Commission came to the island to hand out floating population fertility registration forms and bags of condoms printed with photographs of movie stars.
‘Hope you didn’t swear at them like that when they came,’ Chen says, then licks his teeth. ‘When my brother was locked up in a detention centre last year for entering a city without permission, he swore at an official, and they cut half his tongue off.’
‘I’ve been detained for vagrancy as well,’ Bo says, scratching his bald scalp. ‘If you have money and connections, they let you out after twenty-four hours. But I had nothing. They forced me to labour in the fields for two months, and beat me viciously every day. By the time I was let out, I was skin and bone.’
‘So, what documents do you need to avoid arrest?’ Dai asks, brushing some white cotton fluff from his jumper.
‘Identity card, health certificate, temporary urban residence permit, temporary work permit, birth permit, marriage licence . . .’ Kongzi says, rattling off the list. ‘But even if you have them all, if you are in a big town or city and you look like a peasant, they’ll still arrest you. And once you’re in handcuffs, they’ll squeeze as much money from you as they can.’
‘They call us the “Three Nos”: no documents, no homes, no income,’ says Bo. ‘When our son’s a bit older, I’ll go and work on a building site. Start living a normal life.’ Bo is in his late forties. A rumour has circulated the island that he spent time in jail for abducting his neighbour’s wife and selling her to a widower in the countryside.
‘No, what they really call us is “blind vagrants”, aimless drifters,’ says Chen, a foolish smile spreading across his face. The Western suit he’s wearing is thin and torn. He’s making good money now, hauling cargos of oranges up the river several times a week.
‘To think that it’s now a crime for us to live in our own country!’ Kongzi cries out, his face red from alcohol. ‘Where do they expect us to go?’
‘Keep your voice down – you’re not in a classroom now,’ Meili says. She looks over towards the town. An old warehouse behind the rubbish dump has been renovated and turned into the Earthly Paradise Nightclub. Its bright neon lights outshine the ones of the Eastern Sauna House above. People walk past and gaze up in wonder. A motorbike stops outside the entrance, and a smartly dressed couple climb off the back seat and become engulfed by children selling roses and chewing gum. Nearer the jetty, a crowd is wandering aimlessly outside a second-hand stall which is lit by a bright bulb. Meili suddenly remembers the CD player she bought from the stall and gave to Kongzi for his birthday. She rushes into the tent, brings out the CD of the ‘Fishing Boat Lullaby’ she also bought him, slides it into the CD player and turns the volume up. The melancholy notes of the zither ripple out like water. She closes her eyes and pictures fishing boats moving through an empty night, their sails gleaming above cresting waves. As plucked notes quiver, rise and fade, she imagines the sun setting in the west, waves lapping against a riverbank, willow branches softly swaying, a heron soaring into the sky. Slowly, the willows, waves, sails, river and sky turn the same brilliant gold, then the light fades and darkens. In a brief moment of silence, she remembers lying on the deck of their boat, wailing a funeral song for Happiness as the infant spirit flickered above her. After a final dissonant strain resolves into a sad chord, Kongzi raises his head to the moon and sighs, ‘Ah, can you feel yourself dissolve into the landscape? It’s just like the poem: “Scoop water from the river and the moon is in your hands. / Pick blossom from a tree and its perfume infuses your clothes.” Thank you, Meili, for my wonderful presents. I will treasure them.’
‘Yes, it’s a beautiful song,’ Chen says. Everyone else remains silent and begins to help themselves to more food.
As they’re surrounded by water on all sides, at dusk the air becomes cool – especially now in winter – and the island feels more spacious.
‘How much grain do you feed your ducks every day?’ Juru asks Meili, picking a piece of straw from her jacket. Seeing the children come running up waving branches in the air, she shields her bowl and shouts, ‘Careful not