After shaking hands so warmly with Vice Mayor Ma, Ding was caught up in a mood of empty joy, the sort of feeling he'd had as a young man after climbing off his wife. His restless, seething fellow workers began to calm down in the presence of the police, the vice mayor, and the factory manager. Without intending to, old Ding set a fine example for all the workers. He heard the factory manager say to the assembled workers: “Who among you can boast of old Ding's seniority? Or match his contributions? Just look at how quietly he's taking the news. So why are the rest of you kicking up such a row?” Then it was the vice mayor's turn: “Comrades, you can learn a lesson from Ding Shifu by looking at the big picture and not making things hard on the government. We will do everything in our power to create new job opportunities, so you won't be out of work for long. But between now and then, you'll have to come up with something on your own and not just rely on the government.” With mounting excitement, he added, “Comrades, if members of the working class can reverse the course of events with their own two hands, it shouldn't be hard to find a way to make a living, should it?”
The vice mayor drove off in his black Audi, followed by the factory manager in his red Santana. Even the now disheveled assistant factory manager drove off in his white Cherokee. The crowd of workers grumbled a while longer before breaking up and heading home. Lü Xiaohu walked up and took a leak on the bulletin board, then turned and said to old Ding, who was propped up against a tree:
“Let's go, Shifu. You'll go hungry hanging around here. The old man's dead and the old lady's remarried, so it's every man for himself.”
Old Ding nodded to Qin Tou, the gateman, and walked his Grand Defense bicycle through the factory gate. Qin Tou called out to him, “Wait up, Ding Shifu!”
He stopped just beyond the gate and watched the former high school teacher come running up to him. Everyone knew that old Qin was well connected, which was how he was able to take on the light duties of a gateman and newspaper delivery-man after retiring as a schoolteacher. When he caught up to old Ding, he reached into his pocket and took out a business card.
“Ding Shifu,” he said somberly, “my second son-in-law is a reporter for the provincial newspaper. This is his card. Go ask him to plead your case in the court of public opinion.”
Old Ding hesitated a moment before taking the card. Then he swung his unwilling leg over his Grand Defense and started off. But he hadn't ridden more than a couple of feet before his legs began to ache badly; he lurched sideways and fell off, the heavy bicycle crashing down and pinning him to the ground. Old Qin ran up, lifted the bicycle off, and helped him to his feet.
“Are you okay, Ding Shifu?” old Qin asked with genuine concern.
Once again he thanked old Qin and headed home slowly, walking his bike this time. Warm April breezes brushing against his face infused feelings of emptiness, sort of saccharine sweet. He felt dizzy, borderline drunk. Clusters of snowy poplar blossoms on the road by the curbs waved back and forth. A flock of homing pigeons circled in the sky above him, their trainers’ whistles falling on his ears. He was a long way from crushing torment, yet he couldn't stop the river of tears running down his cheeks. As he passed a neighborhood park near his house, a little boy chasing a ball ran smack into him, sending shooting pains up his leg that forced him to sit down beside the road. The little boy looked up at him.
“Gramps,” he said, “how come you're crying?”
He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and said, “You're a nice little boy. I'm not crying. Got some sand in my eyes…”
3
His leg ached terribly when he got home, so he asked his wife to go out and buy a couple of medicinal patches. But these actually made the pain worse, and now he had no choice but to go see a doctor. Since they were childless, his wife asked Lü Xiaohu to take him to the hospital on his three-wheel cart. An X ray showed he had a fracture.
Two months later, he hobbled out of the hospital with the help of a cane. The two-month hospital stay and all the medication had nearly wiped out the old couple's savings. Armed with his cane and a pipe dream, he went to the factory with a fistful of receipts and a head full of illusions. But the gate was closed and locked and the compound was still as death. For the first time, he felt truly wronged. Banging his cane on the metal gate, he shouted at the top of his lungs. The gate emitted a hollow sound, like the late-night barks of a dog. Finally, old Qin stuck his head out of the gatehouse and asked through the gate, “Is that you, Ding Shifu?”
“Where's the factory manager? I need to see him.”
Old Qin shook his head and smiled wryly, not saying a word.
Lü Xiaohu, who had come along with him, had an idea: “Here's what I think, Shifu. Go over and sit in front of the government offices. Either that or set yourself on fire.”
“What did you say?”
“I'm not saying you should set yourself on fire,” Lü Xiaohu said with a smile. “Just give them a scare. They care about face more than anything.”
“What kind of idea is that?” Ding said. “Are you asking me to go put on an act?”
“What else can you do? Shifu, a man your age can't keep up with the rest of us. We've got our youth and our strength, so we can still make a living. But the government's all you've got left.”
Ding neither sat in nor burned himself up, but he did hobble up to the government office gate, where he was stopped by a gateman in a blue tunic.
“I'm here to see Vice Mayor Ma,” he said, “Vice Mayor Ma…”
The gateman gave him a cold, hard look, without saying a word. But the minute he tried to walk through the gate, the gateman grabbed him and jerked him back. “I said I'm here to see Vice Mayor Ma,” he shouted as he struggled to break free. “He told me to come see him.”
His patience quickly exhausted, the gateman shoved him backward; Ding stumbled a few steps before plopping down on the ground. He could have gotten back up, but he just sat there, feeling miserable and wanting to cry. So he did. At first it was just some silent sobs, but before long, he was really bawling. Rubberneckers began drifting over to see what was wrong. No one said a word. Embarrassed by the gathering crowd, he knew he should get up and leave, but just walking away would be even more embarrassing. So he shut his eyes and really cut loose. Then he heard Lü Xiaohu's shrill voice rise from the crowd. After relating Ding's glorious past to the crowd, Lü started to complain about his treatment, trying to stir up the crowd. Ding felt something hard hit him on the leg. When he opened his eyes, he saw a one-yuan coin flopping around in the mud next to his leg. Then more coins and bills fell all around him.
A squad of policemen came running up out of nowhere, their rhythmic footsteps sounding like the jackhammers made by the Farm Equipment Manufacturing and Repair Factory. Waving their batons, the police tried to disperse the crowd, but the people wouldn't budge. That led to pushing and shoving, and as Ding watched legs fly around him and heard the shouts and shrieks, he was overcome with guilt feelings. No matter what, he couldn't keep sitting there.