Needless to say, Jinying and I were exulted to have Jinjin back. To me now he suddenly looked exactly like his father—big eyes, well-shaped brows, thick hair. Since our reunion in the flesh, Jinjin had stopped coming in my dreams to scold me for breaking hearts.
Although I felt happy that my long, dangerous quest for my baby had at last succeeded, I still sensed that something was not right—the nagging feeling, like a bad cold, lingered and stubbornly refused to leave.
When evening came, Jinying again went out and came back with the evening newspapers. As if it was my subconscious seeking it out, this time I found some very disturbing news in a column.
A twelve-year-old girl, Peiling Li, who is blind and appeared malnourished, fell from the third floor balcony of the Compassionate Grace Orphanage on Joffre Avenue. Miraculously, besides a few bruises, she was not seriously injured. No bones were broken, probably because there was an awning on the floor below.
When reporters asked Director Chen about the girl, she insisted that she has no idea why she fell, but it was probably related to not being able to see. However, other members of the staff said that Peiling missed her deceased family, or perhaps was frightened by the ghost of her little brother. Others said she was a strange child and probably did it just to get attention. But another worker noted that since a baby she cared for had left the orphanage, Peiling had become very depressed.
Director Chen also said that after the girl is released from Shanghai Women’s and Children’s Hospital, they’d watch her more carefully and not let her go off by herself.
After I finished reading the article, I knew exactly what I had to do next—find and rescue Peiling.
31
A Hospital Visit
I explained to Jinying about Peiling, how she had cared for the baby we now knew was ours, that we might owe his life to her. And that without Jinjin, she’d be all alone. Even though he had never met her, Jinying shared my concern and encouraged me to try to find her. So I left Jinjin in his care and set out for the Shanghai Women’s and Children’s Hospital, which turned out to be a massive red brick building situated in the bustling Xujiahui municipality.
Patients, visitors, and uniformed staff milled around its spacious lobby smelling of medicine and sickness. I hurried to the reception area and asked for Peiling’s room number. I signed my name, a fake one, of course, on a printed form and listed “aunt” as my relation to the patient.
The middle-aged, white-uniformed receptionist smiled. “So you’re her relative? Guess you’re the only one. That’s why she’s living in an orphanage. But she became famous overnight, you know that? No one else has come to see her, so say something nice and comforting to the poor girl, won’t you?”
“Of course I will. Thank you, miss.” I was surprised, and pleased, to find someone who actually seemed to care in such a big, impersonal institution.
I left the reception area, dashed to the second floor, and stepped inside the first room. Women in hospital pajamas filled cots and chairs—sleeping, talking, staring, sobbing, grimacing. There were about fifteen women, but no child among them.
I asked an elderly woman with a pained face, “Ma’am, did you see a twelve-year-old girl here in this room?”
“We’re all old people here. Why would a young girl have anything to do with us who already have one foot inside the coffin? Ha, ha, ha, ha!” She laughed, seemingly happy with her grim joke.
“Can you try to remember? She is small and wears very thick glasses.”
Seconds later, a smile of recollection flitted across her wrinkled face. “Ha! Maybe now I remember. Yes, a girl with thick glasses. But she’s blind and too little to be twelve, maybe eight or nine.”
Of course I should have remembered Peiling looked much smaller than her age.
“Is she here?” I hoped that my little friend had just left for the restroom.
“No, she left.”
“You mean she’s been discharged from the hospital? Someone downstairs just told me she’s in this room.”
“No, she ran away.”
I felt a small jolt. “But how do you know?”
“Last night she told me she was going to run away, but if a doctor or nurse asked for her, tell them that she’s using the bathroom and will be back soon. Ha-ha, but you know, soon for her is going to be never. Little liar!”
“But you should have told the doctor or nurse! The girl is blind, how can she get around by herself?”
“Why should I? It’s her business, not mine. Right?”
I asked, “How badly is she hurt?”
“Ha! We all hurt, that’s why we’re here, miss. Who are you?”
“Never mind, thank you anyway,” I said, then hurriedly left the depressing room and the octogenarian.
Back in the lobby, I paced around, trying to clear my mind and think. Where would Peiling be, and why had she left? Since she couldn’t really see, I believed she wouldn’t go far. I stopped by a telephone booth and called Compassionate Grace, but a stern woman’s voice said that Peiling had not been transferred back to the orphanage.
I hurried out of the hospital, hailed a tricycle rickshaw, and asked the puller to take me around to places where my little friend might be. But Shanghai is huge and densely populated. We went up and down some of the major streets, but I soon realized that looking for a person in the huge city was like scooping up a needle in the sea.
Feeling discouraged, I asked the coolie take me to the Huangpu River. The soothing sight of the forever flowing river had often been a great comfort to me in my difficult life.
I paid, got off the vehicle, and went straight to my little sanctuary behind a gigantic statue of a goddess where I knew I’d be completely left alone. As in the past, I did some vocal gymnastics to warm up my voice, then began singing.
“Nighttime Shanghai,” “Wandering Songstress,” “Looking for You” slipped from between my lips as I watched the reflection of the sun on the gentle waves. The music settled my confused mind. Music had taught me not only to feel, but also to see that the world is not as miserable as I had thought. Just as I finished and felt a little better, I was surprised to hear a familiar voice.
“Big Sister, I really love your voice. I’d like to hear you sing every day…”
I turned and was overjoyed to see that the person I’d been seeking had found me—Peiling!
She sat on a bench behind some trees that hid her from where I stood, looking very frail and tired. I hurried over to her and sat down.
“Peiling, why did you run away?” I didn’t have the heart to ask if she’d meant to kill herself.
“I’ll never go back to that horrible place.”
“I understand. But why did you come here?”
“Because you told me you love to sing by the river and watch the sun rise. I wanted to come where you had been. I can’t see, but I can smell the river and feel the sun. Maybe the river will help me be a better singer, just like you.”
“But how did you come here?”
“I asked a woman visitor at the hospital to take me here.”
“And she did?”
Peiling nodded. “I told her that I lost my way and my mother will be here waiting for me. Remember, Big Sister? You told me you always come here to sing behind this statue so you’ll be left alone.”