driven to her death by a government that has washed its hands of the sick and the poor. I can’t help giving in to despair. Since the Tiananmen Massacre, this country has lost its conscience. Money is the only religion.’ Weiwei puts a cigarette in his mouth and lights up, but chokes at the first puff.
‘Don’t smoke if you’re not a smoker,’ Meili says, taking the cigarette from him. She sucks a puff then keeps it held between her fingers, tapping it against an empty cup when the ash becomes too long.
‘You’re right,’ Kongzi says. ‘I never dare discuss such things with my wife, but mark my words: one day the official verdict on Tiananmen will be reversed. My old teacher, Mr Zhou, is convinced of it. A toast, Weiwei: “Friends from afar meet but rarely. Let us raise our glass in joy and drown our sorrows!” Since you didn’t find your mother today, we won’t charge you anything for this trip. Come on, now. It’s not often I get to sit down with a graduate. Let’s test our wits. We’ll take turns to recite a line of ancient poetry that contains a character connected to water. Whoever slips up must drink a shot.’ At the back of the restaurant, two men covered in cement dust are drinking beer. The only light in the room is coming from the single bulb overhead and the glowing television screen. A rusty electric fan on the cashier’s desk slowly stirs the air. Mosquitoes and flies flit from the plates of food to one of the six forearms pressed on the table.
‘Fine, let’s toast the Xi River and give it a go!’ Weiwei says. He undoes the top button of his shirt, then, glancing at Meili, quickly does it up again.
‘“The white sun sinks behind the mountain as the Yellow River glides towards the sea,”’ Kongzi recites, tapping the line’s rhythm on the table.
‘“A low ray of sun spreads across the water which is emerald along one side, and red along the other,”’ Weiwei chants, rubbing the edges of his tortoiseshell glasses.
‘I said the line should contain a word with a watery connection, not the word “water” itself. You lose! Drink up!’
‘If you insist,’ Weiwei sighs, and empties the glass. ‘But next time, if I manage to replace “water” with another word, while retaining the sense, you must let me off.’
‘All right, I’ll agree to that. Ready? “The bright moon rises from the sea; at different edges of the sky, we admire the same view.”’
‘“I at the head of the Yangtze River, you at the tail, we drink—”’ The next word is “water” but Weiwei stops himself just in time and says, ‘No, make that “we mourn our loved ones who rest on the river’s bed.”’
‘A fine line,’ Kongzi says, the image striking at his heart. He pauses to wipe a tear from his eye, then continues the game. ‘“The moon follows the river’s waves for ten thousand li; in spring, its radiance overflows the banks.”’
‘“The mountain pass is hard to breach; who feels sorrow for the man who has lost his way?” Weiwei says, pushing his glasses further up his nose.
‘No water connotation!’ Kongzi shouts out, banging the table. ‘You’ve lost again!’
‘But the character “sorrow” contains the water radical on the left.’
‘You need two radicals for it to count, I’m afraid. You’ve definitely lost, brother. Drink up!’
Once the men empty the last dregs from the bottle, Meili whispers to Kongzi that they should return to the boat to sleep. Kongzi ventures out into the dark to find a toilet. Weiwei settles the bill then returns to the table and says to Meili, ‘Are you sure you’ve had enough to eat?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ she answers, staring at the fish bones on the plates, wondering, with a shudder, whether the fish they’ve just eaten once fed on the corpse of Weiwei’s mother. More flies gather on the plates and crawl over the leftovers.
‘You looked so beautiful when you were driving the boat,’ Weiwei says. ‘Kongzi is a lucky man.’ As she looks up at him, he glances out of the window, too embarrassed to meet her gaze, and they hear a loud, grating rumble outside that sounds like a truck emptying rubble onto a boat. Meili’s heart begins to thud. This is the first time that any man apart from Kongzi has told her that she’s beautiful. Not knowing what to say, she looks down again and stares at the plates and at Weiwei’s watch.