Xiao Man was deported back to China and returned to Xi Tie Cheng.
Some patients with post-traumatic stress disorder experience auditory hallucinations. The more severe the condition, the more real those hallucinations feel. Xiao Man spent most of his days in his small room. Sometimes it seemed he could hear a crowd of people whispering and snickering behind him, then bursting into laughter; other times he heard someone calling his name from outside the window — it sounded like English, or maybe Japanese — but when he opened the window there was no one there, only the swaying shadows of trees. When he walked into town hoping to meet up with Zhuang Ge, he reached the pedestrian crossing and heard a command sound inside his head: “Run! Don’t move!” Xiao Man couldn’t figure out whether to run or to stay still, and stood helpless in the middle of the road. In the end, a traffic officer pulled him to the side and scolded him: “Are you color-blind? Do you know how to read traffic lights?”
In this condition he couldn’t look for work, so Xiao Man went to the factory’s worker clinic to register and see a doctor. The worker clinic was cold and sparse — many of the doctors had already resigned or moved on, and the internal medicine department had only one physician on duty. The doctor wasn’t confident in his assessment and referred Xiao Man to the Anning Hospital. There, the attending physician asked briefly about his symptoms and then, with a sweep of his pen, diagnosed him with complex PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder).
“You can diagnose this without an electroencephalogram?” Xiao Man asked.
“No need. Two instances of near-drowning are the clear ‘trigger’ factors,” the doctor said.
“This illness… does it count as a mental illness? Do I need to be hospitalized?”
“It’s not severe yet, but it could develop into schizophrenia. The sooner you are hospitalized, the better.”
“Can the factory reimburse for this type of illness?”
“It used to be possible. These days it’s hard to say. Every factory has its difficulties — you’ll have to ask the factory.”
“Doctor, is it possible for me to just take medication and not be hospitalized?” Xiao Man was in a difficult position.
“This isn’t like a cold that clears up with some medicine. You must be admitted as soon as possible — don’t delay early treatment.” The doctor said, “These past few years, there have been a lot of laid-off workers with mental health problems. If you come too late, there might not even be a hospital bed for you.”
“But what about my hallucinations in the meantime?” Xiao Man asked as his final question.
“There’s a simple method — buy some earplugs, put them in, and no matter what you hear, useful or not, pay no attention. Treat yourself as deaf.”
“Alright! I’ll remember all of that — thank you!” Xiao Man stood up and bowed to the doctor. “I wish I really were deaf.”
Back home, Xiao Man found some earphones and cut off the cable, using them as makeshift earplugs. Late one night, he thought he could hear a group of people chatting outside his window. He removed his earplugs and felt the sound was no louder; he put them back in and it didn’t seem any quieter. He knew it was a hallucination, so he held on and didn’t open the window. Those sounds gradually faded away.
The next morning, Xiao Man went to the factory administration building to find Coordinator Ma and ask about the transfer procedures. He didn’t dare ride his bicycle — he just put on his earplugs and walked slowly along the road. When he got to the administration building, he noticed the slogans in the corridor had changed from “Take root in military industry, give your youth and then your children’s youth” to “Reform with vigor, reduce staff and increase efficiency.”
Xiao Man knocked on the half-open door of the labor and personnel office and asked the clerk inside: “Excuse me, is Uncle Ma in?”
“Oh goodness — what a surprise!” The clerk looked up and saw Xiao Man, exclaiming: “When did you get back to the country?”
The clerk was Sun Lulu. After finishing high school, she had passed the entrance exam for an adult education college, and upon graduation had been assigned back to the factory administration building.
“Lulu! What a coincidence!” Xiao Man was equally surprised. “So, um… is Uncle Ma in?”
“What century are you living in? Uncle Ma has long since been promoted to Section Chief Ma — but he was just recently transferred down south.”
“Why is everyone running off to the south?”
“Those with connections find ways to get transferred out. Those without connections just wait for the factory to go under. Xi Tie Cheng can’t last more than a few more years.”
“Then I’ll consult you, old classmate.” Xiao Man handed Lulu the diagnosis letter. “In a situation like mine, the worker clinic can’t handle it — I need a referral to the Anning Hospital. How does the factory handle reimbursement?”
Sun Lulu took the medical records and flipped through them, looked at the name on the cover, and asked with a face full of suspicion: “This is you?”
“Yes, it’s me in person.” Xiao Man nodded.
“Come on — you, with no worries in the world, getting this kind of illness?”
“It really is me. I’ve even been having auditory hallucinations. If you don’t believe me, look at this.” Xiao Man opened his hands to show Lulu his earplugs.
“I really don’t buy it, Xiao Man. This diagnosis of yours is truly beyond belief.” Sun Lulu still shook her head.
“Put it this way — if it weren’t for this illness, I would never have come back!” Xiao Man protested. “A year washing dishes in Japan could still save up thirty to fifty thousand!”
“Alas,” Sun Lulu finally believed him. She let out a sigh and said: “These days, everyone’s in a bad way — the less money people have, the more they fall ill.”
“I ran into it — can’t help it. Old classmate, what should I do?”
“Xiao Man, if you urgently need to be hospitalized, you’ll have to advance the costs yourself.” Sun Lulu said, closing the medical records. “When the factory is doing better and has a budget someday, I’ll prioritize getting your reimbursement approved first.”
“Aren’t workers covered by the public health system? I’m still a registered worker! This illness is developing fast — I really need to be hospitalized as soon as possible.”
“Look — the elderly workers currently hospitalized in the worker clinic are all advancing their own costs. The receipts they submit to me are a huge stack.” Sun Lulu said, pulling open the filing cabinet for Xiao Man to see. “Here — this is from three years ago, this from two years ago, this from last year… And on top of that, yours is a case that specifically requires referral to another hospital, so there’s even less hope of being reimbursed anytime soon.”
“Then what am I supposed to do? I… I can’t advance the costs.”
“Hang in there, take some medicine at home first.” Sun Lulu said helplessly.
“This… this isn’t something you can just hang in there through!” Xiao Man was so agitated he started to stammer. “When I’m having an episode, my head is full of heaven-sent broadcasts and little demons singing. I can’t even sleep!”
“I genuinely have no way to help, old classmate.” Sun Lulu explained. “This year the factory doesn’t even have a medical budget — there’s no money in the accounts. They can’t even pay out bereavement allowances and condolence payments… Oh, by the way, Xiao Man, did you know? Song the Monk died.”
“What?” Xiao Man was shocked, staring wide-eyed at Sun Lulu.
“It was just last year. He died suddenly of a cerebral stroke in the factory bathroom. He was the worst off of all our classmates. The bereavement allowance still hasn’t been paid out.”
Xiao Man slowly crouched down to the floor, covering his eyes with his hands, not letting the tears fall.
“These days, when it rains it pours.” Sun Lulu counted on her fingers, going through each of their classmates who had run into trouble. “Feng Xiaolin was sentenced — theft of factory materials.” She folded down one finger. “Qi Tiantian went south to be a hostess — some say she became a kept woman, some say she became a surrogate mother. Either way, that whole category of thing.” She folded another finger. “And Deng Dayong gambled his way into a mountain of debt and then disappeared.” Lulu folded another finger.
“And then there’s me.” Xiao Man crouched and extended his hand to help Lulu fold down her little finger. “Number five. Me. Gone mad.”
The laid-off workers of Xi Tie Cheng were all heading into the city to look for a way to survive — doing construction excavation, hauling freight at goods stations, working as security guards, working as domestic helpers, some even as scavengers. Xi Tie Cheng people could be found in all of these places. They no longer carried their former air of superiority. The factory’s prestige collapsed overnight, and the townspeople of Ticheng, finally getting their revenge, composed a little rhyme mocking them: “Dressed in rags, walking slow, iron magnets hanging at the waist — see a pile of trash and they’ll overturn the whole place.”
Foreman Ding had also been laid off. Xi Tie Cheng was too small and too poor. He wanted to go to the city center to fix bicycles for some income, but after cycling around half of Ticheng, he discovered that every street corner had already been claimed by the advance guard of Xi Tie Cheng’s laid-off workers: the corner of Changjiang Road had been taken by Master Gao from the machining workshop; the corner of Fourth Road had been taken by Yang the Model Worker from the prefabrication workshop. Foreman Ding made a round of greetings to the workmates at each corner and realized he had arrived too late — in other words, there wasn’t even any warm pickings left.
Foreman Ding finally cycled to White Bird Plaza. He stopped his bicycle, looked around, and decided he would carve out his own place to survive here.
White Bird Plaza was the newly built cultural plaza in Ticheng, and also the hub where six roads converged at a large roundabout. At the center of the roundabout stood an enormous white bird sculpture made of fiberglass-reinforced plastic. That year, Ticheng had put forward the slogan of building a city on culture, coming up with totems like the city flower and city bird. The roundabout plaza had been specially upgraded and renovated, and this flying bird sculpture had been erected.
White Bird Plaza was the showpiece of Ticheng — a priority inspection zone for the urban appearance and city management departments. Foreman Ding knew the rules, but was still set on claiming his corner. He studied the layout, set up his repair stall at the east entrance of White Bird Plaza, arranged his toolbox, filled his basin with water, and unfolded a camp stool to wait for customers.
Past noon, no customers came to have their bikes fixed, but a veteran soldier wearing a military overcoat came and sat beside the stall to bask in the sun.
“Elder brother, which unit were you from?” Foreman Ding greeted the veteran.
“The 359th Brigade,” the veteran said. “And you — which factory?”
“Xi Tie Cheng Factory. Our old factory was originally at Khanka Lake — we were neighbors with your 359th Brigade.”
“Oh? Xi Tie Cheng Factory — wasn’t that the old explosives factory?”
“That’s right. The explosives factory was relocated from the front lines to the rear under the Third Front Movement, and it became today’s Xi Tie Cheng Factory.”
“Your explosives factory was a thoroughly red and exemplary factory — it contributed a great deal to the revolution in those days!” The veteran gave a thumbs up.
“Thank you, elder brother! Thank you for still knowing these old stories.” Foreman Ding said. “People nowadays don’t care about any of that. You tell them, and none of them are interested. Nobody takes any notice of us old military industry workers anymore.”
The veteran let out a sigh: “I hear Xi Tie Cheng has become so poor it can’t even put food on the table?”
“More or less. All over Ticheng — cleaning kitchen hoods, moving companies, security guards, domestic helpers — most of them are laid-off Xi Tie Cheng workers.” Foreman Ding said. “Even a poor bicycle repairman like me worries about being chased away by the city inspectors.”
“Who would dare?” The veteran was indignant at the very thought. “I’ll sit right here beside you and see who dares chase you away.”
The next day the veteran came back wearing his shoulder insignia to sit beside Foreman Ding’s stall and bask in the sun. Only when Foreman Ding saw the insignia did he realize this was no ordinary veteran — this was a retired general from the nearby sanatorium for senior officers.
From then on, the major general veteran and Foreman Ding would spend their days together — one basking in the sun, one fixing bicycles. The city management vehicles came by a few times but were each time cursed away by the major general veteran. Eventually the head of the city management team had no choice, came to Old Ding and said: “I’m not going to bother with you anymore. But this is a main road, and if leadership comes for an inspection someday, I’ll have to clear the area — I’ll warn you in advance. Old man, don’t make things hard for me. I also have an eighty-year-old mother to support!”
“Fair enough — everyone needs to make a living!” Old Ding said. “You live and I’ll live too.”
Foreman Ding had to wait until six or seven o’clock each evening before packing up. Xi Tie Cheng was fifty li from the city center — he couldn’t go back home every day. So he moved in with a few fellow old-worker repairmen in a shantytown near the labor market. Sharing the room were also three farming day laborers, who spent their days at the labor market waiting for work, holding tri-fold whiteboards that listed in red marker: “General labor, waterproofing, wall plastering.”
Of the three laborers, two older ones weren’t much for talking — they ate their meals and went to sleep. The remaining one, a young man, was energetic and loved to chat. Foreman Ding would sometimes ask him about spring planting and autumn harvest, but the young laborer didn’t really know: “Young people like us don’t farm anymore. There’s no way to find a wife if you rely on farming.”
Sometimes when they picked up a wall plastering job, these three migrant workers would cook an extra dish — black fungus braised with pig blood — and eat it for several days in a row. “Every time we do plastering we have to eat this stuff every single day. Getting so sick of it.” The young laborer grumbled to Old Ding.
“The nitric acid at our factory was also harsh on the lungs, but nothing serious came of it,” Old Ding said.
“That’s different. Plastering gets fine dust everywhere,” the young laborer said. “The dust gets into the lungs and doesn’t absorb. If you don’t eat black fungus with pig blood, you’ll end up with lung disease.”
The city of Ticheng had fewer and fewer people going to work in the urban area. Foreman Ding’s repair stall grew quieter day by day. During slow periods, he would chat with the major general veteran, and the days passed quickly. Then the veteran stopped coming. Old Ding waited a whole week with no sign of him, so he went to the sanatorium to ask around. A guard at the sanatorium told him the major general veteran had passed away — just a week ago. Foreman Ding felt a deep sadness wash over him. He walked five streets to buy several stacks of spirit money. At dusk, at a roadside intersection, he burned the money while murmuring: “Elder brother, go in peace! Meeting you was a good fate. I’m not going to do this anymore! It’s too lonely!”
And Foreman Ding really did stop. He even gave away all his bicycle repair tools. The only bicycle repair stall at White Bird Plaza was gone.
The very day after he dismantled his stall, White Bird Plaza became a trending topic online.
That morning, people who came to the plaza for their morning exercises discovered that the white bird sculpture had overnight acquired two new props: hanging from the left wing was an old bicycle tire, with an iron tag reading “bicycle repair — three yuan”; hanging from the right wing was a migrant laborer’s tri-fold whiteboard, with three lines of red marker: “General labor, waterproofing, wall plastering.” Outfitted with these two objects, the white bird’s dignified and distinguished bearing instantly became pitiable and comical, drawing laughter and bewilderment. A photography enthusiast photographed this bizarre and irreverent scene and posted it online, where it quickly became a viral sensation.
The deputy mayor in charge of urban affairs slammed his desk in fury and ordered an investigation. The city management team leader was first to be disciplined, and after following the trail, the investigation led to Foreman Ding.
Foreman Ding was brought to the factory security office for questioning.
The head of the security office made him a cup of tea and said: “Old Ding, at your age, what were you thinking, stirring up this kind of trouble? The city authorities are not the same as our Xi Tie Cheng backyard where everyone can do as they please. The municipal police are going to trace this to its source. You’d better think about what you’re going to say.”
Foreman Ding said: “Three words: it wasn’t me.”
The security office head said: “Don’t be stubborn about not admitting it. The municipal police have a whole arsenal of investigative methods. You’d be better off admitting it now, sitting in detention here for ten days to half a month, and then it’s over.”
Foreman Ding said: “Five words: it really wasn’t me.”
Just then, the duty clerk walked in and whispered into the security head’s ear: “There’s a young man downstairs who’s turned himself in and says it was him — it wasn’t Old Ding.”
“Old Ding, you’ve really got connections!” The security office head widened his eyes. “You cause trouble and someone else comes in to take the fall for you?”
On a chair in the first-floor reception area of the security office sat Xiao Man, a backpack on his shoulders, inside which were a towel, soap, toothpaste, and a toothbrush — all packed and ready.
The security office head came downstairs and was about to question Xiao Man when he suddenly heard someone shouting: “You damned security office head, get out here! We’ve been playing mahjong again today and we’re here to turn ourselves in — if you’re tough enough, come and arrest us!” A group of old men and women came surging through the door. The security head saw this situation and immediately abandoned Xiao Man, running back up to his second-floor office and refusing to show his face.
The one leading the shouting was Zhuang Ge’s father — Old Zhuang the Mahjong God of Xi Tie Cheng. Old Zhuang saw Xiao Man and asked: “What brings you here?”
“I’m turning myself in — to get Foreman Ding released.” Xiao Man said quietly. “Uncle Zhuang, have you all rested up?”
“Yes! The comrades are all rested up and ready for the counter-offensive today!” Old Zhuang said.
The reason Old Zhuang and this group of old men and women had come to make trouble was that they had been caught gambling by the security office a few days earlier.
Xi Tie Cheng operated as an independent factory-mine system. The security office’s predecessor was the factory’s armed forces department, which was later also called the factory police substation, though people still habitually referred to it as the security office. Because the factory’s performance had declined, the security office too was having difficulty paying wages. That year, as the Mid-Autumn Festival approached, the security office head wanted to secure some benefits for his staff, so he and the enforcement team leader racked their brains and came up with an idea: cracking down on gambling to generate income.
The enforcement team leader was instantly energized at the thought of cracking down on gambling. Anti-gambling raids and anti-prostitution raids were the quickest money-spinners. He was seized with a sudden burst of enthusiasm and within half a day had rounded up over ten old men and women playing small-stakes mahjong — including Old Zhuang — and locked them all in the security office’s holding room.
“The penalty in this case is a fine,” the security office head declared to the group of elders. “Three hundred yuan per person. When your children come to pay, you’ll be released to go home for the festival.”
Zhuang Ge was in Guangzhou picking up merchandise at the time. He called Xiao Man and asked him to go and pay the fine and collect his father. Xiao Man brought three hundred yuan and hurried to the security office. But when he got there, Old Zhuang showed stubborn determination: “I’m not leaving. I want to stay and fight alongside my old comrades.”
“Uncle Zhuang, what old comrades do you mean? These are all old mahjong buddies,” Xiao Man said.
“Whatever kind of friends they are — the point is, we’ve all agreed not to let our children pay the fine.” Old Zhuang puffed out his chest. “We’re staying here, eating their food, sleeping in their space, to knock this security office’s habit of collecting fines right out of it.”
“You’ve all agreed — nobody’s leaving?” Xiao Man still didn’t quite believe it.
“That’s right — nobody! We said so!” Old Zhuang pointed to the side. “If you don’t believe me, ask the other families’ children over there.”
On the other side of the room, a group of family members were talking all at once. Sure enough, not one of them was paying the fine. Each was encouraging their parent: “The security office won’t do anything to you — hold on, and victory will be yours!”
“Don’t worry, children — this is not a reflection of your filial piety.” The old men and women all summoned a spirit of fearless courage. “Whoever pays is the fool — we can’t let the security office treat us like fools!”
So all the families of the dozen or so detainees came and went without a single one paying to take their relative home.
Xiao Man still couldn’t make up his mind. Finally, Old Zhuang waved his arm to shoo him off: “Why are you still dithering, child? I absolutely cannot betray my comrades. If I did, no one would want to play with me anymore.”
After the family members had left, the old men and women, bored with nothing to do, opened their voices and practiced group singing. From “A Wide River Flows in Waves” to “The Night Is So Quiet at the Navy Port,” from “The Sea Is My Hometown” to “The Stars of Last Night Have Fallen,” the small building of the security office was filled with song. The duty clerk didn’t dare scold them, let alone strike them. When mealtime came, the canteen had to prepare extra portions for over ten additional mouths. The security office head was being driven to his wit’s end, and went back to negotiate with the old men and women: “What if we lower the fine to a hundred yuan? Pay up and go home immediately!”
“We don’t have a single cent!” The old men and women stood their ground and refused to yield.
“Your canteen food is actually pretty good,” one of the old women added. “I don’t even want to go home and cook for my grandchildren anymore!”
The security office head nearly spat blood. It seemed he had inadvertently taken in a group of honored guests he now had to wait upon hand and foot! As the saying goes, it’s easy to invite the gods but hard to send them away. Sitting here in a standoff wasn’t going to work either, but to simply release this group of difficult guests outright would make the security office look weak and incapable.
The security office head paced his office, caught between two bad options, wracking his brain for a solution. Then he suddenly remembered that the TV drama Emperor Yongzheng’s Dynasty had just reached the episode where the Kangxi Emperor exiles Xiao Guoxing to Ningguta. That was it! The security head slapped his forehead — this was the way to go!
After lunch, the security office head lectured the group of old men and women: “You old law-breakers — even small-stakes mahjong counts as gambling! This afternoon, we’re sending all of you to the city to attend a legal education class. No smoking and no drinking during the class — everyone drink and smoke your fill now before we go.”
Once the old men and women had drunk and smoked their fill, the enforcement team leader drove up in a minibus and carried them all eastward. The minibus wound its way around until it reached the eastern outskirts of Ticheng, where it stopped beside a cornfield. The team leader told everyone to get out, stretch their legs, and relieve themselves — men to the left side of the cornfield, women to the right. Everyone tumbled out of the bus, and once they had finished and came back out of the cornfield, they found the minibus had vanished in a cloud of dust.
Old Zhuang was the first to realize what had happened: “We’ve all fallen for the enemy’s trick!”
Out in the wilderness, they still had to walk over ten li before reaching a bus stop. Eight or nine old men and women cursed the security office head’s entire family to be struck by lightning. After exhausting themselves with cursing, they had no choice but to walk along the country path back toward town. As the sun dipped westward, they were still trudging through the cornfield, gasping for breath. One of the old men suggested they sing “On the Country Path” to lift their spirits.
“Fine idea, but don’t pitch it too high,” Old Zhuang panted in agreement. “We’re the Thousand-Year Club — the high notes are beyond our reach.”
The Thousand-Year Club walked until dark before reaching the city. By the time family members collected them at their respective homes, it was deep into the night. Old Zhuang arrived home and wolfed down three big steamed buns and three bowls of porridge, eating and talking at the same time: “Mobile phones would have been useful things to have, but none of us had one. Out in the middle of nowhere, we ran into a few farmers and they didn’t have mobile phones either. Wanted to call home and couldn’t find a way.”
His wife said: “If you passed through a village, you could have gone to the village committee to use their phone.”
Old Zhuang said: “Don’t even bring it up. Once the sun went down we couldn’t find our bearings. Lost in the wilderness out there.”
The old men and women rested at home for a day and fully recovered their fighting spirit. On the very afternoon that Xiao Man was about to turn himself in, the “Thousand-Year Club” had come storming back to the security office for its counter-offensive. Old Zhuang, like Hong Changgqing from the revolutionary opera, rolled up his sleeves and was the first to call out: “You damned security office head, get out here! We’ve been playing mahjong again today and we’re here to turn ourselves in! Come and arrest us if you dare!”
“And that team leader! Why did you drive away that day? If you’ve got the guts, come and put handcuffs on me now!” The voice of the old woman beside him was shriller than Wu Qionghua’s.
“You’ve driven us all to high blood pressure!”
“We’re about to have strokes now!”
“Your security office is paying for our treatment — send us to the hospital right now!”
The old men and women shouted while lying down in every direction across the entrance to the security office. The security office head cowered in his second-floor office, not daring to show his face. He whispered to the enforcement team leader: “The one who tied the knot must untie it — why don’t you go and coax these old folks back? I’ll give you the ‘outstanding worker’ commendation at year-end!”
The enforcement team leader cursed the security office head ten thousand times in his mind but in the end couldn’t refuse the order. He walked out of the security office door, knelt on the ground, and apologized to the old men and women one by one as they lay prone: “Grandpas and grandmas, please get up. I… you’re all like my own mothers and fathers. I promise I won’t come after you again — please all go home and enjoy yourselves. May every round you play be a pure suit, may every game bring thirteen orphans!”
“You rotten security office, have you lost your minds over money?! May heaven’s thunder strike your security office head dead tonight! Ptooey!” A dozen or so old men and women were only slowly talked back onto their feet, and grumbled and cursed for a long time before dispersing.
Having finally driven away these troublesome elders, the security head dared come downstairs. He remembered Xiao Man, still sitting in his chair: “Oh right, what was your business again?”
“I’m here to turn myself in too,” Xiao Man said.
“Turn yourself in?” The security head’s head throbbed once more. “You’re also here deliberately to cause trouble, aren’t you?”
Xiao Man was taken upstairs for questioning.
“It was obviously Foreman Ding who hung up that tire — what are you here getting involved for?” The security office head asked.
“I’m the one who did it. I came to turn myself in — and you won’t even believe me?” Xiao Man replied. “Is turning yourself in really this difficult?”
The security office head didn’t dare act rashly this time. He called the political security unit of the sub-bureau to report a major break in the case. Team Leader Cold rushed to Xi Tie Cheng immediately upon hearing there was a confession. He walked into the interrogation room and, looking at Xiao Man, thought he seemed familiar: “I think I’ve seen you before?”
“Yes, we have met,” Xiao Man also recognized the Cold police officer from years ago. “That year you came to Xi Tie Cheng Middle School to investigate the resale of second-hand pagers.”
“It comes back to me now! You were the boy working at the newspaper kiosk!” Team Leader Cold slapped his forehead. “Seven or eight years gone by, and you’ve gotten yourself into trouble?”
The formal interrogation began. Team Leader Cold was civil enough and had the security office head pour Xiao Man a cup of tea first. “Tell me — what relation are you to Foreman Ding?”
“Not a relative. I’ve been effectively an orphan since I was seventeen.” Xiao Man said.
“You have a prior offense for assault? You’ve been to a juvenile detention center?” Team Leader Cold asked, flipping through a file.
“Yes, I have.”
“That was a case of excessive self-defense in response to being attacked by bad actors,” the security office head quickly interjected.
Team Leader Cold said nothing and continued to look through Xiao Man’s file: “You’ve been to Japan? What for?”
“To work and earn money.”
“Did you earn any money?”
“No.”
“Right then — tell me why you hung things on the sculpture. What was your motive?”
“Just for fun. No motive, not any kind.”
“Where did you get the old tire and whiteboard?”
“Picked them up off the ground.”
“The sculpture’s base is so tall you can hardly climb it. How did you hang things on it?”
“With a long bamboo pole,” Xiao Man said. “The kind used for unblocking drains — a big bamboo pole. You just lift it up and hook things on. If you like, I can demonstrate.”
“Who are you trying to fool?” Team Leader Cold’s expression changed. “You’re definitely here to take the fall for someone else!”
“Team Leader Cold, why is it so hard to turn yourself in? Don’t you want to solve the case?”
“Drop that glib attitude!” Team Leader Cold said. “The way I see it, you must have water on the brain to dare come here and make up stories to provoke the police.”
“You’re right, Team Leader Cold — I really have had water in my brain!” Xiao Man reached into his backpack and pulled out the diagnostic letter from the Anning Hospital. “I really do have a condition. You can see for yourself!”
Team Leader Cold and the security office head took the diagnostic letter and read: “Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder — pending inpatient observation and treatment.”
“How did you come to get this illness? What shocked you into it?” The security office head asked.
“It’s a long story. As a child, I fell into a river at Xi Tie Cheng and nearly drowned. When I grew up, I fell into the sea in Japan and nearly drowned again. When they fished me out, the hallucinations started.” Xiao Man opened his palm. “Right now, if I don’t wear earplugs, I can’t tell which voices are real and which are in my head.”
Team Leader Cold thought for a moment and told the security office head: “Would you mind calling the Anning Hospital to confirm this illness.”
While the security office head went downstairs to make the call, Team Leader Cold lit a cigarette, squinted at Xiao Man, and asked: “What you’re saying is — when you have a mental episode, you don’t know right from wrong?”
“What right or wrong? It was just for fun.”
“All right. One more question: who else is in your family?”
“Just me. I feed myself and the whole family is full.”
“Have you thought this through? If you fake madness and end up in prison, there’s no one to bring you meals.”
“Prison? Then this confession was a waste of time.” Xiao Man shot back. “I should be going to the Anning Hospital, shouldn’t I?”
Team Leader Cold stared at Xiao Man for a moment, blew on the froth of his tea, and said nothing.
The security office head quickly finished the call and reported back to Team Leader Cold: the Anning Hospital confirmed there was indeed such a patient, who had run off because he couldn’t afford the hospitalization deposit.
“Get the Anning Hospital to issue a medical certificate. Hold this Xiao Man in custody first,” Team Leader Cold said. “By the way, don’t let Foreman Ding go either. I need to report upward.”
“Wait — I’ve already turned myself in. Why am I still being held?” Xiao Man was actually anxious.
The team leader paid no attention to Xiao Man’s protests and said to the security office head: “The report will be framed in these terms.”
“Understood — we’ll frame it exactly that way.” The security office head said.
Shortly after, Foreman Ding was released from the security office. He didn’t go straight home but crouched by the entrance of the security office waiting for news about Xiao Man. After some time, an ambulance marked “Anning Hospital” pulled up outside the substation. Xiao Man was escorted out by Team Leader Cold and helped into the ambulance. Seeing that Xiao Man’s hands were free of handcuffs, Foreman Ding felt a sense of relief settle in his heart.
The ambulance door slammed shut and drove straight to the Anning Hospital.
And so the case was closed — simply and reasonably: a prank by a person with a mental illness.
As for the truth of what had happened, both Team Leader Cold and the security office head understood perfectly well in their hearts. Team Leader Cold had never wanted to make trouble for Foreman Ding, that model worker. But not handling the case at all would have been an abdication of duty, impossible to account for to higher-ups. Then Xiao Man conveniently showed up to take the fall, and so everyone found a way out.
Team Leader Cold personally escorted Xiao Man to the Anning Hospital and completed the hospital admission paperwork and signed the handover documents with Director Huang.
Director Huang asked a few perfunctory questions about Xiao Man’s condition. Xiao Man suddenly flung his teacup down and shouted: “Team Leader Cold! I’d like to report something from inside my own mind! Just now a voice in my head said: once I get out of the hospital, I’ll burn the factory security office down.”
“Interesting — that’s not typical of auditory hallucinations,” Director Huang remarked to Team Leader Cold. “His hallucinated sentences have perfectly clear subjects, verbs, and objects.”
“I couldn’t care less whether it’s a hallucination or not,” Team Leader Cold said noncommittally. “If it’s an illness, Old Huang, you find a way to cure him. If it’s not an illness, keep him hospitalized — don’t let him run out and cause more trouble!”
“Keep him hospitalized indefinitely?” Director Huang asked. “And who would cover the hospitalization costs — the civil affairs bureau, or some other department?”
“I don’t care who covers it. If no one pays, your hospital feeds him yourselves!” Team Leader Cold said. “Make sure he is well taken care of. If he isn’t cured, don’t release him. This is a political task!”