Part 7 (1/2)

Before I had a chance, Evergreen went to comfort Wild Ginger. He went to visit her every couple of days and later on went to help her in the fish market in the mornings. When I asked him about his feelings toward the outcome he spoke almost angrily. Besides his complaint on the unfairness of the contest, he felt betrayed by the district party secretary. As he tried to comfort Wild Ginger, convincing her to rely on the party's judgment, he himself was not convinced. He became disillusioned, even disgusted.

”I feel devastated that Wild Ginger not only accepted the treatment, but also embraced it,” Evergreen said to me. ”She believes that she just has to try harder to prove herself ... I somehow see it as being more destructive than constructive. I demanded a conversation with the district party secretary.”

”And?” I asked eagerly.

”He said taking risks or being experimental was never his style.”

”What does that mean?”

”He couldn't promote a spy's daughter as a revolutionary model.”

”Why didn't he make that clear before the contest?”

”He wanted to use Wild Ginger, to earn his own political credit in the party. You see, he took the chance to show how far he could push a young mind to memorize Mao.”

”So Wild Ginger was made a fool.”

”Yes, shamefully.” He paused. After a while he added, ”So was I.”

”Mao's representatives.” I couldn't help being sarcastic.

”My disappointment was so great that I no longer see things the same way, Maple. Inside I feel sick, depressed. It was not just remorse for Wild Ginger's loss. It was something deeper, more dangerous, and I am frightened of its result.”

11.

In 1971 we turned fifteen. Wild Ginger and I graduated from July First Elementary School and entered the Red Flag Middle School. The curriculum was the same, with Mao study still the priority. Wild Ginger had learned the whole business of the seafood market. She knew the names of every wholesaler, fisherman, retailer, market employee, and employer in the market. She knew their habits, families, and relations. She even got to know her mother's ex-admirer, accountant Mr. Choo. After Mrs. Pei died, Mr. Choo appeared to feel guilty. He brought Wild Ginger food and presents, trying to reconcile. Wild Ginger was unmoved. The man explained that he had to betray his own conscience in order to survive. Wild Ginger spat in his face and walked away.

Wild Ginger took me to hang out at the fish market afternoons and evenings. We helped the employees stocking up the supplies. When asked why we were there, Wild Ginger quoted Mao's teaching, '”The youth should get themselves out of the cla.s.srooms and learn directly from the working cla.s.s.'” She made friends with many of the fishwomen, who transported loads of seafood from the ports to the city on their tricycles. They were simple and delightful although poorly educated. They had large muscles and big feet.

Wild Ginger admired the fishwomen's spirit. She became very friendly with a young one named Jung, who was sixteen. She had a round face and heavyset body. She always brought Wild Ginger pieces of dried fish to chew.

Although I didn't particularly like the fish market-its smell bothered me and made me nauseous-I went for Wild Ginger's sake. After a while I found myself interested in the conversations between Jung and Wild Ginger. I learned a lot by listening to their discussions on the nature of the sea, seaweed, fish, squid, snails, and the techniques to catch them.

The year went by quickly. It didn't occur to me until summer that Jung looked worn down. She'd lost her cheerfulness, was nervous, and didn't seem to trust herself. Wild Ginger didn't tell me anything until I remarked on Jung's appearance.

”She hasn't been careful keeping track of her s.h.i.+pments,” Wild Ginger said. ”Accountant Choo found out that she often brought in less than she had loaded. It's the fifth time that she was missing two baskets of beltfish.”

”Is it possible to lose them on her way?”

”It is. But since she's been paying attention she is sure there must be some mistake. But still, she was short of baskets when she pa.s.sed Mr. Choo's scale.”

”That's odd.”

”Something is smelly about Accountant Choo,” Wild Ginger said. ”I have been watching him. I suspect that he is taking advantage of Jung. You know, Jung can't calculate. When Choo's b.u.t.terfly fingers dance over the abacus in front of her and he tells her that two baskets are missing, she has to believe him. Jung is like a mute who has swallowed bitter gra.s.s but is unable to voice it. It's a setup. Before Jung can argue with Choo all the people around her-the squid seller, the cigarette seller, and the liquor seller-act as witnesses for Mr. Choo. In one voice, they say that Jung is wrong. It is ... as if they already knew the answer before Accountant Choo's fingers even touched the abacus ... I need your help, Maple. I must figure this out.”

It was eight o'clock in the evening. We found Jung sitting on her tricycle sobbing. She had been accused again. She was afraid of losing her job if the mysterious mistake kept repeating itself. Accountant Choo was firm that there had been no fault on his part. Jung's fellow fishermen were upset, but they were unable to prove Jung's innocence.

The baskets filled with seafood were distributed to each booth. The market employees came and began to sort the fish. I was hungry and wanted to go home. But Wild Ginger insisted that I stay. She was spying on Mr. Choo. She moved her stall toward the east corner where she could keep Choo in sight. She pretended that she was sharpening her scissors.

”It looks like he is getting ready to take off.” Wild Ginger quickly pulled me to her side. ”I want you to follow me, Maple. Keep at a distance but keep me in your sight.”

”You're not going to do something dangerous, are you?”

”Of course not,” Wild Ginger replied without looking at me. She quickly put down her scissors and closed her stall.

I watched Accountant Choo. He locked his abacus away in a cart and pushed the cart into a storage s.p.a.ce next to a booth. Out he came carrying a black plastic bag. He crossed the street and entered a public restroom. After a short while he came out, followed by men with familiar faces. They were the discount seafood seller, the cigarette seller, and the liquor seller. They were pulling up their zippers and looking around at the same time. They walked separately but toward the same direction heading north. I backed a few yards from Wild Ginger and pretended that I was pa.s.sing by.

The group of men formed a triangle with Accountant Choo at its head. After they pa.s.sed the neighborhood they began to walk faster. We followed them across a construction site, a waste site, an abandoned plastic-tube factory, and onto the grounds of the cigarette factory, which seemed to be closed for the day. The doorman let the group in after he was thrown a pack of cigarettes.

”They are hitting the factory's storage area.” Wild Ginger waved at me. Together we began circling the building. Finally we arrived at the back of the factory where tobacco was heaped high.

”How do you know?” I was watching Accountant Choo and his group disappear behind a wall.

”I have been following them but I have never gotten inside the storage area. I want to see what they are doing. Would you wait here?”

Before I could say anything Wild Ginger was gone. She had climbed the fence and leapt to the other side.

I was nervous. My stomach gnawed at me with fear. The sky was now very dark and Wild Ginger was nowhere to be seen. There was no light. The area looked so desolate that it seemed the perfect place for a crime. Suddenly Wild Ginger reappeared. She ran toward me but didn't cross the fence.

”Let's go,” I urged.

”Maple, I want you to notify the police immediately.”

”What?”

”They are distributing the money that they have stolen!”

”Are you sure, Wild Ginger?”

”Sure! Go now!”