Running Through Beijing by Xu Zechen

Author:Xu Zechen [Xu, Zechen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Two Lines Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

9

With lodgings taken care of he felt like he’d finally put down roots. Now he could proceed with a more orderly plan for the future. He would spend his days selling DVDs to make money, of course, but he would also find some time to visit Bao Ding. Ideally, he’d locate Qibao before that—he didn’t want to disappoint Bao Ding.

The problem was where to look. Besides her name and the fact that she sold fake IDs, plus that one glimpse of her back, he knew nothing about her, not even her surname. As long as she was still in Beijing selling fake IDs he stood a chance, otherwise he wouldn’t even know which haystack to go needle-hunting in. If only Bao Ding had seen fit to mention her earlier, instead of waiting until the police were hauling them off. It was his fault too—he’d thought that, as long as he had his freedom, finding someone would be a piece of cake, and he hadn’t asked for more details. His preliminary plan was to sell DVDs and look for her at the same time—his chances of finding her rose with the number of places he visited. He’d get to know the fake ID crowd, make some inquiries. He’d keep an eye out as he sold movies, and look over the girls, specifically their backs and asses. He thought he would be able to pick her ass out of a crowd.

He looked at countless asses over the next few days—big and small, fat and skinny, round and flat, overripe and undeveloped, shapely and shapeless—until he began to see cheeks even with his eyes closed. The majority of asses are unappetizing. Dunhuang realized that the plan was impractical, he simply couldn’t keep them all straight. The unpleasant ones were each unpleasant in their own way, but the nice-looking ones were more or less similar. It would never work. He asked various fake ID peddlers in various places if they’d heard of a girl named Qibao. A third shook their heads. A third responded by asking him if he wanted a fake ID—they could get him anything. The last third just glared or swore at him. Dunhuang had to admit it was laughable to go around asking everyone he met, as if he were a character in some fairy tale.

It didn’t hurt to ask, however, and not asking was guaranteed to get him nowhere, so he kept it up. But he’d mostly given up any hope of getting results. There were so goddamned many fake ID sellers in Beijing, enough to make up a little town of their own. To keep the search interesting, he thought of it as a special way of interacting with strangers, beyond selling them DVDs. Sometimes, after the movies were sold, he’d ask his customers randomly, “Do you know a girl named Qibao?”

The customers looked at him quizzically, and hurried off. He’d smile apologetically at their backs.

As long as the weather held, he could make money every day. He

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