be able to hear me?’
‘Yes, you can upload anything you want onto the net . . . Look – this is the most important part: “88% of Heaven residents suffer from skin, respiratory, neurological or digestive diseases. Levels of lead poisoning and leukaemia among children are six times higher than the national average. In just ten years, Heaven Township, once a collection of sleepy rice villages, has become a digital-waste hell, a toxic graveyard of the world’s electronic refuse. The air is thick with dioxin-laden ash; the soil saturated with lead, mercury and tin; the rivers and groundwater are so polluted that drinking water has to be trucked in from neighbouring counties . . .”’ Tang peeps over his glasses to check Meili’s reaction.
‘I’d hate to contract a skin disease,’ she says. ‘If you know computers are so dangerous, why do you sit in front of one all day?’
‘They’re only dangerous when you take them apart . . . Look here: “High levels of infertility have been detected among women who have resided in Heaven Township for over three years.”’
‘Lucky them! No illness can match the pain of childbirth.’
‘Meili, you’re not pregnant, are you?’ Tang asks tentatively. ‘Forgive me for asking.’
‘Are you saying I look fat?’ Meili has become accustomed to this question over the last two and a half years.
‘No, no – not fat. It’s just that your belly looks a little bloated, that’s all. I was worried you might have developed a tumour, or something, from working with all that toxic waste.’
‘You’re right, I probably have cancer of the womb. I should rip my uterus out and give it back to the state.’ She turns to leave, but Tang grabs her hand and pulls her back.
‘I don’t think you look fat,’ he says. ‘I promise you. I’m just . . . so fond of you, that’s all. I can’t help saying what’s on my mind.’
‘I’d better rinse the bottles again before I go,’ Meili says, trying to pull her hand free. He often attempts to plant a kiss on her cheek before she leaves, telling her that this is what foreigners do, but she always backs away. She strokes her belly and says to herself, Yes – little Heaven is a tumour growing in my flesh. If anyone asks me if I’m pregnant, I’ll tell them I have a tumour. I have the right to have one, and I have the right to be too poor to have it removed . . .
‘How long have you been married?’ he asks, still clutching her hand.
‘Ten years,’ she says, her cheeks reddening. ‘We had the wedding in the village, then honeymooned in Beijing,’ she blurts, wanting him to know that she’s visited the capital. Since Kongzi was arrested for gambling, she no longer feels proud to be his wife. And since she returned to him after her escape from the brothel, she has felt that the old Meili died somewhere out on the road. She wants to be a strong, adventurous woman who doesn’t rely on a man for her happiness. She is comfortable treating Tang as a friend or a younger brother, but if he asked to be her lover or husband, she’d cut all ties with him. As Suya wrote in her red journal, ‘Love is the beginning of all pain.’
‘So, what did you think of Beijing?’ Tang asks, stroking the desk now that Meili has tugged her hand free.
‘The Forbidden Palace was so huge it terrified me – only emperors would dare live in such a place . . .’ Meili says, then dries up. She isn’t used to being asked her opinions. ‘I went into a supermarket to buy a drink. There was a mountain of lemonade bottles on display but when I tried to pay for one the checkout girl said no one could buy any until Workers’ Day . . .’
‘Look at these photographs I took in England. This is my lecture hall. This is the university garden when it snowed.’
‘Was one of those your girlfriend?’ Meili asks nervously, standing behind his chair.
‘She’s Spanish – a great dancer! And the other girl’s from France. I travelled to Switzerland with them.’
‘Huh – I don’t want to hear about that,’ Meili says disapprovingly. The photograph shows Tang sitting between two foreign girls, his arms around their shoulders and a big grin on his face. On the table in front of them are glasses of wine and a large birthday cake.
‘This is a protest march in Paris