Free Leave Me Alone by Murong Xuecun Page B

got excited and she pressed me for details about the whereabouts and distinguishing features of the suspect. I told her the approximate location, then gave her Fatty Dong’s car registration and said I hadn’t seen his face clearly.
    ‘He’s obese and wearing a purple shirt,’ I said. ‘The gear’s on him or maybe concealed in his car tyre.’
    She asked me for my name and ID number but I pretendedto be nervous. ‘Please don’t ask,’ I said. ‘I wouldn’t have called the cops if I’d known you’d want my details.’
    I found particular satisfaction in setting this trap for Fatty Dong because I’d met some similar misfortune myself a few years ago on a business trip to Mianyan. I’d just undressed when there was a knock at the door and I sensed it meant something bad. Immediately I grabbed my trousers and pulled them back on. But the greater the hurry, the more mistakes you make: somehow I put them on back to front. Just as I was about to rectify the situation, the door was kicked open and two ferocious cops dashed in. I almost fainted and the girl had to hold me up. I was fined 4000 yuan. Fortunately I’d had enough money on me, otherwise things might have escalated.
    I hung up feeling great. On second thoughts, however, I decided not to let Fatty Dong off so cheaply. The fine for visiting a prostitute was a few thousand yuan, which was nothing to him. I needed to be more ruthless: if you don’t beat a snake to death you’ll be bitten by it. After some thought, I decided to call my brother-in-law. He edited the gossip section of a tabloid newspaper and every day he published ridiculous news about things like a double-headed snake found somewhere or a rooster that had just laid a double-yolk egg. I called him Na Wuo, after a loveable idiot character in a sitcom played by actor Feng Gong. My brother-in-law was easy-going and would usually smile at my banter, saying, ‘You’re always criticising me, but you never give me any stories.’
    My brother-in-law had probably been asleep and soundedirritable when he answered the phone. I got straight to the point.
    ‘I’ve got a scoop for you. A drug dealer out whoring and the cops turning out in force to arrest him.’
    He sounded interested and so I gave him the details and he said he’d send a reporter to investigate the story.
    ‘You’ll have to hurry,’ I said, ‘or the guy’ll be nabbed by the cops.’
    He said ‘OK’.
    Just as he was about to hang up, I muttered hesitantly, ‘Brother-in-law …’
    ‘What?’ he said.
    I thought for a moment, then decided to go for it.
    ‘You have to publish this guy’s photo in the paper.’
    There was a moment’s silence. ‘Is he your enemy?’ he asked.
    ‘Yeah. And if you don’t help me, then I’m done for.’
    After the call with my brother-in-law, I hailed a taxi on the street and said to the driver, ‘Take me to Chengdu.’
    He asked how much I’d pay. I told him 200 yuan then got into the car. After that I made an anonymous phone call to Fatty Dong’s home number.
    ‘Dong Guang is whoring in Longtan,’ I told his wife.

CHAPTER TWELVE
    A few years ago, Zhao Yue and I had gone to Emei Mountain12 where we came across a stinky fortune-telling Taoist at Fuhu Temple. The guy smelt as if he’d just crawled out of a sewer. Zhao Yue was usually a big fan of sanitation, but that day she insisted we should let him tell our fortune. After talking some bullshit he told us that we would break up because we’d been enemies in a previous life. Zhao Yue appeared to believe him and turned pale, asking if there was any way we could avoid this fate. As he rubbed his greasy grey goatee, there was an evil look in his eyes. He said he’d help us if we paid him 200 yuan and against my strong opposition Zhao Yue handed over 200 yuan from her bag. That was half her basic monthly salary and I was furious. The Taoist gave her a black piss-pot-like jar, saying it was a saint’s jar that could drive away ghosts and