"Officer Feng," a man with a smooth oval face asked me, "are you going to Taiwan with us?"
"No," I said calmly as all eyes turned to me.
"Then to the U.S.A.?"
"That country doesn't take in Chinese prisoners like us, you know that."
"Where will you go then?"
"Back to the mainland."
"Why? I don't understand. Why are you so loyal to the Reds? What can you get from them?"
"Officer Feng," a freckled man put in, "don't miss the boat. If you don't go with us this time, you'll kick yourself for the rest of your life."
"Come on," chimed in another man, "think about it, Officer Feng. How many men graduated from the Huangpu Military Academy? And how many are still alive after all the battles with the Red Bandits? You'll be a treasure to the Nationalists once you reach Taiwan. Generalissimo Chiang always treats the graduates from the Huangpu like his own sons and grandsons. You'll have a great future if you follow us."
"You may be right," I said, "but I have an old mother at home. I can't abandon her."
Wang Yong said to them, "All right, we just drink and eat today, no more politics. Let's chat about friendship and something happy, no other irrelevant topics." He poured a cup of wheat liquor for me. "Brother Feng, I know you usually don't drink, but this may be our last gathering here. At the least you should take a drop to acknowledge our brotherhood."
He looked so sincere, even humble, that I lifted the cup and took a swallow.
"Drink up!" urged a voice.
"Glass dry!"
"Yes, down it like a man."
Some of them were draining their bowls and mugs while the others attacked the dishes. I stood up and said, "Please forgive me, I can't stay any longer."
"No, you haven't drunk from my bowl yet," said the oval-faced man, already tipsy.
"You can't go!" A beefy man jumped to his feet, grabbed the front of my jacket, and pulled a dagger out of his belt. He placed it at my throat. Then another man punched me in the face and I fell backward on the floor.
Wang Yong helped me up. He turned and slapped the beefy man, ordering, "Put that thing back, you brute. You're not drunk yet."
More incensed now, the man stamped his feet, brandishing the dagger. He yelled, "Feng Yan, you've never appreciated our elder brother's kindness! You look down on every one of us. Who are you anyway? You're just a fart bag from the Huangpu Academy. You've followed the Reds like a dog, and you're a traitor to our Nationalist cause. Think about this: we've never forced you to join any group, never tattooed you, we've given you all the privileges a POW can have – but you abused our kindness. You – you – I have to get a piece of your flesh today. I don't believe we can't teach you how to behave!" He plunged the dagger into the table, and with a thud it stood beside a bottle.
"Damn you, get out of here!" Wang Yong shouted at him. A few hands dragged the man into the office and put him on a cot in a corner.
Silence fell over the room while my heart galloped.
"Sit down, everybody," said Wang. He turned to me after we were seated again. "Truth be told," he went on, "brother, I really like you, like your ability and your looks. They alone promise a great career, a top-ranking officer. Also, because I can see that you're honest, I want to make friends with you. I'm a coarse man, no manners, only three years' schooling. By making friends with someone like you, I mean to get above myself. I might as well spill out everything here – we want to take you to Taiwan so that we can get help from you one of these days."
"From me?" I was amazed, wondering if he was drunk too.
"Yes, from you."
"How?"
"You graduated from the Huangpu, and beyond question Generalissimo Chiang will promote you to a high position soon after you get to Taiwan. But who are we? Just a bunch of peasants and clods. None of us even finished elementary school. On the mainland we were treated like garbage, and in Taiwan it'll be the same story all over again. You're different. So I always thought when you become a general, you might still remember a coarse man like me, who once treated you like a friend. Feng Yan, you're so young, but your heart is poisoned by the Commies. Why can't you go to Taiwan with us? Without an able man among us, no one here will get anywhere, and again we'll be dumped to the bottom of society." He covered his face with both hands, sobbing brokenheartedly. The other men tried to calm him down, but he cried harder, like a small boy. Obviously he had drunk too much.
Touched by his candor, I said, "Chief Wang, you shouldn't be so upset. As you always say to me, every man has his own choice. Believe me, I'm not a Commie. I want to go home only because I miss my mother and my fiancee. How could I enjoy life in another place if I abandoned them?" As I was speaking, tears streamed down my face too. I stood up and lifted the cup of liquor. "Chief Wang, I cherish your friendship and will never forget this night. Let's drink up."
They all got to their feet and downed the alcohol in their mugs, bowls, and cups. Then I said, "Forgive me, brothers, I have to go now." I turned around, went into the office, raised the canvas door curtain, and stepped into the cool night.
Stars were rubbing one another in the indigo sky while the moon resembled a face grinning and baring its teeth. A dog yapped in the distance, and a ship sounded its horn from the sea like a crazed bull. My head ached; my temples pounded. Never before had I drunk so much that I felt like vomiting. As I staggered around the corner of a large tent, a shadow leaped out. "Who is it?" I asked.
Then a heavy object hit the back of my head and I dropped to the ground.
When I woke up in our small tent, to my horror I saw two English words tattooed on my belly, right below my naveclass="underline" FUCK COMMUNISM. Dajian and a few fellows sat near me, sighing and cursing the pro-Nationalists. A folded wet towel lay on my forehead, but I still felt woozy. The tattoo terrified me. With these words on me, how could I return to China? Tears gushed out of my eyes, though I squeezed my lids to force them back. As if stabbed in the heart, I blacked out again.
I don't know whether Wang Yong ordered them to have me tattooed. He might have or might not. I was too devastated to place the blame, frightened by the thought that I might never be able to erase the words from my skin.
Two days later Dajian was abducted by Wang Yong's men. They tied him to a chair in the company's office and tattooed these words on his right arm: FIGHT COMMUNISM OPPOSE RUSSIA. He was devastated too, weeping and saying he was done for. Yet to a degree, we were lucky – they hadn't marked on us a hog, an animal they used to identify a Communist. By contrast, on a pro-Nationalist they often tattooed a map of China below a slogan chosen by the man himself, the map including all of Mongolia and a part of Siberia. Neither Dajian nor I knew what to do about our tattoos. He relied on me for a solution. I told him not to lose heart and that there must be a way to exonerate ourselves, but in reality I too was at a loss.
9. BEFORE THE SCREENING
I showed my tattoo to Chang Ming across the barbed-wire fence. He didn't seem surprised, though he wondered why they had used English instead of Chinese. "Do you think I can have this removed eventually?" I asked him.
"A surgeon can get rid of it, I'm sure."
"What should I do now? With these words on me, how do I dare to return to the mainland?"
My last sentence seemed to startle him. He said gloomily, "We didn't anticipate that they'd tattoo our men."
"Can you ask Commissar Pei what I should do? Maybe he can give us instructions."
"We still haven't gotten in touch with him yet."
"How about contacting him through the Koreans? They must have a secret channel."
"We'll try."
"You do it soon, otherwise we'll be lost. We really don't know how to deal with this if the screening starts tomorrow."