Under the Red Flag (11 page)

“Goooood.” Lei smiled, nodding his round head.

Ning chewed peanuts for him continuously while feeding him. Jia was pleased to watch his wife working with Lei. He took a sip of the liquor and said to Ning, “1 like this boy a lot. He’s so at home.” He turned to Lei and said, “With a thick face, you can eat well everywhere in the world. Little Lei, do you have a thick face?”

“Yeah,” the boy said out loud, pushing the spoon a little with his cheek.

“Don’t talk with him,” Ning complained. “Don’t you see I’m busy feeding him?”

Lei’s small eyes rested on the porcelain liquor pot. As Ning turned to refill the bowl, Lei raised his finger at the pot and whined again, “Waunt.”

“Hey, he wants a drink,” Jia cried.

“Don’t give it to him. Too young for that stuff.”

The boy understood her words, and his face began to change, his mouth spreading sideways as if he were about to burst into tears.

“All right, all right, Uncle let you try. She’s bad,” Jia coaxed and moved over with his cup. He dipped a chopstick into the liquor and then put a drop on the boy’s tongue.

“Good?” Jia asked.

“Yeah.” The boy smacked his lips and held out his tongue again.

“My, my, what a drinker. One more?” He gave Lei another drop.

“Don’t give him too much. He’ll get drunk.”

Jia turned to move away, but the boy broke into a cry, kicking and screaming. Several flesh rings appeared on his short plump
legs, and tears trickled down his chubby cheeks. Jia turned back and gave him a few drops more.

After supper Lei ran wild. His face was like a red apple, shining with happiness. He laughed loudly and played hide-and-seek with pillows on the large bed. Both Jia and his wife worried, fearing that the boy was too excited and might fall ill. They tried to make him go to bed, but he wanted to play more and even managed to get on Jia’s neck for a horse ride. Not until ten o’clock did he agree to lie down between Ning and Jia. Lei slept so well that he wet the bed and didn’t make any noise while Ning was carrying him to the chamber pot.

The following day at dinner Lei again wanted to drink from Jia’s cup. Liquor was too strong for him, so Jia poured some apple wine into a cup that was as tiny as the bowl of a pipe. Lei liked the wine better because it tasted sweet. Every day he drank a cup and soon became Jia’s wine buddy. Jia would smile and say, “Little Lei, you’re lucky, Uncle have money and can buy you wine.”

“Yeah,” the boy would reply.

Sunday came. Jia had not yet decided whether to go to his mistress. During the day he was busy shooting and developing pictures at the photo shop, and in the evening he spent a lot of time playing with Lei, so he had forgotten to think of what gift he should take to the woman. Now he felt at a loss wondering if he had to see her so soon.

After breakfast he made up his mind not to go. Instead, he took the boy to the country fair. Swaying rhythmically with Lei on his back, Jia turned into Main Street and walked to the marketplace. Near the entrance of the army’s clinic he met Meng
Long, the head of the town’s slaughterhouse, who was sitting on a rock and basking in the sun. Meng rose to his feet and asked, “Who’s this, Old Jia? A nephew or a relative?”

“A little friend,” Jia said, smiling awkwardly. “His father is on Great Gourd Island, so he stays with us.”

“Little fella, how old are you?”

“Dwo.”

“He’s big for two,” Meng said, and patted Lei on the back.

“Yes, he’s a good boy. We’ve got to go to the fair, Old Meng.” Jia turned to Lei and said, “Say goodbye to Uncle Meng.”

“Bye.” The boy’s white fist wheeled back and forth like a fat mushroom.

On such a fine summer day the fair was always crowded. The peasants from nearby villages were eager to sell their produce to get cash for groceries, which they could buy at the same place. Many kinds of craftsmen gathered here too: cobblers, blacksmiths, tailors, locksmiths, tinkers, knife grinders. Jia didn’t want to buy anything, and he merely walked about and asked prices, comparing them with those of the year before.

“How much for an egg?”

“Seven fen. Buy some, Uncle.”

“No, no.” He continued to walk.

“What’s the price for the crabs?” he asked, passing a fish stand.

“Ten for a yuan. Buy a dozen or two, Uncle Jia. They’re fresh, caught this morning,” the young vendor said.

“No, they’re dead already.”

Many people in the country knew Jia, for he was the most experienced photographer in the commune. Whenever they wanted to have a family picture taken, they went to his photo shop.

Jia noticed that quite a few young women he had never seen before carried baskets filled with vegetables, fruits, eggs, meat. They must have been the wives of some officers transferred to the Garrison Division recently. Most of the women were pretty and dressed well, and they didn’t take the trouble to haggle. A slim young woman passed by with tomatoes in her basket, leaving behind a whiff of perfume that smelled of fresh apricot. Jia was wondering whether he should ask one or two of the young wives to sit for a large sample picture.

“Egg, egg,” Lei sang in a small voice.

Jia turned around but saw no eggs. Then, following Lei’s finger, he found a pile of potatoes on the ground. He couldn’t help laughing.

The young vendor raised a potato and asked, “Little brother, you say this is an egg?”

“Egg, egg,” Lei chanted as if to himself.

All the grown-ups around laughed. Jia explained, “He has never seen that.”

“How about this?” a middle-aged man asked and showed Lei a large tomato.

“Egg, red egg.”

People laughed again and the crowd was getting larger.

“My goodness, everything round is an egg,” a young woman said loudly, and took a small pumpkin out of a gunnysack. “How do you call this, boy?”

“Egg, big egg.”

The burst of laughter bewildered Lei, who looked at Jia in silence. “Stop teasing him,” Jia shouted at the grown-ups. “He’s not a monkey. What’s so funny? Did you call everything right when you were just out of your mother’s belly?”

Hurriedly he carried Lei away to a wall at the roadside and put him to the ground. “Those are not eggs, Lei,” he said. “They’re potatoes and tomatoes. The biggest one is called a pumpkin.”

The boy stared at Jia with tearful eyes and puckered up his lips. He closed his eyes, crinkled his nose, and was about to cry. “All right, all right,” Jia said and took him into his arms, “it’s Uncle’s fault. I didn’t tell you their names beforehand. Don’t cry. Lei’s a good boy. Let me buy you a popsicle.”

Lei also saw the old woman pushing a popsicle cart over, so Jia’s words calmed him. Jia handed a five-fen coin to the woman and said, “One, please.”

“Milk or red bean?”

“Milk.”

Lei was sucking the popsicle. With amusement Jia watched him moving the ice around his mouth clumsily. He didn’t try to help him, for fear Lei would be upset again. Let him enjoy himself that way. “Good?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Lei stuck out his tongue, licking his lips.

Carrying the boy in his arms, Jia was making his way through the crowd back to the entrance of the market. Piglets screamed and cocks crowed, while butchers were chopping pork noisily at meat stands. A group of children surrounded an old deafmute woman who was using her fingers to bargain with an egg vendor. Beside the stand of jellied bean curd some old men sat on benches drinking tea and playing chess. In the shade of elms and locusts a few youngsters were reading picture-stories they rented from a bookstand. It was getting hot, and Jia began to sweat.

“Fresh jellyfish, ten fen a bowl,” an old woman cried.

“Lei, let’s have some jellyfish, all right?” Jia said.

The boy nodded. They went over and sat down at the stand. Jia bought a large bowl and a small bowl of sliced jellyfish spiced with parsley, leeks, and sesame oil. He started eating, while Lei would do nothing with the dish but stir it with a pair of chopsticks. Jia picked a piece of jellyfish from his own bowl and inserted it into Lei’s mouth. The boy spat it out immediately.

“Don’t like it?” asked Jia.

“Nah.” Lei went on drumming the table with the chopsticks.

“Kids don’t like jellyfish in the beginning,” the woman said. “By and by they’ll get used to it.”

“Ha, you two are here.” Ning emerged from behind, carrying a basket of eggplants and green beans. “I’ve looked everywhere and couldn’t find you. Why did you stay so long? Is he all right?” she asked, pointing at Lei.

“He’s fine,” Jia said with a grin. “He likes looking around with me.”

“Let’s go home. It’s getting too hot,” Ning said, and picked up the boy and kissed him on the milky lips.

“Let me carry him.” Jia got up.

His wife put the child on his back. She had bound feet, and the vegetables were heavy enough for her. Together they were walking back. On the way home they never stopped talking to the child, asking him questions and teaching him to name things. Ning remembered that her husband and she had not walked together on the street for at least nine or ten years. He always felt embarrassed walking with me, she thought. How happy he looks now, and even younger. This boy is a little devil
and has caught his old heart. If only I could give him a child. He likes a house full of children and grandchildren. Too late. He should have married another woman.

Lei’s mother came every other week and took him to their apartment in the army compound for a day, but his father couldn’t return from the island so often. Strange to say, the son didn’t miss his parents at all and was always happy when he was back with the Jias again. His mother was glad that he didn’t cry when she left.

For two days Lei had a fever. Jia took him to Dr. Liu on Bath Street and brought back two packets of herbs. The doctor said there was too much fire in the boy—the Yang was too strong—so the medicine was to reduce the fire and build up the Yin. Ning decocted the herbs, but the boy disliked the bitter liquid. It took a lot of white sugar and sweet words to coax him into taking the medicine. Even so, the fever continued and Lei began to have a cough.

“Close up the mosquito curtain,” Jia told his wife when she laid the sleeping boy on the bed. Behind Lei’s ear they had found a red blotch, probably a mosquito bite.

“Don’t you see I’m doing it?” She placed a pillow to hold down the opening of the curtain, then bent down and kissed the boy’s cheek. “Little devil, you get better tomorrow,” she said.

Jia turned off the light. It was sultry, so he took off his undershirt and underpants and lay down and closed his eyes. Lei’s stuffy nose was whistling away softly in the dark. Soon Jia went to sleep.

At about one o’clock Ning’s voice woke him up. “My old man, turn on the light. Lei’s burning hot.”

Jia pulled the lamp cord and sat up to have a look at the boy. He was terrified to find Lei’s face covered with red spots. “My God, he has a rash!”

Ning climbed out of bed and went to the desk. She found an old thermometer in a drawer and brought it over. After shaking it down, she inserted it into the boy’s armpit. “Lei, tell me where it hurts,” she begged, tears coming to her eyes.

The boy moaned without answering. His lips were so parched they looked chafed. His jaw moved slightly as if chewing something. “Get some water for him,” Ning told her husband.

Jia went into the kitchen and brought back a bowl of water, a spoon, and a wet towel. “Here, here you are,” he said, and sat down by the child. “Lei, open your eyes. Can you see your uncle?” he asked.

The boy didn’t respond. Ning took out the thermometer and raised it to the bulb. “Heavens! It reached the end!”

Jia grabbed the thermometer and read it. The mercury column passed 41 Centigrade. He jumped to his feet and took his undershirt, telling his wife, “You take care of him. I’m going to the clinic to get a doctor.” He rushed out into the night.

He was running to the Commune Clinic, which was not far, just at the corner of Safe Street. A dog in a yard was roused by Jia’s footsteps and started barking at him. He didn’t bother to give it a look, and kept running and murmuring to himself, “Must save him. Must save him.” The road of white gravel spread under his feet like a band of cloud in the moonlight. He didn’t feel anything, as though flying to the street corner.

Within five minutes he arrived at the clinic and set about pounding the boards that covered the door and the windows, shouting, “Doctor, wake up and save life!”

He pounded and yelled for a while, but no response came from inside. He was wondering whether there was anyone on duty at all. Then it dawned on him to try the army’s clinic. He turned around and dashed down Main Street.

The lights in the clinic were still on. Jia went directly to a screened window and saw a doctor and two nurses inside sterilizing something in a large boiling pot on an electric stove. He knocked at the windowsill. One of the women raised her head with a start. “What do you want in the middle of the night?” she asked. They all turned to gaze at the old man, who looked very pale and distracted.

“Help, doctor,” Jia moaned. “My boy’s dying.”

“Why don’t you go to the Commune Clinic?” the other nurse asked.

“Nobody’s there. The boy is not mine. His father is an officer in your army. We look after the boy for him. Come and save his life, please!” Jia was choked with emotion, his deep-set eyes tearful. He wiped the sweat off his gray brows.

“All right, we’re coming,” the doctor said. He turned to one of the nurses, saying, “You stay here. Liang Fen and I are going with him.”

They put on white robes, picked up a medical box and two flashlights, and went out. Jia rushed to the entrance to meet them.

The moment their shadows appeared at the front door, Jia ran up to them and with both hands he held the doctor’s arm. “Thank you, young man. You’ve saved my old life. You’re a good man. My wife and I—”

He stopped because Nurse Liang turned around, tittering.

“Look at yourself,” the doctor said, laughing heartily. “You have nothing on below your waist, old man.”

Jia looked down and saw himself without his underwear. “I—I—, too scared. Sorry, sorry,” he mumbled, using his hands to cover himself.