“Who says this?”
“Our leaders.”
“Waaa!”
An even louder “Waaa” from the crowd echoed the lieutenant’s response.
“You and I don’t share the same leaders,” the lieutenant said. “We follow Xiao Da.”
“Xiao Da, Xiao Da, Xiao Da.” The worshipful susurration reverberated through the cave.
“When a true leader gives repose to the people,” the hidden voice pronounced, “his kindness is felt and the black-haired race cherish him in their hearts.”
The construction of the sentence had an archaic sound that reminded David of the heightened language of the classical dramas sometimes shown on state television. Could this be a Confucian saying or perhaps a snippet of classical poetry?
Tang Wenting bowed his head piously, absorbing the sound. Then he raised his eyes and asked David in brittle Chinese, “What do you have hidden behind your smile?” Again the crowd parroted this two or three times before the man repeated it himself. “What do you have hidden behind your smile?”
This was the same question that had been posed to President Clinton when he’d come to China. Clinton didn’t know how to respond, and neither did David.
Hulan stepped forward and demanded, “If Xiao Da is so special, why does he not show his face?”
David wasn’t so sure that her question was a good idea, although it did divert attention away from him.
“And why don’t you ask Stuart Miller to show his true face?” Tang Wenting asked in response. “Is your government so greedy for this dam that they will look the other way while he steals China’s soul?”
“You are afraid to answer my questions!” she fired back. “Why doesn’t Xiao Da tell the people who follow him who he is? Why is he hiding behind you? Is he that afraid?”
The lieutenant put his hands on his hips and shouted back staunchly, “Xiao Da afraid? Not of you!”
“Is he afraid because he instructs his followers to kill and maim?”
“Waaa! You dare to speak this profanity? Only Xiao Da can punish the wicked!”
“So he hides because he kills and mutilates,” Hulan pressed.
Now David was convinced that this definitely wasn’t the right attitude to be taking in the midst of a crowd of worshipers in an isolated cave far from anything resembling police backup.
Then Tang Wenting pointed his finger at Hulan as he had that day on the square. “There is only one killer here, and that is you, Liu Hulan! Mother killer!”
Hulan recoiled from the impact of the denunciation. The followers, who were insulated in the Three Gorges not only from the outside world but from events in their own capital, did not know how to respond. The lieutenant proceeded to inflame them. “Mother killer! Mother killer! Mother killer!” The adherents picked up the chant even though they didn’t know the reasons behind it. “Mother killer! Mother killer! Mother killer!”
David felt hands on him, shoving, pushing. He couldn’t see beyond the faces twisted in loathing. Then he was tossed out of the cavern and back into the tunnel with the oil lamps. A moment later Hulan was thrown into his arms. The angry mob retreated. Hulan regained her balance and headed back to the room. “Hulan!” he called sharply. She didn’t even look his way but marched steadily forward. What could he do but follow? They edged to the opening into the large cavern. The lieutenant was on his hands and knees, touching his forehead to the stone floor of the ledge on which he perched, then lifting it again with an enraptured look on his face, then back down to the floor. The followers mimicked the obeisance in devout silence.
“As we go forward,” the disembodied voice lulled, still the epitome of harmony, still unfazed by the near violence of moments before, “we must all remember, if not for Yu, we all would be fishes, and if not for Xiao Da, we would become fishes.”
These words held the crowd in worshipful thrall until the lieutenant finally stood and spoke once again. “Now is the time to remember our tributes.”
About a dozen men emerged from the shadows holding baskets. “Remember the Nine Virtues, remember your grade, remember your tribute.” The voice floated out over the heads of the worshipers. “Nine Virtues, Nine Grades, Nine Tributes.”
People pulled out money and dropped it into the baskets as the low murmur of “Be reverent, be reverent” resounded off the limestone walls.
They left before the meeting concluded and hurried through driving rain up the pathway to the road that led back to town.
“My God, Hulan! What were you doing back there?”
“Trying to get Xiao Da to reveal himself!” Her delivery was fast, her words angry.
“We could have gotten hurt!” he volleyed back.