25

Aweek　later　Pao　Ching　had　visitors:　six　young　men　with　guns.　They　entered　the　apartment　over　the　theater,　and　kept　him　covered.　Then　Chang　Wen　arrived.　He　took　the　lock　off　Lotus　Charm's　room,　and　told　her　to　come　with　him.

The　moment　she　saw　Chang　Wen,　Lotus　Charm　let　go　both　her　tears　and　laughter.

But　when　she　saw　his　gun　and　his　band　of　thugs,　she　sat　on　the　edge　of　her　bed,　stupefied.

“Come　with　me,　Lotus　Charm,"　Chang　Wen　commanded.　His　face　was　deathly　white.

She　did　not　move.

“Come！　Take　all　your　things　and　your　jewelry,"　he　commanded　again,　his　shrill　voice.

Still　she　did　not　move.

He　lost　his　patience.　“What's　the　matter　with　you？　he　asked.　“What's　the　matter？"

“I　must　say　goodbye　to　my　father.　You　shouldn't　have　threatened　him　with　a　gun,"　Lotus　Charm　said.　She　was　determined.

“Don't　you　love　me？"　Chang　Wen　began　to　feel　anxious.

“I　love　you.　This　baby　is　yours,"　Lotus　Charm　said,　as　she　pointed　at　her　stomach.　“But　I　can't　walk　out　with　you　like　this.　I　must　say　goodbye　to　my　father.　He,　he　is　my　..."　She　bit　her　lips.

“Come,"　Chang　Wen　insisted.　“Don't　waste　time　talking.　And　bring　all　your　jewelry."

“I'll　come　with　you,　and　I　won't　forget　my　jewelry.　But　I　must　first　say　goodbye　to　my　father.　You　can　threaten　him　with　a　gun.　I　cannot."

“Give　me　the　jewelry　first."　Chang　Wen　was　impatient.

“Wait　—　till　I've　seen　my　father."

“All　right.　Go　on."

Lotus　Charm　did　not　know　how　she　got　to　her　father's　room.　There　were　forces　pulling　her　in　two　directions.　Should　it　be　love　or　gratitude？　Her　father　or　Chang　Wen？

Pao　Ching　was　very　calm　and　composed.　He　was　sitting　in　the　chair.　On　opposite　sides　of　him　were　two　young　men　with　guns　pointed　at　him.　He　looked　calmly　at　Lotus　Charm,　as　expressionless　as　though　what　was　happening　did　not　concern　him　at　all.

Lotus　Charm　walked　slowly;　then　ran　swiftly　and　automatically　toward　him.　She　had　prepared　many　things　to　say,　but　she　could　only　kneel　in　front　of　him,　sobbing.　Chokingly　and　with　much　difficulty,　she　finally　said,　“Father,　I　am　not　worthy　of　your　great　love.　Tell　me　to　go.　I　must　go."

Pao　Ching　could　not　think　what　to　say.　His　hands　grabbed　the　arms　of　the　chair　and　began　to　tremble.　Suddenly　he　smiled　coldly　and　said,　“Go,　go,　go.　Nobody　can　hold　a　woman.　Go."　Chang　Wen　came　over.　He　did　not　look　at　Pao　Ching.　He　merely　seized　Lotus　Charm　and　said,　“Come！"

Taking　a　few　clothes　and　her　jewelry,　she　left　with　Chang　Wen,　her　head　low.　When　they　were　outside,　she　looked　at　the　sky.　In　the　sky　there　was　a　bird　flying.　She　said　silently　to　herself,　“No　matter　what,　I've　gained　my　freedom,　like　that　bird."

Chang　brought　her　to　a　deserted　alley.　Every　house　had　been　bombed,　but　a　few　people　still　lived　in　the　ruins.　Most　of　the　houses　did　not　have　four　walls　standing,　and　some　had　no　rooms　with　ceilings.　In　one　of　the　houses　was　a　tiny　room　like　a　box.　Its　walls　had　been　shattered　by　bombs　and　did　not　reach　to　the　ceiling,　so　there　was　plenty　of　light.　A　bamboo　bed,　two　bamboo　chairs,　and　a　table　were　the　only　furniture.

“This　is　our　new　home,"　announced　Chang　Wen.

Lotus　Charm　could　hardly　bear　to　look.　The　place　was　horrible.　There　were　rats　and　bugs　wherever　she　turned.　But　she　did　not　want　him　to　see　how　she　felt.　She　clung　to　his　arm　and　looked　up　at　him.　“Darling,　if　it　is　all　ours,　why,　it's　just　wonderful,"　she　cried,　hoping　that　with　Chang　Wen's　love,　she　could　lessen　the　sorrow　of　being　parted　from　her　father.

She　flung　herself　into　his　arms.　He　put　her　down　gently.　On　the　bed　was　the　package　she　had　brought　with　her,　mostly　shoes　and　stockings.　She　remembered　she　had　some　jewelry　in　her　pocket.　She　put　the　little　pieces　of　gold　in　his　hand.　“For　you,　darling.　I　don't　need　them　any　more."

His　eyes　brightened　at　the　sight　of　the　gold.　By　way　of　reward　he　took　her　in　his　arms.

Afterward　they　talked　of　how　they　would　furnish　the　room.　Quickly　Lotus　Charm　made　plans.　The　room　was　small,　like　a　doll's　house.　Well,　they　both　were　dolls.　She　would　freshen　the　place　up,　and　they　would　have　friends　come　to　take　tea,　and　she　would　enjoy　her　new　life.　Then　they　would　move　to　a　larger　place　and　have　another　baby.　The　dream　brought　a　radiant　smile　to　her　face.　Life　was　wonderful,　even　in　a　tiny　box　with　only　half　walls　all　around.

“But　we　won't　cook　at　home,"　suggested　Chang　Wen.　“That　will　roughen　your　lovely　hands.　I　want　you　always　to　be　beautiful,　dear."　She　rubbed　her　cheek　against　his.　How　romantic　and　beautiful　life　was　—　like　a　love　ballad,　only　a　thousand　times　more　exciting,　because　it　was　real.

They　went　to　a　restaurant　to　eat.　Over　dinner　Chang　talked　of　their　future.　It　would　be　best　to　eat　out　always,　he　said.　They　could　afford　it,　and　the　room　was　too　small.　He　did　not　like　the　smell　of　cooking　where　he　slept.　Lotus　Charm　agreed　enthusiastically.　She　could　not　cook　anyway.　The　more　they　ate　out　the　better.　How　wonderful　to　be　able　to　give　him　jewelry　to　sell　to　pay　for　her　meals.　She　felt　proud.

They　went　shopping　and　came　back　with　a　heavy　embroidered　Szechwan　comforter　and　two　expensive　pillows.　They　made　the　room　look　bright　and　cheerful.　The　new　comforter　was　a　dream　of　beauty.　Laughing　like　a　child　she　stripped　off　her　clothes　and　slipped　under　it.　Then　she　reached　for　Chang　Wen's　hands.　She　kissed　them　rapturously,　first　the　backs,　then　the　palms,　looking　up　into　his　eyes　imploringly.　“Please,　dear　husband,　this　is　our　wedding　chamber.　It　is　sweet　and　fresh　and　warm.　Come　to　your　bride."

Chang　Wen　looked　at　her　curiously,　as　if　he　were　unsure　of　something,　but　he　obeyed　and　allowed　her　to　draw　him　to　her　under　the　soft　comforter.　And　for　a　few　minutes　she　lived　the　life　of　which　she　had　dreamed.　How　handsome　he　was,　how　gentle,　how　wonderful.　Her　black　eyes　were　round　with　delight.　She　kissed　his　nose,　his　bare　shoulder,　his　long　lean　neck.　He　was　like　a　tiger　sometimes,　and　he　scared　her,　but　she　loved　being　scared　that　way.

The　days　passed　quickly.　Life　was　a　clear　brook　rippling　happily　between　banks　of　azaleas.　And　everywhere　in　this　miraculous　garden　were　bright　colors　and　sweet　music,　sunshine　always　and　pleasant　breezes.　Never　was　she　conscious　of　the　smell　of　the　ruins,　the　stench　of　garbage　and　dead　bodies,　and　the　scurrying　of　the　huge　black　rats.

“All　I　want,　Chang　Wen,"　she　would　sing　to　him,　“all　I　want　is　this　little　room,　you　and　me,　and　a　vase　of　flowers."　That　amused　him.　He　would　laugh　and　chuck　her　under　the　chin,　which　she　loved.　Never　a　thought　for　her　father,　for　the　future.　Their　souls　were　married　together　and　what　else　mattered,　and　soon　they　would　be　three,　three　happy　people　looking　at　the　new　world　to　come.

While　Chang　Wen　was　away　she　kept　busy　knitting　baby　clothes　and　cleaning　the　room.　She　hummed　the　ballads　she　used　to　sing　on　the　stage,　and　hugged　her　swelling　stomach　with　primitive　joy.　How　wonderful　to　have　a　baby.　And　soon　she　would　have　another.

Sometimes　Chang　came　home　late.　Lotus　Charm　was　always　there.　To　eat　without　him　would　be　a　crime.　He　was　her　whole　existence.　And　when　she　ate　with　him,　she　never　knew　what　she　was　eating,　because　she　was　entranced　by　his　presence.　If　he　sat　opposite　her　she　would　entwine　her　ankles　around　one　of　his,　holding　it　tightly　to　excite　him　with　her　affection.

Chang　Wen　was　proud　of　his　conquest.　He　often　brought　his　friends　home　to　see　her.　And　they　presented　a　problem　to　the　unmarried　bride.　She　had　never　learned　how　to　entertain　strangers,　because　her　father　had　protected　her　at　all　times.　And　now　she　was　often　the　only　woman　in　a　tiny　room　full　of　young　men,　all　of　whom　knew　that　she　was　living　in　sin.　This,　of　course,　they　expected　from　a　drum　singer.　Every　time　they　came,　Lotus　Charm　was　shy　with　fright.　If　she　was　cold　and　formal　they　might　be　offended　and　Chang　would　scold　her,　but　if　she　was　too　familiar,　he　would　be　furious　and　accuse　her　of　being　unfaithful.　And　most　of　the　men　were　ready　to　take　liberties.　Sometimes,　while　Chang　was　not　looking,　they　would　take　liberties　with　their　hands.　And　she　could　not　escape　because　the　room　was　so　crowded　and　small.

Mrs.　Fang　moved　Phoenix　Girl　and　Little　Liu　into　Lotus　Charm's　room　the　same　day　that　Chang　had　taken　her　away.　Mrs.　Fang　wanted　to　have　the　baby　nearby　to　play　with.　And　she　had　no　worries　as　far　as　Lotus　Charm　was　concerned.　Mrs.　Fang　was　a　realist.　Girls　got　into　trouble,　and　they　liked　it.　Her　husband　was　a　fool,　and　what　had　happened　served　him　right.　She　had　a　grandson　now　and　plenty　to　drink.

Pao　Ching　was　a　gray　silent　man　these　days.　He　never　replied　to　his　wife's　taunts.　When　friends　asked　him　about　Lotus　Charm　he　would　answer　that　she　was　not　well,　or　he　would　change　the　subject　and　talk　about　his　grandson.　His　friends　were　loyal　and　never　asked　too　many　questions,　but　there　were　always　inquisitive　and　thoughtless　strangers.

These　nights　he　rarely　slept.　The　house　was　empty　with　Lotus　Charm　away.　He　brooded　over　the　hurt　she　had　done　him.　Other　people　had　cheated　him,　and　he　had　taken　it　lightly,　but　Lotus　Charm　—　his　treasured　daughter.　Each　time　he　remembered　how　she　had　deceived　him,　the　pain　in　his　heart　was　like　salt　being　rubbed　into　an　open　wound.

But　he　was　not　a　man　to　lie　down　under　misery.　A　burden　of　grief　he　might　have　all　his　days,　but　he　had　a　duty　—　to　help　Lotus　Charm　if　she　needed　him.　Sooner　or　later　Chang　Wen　would　cast　her　aside　or　sell　her.　He　must　find　her　and　watch　over　her,　come　to　her　rescue　when　she　needed　him.　He　could　not　fight　Chang　and　his　gunmen,　but　he　could　always　be　on　hand　to　aid　his　daughter.　He　soon　found　out　their　address　through　the　judicious　use　of　a　little　money.　His　informant　gave　him　a　full　report,　even　a　description　of　the　room,　how　Lotus　Charm　cleaned　the　place,　and　how　Chang's　friends　came　to　visit.

Pao　Ching's　heart　ached　when　he　thought　of　her　in　this　shabby　little　room　in　that　quarter　of　the　city.　He　had　money　enough　to　pay　rent　for　an　apartment.　But　he　would　not　do　that.　He　could　not　reconcile　himself　with　that　scoundrel　Chang　Wen,　for　the　pleasure　of　making　his　daughter　happy.　That　would　be　too　much　to　ask　of　himself.

He　decided　that　the　best　thing　was　to　try　to　forget.　But　how？　Lotus　Charm　was　part　of　his　life.　Even　his　hatred　of　Chang　Wen　brought　a　picture　of　his　adopted　child　into　his　tortured　mind.　And　sometimes　he　cursed　the　information　that　Meng　Liang　had　imparted　to　him:　that　he　did　not　understand　the　times　in　which　he　lived.　Did　Chang　Wen　understand　those　times？　Was　that　how　he　had　seduced　Lotus　Charm？

He　tried　to　concentrate　his　attention　on　Little　King,　his　grandson.　But　every　time　he　found　himself　pinching　the　chubby　youngster　and　cooing　at　him,　he　would　ermember　with　sickening　horror　that　Lotus　Charm　was　pregnant　and　that　he　would　soon　have　another　grandchild,　sired　by　Chang　Wen.

To　forget　Lotus　Charm　and　her　husband　he　set　himself　a　mission.　He　would　erscue　his　friend　Meng　Liang.　As　the　thought　came　he　stood　up　and　swore　an　oath.　Every　penny　he　had,　every　ounce　of　energy,　every　bit　of　influence,　he　would　devote　to　getting　his　friend　out　of　jail.　Meng　Liang　was　a　true　friend.　He　had　warned　him　about　Lotus　Charm　well　in　advance,　and　Pao　Ching　had　not　taken　the　advice.　Meng　Liang　had　helped　him　and　inspired　him,　and　given　him　an　opportunity　to　serve　the　nation.

If　he　could　rescue　Meng　Liang　he　would　be　restoring　his　own　fallen　prestige.　The　whole　theatrical　world　would　look　up　to　him.

His　new　task　kindled　fresh　zeal　in　his　heart.　He　no　longer　looked　a　sad　and　broken　man.　Instead　he　was　a　determined　man　with　a　purpose.　He　made　endless　imquiries,　he　talked　to　officials　and　secret　agents.　He　paid　out　money　to　find　out　where　Meng　Liang　was.

Officials　with　influence　on　whom　he　knew　he　could　count　were　shocked　and　scared　when　he　told　them　what　he　wanted.　“Better　keep　out　of　this,"　they　would　say,　and　their　eyes　would　betray　the　hopelessness　of　his　cause.

Some　told　him　bluntly　that　he　was　mad　to　bother　about　an　eccentric　writer.　He　came　to　realize　that　the　old　secret　societies　were　useless.　Their　members　could　do　nothing　in　the　modern　regime.　From　government　officials　he　learned　a　little.　The　officials　did　not　tell　him　straight　out,　for　fear　of　being　quoted.　They　talked　in　circles　with　considerable　euphemism.　As　one　of　them　put　it,　“In　war,　the　power　and　the　glory　is　with　the　generals.　The　politicians　are　as　nothing　when　the　guns　are　heard."

Pao　Ching　followed　their　direction.　He　went　to　see　the　generals.　He　had　sung　at　military　parties　and　met　many　of　the　leading　generals.　They　all　had　received　him　as　an　equal　and　had　praised　his　talent.　Well,　let　them　remember　his　service　to　them　and　their　men,　and　do　something　for　him.　But　the　generals　were　mostly　too　busy　to　see　him,　now　that　he　wanted　a　favor.　Sometimes　their　secretaries　and　orderlies　spoke　for　them.　Pao　Ching　soon　knew　answer　by　heart:　“Playwrights　and　novelists　are　not　too　good　citizens.　They　should　be　done　away　with　to　prevent　their　making　more　trouble."　One　high_ranking　officer　looked　at　him　curiously　and　asked　him　with　a　sinister　smile,　“Are　you　tired　of　living　at　your　age？　Better　stick　to　your　drum　singing,　old　man,　and　leave　the　playwrights　where　they　belong　—　in　prison."

Pao　Ching　bowed　and　left.　He　was　licked.　How　times　had　changed.　In　ancient　days　the　Chinese　respected　scholars.　Even　a　powerful　emperor　rarely　dared　offend　a　famous　poet.　But　today　the　army　put　the　scholars　in　prison.　Perhaps　they　had　chopped　off　Meng　Liang's　head.　He　stopped　short　in　his　tracks,　blinded　with　horror　at　the　thought.　What　was　wrong　with　the　regime　in　power？　Were　China's　leaders　of　lower　intelligence　than　Meng　Liang？　He　looked　sharply　from　side　to　side　as　if　to　make　sure　that　no　one　had　overheard　his　silent　question,　and　hurried　on.

That　night　he　talked　with　Meng　Liang's　theatrical　friends.　They　told　him　they　were　working　day　and　night　to　get　their　friend　released.　But　they　hadn't　been　able　to　find　out　where　he　was.　They　thought　he　was　alive,　but　that　was　all　they　knew.　They　had　tried　to　insert　personal　notices　in　the　newspapers,　but　censorship　had　cut　them　out.　Yet　they　were　not　despairing.　They　would　keep　searching　till　they　met　with　failure,　or　success.　One　young　man　took　Pao　Ching　aside　and　tried　to　explain　the　situation.　“If　we　make　it　too　obvious　that　we　are　trying　to　save　him,　the　secret　agents　may　do　away　with　him,"　he　said.　“On　the　other　hand,　if　we　cannot　arouse　public　interest　in　his　behalf,　the　chances　of　getting　him　released　are　slight.　We　have　to　walk　carefully."　Pao　Ching　was　more　confused　than　ever,　but　he　sensed　that　the　young　man　was　warning　him　to　curb　his　enthusiasm,　for　fear　he　might　harm　Meng　Liang,　wherever　he　was.

He　thought　the　problem　over　that　night　in　his　bedroom.　How　confusing　everything　was.　Before　the　war　he　had　decided　that　strength　was　essential　to　win　battles.　If　everyone　in　China　was　strong,　Japan　would　be　defeated.　If　the　Japanese　were　beaten,　everyone　would　enjoy　peace　and　prosperity.　He　rubbed　his　balding　head.　It　hadn't　worked　out.　The　Japanese　were　not　yet　beaten.　And　look　at　what　had　happened　to　him.　And　to　Meng　Liang　—　who　had　urged　people　to　be　patriotic　and　strong.　He　had　been　put　in　jail　by　the　government　because　he　wanted　to　make　a　strong　China.　Yet　a　scoundrel　like　Chang　Wen　free.

He　lay　down　and　turned　on　his　stomach,　burying　his　face　in　the　pillow.　He　did　not　want　to　think　any　more.　He　wanted　to　sleep　and　forget.　Why　go　on　thinking？　A　sharp　pain　racked　his　head.　He　must　try　not　to　think　any　more.　Better　be　like　his　wife,　dumb　and　drunken.　She　could　live　in　these　times　without　a　worry.　How　lucky　she　was,　and　how　safe.

He　went　to　sleep　from　sheer　exhaustion,　unable　to　worry　any　more,　unable　to　think.

The　next　morning　he　was　up　early,　refreshed　and　restored.　Sleep　had　worked　its　magic.　He　was　still　alive,　and　he　had　his　talent.　The　world　was　better.　He　picked　up　Little　King.　The　child　grinned　at　him　and　cooed　with　delight.

Pao　Ching　looked　at　his　wife,　sitting　in　her　chair,　the　bottle　at　her　side.　“Grandma　of　Little　King,"　he　said　with　a　whimsical　smile　on　his　lips,　“you　are　indeed　a　fortunate　person."

“I？"　echoed　his　wife,　nibbling　sunflower　seeds.　“If　I　was　really　fortunate　I　would　never　have　been　born　into　this　generation."

Pao　Ching　was　startled.　She　did　think　a　little,　after　all.