Free Naked Earth by Eileen Chang Page B

ahead, with lanterns lighting their way. The ones that walked in front held rifles and wore cartridge belts. After them came some men with their arms tied behind them. At the rear, they could see the white towels on the militiamen’s heads bobbing in the moonlight.
    “Looks as if they’re making arrests,” Su Nan whispered.
    “We better wait here for a while,” Liu whispered.
    The barking of dogs had spread to the east end of the village. Liu and the girl tried to guess which house the militiamen were entering.
    The dark blue vault of northern sky dimmed into a powdery misty pallor toward the center where the moon was. The full white moon looked down coldly as it had done during all the past dynasties. Like a mirror it never remembered faces.
    Liu wished that he and Su Nan had met in some other age. It couldn’t have been worse than now, when he never even dared to speak to her. A few years earlier would have made all the difference.
    “Is your home in Peking?” he asked.
    “Yes, I’ve always lived there.”
    “It’s funny we’ve never met. I’ve lived there all my life just like you.”
    A long, low chair-like stone structure for pounding grain stood under the eaves of the house. Su Nan sat on it, leaning forward against the handbar. Liu wanted very much to touch her hair. But he was afraid that she might think that he was taking advantage of the situation. He would be abusing her trust and friendship and it would spoil everything.
    Not much could be seen of her in the dark. He stood at her back, the toe of one of his canvas shoes kicking soundlessly at the low stone slab. He was still painfully hovering on the brink of the irrevocable gesture when she turned her head very slightly so that her backward glance barely brushed past him. But she must have known. Abruptly she hunched forward, pressing her cheek against her hands on the handbar as if overcome by sudden shyness.
    Then Liu put his hand on her hair and when she twisted away from him, he held her hand over the hand-bar. After a moment he said, “I wonder where we’ll be sent to when we Obey The Distribution.”
    “I don’t know. What did you put down, when you filled in the forms?”
    “I said I’d prefer to work in north China or eastern China. But that doesn’t mean anything.”
    “Yes, they might still send you anywhere. They say it’s best not to emphasize personal preferences.”
    “Maybe we’ll meet again in Hsinchiang.”
    “Yes, who knows?”
    “There’re worse places than Hsinchiang.”
    Su Nan said half laughing, “I heard that in Kansu there’s so little water, you have to cook rice with the water you’ve washed your face with.”
    They both talked fast, lightly and nervously, laughing a little, well aware that whatever they said was just camouflage over the fact that he was holding her hand.
    But she suddenly turned rigid and pointed wordlessly at a large ball-like black shadow under the wall at the next corner, some distance away. It could be a squatting man.
    Startled, Liu called out loudly, “Who’s that there?”
    No answer.
    “Who is it?” he shouted again, striding toward it.
    “Sentry,” the militiaman said curtly and spat on the ground.
    “Let’s go back. It’s getting late,” Su Nan said.
    In silence he walked after her past the squatting sentry. When they had turned the corner they happened to look up and saw another black shadow squatting on the roof of a house. That must be another sentry. They said nothing for the rest of the way to the house Su Nan was quartered in.
    She went in. He was walking home alone when he again heard the regular footsteps, coming from behind and getting nearer, it seemed. The dogs in the neighborhood were again barking loudly. The barking sounded cold and desolate, with a curious feeling of distance derived from the vast empty silence of the night. The village was so dead quiet, Liu could hear from far off the desultory talk among the militiamen. The rhythmic thumps of the