Short Story, 2800 words.
The Dream of Gen Wangu
For the past twenty-one and three-quarter years, Gen Wangu has risen at five-thirty a.m. for work at the Central Transportation Planning Commission just north of Beijing. He has walked upon soft feet so as not to wake his wife, Jiejue, who dreams of the looming daily chores while shifting and turning in her last moments of sleep. He has combed thinning hair with his grandfather’s pearl-handled comb, more gently with each passing year, and donned an ill-fitting gray suit, identical to the suit that he bought for his first day of work.
This particular Wednesday, Gen Wangu hummed softly with excitement as he walked down the narrow hallway of apartment into the grey silence of the kitchen. He took down two small pots from hooks over the sink, and boiled milk in one and lotus leaves in the other. He poured the milk into a thermos and wrapped the now-malleable leaves around open chestnuts, then dropped them one by one into a wrinkled paper bag. Glancing at his watch, he clicked his tongue and exhaled forcefully. His son, Zunxun, should have been up by now.
Gen thought for a moment of leaving him behind. Zunxun would have to make the long bus ride, and he would surely be reprimanded for his tardiness. Perhaps he would learn a lesson. But Gen decided that it would reflect poorly upon a chief officer if his son was late on what the Commission Leader had deemed “one of the biggest days in the history of the C.T.P.C.” He didn’t want to spoil the day. It was not often that there was excitement at the office, or in fact, in any moment of Gen's life.
“There is a time for raising your head and looking up at the sky and a time for diverting the stream for your benefit. But as soon as you bend down to take your first son from your wife, so you shall remain. Constantly below her, eyes down, and hands safely wrapped around your child, in harmony with your conventions. And when the day comes that your son is able break free from your grasp, your duty is over, and you will surrender to the forces of the world around you.”
Gen had only been at the commission for six months when Zunxun was born. He requested a week's paid absence, but was granted only three days. Then the birth came early and without warning. No one could find the village midwife, so with the help of his neighbor, a former army nurse who was nearly blind, he had delivered the child himself. But even without the proper preparations or any medications to relieve her pain, Jiejue hadn't screamed as the child emerged into his waiting hands. She seemed to welcome the pain as a sacrifice for her husband.
“This,” Jiejue had said proudly as she dabbed her child's face with a wet cloth, “is an auspicious child.”
And even though he could not speak until he was almost four years old, the tenants in the apartment building all said Zunxun showed the attributes of a diligent worker. “He will make a fine engineer one day.” Gen smiled at the prospect of working alongside his son at the commission.
But Zunxun had failed his engineering exams and had instead worked for nearly six years at the planning commission as a lowly clerk—and without a single promotion. And now he was making a Chief Officer tardy for the morning’s presentation. Gen's anger boiled out of his mouth. “Zunxun! It is five minutes past six, and the meeting won't wait for us!”
It was over an hour’s drive to commission headquarters. By the time Zunxun joined his father in the car, the clock in the dashboard read six-thirteen.
“I hope you didn't use all of the hot water. Your mother has to clean the tile in the kitchen this morning. You wouldn't need to shower until evening if you would simply cut that unruly hair.”
Zunxun's hair glistened, still wet, and stuck to his forehead and tops of his ears. He said nothing in response.
They pulled out from behind their apartment building and on to the dusty, dirt and gravel road that would take them to the expressway to Beijing. Gen silently cursed each rock that pinged against the undercarriage of the car, and every grain of dust that settled onto the windshield and mirrors. “For twenty years, I have strongly suggested that this road be paved, and no one listens.”
“Yes father, I know.”
They rode in silence. The radio wasn't working, and Gen had only used the cassette player for his Learning Corporate English tapes the previous year when he was in line for his promotion to Executive Officer. He turned off the lights as the sun came up over the distant mountains. When they merged onto the G4 Expressway, Zunxun’s hair was dry, and the dashboard clock read seven o’clock. They would be late for the presentation.
When they arrived at commission headquarters, Gen fought the urge to run through the empty corridors leading to the auditorium. He paused outside the large double doors, feeling as though every eye would turn to him as soon as he pushed them open. He listened for a break in the speech or a round of applause to make his entrance, but he heard nothing except for the distant voice of Mr. Xqiu from the stage.
Minutes passed, and Gen decided that he could not miss any more of the presentation. He took a deep breath and pulled open the right door. To his surprise, no one turned around. The rows of workers were frozen, eyes affixed to the screen hovering above the stage.
On the screen was a map of Northeastern China, with all of the highway systems outlined in blue. There was also a network of red lines that connected and intertwined with the webs of blue.
Xqiu’s voice boomed over the PA speakers, “The last year, those of you working on Project HY have been of great service planning the highway system for Minister Zhan Chunxian's provincial connection plan. Monday, the minister himself instructed me to express his gratitude to all of those diligent workers, and to let all of you share the excitement of this announcement."
Xqiu paused for a tidy applause and continued, “Minister Chunxian also wishes to inform you that if your house lies within the demolition path, the state is offering fifteen percent over the normal compensation. This is because you developed the plan and systems in such an efficient and timely manner. This is very generous considering...”
Gen began to lose the words. His face became hot when he noticed a woman in the last row who was weeping quietly. Her coworkers also glanced at her, then looked away.
She too must live in Nanshi, Gen thought as he looked back to the screen. His eye followed a thick, red line that meandered south from Beijing, toward the port cities and right through his village, which had been reduced to a small, flesh colored speck on the map.
After the presentation, Gen went straight to his office, passing the rows of cubicles without stopping to discuss business or make small talk. His face remained expressionless for the rest of the day. He received only one phone call before lunch, and it was a wrong number. At noon, he picked up a medium portion of rice at the commission cafeteria, and stirred in the lotus leave-covered chestnuts from home. He did not see his son at their usual table, so he ate alone.
After lunch, he walked to a newsstand and bought a periodical. He sat at his desk all afternoon looking through it, reading the same articles over and over. It was five minutes past five before Gen turned off his desk lamp. As he left the building, he saw Zunxun sitting on the trunk of the car, hunched over a small notebook, writing and pausing between every word to look in anticipation toward the planning commission offices.
“Zunxun, why are you out here waiting on me?" he half-heartedly reprimanded his son as he descended the stairs on the side of the building. “People who leave work early don’t get promotions. These things are noticed.”
Zunxun slid off of the trunk and folded the notebook into a pocket before his father could say another word.
“Father?” Zunxun said before Gen could turn the key. “Father, are they going to make us move to Beijing?”
“What? Weren’t you listening to the presentation?” Gen angrily turned the key and the car sputtered and shook into operation.
“But father, please listen,” Zunxun said as he pulled the notebook from his pocket. “I’ve run the numbers, and with mother’s health, and on your salary we cannot…”
“Enough!” Gen would not look at his son.
“You could ask them to make one small change to the plan and spare the village, Father. Just one small change. You know this will break Mother’s heart.”
“Absurd. I won’t listen to another word of this. How would that look? Disloyal—that’s how. And self-serving. And I don’t even wish to discuss how you learned the details of my salary. From gossip? From going through my papers?” He slapped the steering wheel with both palms and Zunxun flinched.
After several deep breaths, Zunxun mustered the courage to speak again. “I’m only worried about mother. And when did you plan on telling her?"
“You foolish boy. A move is long overdue, regardless. A man in my position should be closer to the commission office. And of course, with my rank and standing, I will be more than sufficiently compensated. Even the lowest ranked workers are going to be generously compensated. Besides, I couldn’t change the plan if I wanted to. They even ignored my strong suggestion that the Gou Road should be paved. And I plan on telling your mother this evening, now that the news has been officially released."
“Mother isn’t getting any better. A move will only…”
“Again, you aren’t thinking! We will be closer to the best doctors and clinics in the country.” Gen let out an artificial laugh and tapped the side of his head with an index finger. “Anyway, all this is of no concern to you, Zunxun. Your only concerns should be advancement at the commission and making your own way in the world.”
When they arrived at the apartment building, it seemed strangely quiet and devoid of familiar sounds—the laughter of children and women shouting to one another from the balconies. For a moment, Gen imagined that news of the relocation had somehow preceded him, but he shook his head and dismissed the idea as impossible.
Zunxun kept his head down and stayed several steps behind his father as they ascended the stairs to the third floor. When they entered the apartment, Gen could see steam billowing from the kitchen and he was hit with the pungent odor of fermented cabbage, a favorite dish of his wife and Zunxun, but one he secretly detested.
“Cabbage—again?”
“I'm sorry, Gen Wangu. The landlord suddenly called us into the meeting room just as I started to prepare your supper.” Jiejue shuffled over to the table, and poured a thin sauce over the vegetables at the center of the table.
“Fengdung was here today? What was it about?” Gen looked over at his son, and Zunxun looked down at his empty plate.
“They’re finally going to make the plumbing repairs they have been promising. But we will be without water for two days.”
Gen ignored his wife’s news, and sat up straight. He clasped his hands together with a sound that made Zunxun wince.
“I have my own very exciting news!”
Zunxun’s mouth fell open and he shook his head. “Father, don’t you think…”
Gen ignored his son and continued. “We have been selected for relocation! Our village was chosen to be a part of the new expressway system and industrial complex. In fact, the main complex will be named in our village’s honor. And all planning commission workers will receive a fifteen percent increase over the standard compensation deal. Isn't that wonderful?”
Jiejue could only manage to utter a single word. “Relocation?”
“We’ll get a brand new apartment, closer to the city. Close to the best doctors!”
Jiejue remained silent. She stood slowly and made her way to the stove and poured three cups of tea. She returned to the table, carrying a cup and saucer in each hand while deftly balancing another cup and saucer in the crook of her arm. She put the tea on the table and Gen smiled and nodded in an overly enthusiastic manner.
“I know it’s a lot to think about, Jiejue. We can discuss it later if you wish.”
Jiejue bowed, and Zunxun pushed his chair back and stomped out of the kitchen. Gen pretended not to notice, and he finished his meal before the last of the steam made its way out the vent above the window.
Later that night, Gen lay awake in his bed, staring at the cracks in the eggshell ceiling. Through the paint he could still see a gray stain in the corner; a phantom of the fire that Zunxun had set in the trash can to keep his father from seeing poor marks on a grade school assignment.
Then Gen looked directly below the stain at a picture of his beautiful bride on the afternoon of their wedding. Her cheeks were flush with excitement and her hips were still strong and full of promise. Jiejue’s loose, white gown hid the small bump below her stomach. Even with that knowledge, Gen could barely make out the shape of his son in the photograph.
Hanging in a matching frame to the left of the bride, hung Gen's own wedding portrait. His hands looked too big for the rest of his body, and out of place dangling from the sleeves of an elegant suit he’d borrowed from his uncle. But his shoulders were square, his back was straight and he looked like he stood for something. This Gen Wangu had not yet been pushed down by the weight of so many years. There he stood, a proud young man, looking down at the exhausted version of himself, curled up in the bed, and so frail in comparison, there was hardly an imprint on the thin mattress.
Gen Wangu felt too weak to pull his gaze from the wedding portraits. So much promise now lost. So many years devoted to service at the planning commission, and while he was a respected employee and manager, there was little to show for it. He was one of the few tenants to manage a purchase, but the meager apartment was the only thing of value that he owned. The car belonged to the company. The pearl of his grandfather's comb was determined by a jeweler to be fake, and his wife had nothing precious to call her own.
Gen struggled to sit up in bed. He looked across the bedside table at his wife, asleep in her bed, and he listened to her labored breathing. He remembered that some weeks before, she had told him of a dream. They were young and happy, but a great flood was coming soon to destroy the countryside. The rest of the village fled, but the young couple chose to stay. Just before the flood, they were visited by a beaver who promised to build a dam around their house if they helped him. They worked tirelessly, and finished just in time. The flood pushed and shook the dam for many days, but it held, and eventually they were safe. After the water receded, and despite his wife's objections, Gen captured the beaver and locked him in a cage in case of future floods.
He settled back to the bed and tried to supplant the memory of this dream with more pragmatic thoughts, but he was unsuccessful. He lay awake, thinking of the dream until he fell into his own dreams that he would not remember.
Across the hall, in his own room, Zunxun sat on a stool in the dim, narrow light of a lamp on a child-sized desk. He was examining a map of the province, and he moved his finger along the proposed expressway, then around his village in a line that looked like a pregnant woman. After a time, he grew sleepy and put his forehead on the desk. Then he too fell into a dream. In a memory inside the dream, he could see his own birth, and when Gen Wangu pulled Zunxun from his mother’s womb, his father was looking toward the sky.