I realize of course that my refusal to tell Ah-bing what had happened will weigh heavily upon his mind. It will be difficult to bear, like having a precious and rare heirloom broken. Most likely from this day onwards Ah-bing, and perhaps the rest of Chen Erhu’s family and relatives, will be tormented by my refusal to divulge this secret. They will perhaps feel much apprehension about it – brood over it, even. In a sense, you could say that Chen Erhu’s last words have enveloped them in a dense, impenetrable fog of confusion and unknowing; they are haunted by them as if by some terrible tragedy they can’t understand or accept. They refuse to believe that someone they spent their entire lives with would entrust an outsider with such a mysterious and obviously very important secret. No doubt they turned it over and over in their minds: just what was this secret, what other life did Chen Erhu have, could this secret be concealing some unknown danger, might it bring misfortune onto the family? And so on, and so forth: they’ll wonder, worry, expect and fear. I’m sure that’s what they’re thinking. Even though he wrote so few words, they won’t be able to stop mulling them over, scouring the recesses of their memories for some clue as to what this secret could be. They’ll certainly torture themselves trying to figure it out, wishing they could prise it apart and discover its hidden meaning. But their efforts will be futile; inevitably they’ll begin to be apprehensive around me, wary of me; they’ll try to figure out what I’m up to, they’ll begin to suspect me of something, to consider me an enemy. I soon realized that Chen Erhu couldn’t have asked me to bear a greater burden. I thought that if I had been able to see Old Chen on his deathbed, his last words would have been given to me directly – they wouldn’t have passed through other people’s hands; they’d be mine alone. Even though Ah-bing handed them on to me, I’m sure he did it unwillingly – his desire to know what was being concealed from him proved that. He knew his father had written ‘ensure that it remains a secret’, and still he had to ask me; his request was as purposeful as it was brazen. What’s more, I can’t shake the feeling that in the days to come, I’ll receive more letters and telephone calls, more requests to know the truth, or perhaps more rudeness. I had no trouble in saying no to Ah-bing, of course, but I can’t say the same about future letters and phone calls. These future letters and future calls will eventually come from his older sister.

To be honest, I would much rather be faced with a letter than a phone call.

28 March

Dormitory. Night. Windy.