified to join the work team with a fountain-pen struck in his tunic pocket. But just as he was going up in the world he came a sudden cropper over the tricky question of class stand: when sent to guard the property of a runaway landlord he shared the bed of the landlord's concubine. This was his way of proving that he had "stood up", for in the past he had never dared look such people in the face. Of course this was against the policy of the people's government and the rules of the work team. The concubine was punished for seducing a poor hired hand, while the "activist" lost his chance of joining the work team. If not for this, by now he might be riding in a jeep and working in the county government in charge of a million people. He had wept and snivelled to the work team, had slapped his face till his lips bled. Finally in view of his past sufferings, his hatred for the exploiters and his remorse, he was allowed to retain his hired-hand and "activist" status. He also received a first- class share of the fruits of victory: for sets of clothes, a whole set of bedding, two Mu of irrigated land and - best of all - a stilt-house on the street paved with flag-stones. This stilt-house, made entirely of wood, had been built by a despot landlord in the hills for his use when he came to markets and wanted to have it off with some prostitute. It was lavishly furnished. Only Wang Qiushe had forgotten to ask for farm tools and a water-buffalo. At first he was too happy to sleep for several nights, suspecting that this was a dream. His new wealth went to his head and instead of setting to work he started living it up, eating pork and drinking liquor at each meal, confident that he had enough to live on for years. With such good Party leadership, such an enlightened people's government, China's prospects were so bright that, as the work team said, in eight or ten years they would have built socialism and advanced to communism. By then, food, clothes and housing would all be free, so why not take it easy? Each time he thought of that fine new society he turned somersaults on his grand red-lacquered bed, beside himself with joy. But things had not turned out the way he had dreamed. All he had learned in the past was how to run errands, beat the gong and sweep the ground: he had no knowledge of farming. Good soil will not grow crops unless watered by its master's sweat. But planting out rice seedlings means wading through the muddy water, stooping. It is a back-breaking, blistering, sweaty business. He couldn't stand the dirt and the hard work. After a few years his fields were overgrown with weeds, overrun with mice and hares. Finally he quit farming, leaving his hoe and sickle to rust in a corner. On the sly he started selling his share of the land-reform fruits. When he went to restaurants and taverns, instead of throwing his money about he rationed himself so as to eke it out, but still he had some good binges and very soon put on weight. Sometimes the townsfolk saw no smoke above his stilt-house for weeks at a time, and wondered if he had learned the magic art of conjuring up a feast without even having to do the washing up. The proverb says, "Sit idle and eat, and your fortune will melt away." Muddling along like this, Wang Qiushe hadn't found himself a wife but had sold four-fifths of the furniture of the stilt-house, while his clothes were as ragged as before Land Reform. He lived on credit or loans, indolent as an autumn snake retreating to its hole to hibernate. So in a few years he ate up his property. Other land-reform activists had done so well they had bought water-baffaloes, built themselves barns and new houses, and fitted out their whole family with new clothes. This made him green with envy. He longed for another Land Reform, when he could get more fruits of victory. "Hell! If I were running things, I'd reclassify these buggers every year and have an annual Land Reform to share out property!" Lying on his tattered matting in the stilt-house, his head pillowed on his hands, he dreamed happily of whom he would label a landlord, rich peasant, middle peasant and poor peasant. Who would be the chairman of the Peasants' Association? Dammit, he was the only man fit for that post! Of course, he knew this was just wishful thinking. Only ounce in a blue moon was there a redistribution of property. In 1954, some mutual-aid teams were set up in Hibiscus. He proposed joining one, pooling his land. But no team would have him, well aware that he wouldn't do a stroke of work, just ask for his share of the harvest. When agricultural co-operatives were set up, he became a co-op member. Each co-op had a chairman, several vice-chairmen, various production teams and other organizations; and as they had to hold meetings and pass on instructions, they needed someone politically reliable and articulate to run errands. This was Wang Qiushe's chance - he was just the man for the job. Another of Wang Qiushe's distinguishing features was his readiness to help neighbour - all but the Five Categories of bad characters. If any family had a wedding or funeral he would go, uninvited, to help issue invitations, buy pork and liquor and prepare a feast. He spared no pains, not making outrageous demands but simply wanting to join in the fun and enjoy some good meals and snacks. At other times, if a pig or dog was killed, he offered his services to boil a cauldron of water, scrape off the bristles, clean out the guts, or shop for liquor or cigarettes. So imperceptibly he acquired the status of a "public servant". Apart from doing people favours like this, he won the approval of the higher-ups. As he was a bachelor with so much space, whenever work teams came down from the county or district, most of them liked to stay with him. The floors of the stilt-house were dry, and with balconies in front and behind it was well ventilated. So Wang Qiushe got to know various district and county cadres, all of whom believed in class feeling. They saw that a polarization was taking place in the countryside, for here was Wang Qiushe still a poor hired hand after Land Reform, unable to afford a wife, with broken cooking utensils and tattered matting, bed curtain and quilts. So each year when the new crop was in the blade and the old one consumed, and relief grain had to be issued, the first recipient in Hibiscus was Wang Qiushe. Every two or three years he also receive a set of padded clothes. It was as if the revolution had been made for the sake of men like Wang Qiushe - how could they be allowed to go hungry and cold in a socialist society? During the hard years after the Great Leap Forward, the county had been too poor to issue relief clothing. Wang Qiushe's padded clothes were in rags, with not a button left on them, and he made do by fastening them with a straw rope. In his view it would "disgrace the new society" if the government didn't give him relief. In winter, his lips were blue, his nose ran. Going to the commune headquarters he told the Party secretary: "In 1959, chief, when the commune put on that class struggle exhibition, you took my old padded jacket, which was in better shape than this one I'm wearing. could you unlock that room and let me swap them?" The idea! Taking back a jacket from the class struggle exhibition, as if the present were worse than the past! The Party secretary felt this involved his class stand and class feelings, but as the government was still in no position to issue relief he took off his own padded jacket, not yet too shabby, and gave it to the "activist". One of Wang Qiushe's favourite sayings was "the people's government feeds and clothes the people". And he showed his gratitude each time a work team came down to launch a new movement by summoning people to meetings, broadcasting through a megaphone, delivering documents, and standing guard at night. At meetings he took the lead in shouting slogans like a true activist. He did whatever the work team said. Political movements needed him and he needed political movements. They complemented each other. Hu Yuyin's husband Li Guigui, the butcher, normally kept very quiet and couldn't be provoked. But dogs who don't bark may bite. He had summed up Wang Qiushe in a few derogatory lines which everyone recited: The government has its quirks: It trusts a slacker who shirks, Ignores those who really work, And those who do well it pulls up with a jerk. Here I should explain why Wang Qiushe ate Yuyin's beancurd each market-day without paying. Among the victory fruits he had received had been a house next to Old Hu's inn. As the stilt-house was quite enough for a bachelor he didn't need this other house and had told Yuyin that he was willing to sell it to her for a couple of hundred yuan. That would cover the cost of all the beancurd he had eaten. "A Feast for the Mind" and Wedding Songs Remember that expression "a feast for the mind"? This was bandied about in communal canteens in 1960 and 1961. For months at a stretch the commune members in the Wuling Mountains had no oil or meat and their vegetarian diet, so deficient in fat and protein, made their bellies stick to their spines. Of course this was blamed on the imperialists, revisionists, counter-revolutionaries and Old Man Heaven. Old Man Heaven had joined the Five Categories to sabotage the communal canteens. Later on the blame was also put on Peng Dehuai, Liu Shaoqi and Deng Xiaoping, who were said to have opposed the Great Leap Forward and People's Communes. What was wrong with communal canteens? Everyday they dished up a stew of greens and turnips without oil, to recall the bitter past - a far cry from life's sweetness today. "We're much better of than the Red Army on the Long March." What would they have thought of the communal canteens, those heroes who had eaten bark and roots and laid down their lives to liberate the Chinese people? These commune members in the hills could not understand abstruse theories: to them it was food that counted. All they knew was that their bellies were rumbling with hunger. The daytime was not too bad, but at night they couldn't sleep. So they devised a way to make up for their short rations by recalling the best meals they had ever had: whole chickens and fish, fat meat-balls and legs of pork.... What folk in the hills like best of course is dog flesh eaten on a snowy day. The appetizing smell makes neighbours' mouths water, and a bellyful of dog flesh keeps out the cold. It may sound too crude to be served at feasts, but there's nothing more nourishing.... Those recalling such meals and those listening to their accounts had a mental picture of those delicacies. They could almost smell them, and this set them drooling. Well, they'd have chances later to stuff themselves. Now that more than ten years had passed since Liberation and people had some schooling, they fixed on the expression "a feast for the mind" to describe this type of reminiscing. The term did not remain in use very long. After all, what did the hard years amount to in China's long history, plagued by so many famines? Things had to be seen in the right perspective. New China had started from scratch twelve years ago and wa still groping its way. The country and its people had to pay a price for learning how to live in a modern society. Leave it to posterity to decide which mattered most, their achievements or their shortcomings. One spring night in 1963, Yuyin and her husband Li Guigui held a different kind of "feast for the mind" in the inn. A loving couple, married for seven years, they still had no children. Li Guigui was elder by four years, and, although a butcher by trade, was notoriously timid. If he met a fierce-looking water-buffalo or dog in the road he would tremble and step aside. Someone quipped, "Guigui, why aren't you afraid of pigs?" "Pigs are too stupid to bite and they don't have horns. All they can do is grunt!" Guigui didn't mind being teased for cowardice. What hurt him was when well-meaning or malicious people laughed at him for failing to father a son, saying his capable wife was only an empty flower-vase. Unknown to anyone, including her, he had fortified himself by eating kidney and gristle. Sometimes, unable to sleep at night, he held back his sighs for fear of upsetting Yuyin. "If only we had a son, Yuyin, or even a daughter." "Yes, twenty-six I am now. It's worrying." "If you have a baby you can leave the housework to me. I'll wash the nappies and put it to sleep at night." "Will you suckle it too?" Yuyin giggle. "No, I haven't your two meat dumplings on my chest." "Get away with you!" "Every evening I'll cuddle that baby and croon it to sleep. Every day I'll smother its little face with kisses." "Shut up!" "Why, have I said anything wrong?" "You're going crazy wanting a baby. It's cruel to tease me about it." Yuyin wept. Guigui hadn't realized that a childless woman always thinks of herself as a hen that can't lay eggs. "There, there, Yuyin, why cry? It's not your fault. Crying's bad for your eyes. Look, your pillow-case is wet." Guigui tried to comfort her. "Even if we never have kids I won't hold it against you. Just the two of us, only two mouths to feed, working in the team and trading a bit on the side, we're living as well as anyone in town. When we're old we'll look after each other. Want me to swear it?" Yuyin thought that would bring bad luck. She hastily stopped crying and sat up to cover his mouth. "You wretch!" she scolded. "Want me to slap you? Can't you talk about something else? If I let you down by not having a baby you may not blame me, but people talk behind my back in the market." The winter after Li Mangeng had explained why he couldn't marry her, Yuyin had married Li Guigui and given all her affection to her husband. She believed she was born under a lucky star but might bring bad luck to him, so considered him more precious than her own life. The evening before a market they always stayed up late to grind rice, fetch water from the river, then boil the beancurd and put it in a big vat. They stood for four or five hours, one on each side of the mill, turning it round, and Yuyin carefully fed the millstone with handfuls of rice steeped in limewash. Face to face, looking into each other's eyes, they chatted about whatever came into their heads. Instead of crying now, Yuyin said teasingly: "It's not always the woman's fault if there's no baby." "Heaven knows, we're both fit and strong." Guigui was not going to admit that it might be his fault. "I heard the schoolmistress say they give chick-ups now in the hospital for men as well as women." Yuyin reddened as she watched for her husband's reaction. "What check-up? You can have one. I'm not making a fool of myself!" Guigui's face was as red as a ripe persimmon. "I just mentioned it, I haven't asked you to go, so don't fly off the handle." They both knew it was only natural to have children, but even if they remained childless they must keep their self-respect. Sometimes when she felt desperate, Yuyin would stare at her husband, tempted to say: "Which means more to you, an heir or my good name? Maybe Wang Qiushe of the stilt-house wasn't just joking when he said you should get someone else to try.... Heavens, what a nonsensical notion!" Guigui seemed to know what she was thinking. He glowered at her. "Don't you dare! I'd break your legs!" Of course neither voiced these ideas, but their eyes gave them away. The people of that small hill town might not be rich, but what they prized most in life was a good reputation, and they had feudal ideas about chastity. As time went by and still she did not conceive, Yuyin, whose only schooling had been in the class to wipe out illiteracy, decided that it was because she and Guigui were ill-matched. The year that she was thirteen, that blind fortune-teller had foretold from her horoscope that she would be lucky in life but would not bear a child and would be the death of her husband, unless she found a man born in the year of the Dragon or Tiger, whose trade was butchering. Then they would be happily married and have children. Because of this, after she was fifteen her parents searched for four years for a suitable man willing to come to live in the inn. Unable to find one, they stretched a point and chose Li Guigui. He was at least a butcher, good-looking and strong. However, being born in the year of the Rat he was timid and blushed at the sight of a girl. Still he was honest and wouldn't get out of hand. They had to settle for Guigui. But when the young couple married, although the wedding was lively - on a grander scale than ever before in Hibiscus - it hadn't brought them good luck. It was in 1956, when the county's song and dance ensemble had come like a troop of fairies to the Wuling Mountains to collect material. They were headed by their director Qin Shutian, now known as Crazy Qin. These pretty girls who could dance and sing won the hearts of all in Hibiscus. In those parts, before Liberation, the women all danced and sang their traditional Wedding Songs. No matter how rich or poor a family, before a girl's marriage other young women came to her home to sing and dance. There were a hundred or so of these songs ranging from "Seeing Off Sister" to "Greeting Sister-in-law", "Persuading Mother", "Cursing the Go-between", "The Hateful Bridegroom" and "The Chair-bearers' Song". Some described the bride's grief at leaving home and her dread of marriage, others attacked feudal conventions and arranged marriages. Thus "The Hateful Bridegroom" went: A bride of eighteen, a bridegroom of three, Who wet the bed each night; He was shorter than his pillow, Not up to a broom in height. At midnight when he bawled to be fed, "I'm you bride, not your mum!" she said. The melodies were also very varied. Some had the simplicity and verve of fold-songs, some the gentle lilt of lullabies. The merry tunes conjured up flowers and tinkling brooks; the sad ones breathed resentment; the defiant ones were rousing. All alike were redolent of the Wuling Mountains. Qin Shutian came from Hibiscus, where his father had taught in the school. He had brought his actresses here to compile Wedding Songs, intending to make its main these opposition to feudalism. He and the township secretary persuaded Hu Yuyin's parents to let him put on his production at her wedding. Although her mother was old, she had learned to sing as a girl and had taught her daughter, who knew the whole of Wedding Songs by heart. With her good looks, sweet voice and expressive acting she was one of the finest singers in Hibiscus. Indeed, Qin Shutian and his actresses thought it a pity that such a girl should marry while still in her teens. That evening the inn was brightly lit and richly decorated for the wedding and the performance. The actresses and Yuyin had made up, and other young women sat around them to join in the singing. Blue skirt, red scarf, the girl has grown; The bridal sedan-chair breaks her heart. A toss of a stone and the birds ave flown, Two sweethearts are torn apart. Forbidden to make her his wife, He will love her all his life. We sing of girls who must part, Our sister is going away; Tomorrow she will be gone, Let us sing together today. They are marrying off their daughter, Throwing her out like water.... Amid singing, dancing and weeping, Yuyin sang and wept too. For grief? For joy? She felt as if in a dream, confused by the bright, dazzling colours. the actresses, lovely as fairies, danced around her.... Perhaps it was because Qin Shutian, to stress opposition to feudal ways, had cut out some of the merry songs in the original, that the tone of the whole performance was tragic and resentful. Li Guigui the bridegroom was rather disappointed, while the young couple's parents were afraid that this would spoil their luck. This must have dawned on Qin Shutian, for to conclude the performance he led them all in singling The East Is Red and The Sky in the Liberated Areas Is Bright. So finally light triumphed over darkness. Before long, Qin Shutian took his ensemble back to town and produce a full-length dance drama on the basis of this material from Hibiscus. It was successfully staged in the county town and the provincial capital, and he published an article in the provincial paper on scrapping feudal customs and evolving new ones. So while still under thirty he made himself a name and won a prize. But the tide soon turned against him. The next year in the anti-Rightist campaign his dance drama was condemned as an attack on the new society on the pretext of opposing feudal customs. How outrageous, how vicious and reactionary to use the socialist stage to vent his hatred of socialism! Qin Shutian was made a Rightist, dismissed from his post and sent back to hibiscus to be reformed through labour. After that he appeared each market-day to sell the straw sandals he had made or to pick up cigarette stubs. Everyone called him Crazy Qin. Although Yuyin and Guigui were not in trouble, they felt ashamed of their part in the business. What was feudal about the new society? Why oppose feudalism? By lumping feudalism together with the new society Qin Shutian had committed a crime and landed himself in the Five Categories. Because of Yuyin's involvement her luck had been spoiled and so all these years after marriage she was childless. Crazy Qin On one partition of the public lavatory behind the state-run eating- house in Hibiscus there appeared a counter-revolutionary slogan. Two security men from the county came down to handle the case, and put up in Wang Qiushe's stilt-house. Because Wang was poor, politically reliable and good at running errands, they naturally relied on him to help them. What the slogan was, only Manageress Li Guoxiang and the two security men knew. And they weren't telling - that would have been counter-revolutionary propaganda. Wang Qiushe had some idea, but could not disclose a secret connected with the people's government. The townsfolk felt uneasy, suspecting each other. Li Guoxiang and Wang Qiushe told the security men that although Hibiscus was small, on market-days many shady characters flocked there. And Hibiscus itself had over twenty landlords, rich peasants, counter- revolutionaries, bad elements and Rightists; in addition to many people with bad family backgrounds and social connections. Before Liberation the townsfolk had drunk, whored and gambled. Few of them had a clean record. Even the government cadres, Party and Youth League members rubbed shoulders with these people all the time or were related by marriage, so that class distinctions were blurred. The security men made a careful class analysis of Hibiscus. Then, following their usual practice in such cases, they, Li Guoxiang and Wang Qiushe sent for all the Five Categories. These people were under the surveillance of Li Mangeng, Party secretary of the brigade, who used to give them a lecture every so often. He had assigned Crazy Qin the job of fetching the others, lining them up and counting heads on such occasions. Crazy Qin, now over thirty, was content with his lot. His family origin was not too bad and he was a distant relative of Li Mangeng, whom he had persuaded to change his label from "Rightist" to "bad element". He claimed he had never opposed the Party or people, but had made love to two actresses - this had not come out in the anti-Rightist campaign - so the label "bad element" was more appropriate. Li Mangeng agreed and announced this at a mass meeting. And soon, because Qin was well educated, wrote fine calligraphy and was a good organizer, he put him in charge of the Five Categories. Crazy Qin facilitated Li Mangeng's job of "supervising and remoulding" them. Each time they were summoned for a dressing-down, Li had only to call "Crazy Qin!" and he would answer in a ringing voice "Here!" race over like a sports master, stand smartly to attention and salute. "Report! The bad element Qin Shutian is present!" He would then lower his head submissively. At first Li and the other cadres had found this performance amusing; later they took it for granted. "Listen to me, Crazy Qin. After supper all the Five Categories are to fall in in front of brigade headquarters." "Very good! I'll see to it." Wheeling round Qin dashed off again like a sports master. And that evening he would muster all the Five Categories punctually in front of the brigade office, line them up, call the roll and then report the number ready for inspection. Qin Shutian had his own way of running these people. He told different individuals: "We're all on the blacklist, but some of us are blacker than others. For instance you're an ex-landlord, who grew fat off the peasants before Liberation; you're the worst. You're a rich peasant, who did some work yourself but exploited others through usury, trying to climb up to be a landlord; you're second worst. As for a counter-revolutionary like you, who treated the people as your enemy, your category is the most dangerous. Mind you watch your step." "And you? What do you count as?" they might retort. "Me? I'm a bad element. That's more complicated, as there are different kinds: thieves, rapists, swindlers, hooligans, kidnappers, men who run gambling dens. Generally speaking, their family background's not bad. Of all the Five Categories, this is the best. We shall go to different hells after we die." While stressing his superiority to the rest, he never said a word about Rightists, how they opposed the Party and socialism, or to which hell they would go. Qin Shutian had taught music in a middle school besides directing the song and dance ensemble, so he could play various instruments and sing, could write, paint and play chess, and put on a good performance in the lion dance. He was for ever humming or singing. During the hard years class struggle slackened down, and when families round about married off their daughters he was invited to play in the band and to sit down to the feast alongside poor peasants. So the townsfolk regarded him differently from other members of the Five Categories. Besides, he was allowed to atone for his crimes by writing up most of the slogans for different movements. The previous spring, maybe to show that he had remoulded himself, Qin had used his flair for music to compose a Song of the Five Categories. The Five Categories, diehard reprobates, Oppose the Party, people and the state; But our militiamen are on the spot, Whoever stirs up trouble will be shot. Come clean! Confess! There's no hiding. It's best to be law-abiding. He prided himself on this song and asked permission to teach it at the next meeting to harangue the Five Categories. But they were too pig-headed to learn, and with a smile Party Secretary Li stopped him. Later on, however, all the children learned it and sang it everywhere, so that it had some social influence. Opinions varied about Crazy Qin. Some commune members admired him as a scholar who knew about everything under the sun and could explain matters from a Marxist, historical-materialist standpoint. Some thought he was only making a pretence of being honest and enthusiastic. Others couldn't understand why he was always so cheerful. Yet others said it was only in the daytime that he smiled and sang; in the evenings in his hut he sobbed his heart out. Militiamen standing guard by Hibiscus River often saw him walking up and down the bank - did he want to drown himself? Not likely. He was probably thinking over his past and future.... At all events no one disliked Crazy Qin, and this went for Sister Hibiscus, who sold beancurd, as well as Gu Yanshan, manager of the grain depot. On market-days they greeted him with a smile. And out in the fields people liked to sit with him in the shade and get him to sing to them or tell them a story. Young wives and children were not afraid of him either, but would give him various errands or odd jobs to do. Some children lacking in class consciousness even called him "Crazy Uncle Qin". Crazy Qin led the brigade's twenty-two bad characters, all with lowered heads, to a downstairs room reeking of pickles in the state-run eating-house. When they had found bricks to sit on, Manageress Li Guoxiang and activist Wang Qiushe brought in the security men. The latter called the roll, and each bad character in turn had to stand up to be inspected. There was no deceiving these stern, sharp-eyed security men. When they called the name of an old counter-revolutionary, a boy of eleven or twelve piped up, "Here." That struck them as strange. How could this child born after Liberation be a pre-Liberation counter-revolutionary? Crazy Qin hastily reported that the boy's grandfather was ill in bed, coughing blood, so his grandson had come in his place to pass on to him any instructions from above. Wang Qiushe spat at the boy. "stand in the corner! So the blasted Five Categories are raising successors! The class struggle will have to go on for generations!" Now Li Guoxiang produced a stack of white paper, gave one sheet to each delinquent and ordered them to write the slogan: "Long live the Three Red Banners: the Great Leap Forward, the General Line and the People's Communes!" They must write it twice, first with the right hand, then with the left. They guessed that this was to compare their writing with that on some reactionary slogan. The bolder of them took this in their stride, knowing that whenever a case like this cropped up the security men would investigate them first. The more timid of them were shaking in their shoes. To the great disappointment of the security men and Li Guoxiang, ten of these Five Categories elements couldn't write, and vouched for each other that this was the case. Wang Qiushe explained, "The bigger land- lords in these parts all lit out to Hong Kong or Taiwan before Liberation, just leaving this riff-raff here." Qin Shutian, using first his right hand then his left, was the only one to fill two sheets of paper with big, neatly written characters; though the security men could have seen plenty of his writing in the slogans in the street or on rocks. When all these suspects able to write had written out the slogan, they were warned that they must abide by the law, then dismissed. Crazy Qin was the Number One suspect. But the brigade cadres reported that he had worked hard these last few years and made no trouble. Besides, his writing didn't match. Then Li Guoxiang and Wang Qiushe pointed out that Hu Yuyin who sold beancurd had a bad family background, an ex-gangster father, an ex-prostitute mother; and she was a tramp, making up to cadres to corrupt them. so on the next market-day the security men went to her stall to eat beancurd, and sat there quite a while to size up the situation. They saw that the pretty stall-holder served customers with a smile, far more politely than the women attendants in most state-run restaurants. And she didn't know enough characters to write a slogan. Besides, she was doing so well with this side-line of hers, why should she hate and curse the Three Red Banners? Then Li Guoxiang suggested that in the absence of other clues they should make all the townsfolk who could write set down their understanding of the Three Red Banners. But again that got them nowhere. That slogan written up in the lavatory behind the eating-house had unsettled and alarmed everyone in Hibiscus. Everyone came under suspicion. In the end this counter-revolutionary case remained unsolved but it left the town under a cloud. Although the case had not been solved, Wang Qiushe was made an assistant of the Public Security Bureau, with a salary of twelve yuan a month. And Li Guoxiang gained in prestige, becoming a rival to Gu Yanshan, manager of the grain depot. She liked to strut up and down the flagstone street, pausing at each door to ask: "Got a visitor? Go and register with Security Officer Wang. You must say when he arrived and when he's leaving, what his class is, his relationship to you, and whether he has a letter from his commune or brigade...." "When did you put up this couplet on your door? The characters 'People's Commune' are practically washed out. And how can you hang a cape under Chairman Mao's portrait?" "Say, granddad, how much do you think that woman makes selling beancurd each market-day? Is it true that her husband's bought bricks and tiles and means to build a new house?" "Doesn't the Rightist Qin Shutian live next door? You must keep an eye on him, watch who visits him. Security Officer Wang will tell you what to do...." The manageress spoke politely, as if with friendly concern, but she left people feeling nervous and put out. As time went by, if she appeared in the street they exchange warning glances and held their tongues. Even dogs and cats made themselves scarce. It was as if everyone's fate was in her hands. Hibiscus had been quiet and law-abiding, all the townsfolk on good terms; but now they began to sense that this newly arrived manageress of the eating-house had eclipsed Gu Yanshan, to whom they had looked for guidance, and that there was trouble in store. The Soldier from the North Gu Yanshan, in an old sheepskin jacket, had come south with the army thirteen years ago and stayed to work in Hibiscus. He had modified his northern accent so that the local people could understand him, and accustomed himself to eating paprika, snake, catflesh and dogflesh. Tall and sturdily built with a shaggy beard, bulging eyes and ferocious feature, he looked rather intimidating. When he first arrived and stood in the street, arms akimbo, the children fled in terror. And their mothers to frighten them at night would say, "Don't cry! That bearded soldier will catch you!" Actually, he was neither fierce nor hot-tempered. When the townsfolk knew him better they said, "Old Gu looks like a devil but has a heart of gold." He had married shortly after Liberation, a plump girl from the north with a glossy pigtail. But in less than a fortnight she had left, pouting and tearful, and she had never come back. No one had heard them squabble; but this made Old Gu lose face badly. He didn't blame the girl, it was his own fault. Feeling guilty of having tricked her into the marriage, for several months he would look no one in the face; and the townsfolk, not knowing the truth, thought he had lost some important document. The fact was that in the guerrilla fighting and tunnel warfare up north he had received a thigh wound which left him impotent. Few men will admit to such a thing for fear of making people hoot with laughter. Besides, in those days, with bullets whistling round your ears and explosions smothering you with dust, waking at night you'd feel to see if you were still in one piece. Risking his neck in the War of Liberation, he could drag on for a few years. Didn't other wounded men grit their teeth to soldier on? Even with bullets and shrapnel embedded in them. If he could stick it out till victory, then live a peaceful life, it shouldn't be difficult, surely, to clear up this trouble. However, his company's political instructor, who was rough and ready but as concerned for each of his fighters as an elder brother, discovered on the march what pain this platoon leader getting on for thirty was in. So when they reached Hibiscus, he left him to work in that salubrious district. Still Gu was ashamed to go and see a doctor. Instead he dosed himself - uselessly - with herbal medicine. This fighter who had joined in overthrowing feudalism still had many feudal ideas and no faith in science. To him it would have been too humiliating to let white-coated doctors in gauze masks poke and prod him and examine him as if inspecting a horse. Later he heard that once a man took a wife, this illness of his would clear up. Having weighed the pros and cons, he decided not to marry a local girl but one from his old home, because then if it didn't work out and she left him, that wouldn't make a bad impression in Hibiscus. In a sense he had played safe, but the outcome was disastrous. Because he had rejected science, science had not come to his rescue; and to clear his conscience he now sent that girl a monthly allowance. It was some time before they realized in Hibiscus that Manager Gu must have some unmentionable illness, which not even the best of women could tolerate. Well-meaning, foolish go-betweens proposed various matches to him, but he turned them all down. So gradually they gave up approaching him. This was why he had snubbed the advances of the manageress of the state-run eating-house, to whom no one had explained the situation. However, Old Gu though childless had plenty of friends. Over half the Hibiscus children called him "Dad", and he was so fond of them that his place was always full of romping girls and boys rolling on the bed. His table and floor were piled with picture-story books, lollipops, toy cars, aeroplanes, tanks and guns. He paid some children's school fees, bought pencils and rulers for them. Some of the town's economists estimated that he spent over ten percent of his pay on these "adopted" sons and daughters. Whenever a young couple married, he was always invited to the feast and would make a few well-chosen remarks, besides giving them a present neither too large nor too small. People were in the habit, too, of inviting him to a good meal they had prepared for some elderly or important visitor. They would introduce him as "Manager Gu, an old revolutionary from the north" as if this reflected credit on their household. As time went by, Old Gu's presence in hibiscus had a stabilizing effect. If neighbours quarrelled over relative trifles, one would say, "Come on, let's ask Old Gu to decide. See if he doesn't bawl you out." "Does your family have a monopoly of Old Gu? He belongs to all Hibiscus! If he says I'm in the wrong, I'll take his word for it." And Old Gu with his bulging eyes, shaggy beard and intimidating look loved to settle their disputes by rebuking or reasoning with them. He tried to solve all contradictions. If money was involved, he might dip into his own purse. So often both parties to the dispute would come together tot apologize and thank him. If he happened to go to the county on some business for a few days, every evening when folk took their rice bowls out to the flagstone street to have their supper they would ask each other: "Seen anything of Old Gu?" "Why isn't he back yet?" "He's not going to be promoted or transferred, is he?" "We should all send a petition to the county: If he's to be made an official, why not here?" It is still a mystery why Old Gu offered to let Sister Hibiscus buy sixty pounds of rice seconds for her beancurd stall for each market. This later landed him in serious trouble, but he never would admit that he had done wrong. Nor did his attitude to her change even after she was classified as the widow of a rich peasant. But this is anticipating. In 1963, the County Bureau of Commerce sent the men in charge of the Hibiscus markets the following directive, with a bright red chop on it: These last few years in your town, pedlars taking advantage of the state's financial difficulties have engaged in speculation and profiteering. Quite a few commune members have given up farming for trading, using state materials to prepare various snacks, disrupting commerce and sabotaging the collective economy of the people's communes. Please check up on all the stall- holders in Hibiscus and close down all illegal stalls. Report the results of this clean-up to the county. To this was appended a comment "Approved" from the Finance and Trade Section of the County Committee. And Secretary Yang Min'gao had added: "Attention must be paid to these problems." Clearly those in authority supported this directive. This document was delivered to Gu Yanshan. As Hibiscus had no Market Control Committee, other cadres headed by Old Gu were responsible for running things, settling disputes and issuing trading licences. Gu called a meeting of the head of the tax-office, the managers of the supply and marketing co-operative and the credit co-operative, and Hibiscus Brigade Party secretary Li Mangeng. The tax-officer suggested co-opting the manageress of the state-run eating-house, since she had recently shown such an interest in market control and public security. But Old Gu said there was no need to trouble her, as her eating-house came under the supply and marketing co-op, the manager of which was present. First Gu read out the document. Then they started discussing it and speculating: "Obviously someone here has lodged a complaint!" "People have to eat, even small pedlars." "Cadres in government pay, eating state grain, don't seem to care whether the people have oil, salt, firewood and rice or whether they go hungry!" "That 'counter-revolutionary slogan' set Hibiscus by the ears. This is going to turn things even more upside-down." Li Mangeng, the only one to hold his tongue, knew that Li Guoxiang was behind this. He had witnessed her fracas with Yuyin. And she was the smart niece of Yang Min'gao whom he had met some years before in the district. She appeared much older now, sallow and wrinkled, so that at first he hadn't recognized her. Apparently still a spinster, she was devoting all her energies to the revolution. A few days previously she and Wang Qiushe, with two security men, had lectured the Five Categories and checked on their handwriting; so she wasn't simply running the eating- house. Moreover Wang Qiushe had been appointed a security officer without anyone consulting the Party secretary of the brigade. And now here was this directive from the County Bureau of Commerce - odder and odder! As to what Li Guoxiang's aim was, he didn't give that much thought. Indeed, none of them analysed this carefully. Finally they concluded that in view of the policy of encouraging trading in the countryside, it would not be right to close down all stalls, they should have a legitimate status. They made the tax officer responsible for re-registering all the pedlars in Hibiscus and issuing temporary trading licences. He should then write a report on the action taken and the policy he had followed, and send this to the County Bureau of Commerce to be passed on to Secretary Yang Min'gao. The tax-officer asked Li Mangeng with a smile, "Sister Hibiscus who sells beancurd is your adopted sister, isn't she? Does your brigade approve of her keeping that stall?" "Never mind whether she's my sister or not," said Mangeng. "Official business must be done according to official principles. Has Yuyin paid her tax each market-day? She's paid our brigade for the days she's not come to work. Normally she and her husband work hard for the collective. We consider her stall as a family side-line in keeping with the Party policy, so we think she should have a licence." Old Gu nodded his approval. When the meeting broke up, the two of them stayed on there, having something on their minds. "Smell anything fishy, brother?" Old Gu might be easy-going, but he was shrewd. "Manager Gu, a hornet has broken into our hive. We shan't be left in peace," was Mangeng's answer. "Well, let's just hope there's no trouble...." Old Gu sighed. "But one rat turd can spoil a pan of soup." "All the townsfolk are behind you, and you're the only one who can handle this so that Sister Yuyin and the rest don't land in trouble." "Yes, she's in a weak position. But so long as we have the say, we can see that no harm comes to them.... In a couple of days I'll go to town to look up some old comrades-in-arms, to figure out a way to get this hornet transferred...." Having exchanged views they went their different ways. That autumn the manageress of the state eating-house was transferred back to the county, to be a section chief in the Bureau of Commerce. Then the Hibiscus townsfolk breathed more freely, as if the dark cloud hanging over them had been wafted away. Little did they know that one night while they were snoring peacefully in their beds, a hand-written report from the County Security Bureau was lying on the desk of County Party Secretary Yang Min'gao. The only light in his office was a table-lamp on his desk. Yang, seated in a wicker chair, was studying this report about a reactionary "clique" in Hibiscus. On a sheet of official stationery he drew a diagram, putting question-marks against the name of Gu Yanshan, the "soldier from the north". He was in two minds about him. The diagram of this "clique" was as follows: -----------------The Beancurd Beauty--------------- | (one of the new bourgeoisie, daughter of | | a gangster and a prostitute) | | | | | Li Mangeng Gu Yanshan (brigade secretary with (manager of the grain no class stand) depot now corrupted???) | | | | | | Qin Shutian the tax officer (reactionary Rightist) (alien-class element) After holding this up to admire it, Yang Min'gao crumpled it up and chucked it into the waste-paper basket. But presently he retrieved it, smoothed it out, lit a match and burnt it. In the lamplight he looked overworked, exhausted. After he had written his comments on this material from the Security Bureau, he could limber up on the verandah, have a wash, then sleep for a few hours. Finally he took another sheet of official stationery and picked up his pen, that pen which determined the fate of so many people. He wrote: Hibiscus lies on the border of three provinces. Being remote and complex, it has always been a political backwater. Whether or not such a "clique" exists requires careful investigation! Any new developments must be reported directly to the County Party Committee.