I headed for the General Affairs Building, but when I got there I realized that my plan had been a case of wishful thinking. I’d arrived too late — all the officials had left for the day. Other than the reception office and a few windows here and there, the lights were all off, including those on the fourth floor. I looked for Zhao Chuntang’s private car, and found it. The Jeep, which had seemed so impressive for a while, had been left idle, sitting dejected in a corner, while its original parking space was occupied by a brand-new, black and very distinguished Volga sedan.
The driver, Little Jia, was washing the car with a hose, turning the ground around him to mud. Skirting the puddles, I went up and asked, ‘Are you waiting for Secretary Zhao to leave the office? Is he upstairs?’
He looked at me askance and said, ‘Who do you think you are, asking after him, and what do you want?’
‘Nothing in particular,’ I said. ‘I just want to report something to him.’
He scowled and continued washing the car. ‘You can tell me what it is,’ he said arrogantly, ‘and I’ll decide if it’s important enough to tell Secretary Zhao. Besides, what could you have to report? Still making trouble over the business of being a martyr’s descendant?’
I was savvy enough about doing business in Milltown to know that cigarettes were a door opener, so I handed one to Little Jia. He took it reluctantly, checked the brand and said, ‘Flying Horse? I don’t smoke those. I only smoke Front Gates.’ He tossed the cigarette on to the front seat. ‘Hah, Flying Horse. You boat people are the only ones who think those are any good.’
But I could see that he’d softened his expression a little, so I said, ‘I promise you, I’m not here to make trouble. It’s nothing important, so please tell me if Zhao has left to go home.’
Another frown. ‘Kongpi, that’s a good name for you. You talk like a kongpi. If it’s nothing important, why do you need to see Zhao Chuntang? He puts in sixteen hours a day in the office, and then entertains guests after work. You should know that investigative teams have been sent down here just about every day, and Secretary Zhao has to go out drinking with his guests.’
He’d piqued my interest. ‘What guests are those? What are the teams here to investigate?’
Again he looked at me out of the corner of his eye; his lips were curled into a hostile grin. ‘Calm down,’ he said. ‘It’s family planning, including vasectomies. This has been a headache for Secretary Zhao. If there are three men in town without vasectomies, Milltown won’t be considered progressive. Since that thing of yours isn’t doing anything, why don’t you get one and perform a service for Milltown?’
I ignored him. Little Jia had given enough information for me to guess that Zhao Chuntang was in the dining hall having dinner with guests, so I walked around to the side of the building and went up to the dining-hall window. In the dim light I saw that there were only two unfamiliar officials sitting opposite one another beneath the window, either eating dinner or talking.
‘No need to look over there,’ Little Jia shouted. ‘Milltown has exchanged its shotguns for cannons. Rank plays a role in entertaining guests these days. High-ranking officials are entertained at the Spring Breeze Inn. I doubt you’ve heard that the inn has private rooms. But you’d be wasting your time going there, because they won’t let you in.’
I took my leave of Little Jia and rushed over to the Spring Breeze Inn, meeting a tall, skinny fellow on the way. He was wearing glasses and had sloping shoulders; he was carrying books under his arms, heading home from school. I knew who he was — Old Cui’s grandson, a local high-school student. Old Cui was forever boasting that the boy was a top-notch student with a bright future. Since people with bright futures generally stayed clear of those with no future, I had no interest in stopping to talk to him.
He walked past me with a haughty air and then spun around and fell in behind me. ‘You’re Ku Dongliang, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘Let me ask you a historical question. Do you know when Chairman Mao came to Milltown?’ I immediately sensed that this out-of-nowhere question had something to do with my diary, so I pretended I hadn’t heard him and started walking faster. I never imagined that getting away would be so difficult. He kept coming after me. Starting to breathe hard, he said, ‘Then let me ask you a common-sense question. Why would Chairman Mao meet with a sunflower and not Milltown’s masses? Is it really possible that the great man would stoop to meet with something planted in the ground? Why are you creating a false history, Ku Dongliang?’
Obviously, my diary was being read by people all over town, including Old Cui’s grandson. How could a bookworm like him be in on my secrets? I wasn’t interested in having a historical debate with the boy and was not obliged to reveal any of my youthful secrets. ‘How much history does a little bastard like you understand?’ I roared, glaring at him. ‘Get away from me!’
I felt sheepish after chasing the youngster away, and as I walked the streets of Milltown at twilight, it seemed to me that my private affairs were like streetlamps lighting up the little town and its residents’ lonely lives. I had the feeling that the laughter emerging from windows along the way was directed at me and at my diary. Keeping to the dark side of the streets, I continued on to Spring Breeze Inn, taking pains to avoid meeting up with anyone else. Profound doubts filled my mind. How many more pages of my diary remained, I wondered, and how many of those were with Huixian?
I stopped at the entrance to the inn, with its lanterns that heralded a May Day celebration. The spot was deserted; there was no trace of any vehicles. I glanced up at the third-floor windows of the concrete building, with its isolated ‘penthouse’. The purple curtains were shut, making it impossible to determine whether or not the investigative teams were up there. I breathed in deeply, but couldn’t smell food; when I held my breath, I heard nothing that sounded like people at a dinner table. Feeling dejected, I went up and tried the front door. It was locked. But by looking through the glass door, I could see someone asleep at the reception desk. I knocked, then knocked again, but the head didn’t move. ‘Who’s there?’ It was a woman’s listless voice. ‘You need permission from the police station to stay here.’
‘I’m not a guest,’ I replied. ‘I’m looking for somebody.’
‘Who?’ she said. ‘You can’t do that without permission either. Who are you? And who are you looking for?’
I wouldn’t tell her my name. ‘You have a private room,’ I said. ‘Is Zhao Chuntang in there with dinner guests?’
The sleepy-eyed woman stood up and strained to see who I was. Her tone of voice was guarded. ‘I asked you who you are. Who told you we have a private room?’
I decided to try being clever. ‘Secretary Zhao,’ I said. ‘He told me I’d find him here.’
Still she wouldn’t open the door for me. She squinted to get a good look. ‘I don’t know you,’ she said. ‘You’re not an official.’ She sat down and laid her head back down on the desk. ‘Go and look for the Party Secretary at the General Affairs Building,’ she snarled. ‘There’s no Party Secretary here, only paying guests.’
Assuming that Little Jia had lied to me, I felt my anger rise. I just wanted to talk to Zhao Chuntang, not commit violence against him. ‘Why did you lie to me, Little Jia, you son of a bitch?’ Cursing him under my breath, I sat down on the steps of the inn, suddenly weary beyond imagining. When you’re overly tired, all your aches and pains start acting up. My hip began throbbing so badly I couldn’t get to my feet.