Across a Green Ocean. Wendy Lee
wrote down for him, and after confirming that this is indeed the normal university, walks in under Mao’s watchful eye. Since he can’t read any of the signs, he asks two female students where the English department is. One of them giggles and hides behind her textbook, but the other, bolder one, who appears to understand some English, points out a building to the left. Fortunately, it is not a large campus.
The severe-looking woman sitting behind the desk in the concrete-floored office gives a single nod when Michael asks her if she speaks English.
“Professor Liao does not teach here anymore,” she responds to his query.
“But I have this letter. . . .” Michael holds it out to her as if in proof.
She coolly turns it over in her hands and taps the postmark. “It is an old letter. Sent over a year ago.”
“Does he have a forwarding address?” Michael asks, desperate.
The woman shrugs. “I am sorry.”
She looks at a spot in the distance behind his head, and Michael guesses that he has taken up enough of her time, although no one else appears to be in need of her attention. There’s nothing else he can do but turn around and leave the building.
He sits down on a stone bench, still holding the letter, wondering what his next step should be. He can’t believe that his journey might end here. There has to be someone on campus who knows where Liao Weishu has gone, but the odds of Michael finding that person, especially without knowing the language, is slim. Maybe the clerk back at the hotel can help him. Is there some kind of Chinese White Pages?
He’s just about to stand when a soft voice calls out to him, “Hello!”
He looks up to see a girl in a blue-and-white gym uniform. She appears to be about twelve years old, although he guesses she must be a college student.
“You are looking for Professor Liao?” she asks. “I hear you talking to Miss Wang in the office.”
“Yes, she said he doesn’t work here anymore?”
“He is—retired.” The girl looks proud for remembering how to say that word in English.
Michael leans forward so eagerly that she takes an involuntary step back. “Do you know where he is?”
She nods. “He lives on campus.”
“Can you take me there?” Her startled look makes him think he’s said something inappropriate, so he quickly amends, “I mean, can you deliver a message to him from me?”
The girl looks much more comfortable with that idea. Michael hastily scribbles a note with the name of his hotel. “It’s okay,” he assures her. “I’m an old friend.” Or at least my father was. After he hands over the note, he grins. “I guess Miss Wang thinks I look dangerous.”
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