The Dark Road A Novel - By Ma Jian Page 0,157

heard that Golden Flower Mother’s powers are at their height today, and that all requests made to her will be fulfilled. She’s already withdrawn five hundred yuan from the cash machine to give as an offering. She and Nannan retreat into the entrance of a clothes boutique behind. The aluminium roll-up door suspended above bulges in the middle like the belly of a pregnant woman. Meili has agreed to have dim sum with Tang today, and to prevent him making any advances, she’s bringing Nannan along, even though she knows that the infant spirit inside her belly is her best protector. For the last six months, not even Kongzi has dared touch her.

They have to wait half an hour before the statue of the Golden Flower Mother finally appears. She’s inside a small wooden pavilion, carried on poles by four men in black mandarin hats and embroidered silk suits. Red powder has been rubbed onto her cheeks, and a plastic baby boy has been placed in her arms. She looks much more alive than she did last night in the Town God Temple. A few stragglers trail behind, smoking cigarettes and stopping now and then for a chat. Then dancing lions appear, jumping to the beat of more loud drums. The spectators on the pavements stare at them blankly as though they were watching a television show.

Tang has chosen a table at the back of the restaurant. Meili’s heart races as she makes her way towards him. She smiles stiffly and grips Nannan by the hand.

‘Kung hei fat choi, Tang!’ she says, unbuttoning a tailored white down jacket she bought recently to replace the thick, cumbersome one she’s had since she left Kong Village.

‘So you speak Cantonese now!’ Tang says with a smile. ‘This town certainly has changed you!’ His hair is wet and his face flushed with excitement.

‘Sorry we’re late. The streets are packed. The e-waste company I used to work for made its workers parade through the streets with banners bragging that it supports education. What a joke! All its workers are illegal migrants. If the company’s so public-minded, why doesn’t it start by demanding the legalisation of migrant schools?’

‘Trying to change government policies is a waste of time. All we can do is find ways to work around them. Look, both you and I are registered as peasants, but I managed to study abroad and you’re now a general manager. So we haven’t done too badly, have we?’

‘You used to go on about wanting to campaign for a cleaner environment, better education and health care, an end to corrupt bureaucracy, but it looks like this town has changed you as well.’ Although Nannan is present, Meili is still on guard, and is trying to keep the conversation polite and formal.

Tang orders a few dishes then asks Nannan what she’d like, but Nannan just shrugs her shoulders and sticks her thumb in her mouth.

‘A custard tart should be enough for her,’ Meili says. She wants to check her lipstick, but is too embarrassed to take out her pocket mirror.

‘I’ve ordered your favourites, Meili: fish slice congee and taro croquettes,’ Tang says. ‘You’re looking more and more like your mother these days, Nannan. You have the same beautiful phoenix eyes.’

Meili is self-conscious about the unsightly brown pregnancy patches on her face and her swollen ankles, and feels that Tang’s constant flattery is undeserved. But it pleases her, nonetheless, and is one of the reasons she still likes to flick through glossy fashion magazines.

‘A local businessman was planning to let off a one-kilometre string of firecrackers today, hoping he’d break a Guinness World Record,’ Tang says, ‘but he had to call it off because of the rain.’

‘That must have cost him a fortune to make!’ Meili says, glancing at the lipstick imprint on her white cup.

‘He owns three e-waste companies, and makes a million yuan a year,’ Tang says. ‘So, tell me, how is your husband liking his new post at Red Flag Primary?’

‘Very much. He’s so grateful to you for helping him get it. He would’ve joined us today, but he’s meeting the headmaster to ask if he can persuade the local authorities to let him restore the Confucius Temple.’

‘To think he’s the seventy-sixth generation descendant of the great sage! Well, he’s not let his ancestor down! The Education Department was very impressed when I told them he was a direct descendant – that’s why they gave him the two-year contract. Yes, it would be great if the Confucius

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