Dear Leader (39 page)

As I walked back to our table with the wine, Cho-rin, who was taking a sip of water, slammed down her glass hard enough to make a noise. I said that I had known she would react like this, and that it was too late – the bottle had already been opened. Unexpectedly though, when she looked at the label, she relented, saying it was a very nice wine. After handing the bottle to her fiancé, she shot me a look, and said in a threatening tone that she would ask for the money back from her uncle, as I had wastefully spent my money on them.

From then on, we put the beer mugs to one side and made our toasts with wine glasses. I was astonished to find that in Chinese too, you said
Gunbae!
when you made a toast, just as we do in North Korea. We were discussing where the word had originated from when Cho-rin’s fiancé received a phone call.

I filled Cho-rin’s glass and my own. ‘Cho-rin, can I ask you something?’

‘Ask me anything you want.’

‘You know what your cousin shouted earlier today, what does that mean? You know,
shabi zai zi
.’

‘Shh!’ she said, nodding at her fiancé. ‘He might hear.’

‘What does it mean?’

‘You know they say that you won’t live long if you know all the answers to life!’

‘I’ll ask Ju Yun-bal then.’

‘No, don’t do that! I’ll tell you. Quietly.’

‘So,
shabi
?’

‘Mother … fucker.’

‘The brat! What’s
wo da si ni
?’

‘I’m going to beat you to death.’

‘Wow. What’s
zai zi
then?’

‘You don’t need to know.’

‘I’ll ask your fiancé then.’

‘No, I’ll tell you.’ She hesitated and then said, ‘It means “prick”.’

I didn’t understand. ‘What does that mean?’

‘You know, like the male organ.’

Maybe because she was tipsy, Cho-rin blushed to the tips of her ears. When I said that I would demand that her cousin apologise for the insult as well as for his assault on her before I presented him with his toys, Cho-rin clapped her hands and smiled. As her fiancé finished his call, he asked what we had been talking about.

Cho-rin asked me, ‘What should I tell him?’ Her face was full of mischief.

‘Tell him that if he ever makes you cry, you’ll talk to him in the way that your cousin does.’

She threw her head back and laughed. Her fiancé seemed even more curious now and I worried that she might translate exactly what I’d said. When he put his thumbs up, I was relieved but confused. Cho-rin explained that she had told him it was his turn to buy wine now. I learned anew that human relations are built on careful words.

After dinner, we went for a walk. It wasn’t snowing, and that made it a magnificent winter’s night. Cho-rin walked between us with a man on each arm. I wanted to walk all the way back to Xita just like this, but a taxi slowed as it passed, although we had not flagged it down. We decided to get in. When we arrived in Xita, Cho-rin was the last to get out of the cab. Her fiancé scolded her for not leaving the change with the driver. Cho-rin replied indignantly as he walked
on ahead, and slipped her hand into the pocket of my coat. She undid my clenched fist and pressed the change into my hand. As I tried to take the money out of my pocket, Cho-rin held my hand down. When I tried again, she pinched the back of my hand. When my hand surrendered, she patted it with her fingers, as if to reward it for its good behaviour.

At the entrance to the building, Cho-rin’s fiancé almost tumbled on the ice. As Cho-rin and I rushed to support him, we all lost our balance and laughed. Cho-rin, giddy with wine and insistent on walking up the stairs, made us climb eight flights with her instead of taking the lift. That suited me fine, but by the time we reached the apartment, our evening together seemed to be over far too soon.

Cho-rin rang the doorbell and then knocked impatiently, emboldened by the two men at her side. We were all in good spirits, but staggered back when the door opened to reveal a grim-faced police officer. And there, just behind him, stood another.

THE OFFICER WHO
had opened the door came and stood behind the three of us. My heart was beating fast, but I was surprised to find that it wasn’t as bad as it had been at other times of crisis. As we walked into the living room, Cho-rin’s uncle explained in rapid Korean, ‘I had spoken to my wife briefly about you, but the boy must have overheard. He asked questions, and my wife made him promise several times that he mustn’t tell anyone there’s a North Korean staying with us. But he’s not the kind to do as he’s told, is he? So he came back with these men, having told them we had a North Korean hiding in the house.’ Through clenched teeth he added, ‘I’m going to break his legs tonight. But stay calm, I’ve told them that you’re South Korean.’

One of the men motioned to the uncle to stop him from talking, and then gestured towards the sofa, where the boy was sitting. When he called for him, the boy bounced up eagerly, and that made me uneasy. The way that Cho-rin said something to him gave me the premonition that things weren’t going to go well, and this was confirmed when he walked towards me with a big boy’s swagger. He pointed his finger at me, then poked my stomach with it several times.

My hands, which had been clenched in anxiety, lost their grip, and the bag containing his two toy swords fell to the floor. When the boy saw them, his eyes glittered with joy. Looking at me to check that I wouldn’t stop him, he seized them and rushed back to the sofa. The two officers moved confidently towards me.

‘They’re saying you must show them your passport. Say something in Korean, I’ll tell them in Chinese that you lost your bag,’ Cho-rin instructed rapidly, taking my arm as though we were lovers.

As we went back and forth in translation with the men, the boy interrupted several times with stubborn insistence, perhaps to point out how we were lying. The father eventually smacked him on the back of the head to shut him up and the boy screamed, ran into his bedroom and slammed the door very loudly.

Cho-rin’s fiancé, who had remained silent until then, yelled something at the officers. One of them shoved him in the chest to intimidate him. Ju Yun-bal shouted again at the officer in defiance, stepping forward threateningly. As Cho-rin came between them, the other man made a call on his phone. Everyone was quiet for a second, and Cho-rin turned deathly pale.

‘You’ve got to run. They’ve just called for reinforcements.’

The officer put his phone back in his pocket and unclipped a pair of handcuffs from his belt. These Chinese handcuffs were shiny and new, just as one of the girls at Mr Shin’s house had described them. Trying hard to speak in a calm voice, I told Cho-rin, ‘Buy me a little time.’

I strode across the living room, doing my best to appear unconcerned, and to my surprise no one tried to stop me. I walked into the piano room and collected my manuscript of poems, my identification documents bearing my true identity, and my sunglasses.

I turned and walked towards the front door, but the two men moved to block my path. Cho-rin screeched and at the same time her fiancé lunged at one of the officers, grabbing him at the waist. Cho-rin rushed towards the other officer, shouting, ‘Run! Quickly!’

Without pausing to look round, I ran down the stairs, leaping several steps at a time. As I hurtled from landing to landing, I could hear shouting behind me, then Cho-rin’s scream, and then a loud thud as the building absorbed the shock of a body hitting the floor. I
could hear the sounds of more struggle, and a door crashing against the wall. Suddenly the sound of heavy boots filled the stairwell.

Running out of the building, I tripped on the step, almost fell, then doubled back down the alley next to the apartment block, where I hid myself among the rubbish bins. The officers would leave sooner or later, and then I could say a final goodbye to Cho-rin and Ju Yun-bal, and to her uncle’s family. I hoped that Cho-rin would find a way to slip out and say goodbye.

But the situation was only getting worse. Boots stomped down into the lobby of the building, and an officer dashed outside. His cap was gone and his shirt buttons were undone; it must have been a violent struggle upstairs. Sirens sounded and a police vehicle appeared. Two more vans followed, and eight officers rushed out of the vehicles. They rallied near the cap-less officer, listened to his instructions, and then proceeded to carry out his orders. Four of them went back into the apartment, and the rest went off in different directions.

Two of them began to come my way. They were only ten metres from me. If I stayed there any longer, I would be caught. I lowered my head and began to run.

‘
Zhan zhu! Zhan zhu!
’

One of them spotted me and starting yelling. I broke into a sprint. Terrifying shouts came from all sides, and I imagined a rough hand seizing my collar at any moment. Just as when I’d crossed the Tumen River, my legs trembled beneath me. I was panting and my chest felt tight. I had turned into an alley with high walls on either side, and the sound of the officers’ boots echoed all around me.

I feared I’d run into a dead-end and panicked, realising that the streets here were different from those in Yanji, where the roads had been open. I was out of breath and could not sprint for much longer. My legs were so heavy that it felt like I was dragging them with each step. I considered giving up.

Seeing a steel drum in front of me, I hurled it behind me with all
my might, and heard the officers’ shouts as the drum crashed into their path – sweet harmony for my pitch-perfect ears. The sound of the pursuing boots seemed to stop. But no, there were the boots again. This man was stronger than the one who’d fallen, and gaining ground. Twenty metres, fifteen metres, ten metres … I had to make a decision. I picked up a piece of metal piping. Screaming at the top of my voice, I turned to face the oncoming officer.

He stiffened and almost fell forward as he stopped in his tracks. Although it was dark, he was standing so close that I could make out his eyelashes. I lifted the pipe high above my head, and as the pole scraped on one of the cement walls that rose on either side, it screeched loudly. Gaining confidence, I swung the pole and scraped again, as hard as I could. Sparks flew from the end of the pipe. I yelled, like a dragon breathing flames, ‘
Shabi, wo da si ni! Shabi zai zi!
’

Lifting the pipe high over my head again, I ran at the officer. He stepped back a few paces, then turned and ran. Chasing him a few metres, I saw an alley leading off to the right. I scraped the pipe again on the cement wall to let him know I was intent on following him. In case he changed his mind and decided to pursue me again, I shouted again for good measure, ‘
Shabi, wo da si ni! Shabi zai zi!
’ Then I darted into the alley.

Perhaps I ran for about ten minutes through the alleyways. I slowed to a walk when I came to a deserted area, but I kept moving. I had dropped the pipe by then, and there was no feeling from my hand to my shoulder. When I felt the limb with my other hand, there was no sensation at all – it was like touching an alien object. The ends of my fingers trembled and twitched.

I checked my pockets, and my poems were still safe. Or rather, the poems, my lucky charm, were keeping me safe. In fact, every time I had been separated from my poems, something bad had happened. In Yanji, Young-min had returned them to me, and in Shenyang,
Cho-rin had bought me time to retrieve them. I folded my arms across my chest, resolving never to take my manuscript out of my jacket pocket again.

What had happened to Cho-rin? She and her fiancé, her uncle and aunt – how shocked they must have been! I feared that the authorities would impose harsh penalties on them. I had run so far into the outskirts that I was now surrounded by darkness. I could see an area in the distance where the bright city lights were concentrated. Perhaps it was the glow of the police lights surrounding Cho-rin’s uncle’s house.

Her cousin would be in serious trouble with his father. Cho-rin would not just let the matter drop, either. And then I remembered the toy swords. Where had I left them? Had I taken them into the apartment? Yes, I remembered the boy picking them up. I had intended to make a present of them, but it ended up as his reward for reporting me to the authorities. What a fool I’d made of myself! I laughed out loud like a madman, until I realised that the boy had helped me in some respects. I’d been able to summon up the courage to wield steel piping in front of an officer’s face because I’d been imitating the boy. And the lesson in Chinese I had received from him couldn’t have been more useful:
Shabi, wo da si ni! Shabi zai zi!

I repeated the words to myself and reached an area lit with streetlamps. Cho-rin would be overjoyed to know I was alive and well. If I saw her again, I would describe to her my feat of martial arts, fending off an armed officer with metal piping. She would pat me on the head as a mother would a boy. And seeing me safe, Wang Hou’s parents would forgive him.

I began to walk more quickly. If I did see Cho-rin again, we would have to say goodbye, and I would have to leave for Beijing. If I saw her again, I wasn’t sure if I could hold back a flood of tears.

As I continued to walk my body began to shiver involuntarily, and I realised I was drenched with sweat. I found it hard to believe that I
had been able to spend two nights out in the mountains near Yanji, and that we had not frozen to death.

When I began to see signs in Korean here and there, I realised I must be back in the Xita District. If I walked a little further, I might reach that familiar apartment building, and perhaps Cho-rin would be waiting there. Perhaps the police would have moved on and I could steal back into the flat? My hopes were rising wildly and, as if that thought was becoming manifest, I saw a familiar Coca-Cola advert up ahead. It was the same advert as the one on the wall of the department store I had entered with Cho-rin. But why had the advert moved to a wall of a different building? When I came closer, I realised that the building housed a restaurant, not a department store.