A Hundred Flowers (22 page)

She smiled and hugged him again. “Yes, when
ba ba
comes home,” she said.

“And
ye ye,
too?” he repeated.

“Yes, and
ye ye,
” she said. “And Auntie Song and Suyin and the baby, too, if they’d like to join us,” she added.

She saw the smile grow on Tao’s face, something she’d hadn’t seen in a very long time. Hopefully she’d also improve at storytelling, just until Wei and Sheng returned.

Waiting

November 1958

Tao

Every morning it still surprised Tao to see that their lives had continued on as usual. The void left by his father’s and his grandfather’s absences seemed to fill up each day with his mother’s patients, the kitchen overflowing with their voices and the steamy medicinal smells. School still dragged on, and Auntie Song continued to work in her garden while Suyin and her baby had slipped into their household. Now that the girl was well, she helped his mother clean and run errands, and his
ma ma
seemed happier having a baby in the house. Tao still wasn’t quite sure how he felt about Suyin, not that it mattered what he thought.

Tao’s world had suddenly shifted to a house full of women and a different kind of family, one that he was still getting used to. Only when he saw the kapok tree looming tall and silent in the courtyard could he feel his
ba ba
and
ye ye
still close by.

Kai Ying

Kai Ying hadn’t expected to see Suyin sitting at the kitchen table waiting for her so early in the morning. Ever since she had caught her rooting around the kitchen a few nights ago, she’d taken a step back, disappointed in being taken advantage of, realizing that
Lo Yeh
had been right. They didn’t know a thing about the girl.

“Is everything all right?” Kai Ying asked. She heard the slight edge of strain in her voice that she couldn’t seem to hide.

Suyin nodded. “I just need to talk to you,” she said.

“What is it?” Kai Ying didn’t sit down at the table, instead busying herself by putting on water to boil for tea, taking down the herbs she would need.

Suyin paused a moment before she sat up straight. “I know it was wrong to have taken the food. It’s just that I didn’t know when you might want me to leave. I was afraid of being so hungry again, especially with the baby. I just needed a little to get by until I figured out what to do. I’m sorry,” she said.

Suyin lifted a cloth bag onto the table. From it she pulled out biscuits, some peanuts, dried plums and apricots, putting each in a separate pile on the table just like Kai Ying did with her herbs. “That’s all of it,” she said. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

Kai Ying nodded.

It was a step in the right direction, she thought. She hadn’t realized Suyin’s constant fear of being on her own again, and could only imagine how harrowing her life had been on the streets. Kai Ying walked over and took the empty cloth bag from the girl. Then she went through the cabinets, putting in the rest of the biscuits and other dried foods until she’d nearly filled the bag.

“Keep this,” she said, softening her tone, “so there’s no need to worry.” She handed the bag back to Suyin, who appeared surprised.

Then Kai Ying opened the door to the courtyard and stepped out into the morning, the fresh air a relief as she went to unlock the front gate and let in her first patient.

Wei

The train had arrived in Luoyang just after dawn. The two older women sitting toward the front of the car, whom he had first noticed boarding back in Guangzhou, had gone the entire distance with them and were now disembarking. Wei felt strangely bereft, as if some intimate journey they had all taken together was coming to an end.

Wei carried his satchel and stepped down from the train. His legs were weak and he felt suddenly adrift for the very first time since he’d left Guangzhou over two days ago. The sun was shining and the sky was clear, although it felt terribly cold. It was a dry, mountainous terrain that was so different from Guangzhou. A sharp, icy wind blew, and for a moment Wei thought of putting on the woolen sweater he’d brought along for Sheng, but he pulled his padded jacket closer and decided to keep the sweater fresh for his son.

Tian followed closely behind him. Wei waited on the platform and watched the younger man pause at the bottom of the train steps, his eyes looking first left and then right, scanning the platform. Wei saw a look of unguarded vulnerability that flashed across Tian’s face. Was this the moment of hope and resolution he had come all the way to Luoyang for? Did he really believe Ai-li might be there waiting for him? Wei’s heart suddenly raced with the possibility. After so many years, what a joyful reunion it would be for him. Nothing was impossible. But as the train platform emptied, the moment faded with Ai-li nowhere in sight.

“Come this way,” Tian said, quickly recovering. He stepped away from the train and took hold of Wei’s arm, leading him through the station building and out onto the street. “Let’s get something to eat, and then we can decide what you should do next.”

*   *   *

Luoyang wasn’t what Wei had expected. He’d anticipated darkness and desolation, but instead found a bustling city just like any other, filled with people and bicyclists moving through their lives as a new day was beginning. There was something so familiar in seeing a mother walking her child down the street to school. He thought again of Tao as he watched them round the corner, disappearing out of sight. Wei felt homesick and wondered how Kai Ying and Tao were faring. All these years they had provided a lifeline for him, and now, he hoped to give them something back. He drew courage in knowing he’d be seeing Sheng soon and bringing news of him home to them.

*   *   *

Not far from the train station, they sat in a small noodle and dumplings shop. Wei was relieved to be sitting down in a warm room without the constant rattle of a moving train car rumbling through his body. The room buzzed with the distinctive Luoyang dialect, which sounded similar to a more complicated singsong version of Mandarin. Tian didn’t seem to have any trouble communicating with the tall, broad-faced waitress. After they ordered, Wei closed his eyes for a moment. He was exhausted and felt his head spinning with all the change.

“Are you feeling all right?” Tian asked.

Wei opened his eyes. “Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

“It’s a different world here.”

“Yes, I’m just finding my footing,” he said. “You’re very good with the dialect.”

Tian laughed. “I just try to imagine myself as an actor in a Peking Opera,” he said. “It’s the same, more archaic form of Mandarin used in operas.”

Wei listened to the voices and recognized the similarities. “I hear it,” he said.

Their waitress returned with a tray carrying their soup and noodles.

“I was determined to learn the dialect when I was living here,” Tian continued. “Ai-li spoke Cantonese, but I still felt it was important to learn.”

“I imagine it would be even more difficult living in a place without the language,” Wei said.

Tian nodded and continued eating his noodles and dumplings. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, looking up. “It might make the most sense to visit the public security bureau here first, to see if they can locate your son, and if you can arrange a visit through them.”

Wei didn’t know what he would do without Tian’s help. Even with all his education and know-how, he felt like a child dropped in a strange place and asked to blindly find his way.

“Yes,” Wei said gratefully. “That sounds like a very good plan. Thank you, Tian.”

Tian had made no judgments on the train when Wei finished telling him his story about Sheng. “You must think very little of me,” Wei said when he finished. The lights had dimmed and he could barely see Tian’s face, though he saw the glow of his cigarette and the outline of his shadow as he leaned across the aisle. “I imagine if I were your son,” Tian said, “I would have done the same thing.”

“Would it be possible to send a telegram home?” he asked Tian. “My daughter-in-law will be worried.”

“Of course,” Tian said. “We’ll stop by the telegraph office before the public security bureau.”

*   *   *

As expected, it was a long wait at the public security bureau. When Wei finally sat down in front of a uniformed clerk, he was told to fill out a form and return the next day. The clerk, Hu, spoke a bit of Cantonese and said he would need time to look up the inmate’s file before he could give Wei any more information.

“Do you know if I’ll be able to see my son soon?” Wei asked.

The thin, middle-aged man barely looked at him as he continued to shuffle through files. “I have no idea where your son is,” he answered. “It might be a few days, a few weeks, or even months.”

“Months!” Wei said, his anger rising. “I don’t have months!”

“Then I suggest you go home and let me do my job,” the man said.

“Who do you think you are?” Wei asked. He stood and looked down at the man.

Clerk Hu finally stopped what he was doing and glanced up at him. “I’m the man who’s telling you to go home and come back tomorrow. There’s nothing else I can tell you right now.”

Tian stepped up and took hold of his arm. “Thank you, comrade, we’ll be back tomorrow. We appreciate all you can do to find Mr. Lee’s son.”

*   *   *

It was cold and dark by the time they arrived back at the same boardinghouse Tian had stayed in years before, the room damp and musty smelling. Wei could barely see, he was so exhausted, his body just needing to rest. In the morning, everything would be clear again. It was just tiredness, he told himself. Not despair, not failure. Wei tried not to think beyond the step right in front of him or else he would surely stumble. He hadn’t been in Luoyang for one full day, although it felt as if he’d been there for a week. Tian took hold of Wei’s arm and led him to a small, narrow cot where he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Tao

Tao was tired of waiting. After three days, they still hadn’t heard from his grandfather. When he finished his schoolwork that afternoon Tao went outside to the courtyard and sat on the stone bench where his
ye ye
always sat, but even then he felt restless. The kapok tree stood silently watching. Without saying a word, Tao stood up and limped quickly out of the courtyard and down the street, as he imagined his grandfather had done on one of his long morning walks. The more he walked, the less apparent his limp felt. Tao was like any other boy walking to the store, only he’d already broken two rules: earlier, he’d snuck into his mother’s room and taken two coins lying atop her bureau. There were other coins, so she wouldn’t even miss them, he’d thought. And now, he’d left the house alone and without permission. There was no turning back.

Tao decided against going to Mr. Lam’s store; he’d already brought him home once, just after his
ba ba
was taken away. It wasn’t going to happen again. Instead, Tao decided to go to the store on the other side of the park. It was farther but no one would know him there, and if he hurried, his mother might not even realize he was gone.

His
ba ba
once told him about the little boy who went into the park alone and never came back out again. “What happened to him?” Tao had asked. His father had meant it as a lesson for him never to wander away. “He was never found,” his father said, “so you mustn’t go anywhere without telling us.” Tao was young then and never thought to go anywhere alone. Things were different now, he thought, he was older, and the only man left in the house. Besides, they were the ones who had left him alone.

Tao came to the park entrance and paused. What if the boy was still in there, circling and circling, never able to find his way out again?
Stay on the path,
Tao told himself.
Just stay on the path and you’ll come out on the other side of the park,
he repeated. He picked up his pace and entered.

*   *   *

The sky had cleared by late afternoon, a burst of sun emerged that brought out crowds of people strolling in the park; soldiers in their green uniforms and old people sitting on benches, young women and men and children, stray dogs sniffing through garbage. There was a whole world of people right there in front of him; Tao had nothing to be afraid of. Already his mind was spinning as to what he would buy at the store, rice paper candy or dragon’s beard candy, made of sugar and peanuts. He kept walking until the open space soon gave way to a more wooded area, where there were fewer people and the tall trees cast shadows so that the air suddenly felt much cooler.
Just stay on the path,
he reminded himself. Tao realized he’d left the house so quickly, he hadn’t taken a jacket. He began to walk faster, hoping for warmth, but his leg was beginning to feel tired, and when he came to a fork in the path veering off to the left and to the right, Tao thought of the little boy who went into the park alone and was never seen again. When he turned around, there was a young soldier standing a few feet away from him.

“What are you doing here all by yourself?” the soldier asked. He wore a long heavy military coat that appeared too big for him.

“I’m going to the store,” Tao quickly answered. “For my mother,” he added.

“And what are you buying at the store?”

Tao put his hand into his pocket and gripped the two coins, wondering if the soldier wanted to rob him. He looked around to see that they were alone on the path, and his heart began to pound in his chest. Maybe this was the man who had taken the boy who never came out of the park. Tao looked closer to see that the man wasn’t a soldier at all, his hair was too long and greasy and he wore sandals, not boots. He took a step back.

The man watched Tao and smiled, slipping his hand inside his coat.

“I have to go,” Tao said.

“Don’t you want to see what I have here?” the man asked.

He flipped open his coat just as Tao turned to run, his leg dragging just a bit behind.
Follow the path, follow the path,
he repeated to himself. From the corner of his eye, he saw the man holding what he’d once heard Auntie Song call his
turkey neck
in the palm of his hand.