‘Why don’t I take this for you?’ he said. ‘You live in the new housing estate at the station, right? That’s only a few steps away. I’ll help you take it all home.’
Meng thanked him and declined repeatedly, but finally he reluctantly acquiesced. It was because of Papa Qi’s eyes; they seemed so clear and pure somehow, as if charged with some kind of expectation. That was how Meng first hesitantly led Papa Qi to his home. He recalled later that Papa Qi did not come in on this occasion.
Meng had invited him in for a sip of tea, but Papa Qi had replied, ‘No thanks. I still have to get to the office. We’ve been very busy recently.’
Meng said, ‘Well, look in some time when you’re free.’ Of course, he just made this offer to be polite but he always remembered Papa Qi’s earnest reaction. He had thought seriously about it for a moment, shaking his tired wrists, and then he’d said, ‘On Saturday. I’ll come on Saturday then.’
And afterwards Saturdays became Papa Qi’s visiting day.
The Mengs were not the kind of people who enjoyed a wide circle of friends. On the first day that Papa Qi came to visit, neither of them really knew how to act, although as cultured people, they treated him amiably enough. Ningzhu had not yet met Papa Qi, and assumed he must be a friend of Meng’s from university. She sat to one side, lamenting the fickleness of human nature and remarking that Meng’s photograph albums were filled with pictures of his former classmates, faces shining with happiness, arms slung around one another’s shoulders. How close they seemed to have been, yet now they had scattered to the four winds and Meng was in contact with no one: only Papa Qi had taken the time to visit his old friend.
Meng felt it would be awkward to correct his wife’s error, so he just chuckled instead. It was Papa Qi who took the initiative and explained who he was: ‘I never actually went to university. I missed the minimum score by a single point. I think I was born unlucky. After that, I didn’t bother to retake the exams.’
Ningzhu, reacting quickly to this information, immediately switched the topic of conversation to the worthlessness of university graduates. ‘What good are they? Look at Meng — comes out of a prestigious college and can’t even install a ceiling light.’
Papa Qi laughed knowingly as she spoke. Then he nodded and remarked, ‘You’re right. But it’s not just him. None of the college graduates I know can. And anyone who can put in a ceiling light didn’t go to college. It’s a social problem.’
‘Well, I bet you can do all kinds of electrical work,’ said Ningzhu encouragingly. ‘Maybe we can give you a shout next time we need something done.’
‘No problem. Just give me a call and I’ll be there.’
In fact, they never actually asked Papa Qi for help with anything electrical, nor did they ever intend to ask for help with anything else. But later Papa Qi did do them an enormous favour; something it would have been hard to imagine before it occurred.
For a few years Meng had been wanting to leave the research institute where he worked to find a job in the hi-tech development zone4, but this hope had remained unfulfilled. One day he mentioned it in passing to Papa Qi. He really had meant nothing by it, he was just adding one more possible topic to their increasingly meagre supply of conversation. Papa Qi merely smiled enigmatically and asked, ‘You want to work in the zone, eh? We might be able to work something out. As long as the research institute will let you go, there shouldn’t be any problem.’
‘I went to the zone once when they were recruiting. They seemed to be really satisfied with me, but nothing came of it in the end,’ said Meng gloomily.
‘Nothing strange about that, you don’t have the connections, that’s all. People get high salaries and good treatment in the zone. Everybody’s been racking their brains for a way to get in. It all depends on your connections.’
Meng replied, not without scorn, ‘I know that, but I can’t be bothered to go around making connections. If they don’t want me there, then I don’t want to be there.’
Papa Qi looked at him closely and after a second was unable to stifle his laughter.
‘What are you laughing about?’
‘You. That really says it all about you intellectuals.’ Meng understood what was meant, but said nothing. Then he heard Papa Qi give his knee a resounding slap and say, ‘No problem. I’ll take care of this.’
Meng thought his behaviour baffling, but didn’t pursue it since he’d only mentioned the matter in passing. It was true he wanted to go to the zone, but it wouldn’t kill him to have to stay at the research institute, either — that was how he looked at the matter. So he was almost scoffing at Papa Qi when he asked, ‘What? You don’t mean to tell me that your father’s the general director of the zone?’
No, Papa Qi’s father was not a high-placed official in the zone, but he had another relative who was, and Meng was about to find that out. After only three days he was called to an interview in the zone, and what surprised him even more was the comment the official made as he was showing him out: ‘We’ll make the transfer order out tomorrow.’ As Meng sped down in the lift he felt like he was dreaming. He left the building and spotted Papa Qi right away. He was sitting on the flower terrace, waving at him. Meng immediately woke from his trance, feeling now that there had been no particularly dreamlike element to what had just occurred. Of Papa Qi he enquired, ‘So what’s your connection with Vice Director Wang?’
‘What do you want to know that for?’
‘No reason. I was just curious.’
At this Papa Qi laughed and said, ‘You intellectuals, curious about everything. But can you eat curiosity?’ Meng felt a little awkward, but Papa Qi gave him a hearty pat on the back and said, ‘He’s a relative, I suppose, but that doesn’t count for much. We’re mostly friends; we gradually got to know each other.’
The Mengs were duly grateful for Papa Qi’s help, and the day before Meng reported for duty in the zone, the two of them went to buy gifts for him. Obeying the conventions, they purchased high-quality cigarettes and alcohol. Then Ningzhu, anxious to do right, said, ‘Papa Qi’s chin is always so stubbly. Why don’t we get him an electric razor?’
‘If we get one, then it should be top-grade,’ Meng replied, so in the end they shelled out a thousand yuan for a Philips razor.
Just as the couple had expected, Papa Qi refused this windfall of gifts, remarking, ‘If I’d known you intellectuals believed in bribes like everyone else, I wouldn’t have helped you out in the first place.’
Fortunately, Ningzhu knew how to be persuasive: ‘We know how things work. You must have spent quite a lot of money running around to get this done for us. If you won’t accept even these poor tokens of our gratitude then Meng simply won’t report for work in the zone.’
Only when she had put it so boldly did Papa Qi finally agree to take the cigarettes and the alcohol; but when it came to the razor he exhibited his unconventional side, saying, ‘I’ll accept the razor too, but I won’t take it home with me. If I take it home, I’ll just end up giving it away to someone else, so it’ll be best if you take care of it for me. I come here all the time anyway. This way it’ll be mine just the same, right?’
From then on, the buzzing sound of an electric razor was often to be heard in the Meng’s home, generally on Saturday afternoons but sometimes also early on a Friday or Sunday evening. And that was how Papa Qi’s visits became part of Meng family life. He made them when the working week was done, so naturally those were the days when Ningzhu was particularly busy with her housekeeping. While she was cooking or washing up, she could always hear Papa Qi shaving in the sitting room. Their flat was far too small, and even from the kitchen she could clearly hear the three revolving blades rasping against the bristle of his beard. Not only that: since Papa Qi’s beard was very tough, even two rooms away Ningzhu could make out the sound of the stubble rattling around inside the razor. One day, she grew very agitated at the noise and cried out loud, ‘That racket is driving me crazy!’