inside: speakers, guitars, an effects box, a violin, and a mattress. I shared the other bedroom with Saining. The door was closed. The light was on, and the radio was turned up loud, tuned to Channel 2 out of Hong Kong. Since Nanjing Noodles was also from Nanjing, I thought that she might know who this Ah Jin was. I shouted her name several times. The bedroom door opened, and Nanjing Noodles and Luobu came out grinning.
Before I could even open my mouth, three foot-long butcher knives came whistling out of the three backpacks. Those three boys with their sharp knives ordered us all into the bedroom, where a song by the Hong Kong pop star Liu Dehua was blaring. With two of the knives trained on us four women and one man, the other knife boy began turning the bedroom upside down.
They were speaking among themselves in Hunanese, and I got the impression that they were having some kind of disagreement. But I couldn’t figure out what had brought them here, what their purpose was—was it robbery, tracking down an enemy, rape, mutilation, kidnapping? Maybe it was all a mistake. As the knife tip danced in front of my face, every possible scenario flashed through my mind. The boy who was going through our stuff found the place where we kept our cash, and he found all of my jewelry, both real and fake, but none of this appeared to interest him or his cohorts in the least. He pulled out our identification papers and rifled through them. He even checked under the rug. I really couldn’t tell what they were after. Let them do whatever they want, I thought, just don’t let them cut our faces! I prayed to all of the gods and spirits, Please, please don’t let them cut us!
One of these boys with knives came across a new package of stockings. He tore open the plastic bag and came up to me, a big smirk on his tough but babyish face. He said, These are yours, right, miss? But you haven’t worn them yet, so they’re clean.
With that he pulled a pair of hose out of the bag and stuffed them into my mouth. Gesturing at the photograph of Saining and me, he asked, So that’s your longhaired boyfriend, huh? I thought, Damn him! Damn Saining! This was his fault! He’d gotten into some kind of trouble, and now these guys were here to take their revenge!
They took those clean, unworn stockings, and one by one, they stuffed them into our mouths. Then, one at a time, they stripped us of our watches and jewelry. They were rough; they shoved us around. I started to whimper when they took off the necklace that my mother had given me and a ring and watch that Saining had given me.
They took out a roll of wide packing tape and taped our mouths shut. Then they bound our hands with it and put us together and wrapped us up in a big circle. They were hitting Luobu, demanding between blows, What are you looking at, huh? What are you looking at?
The five of us sat passively, staring blankly ahead. None of our eyes met.
Finally they stuck pillows in between us to separate our bodies and threw a quilt over our heads, the same quilt Saining and I slept under. They strutted off and didn’t close the door.
Luobu was the first to work free of his bonds. He yanked off the quilt covering our heads and pulled the nylons from Kitten’s mouth.
Don’t worry about us right now! she yelled. Go after them! Catch them!
Luobu did not dare. Kitten scrambled out the second-story window.
Nanjing Noodles and I couldn’t stop spitting. We couldn’t see Kitten or the robbers. There was nothing but the usual noisy activity in the street below. The street I lived on was famous, and tonight it was filled with the usual assortment of prostitutes, pimps, beggars, little girls selling flowers, police, vendors, passersby, and drug dealers.
I spotted Dalong sitting on the ground in front of a small shop.
Dalong was younger than I. He was an orphan, and his friends had brought him down here from Shanghai to be a pimp, but he’d set up a stall and sold kebabs, grilled
Before I could even open my mouth, three foot-long butcher knives came whistling out of the three backpacks. Those three boys with their sharp knives ordered us all into the bedroom, where a song by the Hong Kong pop star Liu Dehua was blaring. With two of the knives trained on us four women and one man, the other knife boy began turning the bedroom upside down.
They were speaking among themselves in Hunanese, and I got the impression that they were having some kind of disagreement. But I couldn’t figure out what had brought them here, what their purpose was—was it robbery, tracking down an enemy, rape, mutilation, kidnapping? Maybe it was all a mistake. As the knife tip danced in front of my face, every possible scenario flashed through my mind. The boy who was going through our stuff found the place where we kept our cash, and he found all of my jewelry, both real and fake, but none of this appeared to interest him or his cohorts in the least. He pulled out our identification papers and rifled through them. He even checked under the rug. I really couldn’t tell what they were after. Let them do whatever they want, I thought, just don’t let them cut our faces! I prayed to all of the gods and spirits, Please, please don’t let them cut us!
One of these boys with knives came across a new package of stockings. He tore open the plastic bag and came up to me, a big smirk on his tough but babyish face. He said, These are yours, right, miss? But you haven’t worn them yet, so they’re clean.
With that he pulled a pair of hose out of the bag and stuffed them into my mouth. Gesturing at the photograph of Saining and me, he asked, So that’s your longhaired boyfriend, huh? I thought, Damn him! Damn Saining! This was his fault! He’d gotten into some kind of trouble, and now these guys were here to take their revenge!
They took those clean, unworn stockings, and one by one, they stuffed them into our mouths. Then, one at a time, they stripped us of our watches and jewelry. They were rough; they shoved us around. I started to whimper when they took off the necklace that my mother had given me and a ring and watch that Saining had given me.
They took out a roll of wide packing tape and taped our mouths shut. Then they bound our hands with it and put us together and wrapped us up in a big circle. They were hitting Luobu, demanding between blows, What are you looking at, huh? What are you looking at?
The five of us sat passively, staring blankly ahead. None of our eyes met.
Finally they stuck pillows in between us to separate our bodies and threw a quilt over our heads, the same quilt Saining and I slept under. They strutted off and didn’t close the door.
Luobu was the first to work free of his bonds. He yanked off the quilt covering our heads and pulled the nylons from Kitten’s mouth.
Don’t worry about us right now! she yelled. Go after them! Catch them!
Luobu did not dare. Kitten scrambled out the second-story window.
Nanjing Noodles and I couldn’t stop spitting. We couldn’t see Kitten or the robbers. There was nothing but the usual noisy activity in the street below. The street I lived on was famous, and tonight it was filled with the usual assortment of prostitutes, pimps, beggars, little girls selling flowers, police, vendors, passersby, and drug dealers.
I spotted Dalong sitting on the ground in front of a small shop.
Dalong was younger than I. He was an orphan, and his friends had brought him down here from Shanghai to be a pimp, but he’d set up a stall and sold kebabs, grilled
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