Grotesque Read online

  “Bastard.”

  “Hick.”

  “It takes one to know one.”

  “Not me. I’m from Beijing.”

  While we exchanged murmured insults, we sauntered through the lobby, this way and that, without a flicker of nastiness on our faces.

  Indeed, the white polo shirt, jeans, and shoes I was wearing had all been provided by Lou-zhen. The polo shirt was designed by Fred Perry of London. The jeans were Levi’s. And the shoes were Nike—black leather with white stripes. At that time you could probably count the number of Chinese people in the world who were able to afford to wear Nikes. When I first got the pair I had on, I was so happy I could hardly stand it. Every morning I’d take them up in my hands as if they were the most precious gift ever imagined. And precisely because I was dressed so impeccably, the people who saw me regarded me with respect.

  Ah, he may be young, but you can be sure he’s rich. That’s what I assumed the doormen were thinking as I saw them look enviously at the Nikes on my feet. Up till then I had been overwhelmed by Lou-zhen. I sucked in the air of her wealth until I felt my lungs would explode. But wealth glitters all the brighter when it is accompanied by admiration. If no one is there to appreciate your wealth, it loses half its value. When I made this discovery, I realized that I had to get away from Lou-zhen. I had to break free of her grasp.

  I took a seat on the sofa in the corner of the lobby, to enjoy more fully the way I looked in my expensive clothes. There was a window directly across from the couch, and in it I could see my reflection. When the bodyguard saw me admiring my clothes, he smirked with pleasure.

  “The tailor makes the man! Those fine threads of yours looked just as good on the guy before you, you know.”

  I was dismayed. The clothes were hand-me-downs? I had assumed they were new.

  “What happened to him?”

  “Well, let’s see. The little shit was from Heilongjiang Province. We caught him helping himself to Lou-zhen’s prize tea, and that was that. The asshole before him was from the Inner Mongolia Autonomous Region. He wore Lou-zhen’s ruby ring in the swimming pool and lost the stone. He said he wanted to see what a gem looked like underwater. Just the sort of thing to expect from a little hick like that! They’re both enjoying prison hospitality now.”

  When I heard that I was assaulted by a new wave of fear. Was this the fate that awaited me? Only two weeks had passed since I moved in with Lou-zhen. I could tell she was taken with me, but I couldn’t stand her. From then on, all I could think about was getting away from her—and also helping myself to a few of her things.

  You’ll have to forgive me, but I didn’t think that would be stealing. Why? Because I had not been adequately compensated for my hard work. At the outset Lou-zhen had promised me a salary, but she paid me no more than twenty yuan a day. I didn’t think this was fair; she’d promised more, after all. But when I asked her she said, “No, no. I am paying you one hundred yuan a day. But once I subtract the room and board, this is all that remains. Of course, I don’t charge for your cigarettes and drinks.”

  The bodyguard jabbed my arm. “Time to go back.” With little choice I rose to my feet, feeling as miserable as a prisoner. A pathetic peasant boy kidnapped by the daughter of the ruling party.

  “Look.” The bodyguard nudged me. “Look at the kid in the stroller.”

  A white man and woman, presumably an American husband and wife, were making their way through the lobby with a baby stroller. They stopped to stand by the fountain. I stared at the couple in disbelief as they stood there smiling blissfully. How could anyone be so fortunate that they could go overseas on vacation with their family? The husband was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. The wife had on a matching T-shirt and blue jeans. They were a robust healthy-looking white couple. But the baby in the stroller—so small it looked like it could barely sit—was Asian. Had these charitable foreigners adopted this pathetic little Chinese orphan? I wondered.

  “What’s going on?”

  The bodyguard pointed discreetly around the lobby. There were white couples all over, just like this one, pushing baby strollers; in every case the babies in the strollers were Chinese, both boys and girls. And each was dressed in brand-new pure-white baby clothes.

  “Adoption mediation.”

  “Who?”

  The bodyguard turned his eyes up to the ceiling.

  “Lou-zhen’s involved in this? She said she was a songwriter.”

  “That’s what she says. Tell me, have you heard any of her songs?”

  When I shook my head, the bodyguard snorted.

  “Adoption mediation is her real work. She runs a charitable organization.”

  I doubted there was much charity involved. Lou-zhen liked luxury. She wouldn’t work if it didn’t pay handsomely. But I don’t know all the facts, so I won’t describe something that isn’t my business. What I want to write about is not the adoptions per se. Rather, it is this: when I looked at those babies in the strollers, I couldn’t help but feel jealous. They were so lucky to be able to go to America while they were still too little to know anything. How easy it would be for them to be raised as Americans.

  I was born and raised in China. But never once, even though I lived there for a long time, did anyone ever do anything for me. If you’re born in the country, you’re expected to stay in the country. If you want to move to the city, you have to have a permit to do so. And forget about going overseas. Those of us who came to the city as migrant laborers had to live hand to mouth, constantly trying to avoid the snares of the law.

  I was lost in these thoughts when suddenly the bodyguard pinched my elbow. “Hey! Wake up! And just so you know, my name’s Yu Wei. Sir to you, asshole. Don’t forget it.”

  Later Yu Wei told me that Lou-zhen had had to rush back to Beijing because her younger brother had been badly injured in the riots that followed the Tiananmen Square protests. Apparently he’d broken his arm and been arrested. Lou-zhen had two stepbrothers, quite a bit younger than she. One was an artist, specializing in prints, who lived in Shanghai. The other lived in Beijing and had a rock band with some of his buddies; his band had given a number of performances in front of the tent in Tiananmen Square where the students were staging their sit-in.

  Lou-zhen stayed in Beijing longer than she had expected. She wasn’t able to help her brother and had to keep extending her stay. If her father had flexed his political muscle they could have had the boy out in no time. But the boy’s performance had been televised, and shown on the news; it had captured the attention of the country—even the world—so it wasn’t a simple matter to get him released. There would have been an uproar if they’d let him go. If anything, Yu Wei insisted, the authorities ought to be even harsher on him.

  Li Tou-min’s three children had each been sent to study in America, given lavish allowances, and encouraged to work in fancy Western-style businesses in the cities of their choosing. They’d been blessed beyond belief. As a high-ranking member of the Communist Party, Li was able to use his authority to line his own pockets.

  When Yu told me this I was less angry than I was envious. There it was again: In China, a person’s fate is determined by where he is born. If I’d been born to a member of the Party’s inner cabinet, I would not have ended up committing this crime. I am torn with regret over my misfortune.

  Two weeks passed and Lou-zhen still had not come back. She was too busy running around Beijing trying to secure her brother’s release. If it had been me, I am sure I wouldn’t have cared what became of one of my stepbrothers. But for someone like Lou-zhen, born into the lap of luxury, it was impossible, I suppose, to think only of herself while her family’s profits were threatened.

  Lou-zhen called Yu Wei every day. While Yu Wei talked to her, he would wink knowingly at me and go out of his way to grimace and make faces. It was all I could do not to burst out laughing.

  I got to be good friends with Yu Wei while Lou-zhen was gone. We’d watch TV together, help ourselves to Lou-zhen�