Of course, I wasn’t destined to attend such a meeting; I was destined to be loaded on board the submarine called the Yangtze. Upon seeing the work Su had done, Bureau Chief Lü was very pleased. He looked me up and down and affirmed, ‘Not bad … not bad at all. It’s just what I wanted; very good, he looks just like a professor’s son.’

I knew my father was at most a moderately successful businessman: when on earth had he become a professor? Then it dawned on me. I knew why they had cleaned and dressed me in this uniform: they were going to pass off my corpse as that of the son of this professor. Maybe this professor’s son had served on this sub (say as an interpreter) and unfortunately for him, he had been unluckier than I: he had died and they didn’t even have a body to present to his father. How could a father say goodbye to his son without at least a body to grieve over? That was why they had brought me here. I guess I must have resembled him. Heh, heh, stranger things have happened, I suppose …

While I was mulling the situation over, Bureau Chief Lü and Su had quietly vacated the room. I assumed that the professor would be arriving at any moment; perhaps they had even gone off to meet him at the dock. I knew for certain that I wasn’t anywhere near Hanoi. For this professor to come so far to see where his son had fought and died, to risk his own life in the process … It is the most pitiable duty for a parent: to bury their own child. Coming at night was a wise choice, since at that time the Americans rarely made bombing raids at night. How much I respected that professor! Even though I wasn’t his son, at that moment I felt the same filial love as his son must have done, and hoped that everything would go well for him.

Everything was quite different from what I had expected. Not long after Bureau Chief Lü departed, the sub began to pull away from the dock – swaying at first, before diving like some grand metallic fish. I began to wonder: if this professor wasn’t in Hanoi, just where was he? Somewhere even further away? As you should all know, during wartime a submarine doesn’t just nonchalantly steam out into the harbour and sail away. To arrange this whole charade, to give this professor a last chance to see his dead son – even if it wasn’t his son he’d be actually seeing – to dispatch a submarine to carry out this dangerous mission; well, it became clear that this professor wasn’t just anyone. He must’ve been someone of enormous prestige and importance.

As the submarine navigated out to sea, I could only wonder where they were taking me.