The Vagrants

Tong looked at the people waiting and recognized some faces, another teacher from his school who taught an upper grade, an old shop assistant at the pharmacy who liked to give children pickled plums for snacks, the postman who delivered letters to Tong's neighborhood twice a day and who always whistled when he rode by on his green postman's bicycle, Old Hua and his wife, who stood an arm's length apart in line, neither looking up at the people around them. Tong told Bashi what he saw and Bashi told him to keep up the good work. “You could make a good apprentice for me,” Bashi said. He greeted everyone passing by as if he knew them all, though few returned his greetings. Some people glanced at Tong but most ignored him and his companion. In their eyes, Tong thought, he was probably only a small child who had come for some inappropriate fun; he was sad that he could not prove himself otherwise. He wondered whether the man he was with had come just for a good time, but it seemed too late to confront him.

Thirty minutes passed, perhaps longer; the basket, already overfilled, was put aside and replaced by a new one. The sun had risen now, casting the shadow of Chairman Mao over the place where Tong and Bashi stood. Bashi moved out of the shadow, still with Tong on his shoulders. After a while, when Tong told him that the line was shorter now, Bashi said that Tong should come down. “Sooner or later you'll break my back,” Bashi said, massaging his neck with both hands.

“Are you going to put in your white flower?” Tong asked. His legs had fallen asleep and he had to stamp hard to awake them.

“No,” Bashi said. “Why should I?”

“I thought that was why you were here.”

“I told you I'm here for a different reason,” Bashi said.

Disappointed, Tong limped away.

“You don't want to know where Ear is?”

Tong turned around. “Have you seen him?”

“Not lately,” Bashi said. “But remember, I'm a detective, and I can find anything out for you.”

Tong shook his head and said, “I'll find him myself.”

“Do you want me to lend you my flower?”

Tong thought about the offer and nodded. He wished his mother had not destroyed their flower so he did not have to beg from this man he disliked. Bashi took the flower out from his sleeve and handed it to Tong. “Yours now,” he said. “On the condition that you're not to leave me yet.”

“Why?”

“Because we're here together, remember?” Bashi said with a wink, and Tong reluctantly agreed. Bashi accompanied him to the end of the line. When it was Tong's turn, he greeted the announcer and told her that he had been sent by his mother. Bashi only smiled, and said nothing.

“Please thank your mother for us all,” the woman said. The old woman next to the auntie bowed and thanked Tong as if he were another grown-up. Close up, he recognized her now, the one who had burned the clothes at the crossroad on the day of the execution.

“Mrs. Gu?” Bashi said and shook the old woman's hand. “Lu Bashi here. I hope your daughter's first Ching Ming is great. It's the first for my grandma too. We're burying her today. You know how you have to wait for the spring. Not the best time to die, if you ask me. So have you already buried your daughter?”

Kai patted Bashi on his arm. “Please, we don't have time for your talk.”

“But I'm not here to chat,” Bashi said, and grasped Kai's hand. “Lu Bashi here. Sister, I really like your program. You know what nickname people have given you? Sweet Pea. Fresh and yummy. Yes, I know, I'm leaving. No problem, I know you are busy. But I am not here to be mischievous. I was asked by his parents to accompany him here,” Bashi said, and pointed to Tong. “He's awfully small to come by himself, isn't he?”

Tong bit his lip. He did not want to be seen with this man, but Bashi had given him the white flower and had not said anything when he had lied earlier, about his being sent by his mother. Tong waited painfully while Bashi talked on, asking Kai what she thought of the number of people at the rally, what she planned to do next. She tried to be polite but Tong could tell that she had no interest in talking to Bashi. “I know you're busy, but can I have a word with you in private?” Bashi said. She was busy, Kai said. Bashi clicked his tongue. Too bad, he said; in that case perhaps he would have to talk with Mrs. Gu about her daughter's kidneys.

His voice was low, but Kai looked startled. She glanced at Mrs. Gu and beckoned Bashi to step aside. Tong followed them; neither Kai nor Bashi seemed to notice him.

“What did you hear about the kidneys?” Kai asked.

“It's not a secret,” said Bashi. “Or is it?”

Tong watched the announcer frown. “Could you not mention it in front of Mrs. Gu?”