Dreams of Joy (Shanghai Girls 2)

“I understand.”

“You’re also going to need coupons,” he continues. “The government has taken over the distribution of all essentials. The government buys directly from farmers and manufacturers, so that city dwellers across the nation must use coupons to buy basic necessities—oil, meat, matches, soap, needles, coal, and cloth—from government-run shops. Rice coupons are, not surprisingly, the most importan

t. As soon as you get a job, come back here and I will help you get your coupons.”

“Thank you.”

He holds up a hand. “I’m not done. Rice coupons are local. If you travel, you’ll have to apply for special national coupons. If you don’t have these coupons, you’ll have to eat your meal without rice. As a returned Overseas Chinese you may travel but you may not leave the city without my permission. You have returned to China. You must do what we tell you to do. Understood?” he asks again.

“Yes, I understand.” I feel as though walls are being built up around me.

“You are fortunate,” the policeman goes on with false amiability. “Peasants are treated harshly upon their return to China. They’re sent back to their home villages in their native provinces, where they’re assigned to agricultural work in a collective, even if they brought enough money from America to retire comfortably. But it could be worse. Some unlucky returnees are sent to the far west to reclaim and cultivate wasteland.”

The room is hot and stuffy, but I’m cold with terror. I can’t be sent to a farm somewhere.

“I’m not a peasant,” I say. “I don’t know how to do that work.”

“The others don’t either, but they learn.” He looks at his checklist. “Are you ready to confess your links to the Nationalists on Taiwan?”

“I don’t have any.”

“Why were you so friendly with American imperialists?”

“My father sold me into an arranged marriage,” I say. It’s the truth, but it hardly conveys what really happened.

“Luckily, those feudal days are over. Still, you’ll have to go through many struggle sessions in an effort to cast off your bourgeois individualism. Now, let’s see.” He glances at his list again. “Are you a returning scientist?” He gives me the once-over and decides I’m not. “If you were, I’d have to make you sign a confession admitting that the Chinese moon is larger than the American moon.” He sets his clipboard on the table. “The fact is, you’re in a different category. You’re wealthy.”

He thinks I’m rich, and in the New China I suppose I am with my U.S. dollars.

“Upper-class Overseas Chinese are accorded every consideration,” he continues. “You are privileged to have the Three Guarantees. You may receive and keep remittances sent to you, as long as you have them processed through the Overseas Chinese Affairs Commission. You may exchange your remittances for special certificates, which will allow you to pay for living expenses, travel, and funerals. You’ll also be allowed to buy goods at special shops, where you can use the certificates you get in exchange for your remittances.”

“What if I don’t want the certificates?” I want to keep control of my money, but I don’t say that.

“You won’t have to deposit your remittances in a bank unless you want to.” Which doesn’t answer my question. “And your secrets will be kept.” All this sounds like more than three guarantees, but I don’t mention that either. “You will come here every month and we will chat. You will also report to the Overseas Chinese Affairs Commission. If you don’t go, I will know. I will also visit the place where you live and question the comrades who reside there. Do not think you can hide your bourgeois ways from them or from me.”

He thumps his pencil on the desk and gives me a hard stare. “It is one thing to come back to China, but you must follow our rules. I hope you have learned your lesson, and I hope you will behave accordingly.” He stands, crosses to a side table, and returns with some pamphlets, which he presses into my hands. “Take these and read them before our next meeting. They contain the fruits of thought reform. I will be asking you to review your past from a revolutionary standpoint. I will not accept an unconvincing confession. You must be honest. You must plunge yourself into the furnace of socialist construction and patriotic reeducation.”

A few minutes later, I push through the front door. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I wasn’t expecting to be hauled off and questioned by the police, and it’s left me feeling terrorized and panicked.

“Are you all right?” someone asks. I look up, and there’s Dun-ao. I’m very relieved to see him, and surprised too that he would go out on a limb for me. “I followed you here. I waited to make sure you would come out.”

He’s voicing my exact fear—that I’d been arrested. If that happened, no one would ever know what became of me. Worse, I’d never find Joy.

“Let’s go home,” he says. “We’ll have some tea. Maybe I can help you.”

When we arrive home, I make tea for the two of us. I tell Dun-ao about Joy’s running away, my following her, Z.G.’s problems, my need to wait until they return, and all the rules the policeman told me I must follow. I do it because I’ve been intimidated and scared and I’m not thinking properly. Dun—as he says he prefers to be called—informs me that I’m actually quite lucky.

“You’ll have to attend thought-reform sessions, as we all do,” he says, “but as long as you aren’t labeled a backward element, you’ll have many benefits. You’ll have your special certificates. You can get an exit permit promptly and without delays or questions.”

“But what about my daughter?” I ask. “I won’t leave without her.”

“It’s better that you’re both here,” he responds. “It’s a well-known fact that the regime treats Overseas Chinese families as hostages to extort remittances from abroad. That’s the whole purpose of the Overseas Chinese Affairs Commission. They exploit people here, so their relatives will send more money to use to build the country. For this reason, they’re reluctant to allow family members to leave China.”

“But you just told me that Overseas Chinese can easily obtain exit permits.”

“Ah, good point. Applications for exit permits which are considered prejudicial to the regime’s interests are not granted.”

“Well, which one is it?”