Nanjing Requiem Read online

  Minnie spoke with Lewis, who helped her compose a letter of protest demanding the immediate release of the six men. The next day she delivered it to Vice-Consul Tanaka at the Japanese embassy, where she learned that the six men were being kept in the prison downtown. Even though they’d been tortured and their feet had been shackled, they still refused to admit any wrongdoing.

  30

  THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY of Nanjing’s fall was approaching, and the city was under martial law again. People were warned not to assemble in public during the next few days except for celebration; at Jinling, the students, especially the middle schoolers, had been talking about how to commemorate the shameful day.

  On the evening before the anniversary, Minnie gathered the girls in the auditorium in the Central Building. She urged them not to endanger themselves and the school. Instead they should study hard and help others, especially the destitute. That was the best way to serve China, which needed capable and rational people, not mobs. Besides, they mustn’t let hatred run their lives.

  The girls listened quietly, all of them staring at Minnie; none dared speak against her. Even when she was done and invited them to voice their opinions, nobody let out a peep, but I could feel the tension in the hall. We’d thought of having a special service to commemorate the day, but, afraid that it might stir up the students’ emotions, we decided against it. Minnie told Luhai to make sure the front gate was guarded strictly.

  The next morning, many girls wore black armbands. Both Donna and Alice reported that their students did the same. To Minnie’s dismay, Shanna also had on a crape. “You shouldn’t be such a leader,” Minnie reproached her.

  “I might wear this even if they didn’t,” Shanna said, touching the black cloth safety-pinned to her sleeve.

  Surprised, Minnie went on, “I understand your feelings, but it’s too risky to do this. Some turncoats might snitch on us.”

  “I’m also Chinese.”

  At that moment I loved the girl for saying those words, though I didn’t wear a black armband mainly because I wouldn’t create more trouble for Minnie. I was worried about the students’ safety besides. Fortunately, Luhai and the gatemen did a good job of preventing the girls from going out—however loudly they chorused patriotic songs and whatever slogans they chanted, they were kept on campus. We felt somewhat relieved. If the officials demanded an explanation, we could say that the school had taken measures to discourage hostility toward Japan, but many students had lost family members and mourned their losses spontaneously.

  Some girls also fasted that day, and Meiyan fought with another student whose father served in the puppet municipality.

  Miss Lou came early that afternoon and said that Yulan had disappeared. For several days the madwoman had wanted to go downtown, saying she must protest the Japanese occupation on the first anniversary of the city’s fall. Massaging her forehead with her claw-like fingers, Miss Lou said, “I stopped her a couple of times, but she slipped out this morning.”

  “Any idea where she might be?” Minnie asked.

  “She must’ve gone downtown. When she heard about the martial law, she couldn’t stop spouting curses. She said she would run away to join the guerrillas, but I didn’t take that seriously and thought she couldn’t possibly figure out where the Reds were. It was my fault—I should’ve been more vigilant and shouldn’t have let her visit my neighbors.”

  Minnie had a number of people called in and asked everyone to go out and look for Yulan. I said, “That mad girl is our curse. We should’ve washed our hands of her long ago.”

  “Anling, that’s rubbish,” Miss Lou said. “Now’s not the time to speak like that.” I glowered at the evangelical worker but couldn’t find a word to counter her.

  Big Liu said, “I hope the girl won’t fall into Japanese hands again.”

  In spite of her insanity, Yulan was somewhat good-looking, so we feared she might get hurt. We set out to look for her.

  Minnie and I walked east along Zhujiang Road. The minute we passed the half-burned building that had housed the Justice Ministry a year before, we saw that most houses had disappeared, and where they’d stood were piles of bricks and stones. The Japanese had been tearing down homes to get the materials for building roads. For each house they paid two yuan as compensation; whether the owner accepted it or not, he had to move out and surrender the property. We’d heard about that operation but hadn’t expected to see such large-scale demolition.

  It was a sullen wintry day, the gray clouds threatening snow. The sycamore and oak trees along the street were swaying and whistling as gusts of wind swept through them. A rusty sheet of corrugated iron tumbled across the street and fell into a roadside ditch. Here and there scummy puddles, like giant festering sores, were encrusted with ice on the edges. In the distance firecrackers were exploding while drums rolled, suona horns blared, and an array of Japanese flags flitted across the thoroughfare—a celebration of the occupation was in full swing. About a thousand Chinese, including some school pupils, were waving tiny flags and shouting slogans in support of the Japanese rule. Some even chanted “Banzai, banzai!” while a procession of men and women was performing a dance on stilts, wearing green and vermilion gowns and waving fans. The cacophonous music jarred the ears like shrieks and screams. On the sidewalk ahead stood a truck, from which a photographer pointed a bulky camera at the celebrators, the black cloth over his head and shoulders. I panted, “I hope those traitors will be rounded up and sentenced to death when our army takes this city back.”

  The second I said that, I remembered my son, Haowen. A piercing pang gripped my heart and made me speechless.

  Minnie shook her head in silence. As we turned a corner near the former Central Hospital, a crowd gathered ahead of us. We caught sight of Yulan and hastened our steps.

  The madwoman stood in the middle of a semicircle of people, holding a small triangular flag that bore these words: WIPE OUT JAPANESE DEVILS! She was addressing the crowd, some of whom cheered her on.

  Minnie and I jostled through the spectators and reached her. “Give me the flag,” Minnie said.

  Yulan stared at her for a moment, then snorted, “No. Don’t you see I’m using it?”

  “Come, let’s go home.” I reached out for her arm.

  The madwoman stepped aside and said, “You’re just a lackey of the foreigners. You go with her, but leave me alone.” She jerked her thumb at Minnie.

  “Please, Yulan. It’s dangerous here,” Minnie begged. “Come home with us.”

  “I have no home anymore. Everything was burned by the Japs.”

  “Don’t you respect Miss Lou? She was very upset when she found out you were gone.”

  “I don’t want to live with that Bible freak anymore. She’s obsessed with Jesus Christ and says we’re all his slaves. Every day she made me memorize poems from the Old Testament. I’m sick of it. I want to be a free woman.”

  “All right, you can stay with us,” Minnie offered, “and take any class you want to. We won’t force anything on you, I promise.”

  “Go chase yourself, evil American!”

  I grabbed Yulan’s wrist to wrench the flag from her hand, but the madwoman shoved me and cursed me loudly.

  People whooped and guffawed, and some egged her on. Minnie said to them, “Don’t you feel ashamed to mislead a sick woman? She was molested by the Japanese and lost her mind. You all know what kind of risk she’s running to stand here raving aloud. If you care about your compatriots, you should go away or help us bring her back.”

  Some people dropped their eyes and a few started away. Minnie tugged at Yulan’s sleeve and begged, “Please, let’s go home.”

  “No! Where’s my home? You sold my parents to the Japs. I hate those Eastern devils. I’ll settle up with them one of these days.”

  As if on cue, three Japanese policemen arrived, each wearing a peaked cap with a tiny rising-sun flag printed on the right side. Their appearance scattered the crowd. Even Yulan clammed up in terro
r.

  “You come with us,” one of the police, a glassy-eyed man, ordered her in stiff Mandarin.

  The madwoman let out a groan and turned to Minnie and me. “Officer,” Minnie explained, “she’s out of her mind. We’re taking her back to our school and won’t let her out again.”

  “No, she attempted to incite a riot and must come with us. She’s an activist against Japan, and we shall question her before we decide what to do about her.”

  “Where are you taking her?”

  “That’s our business.”

  “Can we come with you?”

  “No, you cannot.”

  “You have no right to detain her.”

  “Don’t poke your nose into our work.”

  By now the other two policemen had caught hold of Yulan, who was screaming helplessly, her legs bent to hold her ground. Minnie glanced sideways at me, and I felt my left cheek twitching. She rushed forward and reached out for Yulan, but the officer stretched out his arms and blocked her. Then he waved for the other policemen to drag the madwoman away. He turned to follow them.

  “Let go of my hands!” Yulan yelled, struggling to break loose. “You smell like a stinky fish shop. Damn it, let your grandma go. Help, help, help me!”

  “Shut up, rotten cunt!” The officer slapped her across the face, and instantly she went quiet.

  Minnie set off following them, but I clutched her arm and pulled her to a stop. “It’s no use, Minnie. We’d better go back now.”

  The officer spun around, having sensed Minnie’s attempt, and spread his arms again. Struggling out of my grip, Minnie lunged at him with all her might. The man dodged and punched her on the jaw. She fell and gave a cry of pain but scrambled to her feet instantly. “I won’t let you take her away!” she shouted, and plunged forward again, blood trickling out of the corner of her mouth.

  A middle-aged Chinese man held her by the waist from behind, saying, “Please, Principal Vautrin, don’t follow them!” Another few people stepped over to restrain her. A woman began wiping the blood off Minnie’s face with a silk handkerchief.

  Minnie stamped her feet, tears flowing down her cheeks while her nose quivered. “Damn you! Damn you, bastards!” she screamed at the backs of the receding policemen.

  31

  FOR DAYS Minnie called various offices and visited her friends and acquaintances to find out Yulan’s whereabouts, but nobody could tell her.

  Then Lewis, who’d been leading his students in surveying the damage and losses in Nanjing and its surrounding counties, telephoned one morning and said he’d heard that Yulan was in a stopgap hospital near Tianhua Orphanage. Minnie put aside the next semester’s academic calendar she’d been working on and set out for the hospital. She asked me to come along.

  The hospital was a decrepit three-story building behind a cinderblock wall topped with four lines of barbwire. It was used by the Japanese military mainly for treating tuberculosis and venereal diseases among the soldiers and prostitutes. Some of the sex workers were so-called comfort women, taken from far away, mostly from Korea and a few from Southeast Asia. We were horrified that Yulan was confined in such a place.

  A baby-faced Chinese guard stopped us and demanded, “Pass, please.”

  “We want to see a student of Jinling Women’s College,” Minnie said.

  “You can’t go in without a pass. This is an army hospital. If I let you in, I’ll be in big trouble.”

  “Can I speak to your superior, then?”

  “He’s not here right now.”

  “Please, let us in,” I begged. “The girl was molested by the Japanese and lost her mind. We want to take her back.”

  He shook his head no.

  Then we caught sight of Dr. Chu stepping out of the building and heading toward a car. Minnie called to him, and he came over, delighted to see us. He was wearing a cashmere coat and a Homburg with a curled brim and was holding a copper-tipped walking stick. Today he looked more like a rich businessman than a doctor. Minnie explained why we were there.

  Dr. Chu whispered to the sentry and slipped a single-yuan bill into his palm. The guard said to us with a fawning smile, “You can go in now.”

  Without thanking him, Minnie turned to Dr. Chu and shouted, “Come see us! We owe you one.”

  I waved at him too. He took off his felt hat. “Bye now,” he cried. He strolled away with a measured, flat-footed gait, the ends of the long muffler around his neck flapping.

  The interior of the building reeked of Lysol and carrion. My breathing instinctively went shallow, but I forced myself to relax, inhaling and exhaling to get used to the foul air. A nurse in a white gown and cap was on her way upstairs; she led us to the second floor and pointed at a door, saying, “Yulan Tan is in there. I can’t let you in, but you can meet her at the small window. You have ten minutes.”

  Minnie looked through the square opening on the door and called out, “Yulan, are you in there?”

  There was no sound inside. I peered in but didn’t see anyone either. I closed my eyes to adjust to the gloom, then opened them. This time I saw the madwoman cowering in a corner, her knees tucked under her chin. She was alone in the room. I called to her.

  Slowly Yulan rose and came over. “What’s this?” she grunted.

  I stepped aside to let Minnie speak. “How are you, Yulan?” she asked.

  “I’m hungry and cold. Give me a meat pie or a pork bun. I know you have chocolates. Don’t you?”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t bring any. I’ll remember next time.”

  “Get me out of here, please. If you don’t help get me out of prison I’ll die in a day or two.”

  “We’ll try our best.” Minnie took off her light woolen coat with its gray fur collar. “Here, you have this for now, all right?” She rolled it up and pushed it through the opening.

  I put my head closer to the window to observe the madwoman, who threw the coat around her shoulders. She kept staring at Minnie, her pupils contracting. She wiped her dripping nose with the back of her hand. Then she grinned pathetically and said, “Get me out of here, please!”

  “I will. But try to be patient for the time being, all right?” Minnie said.

  “You don’t know how they torture me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They beat me if I don’t obey them.”

  “Listen to them, then. Just don’t let them hurt you.”

  “I don’t want to open my pants for every Jap. They burned my buttocks with cigarettes. D’you want to see it?”

  “Sure.”

  The madwoman dropped the coat on the cement floor, undid her belt, and turned around. On her behind were some twenty bloody burns; they looked like red beans and peanuts. Minnie closed her eyes, two big tears coursing down her right cheek.

  “Beasts!” I said under my breath.

  We left the hospital. Heading back to Jinling, we ran into two boys, seven or eight years old, whipping a top on the side of Canton Road. The toy jumped about while spinning and leaning sideways. As we were passing by, one of the boys lifted his scarred face and taunted Minnie, “Foreign devil! Foreign devil!”

  We were surprised but didn’t respond. The other boy stopped driving the top and said to his pal, “Why call her that? She’s Miss Hua Chuan.”

  “That’s right,” I spoke up. “Your mother ought to teach you some manners.”

  Minnie was shivering a little from the chilly wind, holding the collar of her jacket with her hand. The scar-faced boy stared at her, then turned to his pal. “You mean she’s the American principal?”

  “You bet.”

  Then they both started chanting, “Principal Hua, the Goddess of Mercy! The Goddess of Mercy!”

  “Shush, don’t call me that!” she told them.

  But they went on shouting “The Goddess of Mercy!” as they scurried away with the top, slashing the air to make loud cracks with their leather-tipped hemp whips.

  Minnie shook her head. Dried leaves were scuttling ahead of us l
ike a swarm of mice, mixed with candy wrappers and banknotes no longer in circulation.

  MINNIE SPOKE to Plumer Mills, the chairman of the semidisbanded International Relief Committee, to plead with him for help. But Yulan was just an individual; she did not belong to any organization, and her detention would not impair the relationship between Japan and any social or religious group, so Plumer couldn’t figure out a way to rescue her. Dr. Chu was the only person who might be able to help us. He didn’t work at the hospital but might have connections there.

  Minnie invited Dr. Chu to dinner at Jinling, and gave me thirty yuan for the party—not much, but enough to make the occasion festive. I prepared the food in my home and had several Chinese over besides the two American teachers, Donna and Alice.

  Minnie was amazed by the dinner, saying she’d never thought it would be so lavish. She wondered if I had spent some of my own money. I had, though just a few extra yuan. I joked that we Chinese were obsessed with food and face, so even in a time of distress like now, we’d still make the best use of the pleasure life could offer, turning a meal into a small feast. There was roast chicken, a large fried bass, smoked duck, and braised pork cubes. Yaoping took out his only bottle of Five Grain Sap and some apricot wine.

  Minnie thanked Dr. Chu and proposed a toast on behalf of the college and the women whose menfolk had gotten out of jail in June. We all clinked cups and drank. Alice and Donna wouldn’t touch alcohol, so they chose tea instead, but Minnie had to drink some to please the guest of honor and the host, my husband, who didn’t speak much but smiled continually. At last he could enjoy himself a little. Meanwhile, I was busy making sure that every dish was served properly.

  Dr. Chu was wearing a conventional quilted robe, which made him resemble a country gentleman, with his hair parted down the middle. “Tell me, Mr. Gao,” he said to Yaoping, putting down his cup after another swig, “how much did you pay for this Five Grain Sap?”