In the Pond (7 page)

Bin was so stunned that he stood there speechless, grinding his teeth, while the leaders chortled. He wanted to spit in Liu’s face, but restrained himself. Without a word he turned to the door.

“An ass eats in every trough,” said Liu.

Bin turned back. “You mustn’t insult me. You must respect my human dignity and—”

“Stop that!” Liu stood up, pointing at Bin’s nose. “I know that a petty intellectual like you always wants to get laid, but even though you pull down your pants and raise your butt, I won’t be aroused. No, we can’t use you, not interested, period!”

Ma blew his nose on a piece of letter paper, chuckling some more. Bin couldn’t stand this any longer. “I’ll make asses of you two!” he yelled, flourishing his right arm as though wielding a brush.

* * *

For days, whenever possible, Bin would pass the office building to see who had been hired for the propaganda work; but he found nobody at the board, whose naked wood remained smooth and white, waiting for the touch of an artistic hand. Not until a week later did he find a short man there putting primer on the board. The man was squatting on his haunches, his knees wide open, and from time to time his broad buttocks almost touched the ground. He was wielding a large brush; a pail of black paint stood nearby. Though Bin couldn’t see his face, the pudgy body looked familiar to him, especially the thick neck and round shoulders. After watching for a few minutes from a distance, Bin went over to see who he was.

His footsteps drew the attention of the man, who turned around, revealing his broad eyes and dark brows. Bin was surprised to find it was Yen Fu, an acquaintance of his. Yen was an art cadre in Gold County.

“How are you, Master Shao?” Yen said, and stood up with a puzzled look on his face. He stretched out his hand.

“I’m all right, still alive.”

They shook hands. Yen’s big mouth opened a little but didn’t succeed in making a smile; he seemed embarrassed.

After a few words with Yen, wishing him a good time here, Bin left, feeling further humiliated, because Yen wasn’t a good painter. Three years ago they had met in Shenyang City, when Bin had won third prize for a landscape
painting exhibited in the Provincial Gallery. Yen sought him out, and together they shared a Mongolian firepot at a restaurant; while eating, Yen expressed his admiration for Bin’s work. That was why just now Yen had called him Master Shao.

Despite working as the art editor for a small newspaper called
Environment
, Yen was indeed artistically inferior to Bin in most ways. He had never expected to encounter the “master” here, assuming Bin had left the plant long ago. How could a small pond like this contain such a big fish? He had vaguely heard that Bin was teaching the fine arts somewhere.

After meeting Bin, Yen felt he had been taken in by the plant’s leaders and had done a stupid thing, displaying his skills before a superior hand. To make up for this blunder, the next evening he bought a bottle of sorghum liquor and two yuan’s worth of pig-blood sausages and paid a visit to Bin. He was pleased that Bin received him as a friend and even insisted they have a drink together.

Since the Shaos had already had dinner, Meilan scrambled four duck eggs, made a salad of jellyfish and cabbage, and sliced the sausages Yen had brought along. After that, she wiped the chopping board clean, washed her hands, and resumed crocheting a pillowcase. She sat cross-legged on the bed while Shanshan played in her lap.

The dining table, oval and one foot tall, was set on the
earth floor. Bin placed on it the dishes, two cups, and a porcelain liquor pot.

Meanwhile Yen was sitting at the writing desk, sipping tea. He noticed Bin’s crablike ink slab and asked, “What stone is this?”

“Bring it here,” Bin said. “I’ll explain it while we’re eating.”

Yen sat down and put the stone on the dining table. “Don’t treat me like a guest, Master Shao.”

“Call me Bin or Old Shao, all right?”

“All right, Bin,” Yen said out loud.

They both laughed, so did Meilan. “For our friendship,” they said almost with one voice, raising the cups.

While chewing a chunk of sausage, Bin began to talk about the ink slab. “This is a Gold Star stone, quarried from Fei County, Shandong Province, the only place that produces this kind of stone.” He moved the slab closer to Yen. “See these speckles? They are the stars. The ancients said, ‘It’s hard to wear away an iron ink slab.’ They referred to this kind of dark slab. In fact, Gold Star stones aren’t that hard. It’s an exaggeration. These starlets are bits of mica. At night, when you gaze at these speckles at the bottom of the inkwell, you feel like you are watching the Dippers. Under the stars the night is damp and deep, and villages, towns, cities all are asleep, while you’re busy working alone. If you gaze long and intently enough, you’ll forget it’s an ink slab, and you’ll have the sight of a
vast landscape. In a word, it’s a very poetic stone, very poetic.”

Yen was impressed by Bin’s knowledge about ink slabs. He mentioned that there was an antique store in Gold County, which they should visit together someday.

Suddenly the baby gave a forceful wail. “What happened?” Bin asked his wife.

“She wet my skirt,” Meilan said, and turned to Shanshan. “How many times have I told you to tell me before you pee? Huh, brat?”

The baby cried some more and dropped her rubber doll on the floor. Meilan stood up, the front of her beige skirt carrying a wet patch as large as a Ping-Pong paddle.

“Come on,” Bin said to his wife, “take care of her, will you? Brother Yen is here.”

Meilan walked over to the wardrobe and took out a pair of pants for the child and a dress for herself. Then she picked up Shanshan; with the baby on her right hip-bone, she walked out.

Yen thought the Shaos must have had another room in the house where she could change, so he asked Bin, “You have another room?”

“No, she went to the salesgirls’ bedroom, across the hall.”

They went on to talk about the painters and calligraphers they knew. It happened that every one of them was doing better than Bin; even Yen had gained two promotions
in rank in the past three years, whereas Bin hadn’t even got a raise in the meantime. This aroused his anger again.

He said, “The fertilizer plant is a loony bin. I envy you, Brother Yen.”

“You should’ve been an art cadre long ago, Bin. This isn’t a place for you.”

What can I do?”

“It’s a waste of talent. Logically speaking, I should do your work, and we should switch places. A crazy world, isn’t it?”

Meilan returned in a saffron dress. Yen found her almost a different woman now, delicate and rather pretty, especially when seen from behind. The dress had shrunk her and brought out her trim waist, but the baby remained the same, in the same kind of open-butted pants.

Yen was curious to learn why the plant’s leaders didn’t let Bin do the propaganda work. Bin sighed and told him the whole story, from the first cartoon to his recent confrontation with them. After his account of the events, he said gloomily, “Ever since the ancient times, too big a piece of wood can’t be used to make furniture. It’s my fate.”

“He’s too stubborn,” Meilan said to the guest. “I begged him to give in a bit just for once, but he wouldn’t.”

Yen said, “It’s no use fighting with them all the time. I understand how you feel, Bin, but a wise man doesn’t fight when the odds are against him.”

“I don’t want to fight. They would never leave me alone. They engage me themselves; so damned blood-thirsty.”

“How about this: tomorrow I’ll talk with them, put in a good word for you, and ask them to stop mistreating you. I don’t know whether it will help. It seems worth trying. What do you think?”

“Please do it,” Meilan broke in. “We can’t continue to live like this. They should give him the bonus and an apartment.”

Bin smiled acquiescently.

The next day at noon, the two friends met at the plant’s dining center. Yen informed Bin that the leaders would like to talk to him, and that he should go to Liu’s office at three in the afternoon. “They seemed to listen to me,” Yen said. “I told them you are the ideal man for the propaganda work, and you can teach me. Boy, they were impressed.” He raised his left eyebrow; Bin thanked him.

They wouldn’t sit together to eat lunch, fearing the leaders would suspect any abnormal relationship between them. Bin took his lunch — two baked wheaten cakes and a plate of fried eggplant — to the coal pile in the yard and joined a group of fellow workers there, while Yen ate inside the dining hall.

Bin was somehow possessed by a kind of mysterious joy after the noon break. A man of merit never lacks friends, he thought. Yen is a good brother of mine, a true
man with a kind heart. That’s why his painting and calligraphy have developed so much; he’s beginning to have his own style. Bin had in mind the golden characters Yen had inscribed on the propaganda board: “We Resolutely Oppose Capitalist Deviations!”

For some reason two lines of Tang farewell poetry went on ringing in his ears:

In the outhouse near the garage, he even chanted out the lines three times while urinating into a long cement trough constructed as a urinal. A woman tittered beyond the brick wall, from the female side of the outhouse. The tittering sobered him up, since he didn’t want the name of a latrine poet.

At two-fifty he set out for the secretary’s office, after informing Hsiao that the leaders wanted to meet with him. When he arrived at the office, both Liu and Ma were in there, smoking and laughing, talking with Nina. The ceiling fan was revolving briskly; beneath it a few house-flies were droning. On the desk a bunch of daylilies stood in a beer bottle; the room smelled grassy. At the sight of Bin, they stopped laughing and regained their normal appearance. Nina got up and walked to the door with her ponytail whisking slightly on her back. Passing Bin, she gave him a sullen look.

“Sit down, young Shao,” Liu said, patting a chair.

“Have some tea,” Ma said amiably, and pointed to a green porcelain cup with a lid on it.

Bin sat down and thanked them. He lifted the cup, took off the lid, blew away the floating tea leaves, and took a sip. His mouth couldn’t help smiling, revealing his uneven teeth.

“Comrade Shao Bin,” Liu said, “we’re going to inform you of something.”

Bin nodded expectantly.

“Your friend Yen Fu is a good talker,” Liu resumed. “He has convinced us that you are a budding genius. You know our plant is not a large unit. Only three hundred people here, it’s too small a pond for a large turtle like you, so we hope you’ll transfer to another place that can offer you a suitable job. We won’t keep you here and let you miss the opportunity to develop your talent. You see, we are always concerned with our young people’s growth.”

“Yes, when you find a new place that’s willing to accept you, we’ll let you go,” Ma added with a sneer.

Bin remained wordless, never having thought they would get rid of him like this. So they have me here only to give me a hard time and make me miserable, he reasoned. Damn you, idiots. You two did your calculation on a wrong abacus. I’m not leftovers that nobody will touch.

As the leaders were smirking and observing his confused face, Bin stood up and said stridently, “All right, I shall try.”

“You know,” Liu said, “your problem is that you always believe you know exactly how high the sky is and how deep the sea is. You’re a smart jackass.”

“That’s true,” Ma put in. “You overestimate yourself all the time.”

Without responding, Bin turned to the door and walked out with his back and neck straight. However, the moment he was out of the office, he felt giddy, overwhelmed by hatred and confusion. He had to hold the iron handrail to descend the stairs.

Yen visited Bin in the evening. When Bin told him what had happened in the office, Yen was outraged. The leaders’ breach of promise verified Bin’s account of their evil nature and deeds. They would lie to your face. This time they had tricked not only Bin but also Yen himself, to whom Liu and Ma had given their word that they would improve Bin’s standing in the plant and utilize his learning and talent. Now, they were trying to drive him out. What a bunch of hoodlums. How could any decent human being work and live under their leadership? No wonder Bin had a hellish time here.

After cursing the leaders together for half an hour, they began talking about the matter of a job transfer. What had seemed disastrous at first didn’t look so bad after careful consideration. It was too exhausting to stay in this mad water and fight against those unscrupulous men, with too much of Bin’s energy and time being
dissipated. As an artist, he needed peace of mind for artistic creation and development, and needed concentration, especially in his formative years. Everybody knows tranquillity is the soil in which talent grows. But in a place like this, with one trick after another, nobody could live artistically; and just one unhappy incident would ruin a few days, during which any real work was impossible. Bin ought to find a more nurturing place.

Yen was almost certain some work units would take a man of Bin’s ability. He promised that he would help him look for a job in the county town.

When Yen was leaving, it was already past eleven; both Shanshan and Meilan had fallen asleep in the bed. Bin walked Yen all the way to East Wind Inn opposite the train station. The air was full of the fragrance of pagoda-tree blossoms, which were shimmering like snow in the moonshine. Somehow even the pulverizer, which always rumbled in the distance at the fertilizer plant, became silent tonight. The railroad track, lit by a string of lights, curved gradually and disappeared into the dark mountain. The town was asleep and peaceful.

Yen inhaled the intense air and said, “What a beautiful night! Nature is so good.”

“Only man is not,” added Bin.

They both laughed. Their laughter was free and gusty in the quiet night.

Bin said, “God, I haven’t laughed like this for a long time.”

At the entrance to the inn, an old drunk, a crippled peasant, stopped them and begged for money. Yen gave him a five-fen coin, waving him away. The two friends then said good-bye.