Frog

The news of Chen Bi’s accident came from Li Shou. The policeman was cleared of blame, but Li went to see someone in power and managed to get Chen a settlement from the station of ten thousand yuan. For injuries as serious as his, that was a pittance. I knew that Li’s motive in having us classmates visit Chen in the hospital was to get help in paying Chen’s hospital bills.

He was in Bed 9, next to the window of a twelve-bed ward. Lily magnolias blooming outside the window on that early May day sent a rich perfume into the ward. Even with the crowding, the ward was clean and neat; despite conditions that paled alongside Beijing and Shanghai hospitals, the improvements over the twenty years since the commune period had been substantial. Sensei, I had spent a week with my mother in the commune hospital, where the beds were home to hosts of fleas, the walls were blood-specked, and the air swarmed with flies. The thought alone makes me shudder. Both of Chen’s legs were wrapped in plaster casts, as was his right arm. He lay in bed able to move only his left arm.

He turned his face to the wall when he saw us walk in.

Wang Gan relieved the awkwardness with his brand of comic chiding: How did this happen, eminent knight? Tilting at windmills again? Or duelling with a romantic rival?

You should have told me you were tired of living, Li Shou said. You didn’t have to go looking for a police car.

He’s faking it, Little Lion said, that’s why he’s not talking to us. It’s all your fault, Li Shou, for turning him into a deranged individual.

He’s not deranged, Li defended himself. He’s a master at pretending.

Suddenly Chen burst into tears and lowered his head as far as it would go. His shoulders heaved; he scraped the wall with his good hand.

A nurse rushed into the room and gave us an icy stare. Stop that, Number 9, she demanded as she smacked the steel headboard.

He abruptly stopped crying and turned his head so we could see his face. He looked at us with a murky gaze.

The nurse pointed to a bouquet of flowers we’d laid on the nightstand and made a face as she sniffed the air. No flowers in the wards, she said sternly. Hospital policy.

Policy? Little Lion said. Not even Beijing hospitals have such a policy.

The nurse showed no interest in debating the issue. She turned to Chen Bi. Get your family over here to settle up, she said. Today’s your last day.

What kind of attitude is that? I asked unhappily.

With pinched lips, she said, A workday attitude.

Is a humanistic spirit alien to you people? Wang Gan said.

I only work here. If you people are flush with humanistic spirit, then pay his medical bills. I think our director would reward each of you with a plaque that says: Model Humanist.

There was more Wang Gan wanted to say, but Li Shou stopped him.

The nurse stormed out of the ward.

We exchanged glances, wondering what we should do. The treatment costs for injuries as serious as Chen Bi’s were sure to be astronomical.

Why did you have them bring me here? Chen Bi asked accusingly. What the hell business is it of yours if I want to die? I’d have done so if you hadn’t interfered, and I wouldn’t be lying here suffering.

It wasn’t us, Wang Gan said. The cop who hit you called for an ambulance.

If it wasn’t you, he said with a total lack of warmth, then what are you doing here? Come to pity me? Give me sympathy? I don’t need it. You can all leave, and take those toxic flowers with you — they give me a headache. Were you thinking of paying my hospital expenses? I don’t need that either. I’m a formidable knight. The King is my good friend, so is the Queen. The paltry expenses for this hospital stay will come out of the national treasury. But even if the royal couple prefers not to settle up, I don’t need your charity. Both my daughters are more beautiful than goddesses, their good fortune as vast as the Eastern Sea. If they do not sit on the Queen’s throne, they will serve as the King’s consort. They could buy this hospital with money that falls through their fingers.