Looks were exchanged, followed by a tentative return to the middle of the street by a few of the boat people, who watched Xiaogai and his friends nervously. ‘Close up ranks!’ Xiaogai shouted, repeating his gesture. ‘Close up ranks, I say! Stay together and keep going. We’re not going to arrest anybody.’
‘So what?’ Sun Ximing said. ‘Do you expect thanks for not arresting us? What are you up to? Who said you could supervise us?’
Xiaogai took a sheet of paper out of his pocket. ‘Who, you ask? Read this and you’ll know who. It’s from the General Affairs Building.’
Sun tried to take the paper from Xiaogai, then, barely literate, he called me over. ‘Come here, Dongliang, and tell us what this says.’
I walked up and read what was on the pink sheet. It was, as Xiaogai had said, a new regulation: ‘Effective immediately, members of the Sunnyside Fleet must travel as a group on shore under the supervision of the security group.’ I read it again, this time out loud for the benefit of the people who had gathered around me. The bickering started at once. ‘Are we counter-revolutionaries or a labour-reform group?’ Desheng shouted to Xiaogai. ‘Why should we let you supervise us?’
‘You heard what this said.’ Xiaogai shook the sheet of paper. ‘These are critical times. When that’s no longer the case and you can go back to your normal jobs, we’ll stop supervising you.’
Baldy Chen glared at Desheng. ‘You’ve got quite a temper, Li Desheng, haven’t you? What’s so bad about being supervised? Will it give you haemorrhoids? Or cancer?’
Before Desheng could reply, his wife counterattacked: ‘No haemorrhoids and no cancer. Just baldness so severe that not a single blade of grass will grow on his head.’
The crowd roared, all except Sun Ximing, who looked glum. ‘Go ahead, supervise,’ he said, ‘but not like this. Anybody who sees us will think you’re letting prisoners out for fresh air and exercise.’
‘Nobody cares about appearances during critical times,’ Xiaogai replied. ‘By staying in line you make our job easier.’
Sun didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘What the hell does that mean? First you say you’re going to supervise us, then you want us to do your job for you. When a cat chases a mouse, the mouse doesn’t just roll over!’
Apparently, Xiaogai was serious about getting us to cooperate, since he offered Sun a Front Gate cigarette. Sun hesitated before accepting the cigarette, which eased the tension on both sides. The boat people continued to grumble and maintain their dignity as best they could as they silently closed ranks, no one making a reckless move. With the false alarm over, the odd procession moved slowly towards town, its tails still attached. But a subtle change came over the group, as the people rearranged themselves in families. Related men, women and children walked together in tight little units, apprehensive looks on the faces of the adults, who held tightly on to their puzzled children.
Walking a few paces behind Desheng and his wife, I was the sole straggler. My father had refused to come ashore, so I held my tote bag as if it were his hand. Made of grey leatherette, it was crammed full of oil and soy-sauce bottles and a sack for rice. But the most important contents were in the lining pocket: two letters. Father’s letters. One was a petition appealing against the decision of the Martyrs’ Orphan Appraisal Team, in which he argued that the team had been swayed by rumours, leading to an unjust decision. The second letter was also an appeal, not on his behalf but on behalf of the spirit of the martyr, criticizing Zhao Chuntang for his passive attitude towards the preservation and maintenance of Deng Shaoxiang’s memorial stone. I recall that one was addressed to Comrade Wang Chuan at the District Party History Office, the other to the appropriate person at the Civil Administration Section. My steps that day were heavier and more cautious than those of the other boat people, owing to a feeling that Father was hiding in my bag, vacillating between indignation and terror; I heard his voice emerge from inside: ‘Careful,’ he was saying nervously. ‘Be very careful.’
The boat people passed silently in front of the General Affairs Building, with its sunlit, flower-filled square. A gigantic banner hung horizontally across the top of the building: ‘MOBILIZE TO WELCOME THE EAST WIND PROJECT NO. 8!’ I tapped Desheng on the shoulder to point it out. ‘Ah, so that’s what the so-called critical times are all about.’ He stopped and gazed at the banner; the others in the group did too. They may have been poorly educated, but they weren’t stupid, and they immediately made a connection between their situation and the East Wind Project No. 8, though there was doubt on their faces. Given their level of political consciousness, they did not understand what their journey through town had to do with the project.
Seeing that the procession had stopped and that everyone was looking up at the banner put the security men on their guard. They drew their truncheons and nudged the gawkers. ‘What are you stopping for? Loitering in front of government facilities is prohibited.’
Sun Ximing grabbed Scabby Five’s truncheon and said, ‘Hold on a minute. I can read what that banner says.’ He raised his eyes and read it aloud, stumbling over some of the words. When he had finished, he grew animated. ‘We enthusiastically support East Wind Project No. 8,’ he shouted to Scabby Five, ‘and we’ll do nothing to interfere with it. So there’s no need to keep following us.’
With a sarcastic laugh, Scabby Five said, ‘Interfere with East Wind Project No. 8? You wouldn’t dare.’
‘Since you know that,’ Sun said, ‘why waste energy following us? Don’t you have anything better to do?’
Xiaogai walked up and said softly, ‘Pipe down, old Sun. Don’t cause a scene. The General Affairs Building has been designated a strategic area. It’s where our military experts work these days. The consequences of making any impact on their work would be more than you could deal with.’
‘Just where have these military experts come from?’ Sun asked with increasing doubt. ‘And why would they be here at the General Affairs Building instead of on the front lines?’
Xiaogai snorted. ‘Maybe I know and maybe I don’t, but I wouldn’t tell you even if I did. It’s top secret.’
Brandishing his truncheon, Scabby Five tried to get the crowd moving. ‘Break it up,’ he said. ‘We’ll get rough if you cause a scene here.’
After weighing up the situation, Sun decided not to say anything more and led the group away from the building, grumbling as he headed to the flowerbeds, followed by the rest of the group, who were grumbling too. When they reached the public toilet on People’s Avenue, they stopped and automatically reached for their belts. With a glance at Sun Ximing, they broke the silence. ‘Toilet break.’
‘OK, no harm in that,’ Sun said. ‘Who has to go? They can control heaven and earth, but not our bowels or bladders.’
Xiaogai stopped Scabby from interfering. ‘Are you all going?’ As the official in charge, he mulled over the prospect for a moment before dismissing them with a wave of his hand. ‘Go ahead, do your business. But don’t forget that these are critical times and that sanitation teams are everywhere. Don’t bring Milltown into disrepute by making a mess in there.’
Sun Ximing led the crowd into the toilet. These people habitually stopped at the public toilet every time they walked down People’s Avenue. It was, after all, the finest toilet in town, with four taps, at least two of which provided running water all year round. Automatic flushes every five minutes cleared the foul air. Local residents could use the facility daily, but for the boat people it was a rare treat, and they’d have been fools to pass up the opportunity, whether there was a need or not. A bit of symbolic relief was better than nothing. Even washing their hands with running water was enjoyable and free.