Free Mountain Girl River Girl by Ye Ting-Xing Page B

tracks. The woman, her open jacket flapping as she ran, was too fast for Pan-pan. The rough gravel between the ties quickly tore her new socks to strips, jabbing her bare soles and bruising her ankles. But she continued the chase, crying and yelling for help as she ran. Through tear-filled eyes, she saw the thief turn and run behind a house on the road ahead, out of sight. Pursuing the woman, Pan-pan found herself at a busy intersection. She stopped, panting. Frantically, she looked to her left and her right, up the street and down the other way, hoping the thief would reappear. There was no one, only the traffic. The thief was gone. Pan-pan wailed in frustration. Suddenly, all the moving objects—the horse carts, tractors, cars, and trucks—seemed to be charging toward her. With a moan, she passed out, collapsing onto the sidewalk.



Chapter Ten

    When Pan-pan came to, she found herself stretched out on a wooden bench. Slowly she sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her head ached. She touched a sore spot on her forehead and winced. Licking her dry, swollen lips, she tasted blood. Her feet were bare and sore; they felt to Pan-pan like they had been pounded with a hammer.
    Confused, Pan-pan looked around, scanning the faces of people seated on the benches across from her. The place was too noisy to be a hospital. It was only when her wandering eyes noticed piles of luggage between the aisles that she realized she was in the waiting room of a railway station.
    Hobbling to the window, she stared out at the empty tracks. There was no train. She looked about her but didn’t see her bag and bedroll. When she reached for her money pouch, she remembered what had happened. Pan-pan groaned in despair and sank back onto the bench. Everything—her money, her bedroll and bag—were gone. Even the train had left without her. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
    Footsteps approached and stopped. A tall middle-aged man wearing a railway uniform and cap stood before her, holding her shoes. He sat down and introduced himself. Lao Ma told Pan-pan in a hushed voice that a horse-cart driver had discovered her lying on the sidewalk and brought her back to the train station after finding a cancelled train ticket in her shoulder bag.
    “What are you going to do?” Lao Ma asked after Pan-pan told him who she was and where she was bound. “I’ll try to get you onto the next train to Beijing, but that won’t be until tomorrow afternoon. As for your luggage, let’s hope someone on the train turns it in to the authorities in Beijing. But I wouldn’t count on it.”
    His caution made Pan-pan cry harder. All she had now was her shoulder bag and the soiled clothes on her back.
    “I have no money for another ticket,” she sobbed.
    “You won’t have to pay,” Lao Ma replied. “I’ll look after it. But you can’t stay here all night. You need some rest. Why not come home with me after I finish my shift? My wife will be happy to meet you.”
    The stranger’s kindness brought more tears to Pan-pan’s eyes.
    Lao Ma’s wife, Lao Zhang, was waiting for them when they arrived at his home long after dark. Their two young sons had gone to bed. Pan-pan’s head still ached, and her limbs were heavy with exhaustion. She had no appetite but, to be polite, she forced down the food she was served. At the end of the meal, Lao Zhang left the room, returning with a stack of clean garments and a towel.
    “Have a soak in the tub if you like. It will make you feel better. There is plenty of hot water in the Thermos bottles. Use it all up,” she suggested, pointing to a shed in the courtyard.
    Pan-pan nodded and thanked Lao Zhang, then went out to the courtyard. The dimly lit bathroom closet had a squat toilet at one end and a brick sink at the other. A large wooden tub stood on its edge next to the sink. Pan-pan lowered the tub to the floor, pushed it under the tap, and turned on the water before pouring the hot water into it. As she began to unbutton