Chapter 11: The Water Flows, Yet the Canal Remains Unfinished (7)
The scorching mid-July sun turned the urban district of Shazhou into a giant furnace, stirring a sense of irritability in everyone. The bus station, already chaotic, became unbearably hot under the glare; the cement ground seemed to radiate moisture from the intense heat.
Hou Weidong, who had been lost in thought while staring at the stench of roasted ducks, found the atmosphere intolerable. He wandered aimlessly through the station until his sweat soaked through his belt. Near the entrance, he spotted a video room with a large sign outside advertising: “Action Movies—Jianghu Qing, A Better Tomorrow—5 Yuan per person. No clearing of the room.”
Five yuan was a bit expensive for a video screening, but staying in the foul-smelling station for another two hours was unbearable. Hou Weidong gritted his teeth and spent the money.
The interior of the video room was dimly lit. Hou Weidong squinted for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. A dozen people were seated inside. However, the film playing was not an action movie, but a combat film of a different sort—one involving men and women.
Seeing that it was an adult film, Hou Weidong hesitated. He worried about a police raid, but having already paid two yuan to enter, he felt reluctant to leave. Moreover, for a young man in the prime of his life like Hou Weidong, such content held a certain allure. He chose a corner seat and sat down.
To his surprise, the station’s video room was furnished with bamboo sofas capable of seating three people. Hou Weidong took an empty spot. In front of him sat a man and a woman; the woman lay on the man’s lap, resembling a couple. This was a common sight even at the university, so Hou Weidong paid it no mind. He watched for about ten minutes before a woman sat down beside him. He ignored her, continuing to watch the screen.
Suddenly, a wave of fragrance hit him. The woman leaned close to Hou Weidong and whispered, “Boss, want to play?”
Hou Weidong didn’t catch her words clearly. He shifted inward, creating some distance, and asked curiously, “What do you mean?”
The woman leaned in closer. “Touching is five yuan; hand jobs are ten yuan; oral service is twenty yuan. Very cheap, very fun.”
Hou Weidong had just graduated from college and was one of the few student party members there. Although he occasionally joked about dirty topics during late-night gatherings, he lacked the courage to face such a situation in reality. “I’m not interested. Go away,” he said.
The woman persisted for a moment, but Hou Weidong remained firm. “I said no. Stop bothering me.”
Seeing that she couldn’t make a sale, the woman stood up and muttered softly, “Country bumpkin.” In Shazhou, “Country bumpkin” was a derogatory term specifically used for people from counties like Wu Hai and Yi Yang, implying they were unsophisticated rural folk.
Hou Weidong had been forced to leave Xiaojia’s home precisely because he was from Wu Hai and worked in Yi Yang. Regional discrimination had already wounded him deeply. Hearing this woman use that label ignited a fire in his chest. He shot up from his seat, his voice low and dangerous. “Say that again if you have the guts.”
The woman, stubborn and sharp-tongued, retorted, “Country bumpkin. I said it, so I said it. Try to bite me, old lady.”
Hou Weidong kicked the woman without hesitation. She fell onto her bottom and screamed, “Third Brother! Someone’s hitting me!”
The seductive woman’s shriek was like a spark falling onto dry grass. Several couples in the video room immediately separated.
“Third Brother! Someone’s beating me!” The woman sat on the floor, calling out while flailing her hands in the air, acting quite brazenly.
Hou Weidong saw two or three men emerge from the shadows of the video room and realized the situation was deteriorating. He turned to run, but the woman grabbed his pant leg. Hou Weidong pulled hard to escape, and with a tearing sound, a strip of his thin trousers was ripped off.
A figure blocked the doorway, wielding a wooden stool. He swung it toward Hou Weidong. Since high school, Hou Weidong had trained in the track and field team, capable of lifting a seventy-kilogram barbell with one hand. He was known as a formidable fighter within the team. As the stool came flying toward him, Hou Weidong dodged to the left. The stool missed its mark and crashed onto the ground with a whoosh.
The man blocking the door was in his thirties. With the stool missing, he was jolted in the chest by the recoil. He stumbled back several steps and sat heavily on a cigarette stall. Hou Weidong did not get away, however; he was intercepted by a young man wielding a broom, who began beating him indiscriminately.
At this moment, several other men from inside the room rushed out, shouting incoherently. Hou Weidong couldn’t make out a single word. Realizing he had stirred up a hornet’s nest, he acted on instinct and ran toward the station. Earlier, while wandering, he had noticed a police booth inside the station with a uniformed officer sitting inside. Both his father and brother worked for the Public Security Bureau, so he was very familiar with police uniforms. Seeing the uniform, he knew the person inside was a formal police officer, not a civil patrol officer. Usually, civil patrol officers manned these booths; it was rare to see a formal police officer there, which had struck him as odd at the time.
Now, in this critical moment, Hou Weidong subconsciously ran toward the police booth. He threw a straight punch, knocking down the small man blocking his path. Ignoring the fists flying around him, he charged straight for the booth. A small square stool flew through the air and struck Hou Weidong’s back hard. He felt a jolt but did not slow down. He sprinted all the way to the booth and shouted, “Hooligans are beating people!”
The police officer in the booth was reading a worn copy of Reader magazine. He stood up, saw Hou Weidong, and grabbed his rubber baton. In a few strides, he reached the door. Six or seven men had already chased up to the entrance of the booth. Seeing the police officer standing there, they stopped.
The officer had a cigarette in his mouth. He spat it out, raised his baton, and struck the high-held stool with a loud bang. “What are you doing? Put the weapon down,” he ordered sternly.
“Officer Luo, the kid inside watched the video without paying and harassed the ticket seller.”
A young woman in her early twenties wiped her eyes, putting on an expression of being insulted. “Officer Luo, I asked him to buy a ticket, but he refused and touched me.” Another man, thin and with a fierce look, clutched his stomach. “This kid has a heavy hand. I need to go to the hospital. It’s definitely a serious injury.” Another man, with blood running from his nose, joined in the commotion.
The police officer, holding his baton, snorted. “Stop pretending. I can tell by the way you squirm whether you’re telling the truth or not. Boss Jia, Wu Bing, you two stay here. The rest of you, get lost.”
They were all business owners near the video shop, close associates who often teamed up to bully outsiders. They were typical local bullies, cowardly when facing authority. After causing a scene in the police booth for a while, they saw Officer Luo’s expression darkening and gradually dispersed.
Boss Jia, whose face had been punched and was now numb on one side, followed Officer Luo into the booth, glaring fiercely at Hou Weidong.
Officer Luo walked to the door and shouted loudly, “Hunchback, come here.”
A spry civil patrol officer ran over, smiling. “Old Luo, don’t call me Hunchback. If I can’t find a wife because of that name, you’ll be fully responsible.”
Officer Luo was not old, but he was well-educated and handled matters fairly. He was quite popular in the jurisdiction of the Wujin police station. “Cut the chatter,” he said. “Go ask Boss Jia and Wu Bing next door.”
“Come here. Who told you to sit? Stand up.” Officer Luo showed no courtesy to Hou Weidong. He picked up a pen, ready to take a statement.
Hou Weidong had barely sat down when Officer Luo rudely ordered him to stand. At the university, he had always been a favored son of heaven; he had never suffered such humiliation. But one must bow one’s head when under another’s roof. He stood opposite Officer Luo, waiting for the interrogation.
When asked about his hometown, Officer Luo looked up. “You’re from Yi Yang. What are you doing in Shazhou?”
Hou Weidong thought for a moment and answered honestly. “I’m a student at Shazhou University. I left campus today to send my girlfriend back to Shahe. I bought a ticket for 4:30.”
Hearing this, Officer Luo looked at Hou Weidong more closely. “Let me see your student ID.”
Hou Weidong’s student ID had already been stamped with the large characters “Graduated,” meaning it was invalid. Officer Luo examined it from all angles for a while, then smiled. “A student from Shazhou University, and from the Political Science and Law Department.”
He tossed the ID back to Hou Weidong, his expression turning serious again. “What exactly happened just now?”