A Map for the Missing(38)

“You’re all right?”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“Guifan, the thing. From last night. Have you decided?”

“I’m still thinking about it.”

There were distant sounds of papers rustling. She felt so far away from him now and wanted to reach out, through the telephone, to force him closer. Last evening on the bathroom floor, she’d at least had a sense of shared desperation between them. Now all the passages in his mind felt closed off. She had no idea of whether or not he would be able to force himself into a choice, but she was sure of one thing—whatever he decided, she would live the consequences.

“Hanwen? I’m fine. Is there anything else? I need to get back to work.”

She hadn’t realized how long she’d gone silent for. “I need a favor,” she said. She wondered if the request would surprise him. She rarely asked him for help, even when he mentioned the perks usually accorded to people in his position—preferential school enrollment and investment opportunities, all of which felt extraneous to her. In this life, they already had all that they needed. It would be unlucky to ask for even more.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“An old friend of mine is in town. His father went missing around here. He needs the police to help.”

“Sure. Just tell the secretary what you need.” She heard relief in his voice. It was a simple favor, one he could understand and have control over.

Without a goodbye, he transferred the call back.



* * *



—

Half an hour later, the police chief himself called her. He’d already transmitted the message to all the police bureaus, he said, and would be sending a subordinate to reprimand the township where they’d refused to help Yitian.

When the police chief promised he would be in touch with the first news, which he assured her would be soon, she marveled at how easy it had been to get help. The previous day, Yitian had been in her house, lost, with no other options besides her. Despite all his intelligence and where he’d ended up in life, he’d reached dead ends everywhere. And she’d been able to do all this with just a simple phone call. She might have felt helpless before Guifan, but at least she could help Yitian. Her decisions around her life had indeed led her somewhere, even if not to the place she’d expected.





Thirteen


1975


Yitian had gone to the hill on the west side of the village that day, in pursuit of quiet. Studying inside his home was always difficult, but that day particularly so. Both times he sat down to read, his mother called him away, first to unearth potatoes from their plot, then to crush soybeans on the grindstone. He complained to Yishou, who only laughed at him. When both of them weren’t looking, Yitian grabbed his books and ran in the direction of the hill. He would surely face some punishment for this later, but the few hours of quiet were worth whatever was to come.

The hill was his favorite spot in the village. From this vantage point, he could make out the small arteries running through and the scattered dots of people moving along the dirt roads. Some ran quickly; some dragged their feet, as he would. The village had more legibility from up above. He could see the path that led to the world beyond and could imagine himself walking out there, leaving this small one behind.

He leaned against an abandoned well at the center of the hilltop and propped his book upon his knees. The only thing bothering him now was the crumbling bricks of the old well digging into his back. It would be perfect up here, he thought, if only there were a desk. He was just thinking of ways he might be able to smuggle a board up and hide it when a sound disturbed his thoughts.

He listened closely and decided the noise had been a trick of the wind. Then he heard something again. This time, he could not deny the “Hello?” carried through the gust, coming from an unfamiliar female voice.

He looked up and saw a figure pushing through the wild grass of the hilltop, coming toward him. As quickly as he could, he closed the cover of his book and tried to hide it behind his back. He didn’t want to be teased by another villager for how much time he spent reading.

A girl emerged completely from the grass and stood in front of him. She was long limbed and held her arms loosely, without the purpose of one accustomed to the body as a functional object. To his surprise, he didn’t recognize her—he thought he knew everyone from his village, if not well, then at least by sight. Perhaps she had come from a neighboring village, although it would have been a very long trek to get to the hill. There was something about her that didn’t look quite like she belonged around here. Perhaps it was that her nose, narrow and distinguished, seemed incongruent with her ruddy cheeks and drab padded cotton clothes, the same as all the villagers wore. And yet, she walked toward him confidently, as if she’d been up here many times before.

“Hello,” she said. “I didn’t expect to find someone else here.”

He was struck immediately by her accent, which had a thin, precise quality to it, each syllable neatly chopped off at the end, where he would have rolled it into the next.

“Were you reading?” She gestured at the well.

He glanced back. In his rush to stuff the book away, he’d done a poor job of hiding it, and the cover was clearly jutting out from behind his back. He opened and closed his mouth several times, unsure of what to say. I must look like a dumb donkey, he thought.