Mr. Wang had been gone for two days. He had stayed away for a night or two previously, but not without leaving a message. I wanted to report his absence to the police. Zui-lien stopped me.
"Wait until tomorrow," she said. "Maybe he is covering a big news story. I have a hunch he'll be back tonight."
"How can you be so sure?" I asked.
"Don't you remember?" she reminded me. "Today is the Moon Festival. He promised to come home early and have dinner with us tonight."
"I remember the festival, all right," I said. "But I doubt he will be back to dine with us tonight. He told you a lie, that's what."
"Why should he?" Zui-lien frowned at me. "He told us he worked for an English-language newspaper," I said. "He doesn't. He works at a bar - behind it, I mean."
"A bartender!" she exclaimed. "How do you know?"
"I just happened to see him in his uniform not long ago," I said.
"Where?" She was impatient.
"At the Riverside Hotel. I had a foreign guest. Wang begged me not to tell you or Su-ching for fear you would drive him out."
"Why didn't you tell me before?" she complained.
"I took pity on him," I said. "He seemed to be having too much trouble. Maybe he needs the money to pay back a debt or something."
"Did you telephone the hotel manager?" she asked. I told her the manager was also upset by Mr. Wang's nonappearance.
"Ma, could Uncle Wang have been killed by bad people?" Su-ching interrupted.
"Don't say such an unlucky thing on this festival day," Zui-lien said. "Let's wait until tomorrow, at least."
Mr. Wang had moved into our house seven months before. We needed money badly because I had been sick. To make both ends meet, we decided to rent out a room.
Zui-lien was out when Mr. Wang answered our ad. He looked about 45 and was too dressed up. I didn't like him because he was too apologetic. I was afraid he might be interested in Su-ching. But I told him to come back that evening, so I could talk to my wife.
Zui-lien and I couldn't find the right excuse to reject Mr. Wang. We demanded half a year's rent in key money. He agreed and moved in the next day.
I rarely had opportunity to talk with Mr. Wang because he came home so late. Zui-lien told me he was polite and generous. On several occasions, he gave gifts to her and to Su-ching, saying they came from foreign friends.
One Sunday morning when Zui-lien and Su-ching were out shopping, I had a long talk with Mr. Wang. He seemed to evade talking about his work. He said he was alone in Taiwan and had a family on the main land.
"How long have you been in Taiwan?" I asked.
"Sixteen years," he said. "I stayed in Hongkong for a year before coming here."
"How many people in your family?" I asked, hoping the question would move him to talk about himself.
"When the Communists came, I was living with my wife, son and grandfather in Nanking," he said. "My grandfather was struggled against because he owned a cotton mill. After that, I was afraid I would become the target of mass criticism. I ran south, wandering here and there and finally reached Hongkong."
"What happened to your wife, son and parents?" I was curious.
"I was orphaned in childhood," he said. "My wife and son didn't come out with me because they couldn't walk so far."
Mr. Wang said that in Hongkong he heard from his wife. There had been no letters after he reached Taiwan.
At last I asked him about his job. "Frankly, I don't like it," he said. "But I can't do much else. I was spoiled and didn't study hard in school. Did you tell your wife of my work?"
"No!" I soothed him. "I keep my word. She says you earn more than you need and wonders why you don't get married. She feels you must have some sort of secret."
"She is right," Mr. Wang said. "But I don't want to tell you the truth. You might laugh at me."
When the Ghost Festival had passed, people began to talk of the forthcoming Moon Festival. Mr. Wang asked Zui-lien if he could rent the next room to his. It had been unoccupied since our nephew left for Japan a couple of months before. She jokingly asked him if he was getting married.
Mr. Wang surprisingly responded that his son was coming from Hongkong.
"Congratulations!" she said. "Mr. Wang, you have never mentioned your son. How old is he?"
"He is 21," Mr. Wang said. "He is still on the mainland. I hope we can have a happy reunion for the Moon Festival."
"How did you know of his coming?" Zui-lien was big eyed.
"A friend in Hongkong told me," he said. "If everything goes well," he said, "my son should be here for the festival."
"How about Mrs. Wang?" Zui-lien asked.
"My friend lost contact with her," Mr. Wang said. "I don't know."
"I'm sorry," she said. "When did you begin to think of bringing your family to Taiwan?"
"Ever since I left the mainland 17 years ago," he said. "I tried when I was in Hongkong. It was impossible then. I lost track of them. Just recently my friend found an old woman from my native place who knew where my son had gone."
Before our Moon Festival dinner, we searched Mr. Wang's room, hoping to find a clue. There wasn't any. Zui-lien asked me if I knew anything more about the son.
"A little," I said. "A week ago he told me that the son didn't escape from the mainland on the expected date. He thought there might have been a delay because of the typhoon. What would we say to the young man if he arrived and his father was not here?"
The feast was our gloomiest ever. The doorbell rang just as we were finishing. Su-ching answered the bell. "Uncle Wang has come back!" she exclaimed.
Two young men were with Mr. Wang. "I'm sorry to be so much trouble," he apologized. "This is my nephew and his friend. They can stay with me, I hope."
"But where have you been, Mr. Wang?" I asked. "I went to Keelung," he said. "The other night when I was about to come home, I heard that some mainland refugees had arrived in the afternoon. I knew my son hadn't come from the mainland, but I thought someone might have seen him. So I rushed to Keelung and finally found nephew Yu-chi. He just escaped."
"Did you see your cousin?" Zui-lien asked Yu chi.
"He was with us until a few days ago," Yu chi said. "Unfortunately, he was shot while crossing the border."
"He died for me," Yu-chi's friend said apologetically. "Mr. Wang's son was working with us on a collective farm near Canton. About a month ago, some Chinese from Hongkong visited our farm. One of them gave Wang Chia-kang a little Red book printed in Hongkong. That night Chia-kang told us the visitor had arranged an escape for him by bribing the border guards. Chia-kang invited us to join him.
"On the appointed night, we couldn't go because there was a typhoon. The next morning we learned that the guards had been changed. We couldn't go back to the farm. There was no choice except to go on. As we crossed the border, several shots rang out. Chia-kang pushed me down and was killed. I can't tell you how sorry I am," he said, tears in his eyes.
"Do you have relatives in Taiwan?" I asked. "Yes," he answered. "My aunt came some 20 years ago. But I don't know where she lives. Uncle Wang spent a whole day asking many people. Maybe we can find her someday."
"I have decided to adopt him along with my nephew," Mr. Wang said. "Two lives for one."