Part 2 (1/2)

'No, he looks like a tax collector to me,' replies Kongzi. 'And only large cities have custody centres. Sanxia is smaller than Hexi. Look, that department store is only two storeys high, and there are hardly any cars about. So stop worrying.'

A young man on a motorbike pa.s.ses them, then looks back and shouts to Kongzi, 'Hey, my friend! Five yuan a ride. How about it? I'll take all three of you.'

Kongzi shakes his head. 'Dad, me want motorbike!' Nannan cries as it speeds away. 'Me want sit on motorbike!'

'We'll walk,' Kongzi says, setting off down the dirt road.

'You horrid!' Nannan says in a huff. 'Me hate you.'

Kongzi doesn't understand how I feel, Meili says to herself. If the police arrest us, I'm the one who will be punished. The condemned fetus is hidden in my belly.

They pa.s.s houses and billboards smothered in dust then, further along, the gloomy skeletons of gutted and abandoned buildings. Wooden beams, floor tiles, gla.s.s panes and revolving chairs have tumbled onto the dirt road. The rows of ancient houses clinging to the steep slopes above appear to have subsided into a layered heap.

'Look at all those houses squashed together up there,' says Meili. 'None of them have doors. How do people get inside?'

'Don't you know? In river towns, all the windows face the river, and the doors are at the back,' says Kongzi. They come to a pathway of stone steps that leads endlessly up the mountain. Kongzi takes Nannan's hand and begins to climb.

'So many steps,' Meili says, struggling up behind, sweating and puffing. 'How high are we going? What if I faint and fall down? Kongzi, will your cousin still remember you?'

'Of course. We ran through the village together as kids, stealing peanuts and dates from the neighbours' yards. We grew up eating from the same cob of corn!'

'Daddy, you got your energy?' Nannan says, lifting her sweaty face to his, her ponytail skewed to one side. Her red quilted jacket is far too hot for this town.

'No, I left it at home,' Kongzi says, knowing she wants him to carry her.

'Me tired. Carry me.'

'I told you, I haven't brought my energy,' he says, squeezing her hand. 'Keep climbing. Don't look up.'

Halfway up they reach a narrow lane. Kongzi leads them to the left and stops outside a dark entrance. Rows of rusty letter boxes are nailed to the cement walls inside. Some have been smashed open, others are stuffed with flyers offering to buy unwanted television sets.

'Look at that slogan on the wall,' says Meili, still catching her breath.

Kongzi turns to the crumbling wall and reads out loud: '”After the first child: an IUD. After the second child: sterilisation. Pregnant with a third or a fourth? Then the fetus will be killed, killed, killed!” Don't worry. That's an old one. Look, the paint is flaking off. Yes, this is definitely the right place. Here's his letter box. Flat 121.' He dumps his plastic bag on the ground and opens the door to the communal stairwell.

'Daddy, careful, big bad wolf in there,' Nannan whispers.

'I'll wait here with Nannan,' Meili says. As he disappears, a smell of boiled mutton blows out from the stairwell and makes her stomach churn. She falls to her knees and vomits. Nannan jumps back in disgust.

'Quick: cover it with some of that rubbish,' Meili tells her, pointing to the dusty newspapers and orange peel in the corner.

Kongzi returns a few minutes later. 'He's not there. The woman in the flat next door said he moved to another town two months ago.'

'I need to pee,' Meili says in a panic.

'You can't do it here we're not in the countryside any more. Let's go back down to the wharf and find you a toilet.'

So they pick up their bags, tramp back down the steep steps and book into the stationary barge hotel.

At night, the newly built apartment blocks jutting from the mountain top resemble featureless planks of wood. A few have lights on, but most are still dark.

'Look at that block up there: it must be twelve storeys high,' Meili says. 'If the top windows were opened, birds could fly straight in.' Now that Nannan is asleep, she and Kongzi have come out to sit on the barge's open deck. The hotel is mostly occupied by migrant workers. The cabins reek of mould and the toilets are so squalid no one dares to use them.

Kongzi wraps his down jacket over his shoulders and looks out at the river. 'What a fine view! It reminds me of that Tang Dynasty poem: ”In spring the river swells to the height of the sea. / The bright moon lifts from the surface of the water and rises with the tide.”' He takes a drag on his cigarette then exhales slowly, clouding his thick gla.s.ses.

'I'd like to go up one of those blocks and see the view from the top,' Meili says, still staring at the lights twinkling on the mountain.

'What a philistine you are! How can you look at apartment blocks when we have the eternal Yangtze to gaze upon? Our greatest poet, Li Bai, sailed down this river a thousand years ago and immortalised it in his verse. The Yangtze is our nation's artery of life. It's by these banks that the Chinese people first settled and cultivated the arts of civilisation.'

'You think I haven't heard of Li Bai? ”I bid farewell to Baidi Town in the rosy clouds of dawn. / By nightfall, I'll be back in Jiangling, a thousand miles away. / On both sides of the gorge, apes cry unceasingly. / My light raft has already pa.s.sed through ten thousand mountain folds.”' Meili smiles proudly, then, as she always does when Kongzi accuses her of being uncultured, says, 'I can't be too much of a philistine, or you wouldn't have married me, would you?'

'I taught you that poem,' says Kongzi, his white teeth gleaming in his thin, dark face.

'Nonsense! I learned it at primary school.'

Kongzi takes another long drag. 'What a crime it is to destroy this beautiful ancient town!' he says, and after a long sigh recites: '”Against the river's jade waters, the birds appear whiter. / Against the blue mountains, the flowers appear aflame. / Yet another spring ends. / How many more will pa.s.s before I can return home?”' Then taking Meili's hand, which she's been keeping warm in the sleeve of his down jacket, he says, 'I'd love to hear the ”Fis.h.i.+ng Boat Lullaby” now. It's an ancient zither song. Do you know the words?'

'Stop testing me,' she says, stuffing her hand back into his sleeve. 'You know I only like pop songs.'

'Well, sing ”In the Village Lives a Girl Called Xiao Fang”, then.'

'No, we've left the village behind. I want to sing songs from the city. Listen to this one: . . . You say you're mine, but still I'm not happy. What is love? What is pain? I don't know any more . . .' Before she reaches the end of the chorus, Mother looks up, takes off Father's gla.s.ses and says, 'Kongzi, promise me that once this baby is born, you and I will get sterilised. I don't want to go through this again.'

'Only if the baby's a boy. I have a duty to my ancestors to carry on the family line. Huh! Since time began, the Chinese people have been able to procreate in freedom. Just my d.a.m.n luck to be born in an age of birth control!'

'But I'm your wife you have a duty to protect me,' Mother says, resting her head on Father's shoulder. 'It would be reckless to have a third.'

'What is a wife for if not to produce sons? Besides, now we're here, you've no need to worry. The family planning officers of Sanxia leave boat people alone. The hotel didn't even ask to see our marriage certificate when we booked in. It's full of fugitives like us. We're safe.'

'Why are you so obsessed with having a son? It's so feudal! Don't you know that men and women are equal now?'

'My brother has no sons, so it's my responsibility to continue the family line. Our daughters will join their husbands' family when they marry, and their names won't be recorded in the Kong register. So they serve no purpose to us.'

'Still clinging to those outmoded Confucian beliefs! I warn you, the modern world will leave you behind.'

'Huh! Just a few days on the road and already you've become worldly-wise! Don't forget, you left school at eight while I graduated at sixteen, so I'll always be cleverer than you.'

'Stop being so patronising. We're both fugitives now. Let's see how far your male chauvinism gets you here.'

'Oh G.o.d! I've just remembered. I left our Kong family register in the dugout.'

'Was it wrapped in newspaper, on top of that old edition of the a.n.a.lects?'

'Yes. It dates back to Emperor Qianlong's reign. It's the twenty-second volume in the series, and proves that I'm a seventy-sixth generation descendant of Confucius in the direct patrilineal line.'

'Look how you gloat at being his successor!' Mother says, pinching his ear.

'Well, Confucius had to wander through the country like a stray dog after he was banished from the State of Lu. So I'm happy to become a stray dog as well for a while, as long as I have you, my little b.i.t.c.h, to keep me company!'

'You rascal!' says Mother, running her hand further up Father's sleeve to pinch his chest. In the darkness surrounding them, all that can be perceived is their laughter and warm breath. Someone wanders out on deck to have a smoke. Another figure leans out of a porthole to drop an empty orange crate into the river.