I understood the guy’s particular kind of loneliness. He was used to being someone important in the military academy, looking down on people. It wasn’t death that scared him, more like the way time seemed to stretch out endlessly. He hardly slept. He was up early every morning walking the dog, coming back as the sun rose, when he would make a big fuss over breakfast. Then he would walk to the sentry box to collect the newspaper, which he read fastidiously all morning, taking in each and every word before launching into the operation that was lunch. Then came the hour-long nap and another walk with the old dog. Mr He wasn’t a nice guy, no nicer than my aunt, but he wasn’t the right victim either.
I couldn’t be bothered to follow him any more so I went home, shoved some soapy water in the lock and had another go with the pliers. I stood there, anger rising up in me like steam building in a bottle, slowly expanding and pressing against me until I exploded under the pressure. Gripping the pliers, I attacked the lock, but it fought back.
I lay down on the bed and tried to calm myself, but panic gripped me. I got up and lay back down again, repeating the cycle, each time thinking I’d come up with a solution, only to descend deeper into my anxiety. The last time I got up I felt so impotent, all I could think of was how much I wanted to punish it. So I pissed into the lock. Then I grabbed the base, hunched one shoulder up like a bull, roared three times and turned it upside down. It crashed to the floor. It was too much to hope that the force might’ve popped it open, but I did notice that the underside had a plastic bag glued tightly across it. I ripped away the bag and found some bubble wrap and old newspapers, inside which was a round, flat piece of jade carved with the image of a Buddha. It was shiny like a mirror. The room was dark, so I went to find some light and watched as the Buddha danced under the rays. He laughed with his mouth, eyes and eyebrows. Even the red birthmark on his temple was laughing – laughing so that the rolls of fat and robes covering them were billowing like waves.
I too laughed, laughed so that tears gathered in my eyes. I wanted to pick up the phone and tell someone, anyone, about how I’d managed at least to unlock the strange mind of my petty aunt and her secret hiding place. She’d been almost stupidly clever. She didn’t trust anyone, not even herself. She believed the most dangerous place to be the safest. She’d stuck her most precious possession on the bottom of the safe.
Just then Old He returned and I checked the time on my mobile: 6.30 – dinnertime exactly. That’s right, fucking army guy.
Build-up
The next morning I went to the market and wandered around for some time before picking out a shopkeeper who looked as if he might know a thing or two about antiques. He had a bony face and white hair and he peered out from behind a pair of thick glasses. I decided that if he gave me a reasonable price I’d just take it and leave. But he examined the Buddha without saying anything. I asked him how much it was worth and he um-ed and ah-ed, started to utter something and swallowed it. He looked at me uncomfortably. I kept pushing him until he spoke.
‘Young man, how much do you think it’s worth?’ ‘I’m asking you. You’re the expert.’
He traced the Buddha’s outline with his thumb. ‘Yes it’s made out of jade, but it’s a bit cloudy.’
‘What do you think?’
‘Five hundred.’
I took the Buddha back. ‘Five hundred? Go buy yourself some instant noodles.’
‘Then how much do you think it’s worth?’
‘Ten thousand.’
‘What!’
‘Watch me sell it for twenty thousand if you don’t believe me.’
He laughed. ‘You’re a funny young man.’ He was mocking me, so I started to walk off until I heard him call out after me: ‘Three thousand. Let’s be serious. Three thousand is a reasonable price.’
‘Ten thousand.’
He muttered again to himself before offering five. I looked the old guy straight in the eye and enunciated, ‘Fifteen.’
‘There you go, you started with ten thousand and now you want fifteen.’
‘Twenty thousand.’
He flapped his hands helplessly. I heard him muttering behind me and organising his thoughts, so I walked outside and hid behind a tree, from where I could see his shop door. Within seconds he popped his head out like a little mouse and looked around him. He spotted me and started waving his hands wildly.
‘You! Come over here!’
‘You want to buy it?’
‘Yes, for ten thousand.’
‘What do you take me for?’
I walked off. I was playing hardball, but if I’m honest I had no idea how much it was worth. If he didn’t come after me it would be no big deal. I’d just go back. I had thick skin. But I could tell from the way he was acting that it was worth some serious dosh. The old guy was running after me, clanking like a rusty bike chain. He couldn’t catch up and I was only walking, so I stopped.
‘If you’re serious, go get the money. I’ll wait for you here.’
He ran back, leaving his dignity behind him. He stopped at the door and looked round to check that I was still waiting. An obscene smile spread across his face and he held up one finger. I made a show of putting together my thumb and index finger. Got it.
After returning with the money, he wanted to check the jade Buddha again to be sure I hadn’t swapped it for another one. Then he handed me a bundle of notes. Ten thousand. I pushed it back and he held out another bundle. I stuffed one bundle in my bag and the other in my pocket.
‘You’re not going to count it?’ he asked.
‘It’s all there.You’re just worried I’m going to change my mind.’
At that moment a beggar came shuffling up to us carrying a metal bowl. I peered in, only five- and ten-cent coins. I unceremoniously dumped one of the ten thousand yuan bundles into his bowl. The beggar looked up at me and his neck stiffened. It seemed for a moment as if he was going to cry, but no tears came so I kicked him, which seemed to jolt him awake. He dropped his stick and disappeared like the wind. The shopkeeper was stunned. He must have realised I didn’t give a shit how much the Buddha was worth. I only needed ten thousand.
I ate lunch. Deciding to save a few cents, I then took the bus to the train station.
The square in front of the station was hemmed in by a wall on one side, upon which was painted a gigantic map of China. People passed before it like swelling, pulsing shoals of fish. I joined them, standing in front as if standing before the river of time. Tomorrow the Chief of Police might be standing here too. He’d ponder the very same question I was pondering right there and then: where would someone go if they were on the run? To me, this was a question with endless possible answers. The Chief of Police would cut the map in two according to two fundamental possible choices: the first, places of emotional resonance; the second, places with people known to the fugitive.
I thought for a bit and realised I didn’t have a strong emotional connection to a single person in the whole wide world. There was my cousin, I guess, on my father’s side. But the only person I really felt a bond with was myself. For ages I’d dreamed of climbing some famous mountain and watching the sun rise. Indeed, for a while I believed it to be the only way to cure an exhausted heart.