Then Liu took over and addressed the audience. “Comrades, I once observed that Shao Bin had mental trouble. What happened two days ago has proved my point. You all know how important that methane conference was to our commune, but Shao Bin was so crazy he went there to spoil all the work we had done for it. Director Ma and I stopped him in time and tried to persuade him to leave. He wouldn’t listen. As we were taking him out, he turned wild and bit my butt.” Unconsciously Liu touched his behind with his right hand as though the wound had been inflicted just now.
Too outraged to stand it any more, Bin jumped up and yelled, “If you didn’t kick my privates, how could I bite you! If you didn’t sit on my face, how could my mouth reach your stinking ass!”
Some of the audience laughed.
“Who kicked your balls?” Liu asked and looked bewildered, as if he had never heard of such a thing.
The laughter grew louder.
“You, you broke my private parts!” Bin was choking with anger and truly believed it was Liu, not Ma, who had hurt him.
“I did?” Liu smiled contemptuously, his eyes half closed. “You’ve lost your mind. Show us how broken your balls are, anyway.”
A burst of laughter filled the room as Bin turned red to the neck. “Shameless snake!” he cursed and sat down.
“Watch your language, Comrade Shao Bin,” Liu said. “We’re all rational adults, aren’t we? We are here to discuss the problem and not to call each other names.” He took a wallet out of his pocket, opened it, and raised it to the audience, displaying the photograph of a dark wound. “Here’s my butt. Comrade Shao Bin, this isn’t a dog bite, is it? Your teeth marks are here. It’s ironclad evidence, as solid as a mountain, and with the date on it too.” He took the picture out of the cellophane sleeve and slammed it on the table. “I leave it here for everybody to see after the meeting. Shao Bin, you said I broke your balls. Where are your balls? Show us the evidence if you have any.”
Liu looked so serious that nobody dared make a noise, though quite a few people tried hard to hold back their laughter. On the verge of tears, Bin stood up and rushed away to the door, shouting back, “You’re worse than landowners and capitalists! More pernicious than a counterrevolutionary.”
That brought out an explosion of laughter; Bin stormed out of the meeting.
He didn’t write a word of self-criticism. Instead, he spent the following days painting plum blossoms and copying stone inscriptions from the Han Dynasty. He had always aspired to possess that kind of ancient simplicity and solidity in his calligraphy. To some degree, he felt happy to be able to practice his arts again. During the day Shanshan was at the nursery school of the department store, so he was alone at home, painting, writing, and humming at will until four o’clock, when he would cook dinner for his family.
Peace and joy, however, were temporary. A few days later the leaders sent Huang Dongfang over to see how much self-criticism Bin had written. Realizing he had done nothing, they ordered him back to work; so he returned to the plant.
Despite his calm appearance, Bin was filled with anxiety. He knew that soon the admission letter would come to the plant, and that the school would request his file and a current evaluation of his moral character, working habits, and lifestyle. This would give the leaders an opportunity to stop him again. They didn’t even have to do anything — just withholding his file would be enough to spoil the whole thing. On the other hand, the leaders couldn’t hold him back without facing some public pressure, because the admission would surely become known in town. In over twenty years only one boy and two girls in the commune had passed the exams and entered college. People would be impressed this time and say, “Shao Bin is a chosen scholar now. He’s leaving for the provincial capital and to be a big official there someday. Who could tell a golden phoenix was hatched in a henhouse? Now whoever is his enemy must be careful, and he will come back someday and have them punished.”
So far Bin dared not tell anybody about the admission; he had made Meilan promise that she wouldn’t breathe a word. He understood happiness was a private thing and couldn’t be shared with others. In addition, he didn’t want the leaders to know of the admission before the official letter arrived. If it came, he preferred it to come like thunder, to strike them dumb. Had they heard of the admission beforehand, they would have had time to calculate their moves. This would have left him little time to work on them.
He was unsure how to bring them around; too much enmity had built up recently. He dared not seek advice from anybody in town, because that would be similar to broadcasting the secret. Besides, he had no close friend here.
Having thought about the matter for several days, he decided to ask Yen Fu’s opinion, since Yen lived far away. By the time the secret spread from Gold County and reached Dismount Fort, the university’s letter would have arrived at the plant.
He wrote to Yen with a fountain pen. Because Yen knew his calligraphy well, there was no need for a brush. The letter went:
July 12
My Dear Brother Yen:
Having not seen you for almost two months, I miss you day and night. How are you? Have you done some good paintings lately?
I am having a terrible time. Two weeks ago I was informed by the Provincial Teachers University that they would admit me as a special student-artist. Then I was beaten black and blue by Liu Shu and Ma Gong. Liu kicked my private parts and sat on my face to smother me.
I don’t want to avenge my suffering now, since going to college is more important. I want to leave this madhouse and get a good education in Shenyang City. Brother Yen, this is my last opportunity. It seems that the leaders, including Yang Chen, are unlikely to let me go. What should I do? You have seen the situation here and may have a better idea — I am inside the mountain and can’t see the whole mountain. Please give me some advice. Your words are always as precious as gold.
Take good care of yourself.
Shake hands,
Words of Your Brother:
Shao Bin
After putting the letter into a small envelope, he couldn’t find the glue bottle. So he sealed it with a few grains of cooked rice. When he went to the nursery school to fetch his daughter, he took the letter with him; the post office was on the way.
Three days later, Bin received a note from the Provincial College Examination Committee. It informed him of his exam results: Math — 18; Politics — 73; Language and Literature — 64. He was so embarrassed by the note that he used it in the latrine. He didn’t even mention it to his wife. He was afraid that the plant might get such a note as well. If so, the leaders would definitely make good use of it.
Yen’s letter came the next afternoon. He advised Bin to remain calm and patient, biding his time. “Brother Shao,” he wrote, “you must be able to endure; otherwise you will lose the opportunity. Don’t talk back or argue with them. Just keep quiet.” Yen also suggested that between the two leaders Ma seemed less wicked, so Bin should work on Ma, trying to bring him around first. Meanwhile, Yen would find someone in the county town who knew Secretary Yang well, to persuade him. Once Yang and Ma agreed to let Bin go, Liu would have to concede.
Meilan and Bin thought Yen’s advice sound and feasible; they decided to work on Ma without delay.
After supper, they left Shanshan with the salesgirls who lived next door and set out for Ma’s. Bin rode his National Defense bicycle, Meilan sitting on its carrier. Coming toward the plant, he saw in the distance the houses in Workers’ Park lined up neatly, the red tiles, wet with rain, glistening in the setting sun, and the sycamores beside the houses already leafy with small crowns. Again the sight of the compound kindled his anger, but he forced himself to remain unperturbed. He kept saying to himself, a strong man must be able to stoop and stand up according to circumstances. Housing is something outside yourself and shouldn’t be valued too much.