Dragon's Gate. Vivian Bi. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Vivian Bi
Издательство: Ingram
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Контркультура
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781925736335
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troops, hailed by civilians, marched here and there. Shi Wangcai had used different fabrics to create the colourful and stylish costumes of minorities. He had placed clouds, a rainbow and golden canaries above the human figures. It was too beautiful to be used as a quilt so they had hung it in their living room.

      The living room was tastefully decorated. A small old banker’s desk in front of the window, a sideboard behind it against the back wall, a big potted monstera in the corner diagonally opposite the front door, two old-fashioned wooden armchairs facing the main bedroom. Shi Ding liked to sit there to admire the wall-hanging. But now the wall was bare and the room looked empty.

      “Ask your mother.” Shi Wangcai sounded unusually curt.

      “It’s in the pot, your quilt cover’s in there too.” Lin Guiru replied with perfect assurance.

      “What pot?”

      “The dyeing pot, in your dad’s workshop.”

      “You’ve dyed them all?!” Shi Ding looked at her wide-eyed.

      “Yes, navy blue. I thought metallic grey might be better but we only had blue.”

      Shi Ding went into the workshop and looked at the big pot of blue dye and its victims. “Dad, it’s your art work!” he yelled and came out to face his mother. “But why?”

      Lin Guiru had felt sorry as she watched the beautiful items turn a blurry dark blue. But now, cross-examined by son and her husband, she went on the offensive.

      “Why? Ask your Aunt Sun. Today she told me that nobody has this kind of bourgeois stuff and we had to get rid of it.” She exaggerated to justify what she had done. “Your father does not understand the times at all. Anyway, I must go. The dyeing will be done by tomorrow morning. Can you hang them out?” she said, avoiding looking at either of them.

      Shi Wangcai picked Lin Guiru’s travel bag up off the sideboard and handed it to her. She snatched it from him and walked to the door then turned to face her husband. “Look, I didn’t feel wonderful parting with them either. But think about it. Chairman Mao has called on us to detach ourselves from the old and the bourgeois.”

      “It’s not bourgeois,” Shi Wangcai said. “It’s about the Red Army and the Long March.”

      Provoked, Lin Guiru yelled, “I’m not talking about the Red Army. I’m talking about the wall-hanging. That kind of ostentatiousness can poison people’s minds.”

      “How?” The usually taciturn Shi Wangcai was stubborn today. “How can a colourful patchwork quilt poison minds?”

      “I can’t believe you with your one-track mind. You tell me why you like colour. It’s because colour reflects a pleasant world in your head and makes you happy. Is that right? But when you’re happy, you forget about class struggle and you create opportunities for our enemies to overthrow the Communist Party. I should have done the propaganda performance at home first. Go and turn on the radio and wake up, now!” The more she explained, the angrier she became and the more justified she felt. With her last order, she slammed the door and left.

      Shi Wangcai stood there bewildered for a moment before going back to the kitchen.

      His mother’s incisive remarks disarmed Shi Ding. He was convinced by her logic and alarmed by the imminent threat she had described. He did as his mother commanded and turned the radio on. An editorial was being broadcast:

      Class struggle is assurance of the Communist Party’s constant success. Without it, many of us would be corrupted by our enemies through hard and soft tactics. Then, the old reactionary order would inevitably be restored in a few years or a few decades …

      Above the strident tones of the announcement, Shi Ding heard his father singing in the kitchen:

      Five-coloured clouds hang in the sky,

      Golden birds fly from heaven.

      Red Army soldiers, our own brothers,

      Have no fear of the long long journey.

      The melody was soft and sweet. It was definitely out of tune with the times.

       III

      A week had passed since the reactionary slogan was discovered. Teachers and students had been scrutinised by the police and government officials, but still no arrest had been made. A cloud of gloom hung over West Bridge School and the neighbourhood.

      Dong Ermei failed to turn up at school that morning. When her teacher reported her absence, two policemen and the deputy principal rushed to No. 10. They knocked so loudly that Sun Lanfen and Shi Wangcai both came out to see what was happening. When nobody answered the door, the police smashed the glass panel to get in.

      There were originally two rooms in the Dong house. The big front room acted as a bedroom for Mr Dong and Pingshun as well as a living area. To the left as you came in, there was a door to the other room, which Ermei occupied. However, Sun Lanfen and Shi Wangcai noticed a big change as soon as they walked in. The front room had been divided in two and behind a plywood board, a space big enough for a single bed had been created for Ermei, who was now lying unconscious on it. Her face was blue and there was foam around her mouth.

      “Committing suicide to avoid punishment?” the frightened deputy principal yelped.

      “No, it can’t be. She’s just a stupid child. Ermei, Ermei!” Sun Lanfen shouted into the girl’s ear as she turned her over onto her stomach and stroked her back. Shi Wangcai picked up a half-eaten pancake next to the pillow.

      “Look, she’s got mildew poison.” He handed the pancake to one of the policemen. It was covered in green blotches. He quickly searched out a bottle of vinegar while Sun Lanfen cradled the girl on her lap. They prised Ermei’s mouth open and forced her to swallow half a bottle of the vinegar.

      The girl’s motionless body began to show signs of life and she started to vomit. Shi Wangcai warmed a towel for Sun Lanfen to wipe Ermei’s face. Then he gathered some ashes from the stove to spread over the vomit before sweeping them up. When he returned with a wet mop, the police and the deputy decided to leave. “Make sure she’s back in school tomorrow,” they ordered Sun Lanfen.

      “Sure thing, if she’s not dead!” she replied.

      Shi Wangcai made a bowl of egg custard and Ermei sat up to eat it. Sun Lanfen tidied her bed and asked, “Why do you have to be so stupid? You know mildew can kill, don’t you?”

      “But I was hungry.” The girl began to weep. “Dad didn’t leave anything for me. He’s been so angry and hasn’t cooked a single meal for me since … since I got into trouble.”

      “You’re lying. No parents starve their children.”

      “I’m not lying, Aunt Sun. My brother brought food from his canteen for me every evening. But last night he went out with his girlfriend and forgot about me. I found that one pancake in my school bag.”

      Sun Lanfen became angry. “Where is your father? He should be home by now.” She rose and called out to Shi Wangcai, who was adding a briquette to the stove. “Old Shi, did Mr Dong come home this morning?”

      “Here I am.” Mr Dong appeared at the landing. “I went for a walk in Beihai Park. The air is very fresh.” He smiled humbly. “Can I do something for you?”

      “Yes! I want you to carry the dead body out of your house,” Sun Lanfen said frostily.

      Mr Dong was startled at first but he covered it with a big smile. “Come on, Mrs Sun. Where would I find a dead body for you in broad daylight?”

      “Where? In your home. Your Ermei is dead! Starved to death. Are you satisfied now?”

      “What? She didn’t go to school? That stupid girl, she’s going to make more trouble for her brother.”

      Shi Wangcai stopped him. “Mr Dong, Ermei’s got herself poisoned by eating a mildewed pancake. You didn’t know?”