The Execution of Mayor Yin and Other Stories from the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution, Revised Edition

Geng Er in Beijing

139 Geng Er in Beijing I Although closing early on Saturdays was not stipulated anywhere, by tacit understanding everyone began wrapping things up soon after three, and promptly at four they left the o≈ce, one after the other. For Geng Er this day was like all others: Precisely at four o’clock he walked out of the Research Institute of Mechanics, climbed onto his old English racing bike, and, without first stopping o√ at his dormitory, rode out through the gate of the Academy of Sciences and headed straight for the city. In the western suburbs of Beijing in early November the sky is clear and the air is crisp, cool without being cold. Geng Er shifted into third gear. Whipping along like the wind and chasing after his own shadow with the afternoon sun at his back, he felt elated, putting all the tedium and monotony of the past week out of his mind. The tra≈c grew more congested after he passed through the West Gate area, forcing him to slow down. But since he was so familiar with this stretch of road that he could have negotiated 140 chen ruoxi it with his eyes closed, he soon arrived at the northern gate of the East Wind Market at Wangfujing. As he parked his bicycle at the stand he saw a line of people stretched all the way to the parking lot waiting for numbers. A bad sign, he thought; he wouldn’t have a chance of getting a number. But in spite of that, he ran over and got on the end of the line. What everyone was eagerly awaiting were the hot pots served by a specialty restaurant . Each day only forty pots were prepared and forty numbers distributed. The first twenty were served from five-thirty to seven o’clock, and the other half from seven on. Since there simply were not enough to go around, people who had a special liking for the mutton hot pot, which was the restaurant’s specialty , sometimes started lining up at the foot of the stairs at three in the afternoon. It was as Geng Er had anticipated. Before long there was a stir in front of the line as the last number was given out, and the people began to disperse, not without some grumbling. Geng Er drew close to the foot of the stairs and waited patiently for those who had been given the last twenty numbers to clear away. ‘‘Mr. Geng!’’ Lao Lu, the employee responsible for parceling out the numbers, was waving to him from the top of the stairs. Geng Er was so pleased he dashed up the stairs, two and three steps at a time. Lao Lu unobtrusively placed a small piece of greasy cardboard in his hand. He looked gratefully at Lao Lu, walked into the restaurant, and found a seat by the window. He placed the ticket on the table in front of him. He felt a little guilty when he saw that it was number eleven. Only that morning during the political study session, besides the criticisms of Lin Biao and Confucius, the discussion had touched geng er in beijing 141 on ways of stopping the evil practice of getting things through the back door. Geng Er was the last one to speak, making an impassioned statement. One of his colleagues was taking minutes , and tried frantically to get it down completely. But did he truly feel guilty? A helpless shrug was his only answer. Everyone shouted and carried on about closing o√ back doors, yet in private his colleagues invariably discussed how they could find such back doors for themselves. Since Geng Er lived all alone and his needs were few, he had managed to refrain from this evil practice. Naturally, eating mutton hot pot was an exception. This particular back door had been opened to him quite naturally. Ever since the renovation of the East Wind Market and the opening of this restaurant, Geng Er had been a regular customer. Nearly every week, on Saturday or Sunday, he would have a meal of mutton hot pot, and so he had become friendly with Lao Lu. The old Beijing Muslim was about ten years older than Geng Er. His hair was nearly all gray, but his teeth were still white and even, and he cordially flashed them for the benefit of his customers. Neither...