urry up and get out,” the man ordered impatiently. I stared at him in a daze.

“I don’t think I can go through with this. I don’t have my papers with me. Please, let me go home.”

Heedless of my wishes, the man grabbed me roughly by the arms, yanked me out of the elevator, and forced me to walk alongside him. He was strong; I had little choice but to follow. My legs trembled in fear. The man dragged me off to a dimly lit corridor and pulled me along deeper and deeper into the hotel. No one else was around.

The hallway was covered with a thick beige carpet woven in an ornate design of water lilies and phoenixes. It was so luxurious I felt it wrong even to step on it. A dim lamp illuminated a far corner of the corridor, and from somewhere came the strains of elegant music. A marvelous scent wafted along the hallway. My fear gave way to a sense of gentle ease. I found the abruptness of the shift incredible. Had I never left the countryside, I would have died without ever even realizing such a wondrous place existed.

The man knocked on the last door. A woman’s shrill voice called in answer and the door opened immediately. A young woman stood in front of us, dressed in a navy-blue suit and wearing bright red lipstick. “Come in,” she said, as if it were a command. I looked around nervously and then drew a sigh of relief. There were three other men in the room. They looked to be my age. I suppose they had also been picked up, as had I, and brought to this place. They were sitting nervously on a sofa watching television.

I sat down gingerly on the edge of the sofa. The other men were migrants, just like me. I could tell at a glance from the clothes they wore. They were also nervous, having been dragged by a strange man and woman into a room more elegant than they could have ever imagined. They too were uncertain what would happen to them.

“Wait here,” the man said, as he stepped into the adjoining room. He was gone for a long time. The woman with the bright red lipstick did not open her mouth once. She just sat there watching TV along with the rest of us. Her eyes were so cunning and sharp, I assumed she was either a police officer or a government agent. I’d been in the city now for three months, toiling as a migrant laborer; it didn’t take me long to sniff out one of their kind. They gave themselves away with their haughty manner and high-handedness.

The television was tuned to a news story, covering some kind of riot. Young men were shouting with blood streaming down their faces; tanks were rolling in the streets, and people were running for cover. It looked like a civil war. Later I learned that this was the day following the killing in Tiananmen Square. I had not heard anything about the demonstrations, and had a hard time believing what I was seeing. The woman with the crafty face took up the remote control and turned off the television. The men, looking nervous, quickly averted their eyes, trying to avoid the woman’s gaze, and exchanged uneasy glances.

The room we were in was massive. It looked like it could sleep up to twenty or thirty people. I suppose it was done in what you would call the rococco style. There was a lavish Western-style sofa set in the room and an enormous television set. In the corner of the room was a bar. The curtains across the large window were pulled back and I could see the rays of the afternoon sun glittering over the Pearl River. It may have been hot outside, but the air-conditioning was on in the room and it was cool and dry. In a word, refreshing.

The woman pierced me with her keen gaze but, undeterred, I stood up and stared at the scene outside the window. Off to the right I could see makeshift shacks that a group of migrant workers had slapped together. What a filthy sight. They shouldn’t be allowed to build their shacks in such a beautiful place as this, I thought. Tiananmen Square seemed far away, like something completely unrelated to me.

The door to the adjoining room opened softly, and the man who had brought me there poked his head in and pointed to me.

“You, come here. The rest of you can leave.”

The men who had been waiting looked relieved on the one hand and disappointed on the other, as if they’d missed an opportunity. They got to their feet and shuffled out. I headed for the next room, completely baffled as to what was to transpire. There I found an enormous bed in the center of the room. A woman was sitting in a chair by the bed, smoking a cigarette. She was short, and her body was firm and compact. Her hair was dyed a reddish brown and she was wearing large pink-rimmed glasses. A bright red gown was draped across her shoulders. She was garish and looked to be in her forties.

“Come over here.”

Her voice was surprisingly soft. She beckoned me to a small settee. When I sat down, I noticed that the man who had brought me had left the room. It was just me and the woman now, sitting face-to-face. The woman raised her eyes—which looked twice as large as they were due to the magnification of her glasses—and examined me carefully. What on earth is going on? I wondered, as I returned the woman’s gaze.

“What do you think of me?” she asked.

“That you’re scary,” I answered in all honesty, and the woman pulled her lips into a tight grimace.

“That’s what everyone says.”

She stood up and opened a small lockbox on a shelf next to the bed. She pulled out what looked to be a cupful of loose tea and poured some into a pot. Her hands were large. Then she poured hot water efficiently into the pot. She was making me a cup of tea.

“This is delicious tea,” she said.

I would have preferred Coca-Cola, I thought to myself. But not wanting to anger the woman, who clearly saw things differently, I kept nodding.

She continued, saying triumphantly, “This oolong tea is of the highest quality. It’s from fields that I own in Hunan. And every year we only produce a little tiny bit.”

The woman made a circle with her hands the size of a soccer ball. I’d never been given a taste of such rare tea.

“What’s your name?”

The woman sipped the tea and stared at me as if she were appraising merchandise. Her gaze was soft but penetrating. I felt my heart tighten instinctively. I didn’t know what was going on, and I’d never been in a situation quite like this before: left alone with a woman whose purpose I did not understand.

“Zhang Zhe-zhong.”

“Such a common name. My name is Lou-zhen. I make my living as a songwriter.”

I couldn’t imagine how one could make a living writing songs, but even a naïve country bumpkin like myself had had enough experience in the world to know that a woman who stayed in a luxurious hotel like this was not run-of-the-mill. Lou-zhen, a songwriter, had hired a man to go out and find men like me. Why? Was she involved in some kind of organized crime? I began to tremble at the thought, assailed by a fear I couldn’t even name. But Lou-zhen said, as if it irked her, “I want you as my lover.”

“Your lover? What do you mean?”

“It means you’ll sleep with me.”

She stared right at me as she said this. I felt my cheeks burn red hot.

“I couldn’t do that.”

“Yes, you could,” she replied smoothly. “And in return I will give you a nice sum of cash. You want to make money, don’t you? That’s why you came to this city as a migrant laborer, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes, but…I’ve been paid to work.”

“I suppose you could say this will be work too!”

The woman seemed to realize that what she’d just said was peculiar, because she gave an embarrassed laugh. I couldn’t tell if she was from a good family or not by the way she behaved.

“How much money are we talking about?”

“If you can satisfy me, I’ll give you all you want. What do you think? A pretty good deal, huh?”

For a minute I couldn’t respond. My heart was torn. On the one hand I didn’t think I could ever possibly be a male prostitute, no matter what the compensation. On the other hand, I was sick and tired of working in construction, and the idea of making such easy money was extremely tempting. More than tempting, in fact. In the end the money won out. I slowly nodded my consent. Lou-zhen smiled and filled my cup with tea.

In truth, it takes considerable courage to write about this. I hesitated to divulge all these details in the written report I submitted earlier to this court, Your Honor. But now I’ve been given an opportunity to reflect on my past life. I just pray that you will read what I have written here without prejudice or contempt.

So that is how I allowed the wealthy middle-aged Lou-zhen to buy me. I knew she was only interested in my body, but still I wondered if perhaps she might love me. Because even though she always spoke to me in rough suggestive tones, she doted on me as if I were her favorite pet dog. The reason she had picked me from among the other men, she said, was because my face came closest to resembling that of her ideal. And she liked the fact that I stood off on my own looking out the window, instead of sitting with the others watching television. I didn’t realize it at the time, but there was a two-way mirror in the room where we had been asked to wait, and Lou-zhen had watched us from here.

I was ordered to live in Lou-zhen’s suite. While there—in that magnificent hotel—I saw and heard things I had never before experienced: things like Western-style food and table manners, the decadence of breakfast in bed, a rooftop swimming pool. I’d been raised in the mountains and did not know how to swim. Reclining beside the pool, tanning myself, I would watch Lou-zhen swim laps, her strokes powerful and smooth. The pool was limited to club members, all of whom were either wealthy Chinese or foreigners. I was particularly taken with the stylish Western women and was ashamed to be seen there with the unattractive Lou-zhen.

I began drinking: beer and whiskey or brandy and wine. Lou-zhen enjoyed watching videos of American movies. She very rarely watched news shows. I wanted to find out what had happened at Tiananmen Square and afterward, but since Lou-zhen didn’t get a newspaper I had no way to find out. Lou-zhen let it slip that once, when she was young, she had visited America. At that time the only people who ever went abroad were either government officials or exchange students, so it was a mystery to me how Lou-zhen got out. But I never asked her any questions. I played my role of the young lover to perfection. I did what I could to master the life I led in the penthouse of the White Swan Hotel, this room next to heaven itself.

The room may have brushed heaven, but Lou-zhen was a disgusting person. If I gave voice to just the slightest opinion about anything, she flew into a rage. With haughty self-assurance she forbade me to express any of my own ideas. At those times I wanted to cut all ties with her and run away someplace where I could live my own life. But my whole sphere of existence was now confined to the penthouse and the pool on the twenty-sixth floor. I was not allowed to walk freely about the hotel or to leave it on my own. Within a week of agreeing to live with Lou-zhen, I began to regret my decision.

About ten days after the incident at Tiananmen Square, something happened. The phone by the side of the bed rang, and when Lou-zhen answered it she turned strangely pale. Her voice was tense.

“Well, then, what should I do? I suppose I should come back immediately.”

She was still agitated after she hung up. She leaned over to me, and I made as if to embrace her from behind.

“Something troublesome has happened in Beijing.”

“Does it have anything to do with you?”

Lou-zhen got up and put a cigarette in her mouth. She didn’t answer. “Deng Xiaoping’s gone and done it!” she mumbled. That was all, but it was enough to make me realize that the reason her background was mysterious was that she was probably the daughter of a high-level Communist Party member. After Tiananmen, her father undoubtedly was facing difficulties.

Lou-zhen remained in a nasty mood for the rest of the day. She got more phone calls, which left her depressed, anxious, and angry. I sat watching a Hollywood movie until Lou-zhen told me, “I have to go back to Beijing for a bit, Zhe-zhong. You wait for me here.”

“Can’t I go with you? I’ve never been to Beijing.”

“No, that won’t do.” Lou-zhen shook her head abruptly, like a man.

“Well, then, will it be okay if I wander around the hotel?”

“I guess I don’t have much choice. But be sure you always have him with you.”

Him was her bodyguard, the man who had brought me to Lou-zhen in the first place.

“You can’t run off without telling me where you’re going, and you can’t fool around with other women. If you do pull that kind of trick on me, I’ll be sure to have you locked up.”

With that threat, Lou-zhen set off for Beijing. She took Bai Jie, the crafty-faced woman, with her. Bai Jie was her secretary and lived on the same floor of the hotel. That woman must really have despised me, because whenever she came near me she would look away in disgust. The bodyguard and the limo driver were no better. They must have figured Lou-zhen would tire of me sooner or later, so whenever she wasn’t around they were rude to me.

I wanted to get out somehow. On the day after Lou-zhen and her secretary left for Beijing, I set off to explore the hotel under the watchful eye of the bodyguard.

“So, who’s Lou-zhen’s father?” I asked, as we rode the elevator. The first time I’d met the man, when he brought me here, I was afraid of him. But now my attitude had changed completely, which did not please the bodyguard. He said nothing and looked away.

I put the screws to him: blackmail. “You know, when Lou-zhen gets back I’ll no problem telling her about the way you and her secretary pilfer her cigarettes and booze and sell them on the side.”

The bodyguard went pale. “If you want

to know so bad I’ll tell you”—he scowled—“but an ignoramus like you isn’t going to recognize the name anyway.”

“Try me.”

“Li Tou-min.”

I couldn’t believe my ears and nearly collapsed on the floor with shock. Li Tou-min was the number-two man in the Chinese Communist Party. Lou-zhen had threatened me with prison if I tried to escape, but I hadn’t realized how serious she was. I’d gotten tangled up with a really dangerous woman.

“Are you kidding?”

I grabbed the bodyguard’s shoulders but he shook free of my grip roughly.

“She’s Li’s eldest daughter. Whether things go well for you or not depends on how you behave. All the ones before you were idiots. They got caught up in this life of luxury and forgot that we were the ones who yanked them out of the stinking mud of the countryside. That’s when Lou-zhen can really be vile. She makes sure they know just what they are.”

“So you’re saying I’ll be okay as long as I watch my step?”

The bodyguard didn’t answer. He just smiled. I braced myself, thinking I’d try to knock him out here in the elevator. But just when I was ready to attack, the car jolted as we reached the first floor, the doors opened, and I was confronted with an entirely new world.

I forgot Lou-zhen completely. Families were milling about the lobby in T-shirts, businessmen rushed through at a brisk pace, and there were the doormen in their maroon livery. I’d been holed up in Lou-zhen’s suite so long, it had been at least two weeks since I was last out. A Western woman wearing a dress that was cut low in back sauntered past and smiled when she caught my eye. How big the world is! I was absolutely captivated by the different people I saw walking this way and that throughout the spacious lobby. These were people awash with luxury and the richness of peace. I wanted to become just like them. No, I was determined to be one of them. My heart, dominated by a desire for wealth and a longing for freedom, was filled with bitterness. I was seized with the desire to escape. As if reading my mind, the bodyguard whispered gruffly in my ear, “Remember, watch your step. Your clothes belong to Lou-zhen, your shoes, everything. If you even think of skipping off, she’ll have you brought up on charges of theft.”

“Bastard.”

“Hick.”

“It takes one to know one.”

“Not me. I’m from Beijing.”

While we exchanged murmured insults, we sauntered through the lobby, this way and that, without a flicker of nastiness on our faces.

Indeed, the white polo shirt, jeans, and shoes I was wearing had all been provided by Lou-zhen. The polo shirt was designed by Fred Perry of London. The jeans were Levi’s. And the shoes were Nike—black leather with white stripes. At that time you could probably count the number of Chinese people in the world who were able to afford to wear Nikes. When I first got the pair I had on, I was so happy I could hardly stand it. Every morning I’d take them up in my hands as if they were the most precious gift ever imagined. And precisely because I was dressed so impeccably, the people who saw me regarded me with respect.

Ah, he may be young, but you can be sure he’s rich. That’s what I assumed the doormen were thinking as I saw them look enviously at the Nikes on my feet. Up till then I had been overwhelmed by Lou-zhen. I sucked in the air of her wealth until I felt my lungs would explode. But wealth glitters all the brighter when it is accompanied by admiration. If no one is there to appreciate your wealth, it loses half its value. When I made this discovery, I realized that I had to get away from Lou-zhen. I had to break free of her grasp.

I took a seat on the sofa in the corner of the lobby, to enjoy more fully the way I looked in my expensive clothes. There was a window directly across from the couch, and in it I could see my reflection. When the bodyguard saw me admiring my clothes, he smirked with pleasure.

“The tailor makes the man! Those fine threads of yours looked just as good on the guy before you, you know.”

I was dismayed. The clothes were hand-me-downs? I had assumed they were new.

“What happened to him?”

“Well, let’s see. The little shit was from Heilongjiang Province. We caught him helping himself to Lou-zhen’s prize tea, and that was that. The asshole before him was from the Inner Mongolia Autonomous Region. He wore Lou-zhen’s ruby ring in the swimming pool and lost the stone. He said he wanted to see what a gem looked like underwater. Just the sort of thing to expect from a little hick like that! They’re both enjoying prison hospitality now.”

When I heard that I was assaulted by a new wave of fear. Was this the fate that awaited me? Only two weeks had passed since I moved in with Lou-zhen. I could tell she was taken with me, but I couldn’t stand her. From then on, all I could think about was getting away from her—and also helping myself to a few of her things.

You’ll have to forgive me, but I didn’t think that would be stealing. Why? Because I had not been adequately compensated for my hard work. At the outset Lou-zhen had promised me a salary, but she paid me no more than twenty yuan a day. I didn’t think this was fair; she’d promised more, after all. But when I asked her she said, “No, no. I am paying you one hundred yuan a day. But once I subtract the room and board, this is all that remains. Of course, I don’t charge for your cigarettes and drinks.”

The bodyguard jabbed my arm. “Time to go back.” With little choice I rose to my feet, feeling as miserable as a prisoner. A pathetic peasant boy kidnapped by the daughter of the ruling party.

“Look.” The bodyguard nudged me. “Look at the kid in the stroller.”

A white man and woman, presumably an American husband and wife, were making their way through the lobby with a baby stroller. They stopped to stand by the fountain. I stared at the couple in disbelief as they stood there smiling blissfully. How could anyone be so fortunate that they could go overseas on vacation with their family? The husband was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. The wife had on a matching T-shirt and blue jeans. They were a robust healthy-looking white couple. But the baby in the stroller—so small it looked like it could barely sit—was Asian. Had these charitable foreigners adopted this pathetic little Chinese orphan? I wondered.

“What’s going on?”

The bodyguard pointed discreetly around the lobby. There were white couples all over, just like this one, pushing baby strollers; in every case the babies in the strollers were Chinese, both boys and girls. And each was dressed in brand-new pure-white baby clothes.

“Adoption mediation.”

“Who?”

The bodyguard turned his eyes up to the ceiling.

“Lou-zhen’s involved in this? She said she was a songwriter.”

“That’s what she says. Tell me, have you heard any of her songs?”

When I shook my head, the bodyguard snorted.

“Adoption mediation is her real work. She runs a charitable organization.”

I doubted there was much charity involved. Lou-zhen liked luxury. She wouldn’t work if it didn’t pay handsomely. But I don’t know all the facts, so I won’t describe something that isn’t my business. What I want to write about is not the adoptions per se. Rather, it is this: when I looked at those babies in the strollers, I couldn’t help but feel jealous. They were so lucky to be able to go to America while they were still too little to know anything. How easy it would be for them to be raised as Americans.

I was born and raised in China. But never once, even though I lived there for a long time, did anyone ever do anything for me. If you’re born in the country, you’re expected to stay in the country. If you want to move to the city, you have to have a permit to do so. And forget about going overseas. Those of us who came to the city as migrant laborers had to live hand to mouth, constantly trying to avoid the snares of the law.

I was lost in these thoughts when suddenly the bodyguard pinched my elbow. “Hey! Wake up! And just so you know, my name’s Yu Wei. Sir to you, asshole. Don’t forget it.”

Later Yu Wei told me that Lou-zhen had had to rush back to Beijing because her younger brother had been badly injured in the riots that followed the Tiananmen Square protests. Apparently he’d broken his arm and been arrested. Lou-zhen had two stepbrothers, quite a bit younger than she. One was an artist, specializing in prints, who lived in Shanghai. The other lived in Beijing and had a rock band with some of his buddies; his band had given a number of performances in front of the tent in Tiananmen Square where the students were staging their sit-in.

Lou-zhen stayed in Beijing longer than she had expected. She wasn’t able to help her brother and had to keep extending her stay. If her father had flexed his political muscle they could have had the boy out in no time. But the boy’s performance had been televised, and shown on the news; it had captured the attention of the country—even the world—so it wasn’t a simple matter to get him released. There would have been an uproar if they’d let him go. If anything, Yu Wei insisted, the authorities ought to be even harsher on him.

Li Tou-min’s three children had each been sent to study in America, given lavish allowances, and encouraged to work in fancy Western-style businesses in the cities of their choosing. They’d been blessed beyond belief. As a high-ranking member of the Communist Party, Li was able to use his authority to line his own pockets.

When Yu told me this I was less angry than I was envious. There it was again: In China, a person’s fate is determined by where he is born. If I’d been born to a member of the Party’s inner cabinet, I would not have ended up committing this crime. I am torn with regret over my misfortune.

Two weeks passed and Lou-zhen still had not come back. She was too busy running around Beijing trying to secure her brother’s release. If it had been me, I am sure I wouldn’t have cared what became of one of my stepbrothers. But for someone like Lou-zhen, born into the lap of luxury, it was impossible, I suppose, to think only of herself while her family’s profits were threatened.

Lou-zhen called Yu Wei every day. While Yu Wei talked to her, he would wink knowingly at me and go out of his way to grimace and make faces. It was all I could do not to burst out laughing.

I got to be good friends with Yu Wei while Lou-zhen was gone. We’d watch TV together, help ourselves to Lou-zhen’s liquor, and basically enjoy ourselves. Our favorite topic of conversation was the Tiananmen Square protests. Yu Wei called my attention to onse of the young women activists on the news program we were watching. She was organizing the others around her. “That one’s trouble, Zhe-zhong,” Yu Wei said. “I can tell by her eyes. You get hooked up with a girl like her, and no good can come of it.”

Yu Wei was thirty-two. He said he was from Beijing, but he was really from a farming village on the outskirts of the city. His mother had been a maid for the Li family for years and had gotten Yu Wei his bodyguard job.

Yu Wei was also a bad influence. He brought in a bottle of cheap whiskey and mixed it with Lou-zhen’s good scotch. He rifled through the wastebaskets, picking out drafts of letters that Lou-zhen had thrown there. He said he was going to hold on to them as insurance, in case he ever needed to blackmail her. He also went through the drawers of her desk, looking for the key to her lockbox. I was worried that if by some chance he should be found out, I would be the one who took the blame, but he just laughed and said I was a chicken-shit.

On the day we got the news that Lou-zhen would return the following afternoon, Yu Wei and I went to the rooftop pool. For Yu Wei it was a forbidden pleasure.

“Some kind of fucking paradise this is!” Yu Wei scoffed. The water in the twenty-five-meter pool was clear, and the blue-painted bottom of the pool wavered in the rays of the sun. The breeze blowing over the roof was hot. The streets below may have been noisy, but no sound disturbed the stillness on the roof. There were fewer than ten people in the pool area, and no one was swimming. They sat with absolutely no interest in one another, just enjoying the rays of the sun baking their bodies.

There was a small bar in one corner of the patio. I don’t know when she’d arrived, but a young woman was sitting there, drinking a cocktail with an expectant look, as if she were waiting for someone. She had long hair that hung down her back, and she was wearing only a pair of stylish sunglasses and a little bikini. Respectable women never came to a pool alone, so I knew she must be a prostitute waiting to pick up a customer.

“Wonder if she’d take us on?”

When Yu Wei heard what I said, he showed me a roll of cash he had hidden under his towel. “With this she will!”

“Where’d you steal that from?”

It had to be Lou-zhen’s money. We could get away with diluting her scotch, but sneaking off with her money was going to be a problem. I turned pale.

“Shit! What if she thinks I did it?”

“Relax!” Yu Wei replied, annoyed. He lit a cigarette. “We’ll get it back from that woman when we’re done with her and return it before the night is over.”

“Well, let’s go, then.”

Yu Wei pulled a few of the bills off the roll and pressed them in my hand. The woman was chewing on her straw, looking in the other direction. She didn’t notice us approach. She really was attractive. Her limbs were long and slender, her face small and oval.

“Hello, there,” I called out.

The woman wheeled around and gasped as she removed her sunglasses. I gazed, stunned, into Mei-kun’s big eyes, watching as they filled with tears.

“Zhe-zhong!”

“What’s going on?” Yu Wei asked suspiciously.

“She’s my little sister!”

“You don’t say. Brother and sister? I can see the resemblance.”

It made me extremely angry to see the way the expression on Yu Wei’s face turned from surprise to scorn. No doubt he was telling himself that he’d come across a pair of brother-sister prostitutes.

The closer I was to Mei-kun, the more like a prostitute she looked. The makeup she wore was much too garish for a woman at a pool, and her hair was dyed a reddish brown just like a cheap streetwalker. I was happy to see her again, but I couldn’t let go of my feelings of bitterness. You dumped me at Guangzhou Station and slid into this despicable state? Just as I predicted! I couldn’t get past wanting to shout at her. My emotions were so jumbled, I hardly knew what to think. So I just stood there in shock until Mei-kun tapped Yu Wei on the shoulder and said, “Do you mind? We have a lot to talk about. A little privacy, please.”

Yu Wei shrugged his shoulders in disgust, bought a beer, went off to sit in a chair some way away, and spread out a newspaper.

“Oh, Zhe-zhong, I’m so glad to see you! Get me out of Guangzhou, okay? That Jin-long has a heart as black as a snake. He sends me off to snag customers and then takes all my money. If I complain he hits me. Right now he’s waiting for me down in the lobby. He sent me up here to find a customer. Let’s run away together.”

Mei-kun nervously surveyed the people around the pool. I was shocked to see her this way—Mei-kun, who had always been so self-confident, so quick to turn a situation to her advantage. But who was I to talk? As soon as Lou-zhen returned, I would go right back to being her little pet dog. What could have been more pathetic than a brother and sister ending up this way? I felt bitter, as if I were being overwhelmed by an existence much greater than my own, a being I was powerless to resist. Unless you’ve experienced this kind of helplessness, you cannot understand. I could not escape. But why was I so afraid of Lou-zhen?

“Easy to say we should run away. But where would we go?”

My question was feeble and unfocused. But Mei-kun’s response was quick and certain. “Let’s go to Shenzhen.”

And so Mei-kun determined, as she had earlier, the next location in my pilgrimage: Shenzhen. It was another of the designated Special Economic Zones, I’d heard others say. There are all sorts of jobs in Shenzhen, and the salaries are good. I’ve lived in Tokyo for many years now. Every time I take the train past Shinsen Station I think back to China. The pronunciation of the two place names are so very similar. Shinsen Station is next, the conductor will call over the loudspeaker, and for a minute I’m transported back to this very moment in time. It’s a strange sensation.

“Well, that’s a great idea, but how are we going to pull it off?”

I gazed hopelessly up at the sky. Once she learned I’d run off, Lou-zhen would hunt me down, taking full advantage of her influence and connections. I did not want to end up in prison; that was the bottom line. Mei-kun grabbed my arm tightly and planted her heels firmly on the ground.

“Look, you’ve got to come to some decision. We’re not going to get another chance like this.”

I turned to look back at Yu Wei. He was glaring at me. Did he suspect something?

“Zhe-zhong, do you want me to be a whore for the rest of my life?”

No. I shook my head, feeling as though I’d been slapped. I suppose it would be next to impossible for anyone else to really understand how I felt. I had grown up with Mei-kun and she was very dear to me, a very important presence. But ever since she abandoned me, a black hatred toward her had been born in my heart. Hatred is a terrifying thing. It filled me with a cruel desire, a hope that Mei-kun too would suffer a bitter fate. But even though I knew she was suffering, I still wasn’t happy. And that’s because the sight of Mei-kun in distress caused me to suffer as well. In the end, I decided to escape with Mei-kun for one reason. I couldn’t bear the idea of Mei-kun sleeping with other men. It made me jealous. I felt as though something I possessed—something of my own—had been damaged.

“But what am I supposed to do? Yu Wei keeps a close eye on me.”

As soon as I began to go over the details of my own situation, Mei-kun spoke up briskly. “No problem. Just tell him I want to sleep with him. We’ll put on a little performance, shall we?”

I took Mei-kun by the arm and led her to Yu Wei.

“Yu Wei, my sister tells me she’s interested in you.”

Yu Wei pushed his chair back and stood up. His face registered pride.

“Is that so? You put in a word on my behalf, did you?”

Yu Wei headed off, his steps full of swagger. We followed behind. The three of us returned to Lou-zhen’s penthouse. Mei-kun was amazed by the luxurious accommodations. She

looked up at me enviously.

“Zhe-zhong, do you live here? This is amazing. Just like a dream. You have AC, TV, and room service!”

Yu Wei fought to bite back a sardonic laugh. This made me angry and I turned on him.

“Yu Wei, my sister doesn’t come cheap. You’ll need to pay one thousand yuan. In advance.”

Without protest Yu Wei handed my sister the roll of money he had shown me at the pool. It was the money he had stolen from Lou-zhen’s lockbox. I was troubled and put the money on top of the desk. If Lou-zhen blamed me for the missing money I’d be in serious trouble. While Yu Wei stepped into Lou-zhen’s room to turn on the air conditioner, Mei-kun whispered, “We’ll slip out while he’s in the bath. Zhe-zhong. Get everything ready and wait.”

Mei-kun took Yu Wei by the hand and disappeared with him into Lou-zhen’s room. I could hear the sound of the shower. I was so nervous, I didn’t know what to do. I’d sit down and then the next minute I’d be up again, pacing. I couldn’t relax. Suddenly Mei-kun rushed out of the room.

“Zhe-zhong, come on.”

I took her hand and left Lou-zhen’s penthouse. While Mei-kun was racing down the corridor she started to laugh, “Ah, this feels great!” But I was too worried about what would happen to share her happiness.

Once we were in the elevator I suddenly remembered the pink T-shirt I had bought earlier to give to her. I had left it in the penthouse. Without thinking I let out a cry. But Mei-kun was only interested in the money.

“Wow, I’ve never earned this much before!”

She fanned the bills out in front of me. It was the money I had left on the desk.

“Why did you bring that? That’s not Yu Wei’s money!”

“Don’t be silly. We can’t make our getaway without money!”

Mei-kun stuffed the bills away in her brand-name shoulder bag.

“I’ll be charged with a crime.”

Mei-kun paid no attention. In the brief four months since we had parted at Guangzhou Station, my sister had changed. I gazed at her profile—the profile of the little sister I had loved. Her nose was slightly upturned. Her lips were slightly crooked, her face plump and adorable. Without thinking I wanted to hug her slender body. She was so beautiful and her heart was so wicked.

I was certain we were running off with Lou-zhen’s money, a crime that was going to stick to me like a wet shirt. My heart grew heavy. In some ways, the pink T-shirt I had left behind symbolized everything that had happened to me. It was the innocence that had once belonged to Mei-kun and myself. I had forgotten it in Lou-zhen’s room. And I would live without ever getting it back.

When we dashed through the lobby, I saw a man sitting on a sofa in a Hawaiian shirt smoking a cigarette. He looked up in alarm when he heard us approach. It was Jin-long. He was wearing sunglasses but there could be no doubt. He leaped to his feet and chased after us. “Taxi!” I called impatiently to the doorman. And so the two of us made our painful exit from Guangzhou.

All right, Detective Takahashi has just reprimanded me for writing too much about unrelated matters. I’ve been given a precious opportunity to write about the crime that I committed. I killed a woman I did not even know, and I should be reflecting on my own stupidity in this testament. But here I am going on about my own trivial upbringing and all the shameful activities that I became involved in. I apologize to you, Detective Takahashi, and to you, Your Honor, for forcing you to read this long and insignificant ramble.

However, I have written about the life I led back in my home country because I want you to understand that all I ever wanted was the chance to earn the kind of money I would need to live independently and comfortably without having to resort to unseemly behavior. And yet, here I am in prison all the same—forced to endure day in and day out the constant questioning by detectives and even made to suffer the humiliation of being suspected of murdering Kazue Sat. I had no part whatsoever in her death. I have made this very clear on numerous occasions. But let me state it once again for the record: I had nothing to do with Kazue Sat’s murder. I don’t know anything about her, and so I cannot write about her here. Detective Takahashi has told me to write only what I know about the crimes under consideration, so I will hurry to complete my account.

You needed a pass to enter the Special Economic Zone of Shenzhen, which of course we did not have. So we decided to settle first in Dongguan City, which was a small municipality not far away, and set about looking for work. Known as a second border zone, Dongguan is prosperous, and the Chinese who work over in Shenzhen can afford to throw their money around. Interestingly, the Chinese nationals who live in Hong Kong think that prices in Shenzhen are cheaper, so they come over to the city to shop and enjoy themselves. The Chinese who live in Shenzhen have the same opinion of Dongguan City, because Dongguan is close to one of the Special Economic Zones. Mei-kun found a job babysitting the children of women who worked in hostess bars, and I got work at a cannery.

I think that period was the happiest in my life. The two of us lived in harmony, helping each other out just like husband and wife, and after nearly two years of hard work we had saved up enough money to buy permits for Shenzhen. We moved there in 1991.

We succeeded in landing jobs at the best karaoke club in Shenzhen. Mei-kun worked as a hostess and I was an assistant manager. Mei-kun is the one who helped me get the job. She’d been scouted earlier, and she said she’d work on condition that they hire me. I wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of her working as a hostess. It made me uncomfortable because I felt it would be too easy for her to slip back into prostitution. Mei-kun, for her part, worried that I would fall for one of the other girls who worked in the club. So we kept an eye on each other as we worked, a very peculiar state of affairs for a brother and sister.

Why did I come to Japan? It’s a question I am frequently asked. My younger sister was, as always, the one to determine my fate. To be perfectly honest, I had always been keen on moving to America. But Mei-kun was strongly opposed. In America, Chinese laborers are taken advantage of and paid only one dollar an hour. But in Japan we could earn more, save it, and then move to America with our savings. Mei-kun’s logic always won out over my weak-willed indecisiveness. I did not agree with her, but as usual I was not able to stand up to her.

One day, something happened that persuaded me to head to Japan sooner rather than later. The club owner called me to his office.

“A man came by from Guangzhou looking for a fellow named Zhang from Sichuan. It looks like he’s been asking around all over the place. Are you the one he’s after?”

“There are a lot of people from Sichuan named Zhang,” I answered nonchalantly without batting an eye. “What does the man want?”

“He said it had something to do with Tiananmen. It seems he’s offering a reward.”

“What did he look like?

“He was with a woman. The man was a mean-looking bastard, and the woman had beady little eyes.”

The owner of the club, who did not like trouble, eyed me suspiciously. Lou-zhen had sent Yu Wei and Bai Jie to look for us. I could feel the blood drain from my face, and I struggled to maintain my composure. If they were offering a reward, it wouldn’t be long before someone gave us up. Everyone working in Shenzhen was after money.

That night when I got back to our apartment, I discussed the situation with Mei-kun. She raised her eyebrows.

“To tell the truth, I didn’t tell you, Zhe-zhong, but the other day I saw a guy in front of the station who looked just like Jin-long. I’ve been terrified that he’d show up at the club sooner or later. Our luck may have run out here.”

The karaoke club where we were employed was expensive and well known. It wasn’t the kind of club that inlanders frequented. Most of the clientele were from Hong Kong or Japan. I didn’t think it was likely that Jin-long would come by, but Shenzhen wasn’t that large. We were bound to run into him sooner or later. Things were getting dangerous for us here.

The next day I began searching for a snakehead—a smuggler—to help us get to Japan. If we went to Shanghai, I assumed we could find any number of snakeheads willing to get us away from Jin-long. But Lou-zhen was another story. Her younger brother lived in Shanghai and it’s not likely there’d be many willing to tangle with the authority she could bring to bear. This wasn’t going to be easy. And then a hostess from Changle in Fujian Province told me about a snakehead she knew there. I called him immediately and asked him to smuggle us into Japan.

The snakehead wanted a down payment of only ¥1,000,000 to cover the cost of two forged passports. The rest of the money we would pay once we got to Japan and started working—an additional ¥2,000,000 per person. The total charge, therefore, would be ¥5,000,000. I let out a sigh of relief. Ever since I learned we were being hunted, I was so busy looking over my shoulder, it was like I had a permanent crick in my neck.

February 9, 1992: I will never forget that day for as long as I live. That was the day we set sail for Japan. Completely by coincidence, it was on the same date three years earlier that Mei-kun and I had fled from our village. Only someone who has traveled on that journey into this country can possibly understand the dangers my countrymen and I faced. And when I think of my sister’s death, I am overcome with bitterness. I’ve not wanted to talk about this to anyone, so I will keep my account brief and without great detail.

Forty-nine of us boarded the boat. Most were young men from Fujian Province. A few women Mei-kun’s age were also aboard. They were married, I surmised, by the way they sat close to their male companions, their eyes downcast. Terrified of the dangerous sea voyage that now confronted them, they were nevertheless determined not to be a burden to their husbands. But Mei-kun was unfazed. She took out her brown-covered passport again and again and stroked it happily, the passport she had thought she would never get.

The first boat we boarded was small, a regular fishing boat. We sailed out of Changle harbor squeezed rail to rail in the hold. The seas were calm and the weather warm. I let out a sigh of relief. But once we pulled away from shore and entered the high seas, the winds grew strong. The boat was buffeted mercilessly by rough waves. Finally we reached a large freighter. The captain of our boat handed each of us a screwdriver and told us to board the ship. I had no idea what we were supposed to do with the screwdriver, but I clambered onto the deck.

When we were all aboard, we were led into a narrow wooden container. They closed it up so no one could tell from outside that it contained people. It was pitch black inside. And with forty-nine people crammed into such a narrow space, the air soon grew stale and thick.

“Poke holes in the sides with your screwdrivers,” I heard someone shout. The sound of pounding that arose all around me was freakish as everyone worked feverishly to pierce airholes in the side of the container. I banged on my part with all my might, but no matter how I tried I managed to bore a hole that was only a quarter of an inch wide. I stuck my mouth to the hole and sucked in the fresh air. I wouldn’t die. Gradually the panic I had felt over the prospect of suffocating abated. It wasn’t long, however, before we were all covered in stench. At first we had designated a corner of the container for our personal business, but by the second day, practically the entire bottom was covered in waste. Mei-kun, who had started the trip in such a buoyant mood, grew taciturn. She clung to my hand and refused to leave my side. Mei-kun was claustrophobic.

On the fourth day of our voyage, the ship’s engine stopped. We could hear the crew running busily around the deck. We had reached Taiwan. But because no one told us anything, I thought we’d probably gotten to Japan.

Mei-kun, who had been leaning listlessly against me, nauseated with seasickness on top of claustrophobia, suddenly sat up and grabbed my coat with great intensity.

“Are we in Japan?”

“Maybe.”

I wasn’t sure, so I shrugged uncertainly. But Mei-kun leaped to her feet and began busily combing her hair, barely able to suppress her joy. If we’d had more light in the container, I’m sure she would have put on makeup. But after a solid day, the ship still remained at anchor. No one came for us. Mei-kun could not sit still. She kept getting up and running her hands over the wall of the container, slapping it fiercely with her palms.

“Let me out!”

One of the men from Fujian Province who had been squatting in the dark spoke to me in a husky whisper. “You need to settle her down. This is just Taiwan.”

When Mei-kun heard the word Taiwan she was horrified. “I don’t care if it is Taiwan. I have to get out. I can’t take this anymore! Somebody help me!” She began banging on the walls of the container, screaming hysterically.

“Hey, do something with your woman. If they hear her we’ll all be fucked.”

I should have been gentler, but I could feel forty-seven pairs of eyes boring into my back, and I struck Mei-kun across the face to silence her. As soon as I hit her, she collapsed just like a puppet with its strings snapped. She fell where the floor was filthy with vomit and feces and lay there, faceup, her eyes staring into the darkness. I worried when she didn’t move, but I couldn’t allow Mei-kun to endanger the lives of all the others in the container. As long as she was quiet, I thought it best to leave her where she was. Later, when I looked back on this horrible tragedy, I could not believe that I might have ended Mei-kun’s life with just a smack across the face. Not Mei-kun. She was so strong, so determined.

The next day the ship finally sailed out of Taiwan. It slowly plied the rough winter seas on its way to Japan. Mei-kun lay just where she was, a semi-invalid, neither eating nor speaking. On the sixth day they finally opened the container. The air off the seas was cold, nearly freezing. But after being closed up in the dank stench of the container, it felt clean and exhilarating. I gulped in giant breaths of the air. Mei-kun managed to stand up on her own, feeble though she was. She looked at me and smiled weakly.

“That was awful.”

I would not have believed in a million years that those would be Mei-kun’s last words, but less than twenty minutes later, as we boarded a small boat that would carry us through the darkness to the Japanese shores, the accident occurred. For some reason, the second Mei-kun set foot on the boat, the sea, which had up to that moment been placid, surged mysteriously into a huge wave. Mei-kun tumbled into the water before anyone could catch hold of her. I had boarded the boat ahead of her and tried to grasp her hand but it all happened too quickly. When I reached out to her, my hand clutched nothing but air. As she slipped into the sea, Mei-kun looked up at me with an expression of utter shock. And then she disappeared beneath the waves. Her hand moved back and forth for a second—as if she were waving good-bye—and all I could do was stare after it in a daze. Even if I had tried to help her, I couldn’t swim. I screamed her name. But there was nothing anyone could do. We just stared at the dark water. My darling little sister died in the cold midwinter seas, the Japan she had so longed for drifting just before her eyes.

I am now nearly finished with my long and rambling tale. Detective Takahashi, Your Honor, please indulge me and read on to the end. Detective Takahashi titled this account “My Crimes” and instructed me to reflect on my wrongful behavior by writing about my upbringing and all my past mistakes. Now, as so many different memories come to mind, I am choked by tears of regret. Truly I am a despicable man. I was unable to rescue Mei-kun, I murdered Yuriko Hirata, and I have continued to live comfortably. How I wish I could go back in time and start all over. Once again I could become the boy I was when I left home with my little sister. How bright the future looked to me then, how full of promise! And yet all I have to show for it now is this crime. A horrible crime only a reprehensible creature could have committed. I killed the first woman I met in this foreign country. I believe I ended up becoming this evil person because I lost Mei-kun, my very soul.

An illegal alien in Japan, I lived like a stray cat, dodging here and there, constantly afraid of inviting the attention of others. Chinese people are accustomed to close-knit communities, never living far from home and depending on the support and guidance of family members. But here I was many miles from home and family. I had no one to help me find a job or a place to live; I had to do that all by myself. And when I lost my sister, I had no one to console me. After three years of hard work, I was finally able to pay off the snakehead for the money he’d fronted in getting my sister and me to Japan. But after that I had very little else to aim for, and I lost even the will to save money. Most of the other men I knew in Japan had wives and children back in China and were working to send money to them. I envied them.

Around that time I met a Taiwanese woman who was working in Kabuki-ch. I just wrote that Hirata was the first woman I met in Japan, but actually I went with this Taiwanese woman to see the movie Yellow Earth. She was ten years older than I and had two children she’d left in Kaohiung. While she was working as the mama of a club, she attended a Japanese-language school and saved her money to send back to her children. She was a very gentle person and took great care of me when I was feeling desperate.

But no matter how gentle a person is, if the upbringing is different, that person cannot know how you truly feel. She could not really understand what it was like to be brought up in such an impoverished village and then to have suffered the hardships of migrant labor and the agony of losing a sister. This annoyed me, and eventually I separated from her. It was at that point that I decided to set my sights on traveling by myself to America.

A stray has no choice but to live like a stray. Even though I shared lodgings with several others in the apartment at Shinsen, we were all, each in our own way, loners. I didn’t even know that Chen-yi and Huang were fugitives until I heard it from Detective Takahashi. If I’d known they were criminals, I certainly would have had nothing to do with them. The reason I started to fall out with the other men I lived with was because I was secretly planning my trip to New York. It wasn’t simply a disagreement over money.

Detective Takahashi has criticized me for extorting the apartment rent from my companions. I was responsible for renting the apartment from Chen. I had to make sure the apartment was clean and in order and I had to cover the cost of the utilities. So it only made sense that they paid more. Who do you think cleaned the toilet? Who took out the trash? I did all that, and I made sure the bedding was hung out to dry.

To have been betrayed by the men I lived with wounded me deeply, especially Huang. Everything he said was a lie. That I’d known Kazue Sat for a long time; that the three of us had relations. Those were nothing but bald-faced lies. He must have had his own reasons for trying to pin the blame on me. Please think about it, Detective Takahashi, Your Honor. I beg of you. I know I’ve said this already many, many times, but I never met Kazue Sat. That charge against me is false.

When I met Yuriko Hirata, it spelled misfortune for us both. I heard from Detective Takahashi that Ms. Hirata had once been beautiful and had worked as a model. Detective Takahashi went on to say that “as she grew old and ugly she became a cheap streetwalker.” But I thought she was still beautiful.

When I first saw her in Kabuki-ch I was attracted to her beauty and youthfulness. I didn’t care how late it was, I made a point of taking the route through Kabuki-ch on my way home from Futamomokko that night. When I saw that Miss Hirata was standing there in the rain waiting for me, I was filled with joy. She looked at me and smiled faintly. Then she said, “I’m about to freeze standing here waiting for you!”

I can still remember that rainy night very clearly. Miss Hirata was holding an umbrella, and the black hair that hung down her back, nearly to her waist, looked exactly like Mei-kun’s. My heart began to pound. Her profile, too, was the spitting image of Mei-kun’s. That was the main reason I was attracted to her. I had been searching for Mei-kun. The men around me would always say, “Your sister’s dead. Get over it!” But I couldn’t help fantasize that she was still in this world and that I would run into her again someday.

There can be no doubt that she disappeared that night in the sea. But what if a fishing boat passing by had rescued her? She could still be alive. Or maybe she swam to a nearby island. I thrived on such hope. Mei-kun had been brought up in the mountains, just like me. She wasn’t able to swim. But she was a strong-willed, talented woman. I can still remember running into her again at the pool in Guangzhou. “Zhe-zhong!” she’d called out to me then, her eyes filling with tears. And so I walked the streets around me, hoping—expecting—to see her again.

Miss Hirata complimented me the first time she saw me. “You have a nice face.” And I had said to her in return, “You look exactly like my younger sister. You’re both beautiful.”

“How old is your younger sister?” Miss Hirata asked, as she walked along beside me. She threw the cigarette she’d been smoking into a puddle and turned to look at me. I gazed into her face head on. No, she wasn’t Mei-kun after all. I was disappointed.

“She’s dead.”

“She died?”

She shrugged her shoulders. She looked so sad I found myself being drawn to her. She seemed like the kind of person to whom I could unburden myself. And then Miss Hirata said, “I’d like to hear about it. My place is nearby. Why don’t we go there and share some beers?”

Detective Takahashi said that’s just the kind of thing prostitutes say. He does not believe my testimony. But when I met Miss Hirata, I was not encountering a prostitute; rather, I was meeting someone whose hair and profile looked just like my little sister’s. I think the fact that Miss Hirata bought the beer and the bean-jam buns with her own money when we stopped at the convenience store is all the proof I need to support my testimony, don’t you? I think Miss Hirata was interested in me. Of course, we did negotiate a price, that much is true. But that she went from ¥30,000 down to ¥15,000 should prove that she was fond of me.

As soon as Miss Hirata got to her apartment in kubo, she turned to me and asked, “So what would you like to do? We’ll do whatever you want; just tell me.”

I told her exactly what I’d been repeating to myself in my heart over and over. “I want you to look at me with tears in your eyes and call out ‘Brother!’”

Miss Hirata did as I asked. Without thinking, I reached over and embraced her.

“Mei-kun! How I’ve wanted to see you!”

While Miss Hirata and I were having sex I was beside myself with excitement. I suppose it was wrong. But it confirmed everything. I did not love my sister as a sister. I loved her as a woman. And I realized that when she was alive this is exactly what we had wanted to do. Miss Hirata was very sensitive. She looked up at me and asked, “What would you like me to do next?” It drove me wild.

“Say ‘That was awful’ and look at me.”

I taught her the words in Chinese. Her pronunciation was perfect. But what really surprised me was that real tears began to form in her eyes. I realized that the word awful resonated with something in Miss Hirata’s own heart. We cried together in her bed, holding each other. Naturally, I had no desire to kill her, far from it. Even though we were racially different and from different cultures, I felt we understood each other. Things I could not communicate to the woman from Taiwan I was able to communicate to Miss Hirata, even though I had only just met her. It was amazing. Miss Hirata seemed to share my feelings, for the tears rolled down her cheeks as I held her in my arms. Then she took the gold necklace off her neck and hooked it around my own. I don’t know why she did such a thing.

So why did I kill her? you ask. I don’t even understand it myself. Perhaps it was because she pulled the wig off her head as easily as if she were doffing a hat. The hair that emerged from beneath the wig was light brown flecked with white. Miss Hirata was some kind of foreigner who looked nothing like my Mei-kun!

“Okay, the game’s over.”

She suddenly grew cold. I was shocked.

“Was it all just a game?”

“Well, what did you think? That’s the way I earn my living. It’s time for you to settle up.”

I felt a chill creep down my spine as I pulled the money out of my pocket. That’s when the trouble started. Miss Hirata told me to hand it all over, all the ¥22,000. When I asked why the price had changed, she said with disgust, “Playing incest games costs more. Fifteen thousand yen is not enough.”

Incest? The word made me furious. I shoved Miss Hirata down on the futon.

“What the hell are you doing?”

She scrambled to her feet and rushed at me, as mad as a demon. We began to push and shove each other violently.

“You cheap bastard! God, I wish I hadn’t fucked a Chinaman.”

I wasn’t angry about the money. I was angry because I felt Mei-kun had been tarnished. My precious Mei-kun. I suppose this is what we had been heading toward all along, from the minute we ran away from home; tragedy was all that awaited us. Our unattainable dream. Our impossible dream so easily transformed into a nightmare. The Japan that Mei-kun had longed to see. How cruel. I had to survive. I had to continue living in the country that Mei-kun never lived to set foot in. And I had to endure all of its ugliness. What kept me going was the hope of finding a woman like Mei-kun. And when I finally did, all she wanted was to play games for money. How stupid I was not to see it coming. I felt as though I were being swept along by a rapid current, unable to understand what was happening. When I came to my senses, I saw that I had strangled Miss Hirata. I did not kill her because I wanted to steal her money. But I made a mistake I can never undo. I would like to dedicate the rest of my life to praying for the repose of Miss Hirata’s soul.

Zhang Zhe-zhong