Flashes

         It may seem like chaos, but the maddening traffic in Shanghai works because everyone understands the unwritten rules and follows them. The rules are simple. Big trumps small. Pedestrians give way to bikes and scooters. Bikes and scooters give way to the hoards of taxis that dance through traffic, dodging and buffaloing each other. The only vehicles that win out to the bold taxis are the busses. The busses never give. Pedestrians don’t linger in Shanghai traffic so the tourists who ride in the taxis are startled when Liu Li rattles her can next to their open windows.
         “Holy crap, it’s a little girl!” The startled man with the spiky hair begins to roll up his window while his overfed female companion leans over to gape, raising a camera. “She’s begging!” The plump blond with thin lank hair is excited as if Liu Li is a tourist attraction. The flash of the digital camera pops her in the eyes. Li is angry. They will take pictures, but won’t give her their change. They are repulsed, but want to remember her. She lifts her hand to point, giving the plump lady the hard stare that she’s seen Wei Lin give people. It’s a curse and she knows she must not use it often because each time she gives the curse a part of her spirit is lost. But she is so hot with frustration, she doesn’t care.
         “Oh my God, stop.” The man grabs the woman’s wrist as she sticks the camera out of the window, trying to get another shot off. “She’s giving you the stink eye.” The woman’s tone is defensive. Liu Li knows that even if she doesn’t understand these words they are saying. “So? It serves her right for begging.”
         Just then the traffic begins to move again and the lady is startled. She drops her little camera as the taxi speeds away. Li is stunned when it clatters to rest against her foot as she presses back against the concrete barricade. When it’s safe, she bends down to pick it up and winds expertly among the cars that must slow down for the intersection to the safety of the sidewalk.
         Liu Li shivers, her hand shaking as she secrets the thin camera in a pocket of her skirt. The night seems unseasonably cool, even for winter and her skin feels tight and flushed. She thinks maybe the restaurant leftovers Wei Lin chose for her to eat were not safe.
         Wei Lin had been angry at her as she often was these days. “You don’t bring back enough yuan, Liu Li! Where are you keeping the money? I am the Aunt of this group. If you don’t bring enough yuan, you don’t get the best food.”
         Liu Li ate what was given to her and went to sleep with her belly uncomfortable. Her thin blanket wasn’t enough to keep out the clammy chill that crept in and Li was too proud to sneak closer to sleep against another member of their band after such a dressing down by Wei Lin.
         The people of Shanghai were hard. They did not easily give to those who could not make do on their own. Foreigners were more likely to open their pockets and give a few yuan. And most of that were given to those who had something to peddle in return. Yu Gardens were full of people who had something to market. Some of the older boys who used to be part of the band when Liu Li first joined Wei Lin were now shepherds for those who sold Western-style bags and watches to tourists. They were thick as mosquitoes in summer at the markets, their approach choreographed as they would open a pamphlet to show the tourists. “Look lady! You want watch bag shoe? Armani, Gucci! Watchbagshoe?” All day they would sing this strange song with the English words. Occasionally they convinced some adventurous tourist to follow them down winding ways to the hidden places where the goods were kept. Then the shepherds were rewarded with some small fraction of the sale.
         Wei Lin was young for an Aunt. She had taken leadership from her aging grandmother who would still dress in traditional garb to play follow the dog. The old woman would choose a well-dressed person walking down the street and would follow with her hand outstretched, peppering the person with compliments and blessings until her hand was graced with enough money to convince her to cease. The knowledgeable would simply hurry along until they found a good place to cross the street, leaving the old woman behind. Those who followed the dog maintained strict territory rules.
         Begging in the subway station was banned because it was bad for the image of Shanghai. If the authorities caught you, the kinder police officers would impose their fees and send you away. The crueler ones would take all of the money you had made and would laugh, saying they hoped to see you again.
         When Liu Li was four years old, her father brought her to Shanghai from their little country town to work this way in the subway stations. He had lost his leg in a farm accident and lost Liu Li’s mother to another man with sound limbs. As a tiny girl, she would sleep on the dirty concrete floor next to her father as he showed his leg and people dropped coins on the jacket spread in front of him. When he had enough coins he would hide them in the lining of his jacket and leave only a few to show to the travelers passing by. After a couple of hard seasons of this, Liu Li’s father and his jacket went away, maybe back to the little town whose name she could not remember. Thereafter, Liu Li found herself in the company of the young auntie, Wei Lin.
         At eight years old, Liu Li was now too old to create sympathy for her small size. She was naturally thin, no matter if she ate the best food or not, but she was also whole. She had no disabilities that would have made her job easier. Wei Lin had three blessedly crippled teenagers in her band who were dropped off each day in Pudong to ask for yuan. They were Wei Lin’s best earners. The hard people of Shanghai were more likely to help those who looked as if they could not work in the skilled trades.
         There were many different kinds of mendicants in Shanghai. Liu Li was the kind who was not merely part of a poor family who asked for money to supplement a small income. It weighed down on her like a thick cold rain to know that she was beisan. Liu Li was a low beggar. Last night Wei Lin had crouched down next to her in the middle of the chill night while Li clutched her uncomfortable belly and whispered to her, her cool words slithering down for Li’s ears alone. “Beisan, I can not afford to let you be with us if you do not bring me enough yuan. If you don’t make enough tomorrow, you do not sleep here. Do not come back.”
         So today, despite her aching belly and hot, tight skin that made her feel even colder, Liu Li had worked hard, giving the tourists sad looks as she rattled her few coins in the can she held as she braved Shanghai traffic. But despite her efforts she had received more looks of pity and revulsion than she had renminbi. A great rush of anger washed up over her so strong, she felt woozy and had to stop, pressing her hand against the cool concrete of the shop next to her. She did not know how she had gotten here, but she was in the People’s Square.
         A shepherd nearby was singing his song with the strange words to tourists passing by who pretended to not even see him, even when he opened his laminated pamphlet right in front of them. He could have been a ghost. “Hey, look! You want watch, bag, shoe?” As the tourists moved on he caught her staring at him and walked over, shooing her away impatiently in Shanghainese, “Go. Go away, this is not your spot. You’re going to mess me up.” Liu Li scurried away before the swat he aimed at her could connect.
         The crowds and the neon of all of the shops pressed in on Li relentlessly. Sidewalk merchants selling light-up neon wheels for shoes and flying disks with whirling lights that shot up into the air were all along this walkway where automobiles were not allowed. Li jumped back with a squeak when one of these hawkers threw a jelly-like toy at her feet with a loud splat. For a moment the grotesque thing quivered there in a puddle, a comical pig’s face staring up at her. Then it quivered and started to reform into a ball. The merchant and watching shoppers laughed as Li stumbled away, feeling unusually confused. Her unsteady steps took her in the direction of a nearby fountain where a few laughing school boys were practicing their English on foreigners passing by. “Hey Mister. How do you do?” The rest of the boys parroted the first as the man took a photo of the boys. “How do you do? Yes, How do you do? Hey Mister!”
         Liu Li felt for the camera in her secret pocket and while no one was looking, she scrabbled up the low retaining wall next to her and into the landscaping of the little park area bordering the fountain square. In the underbrush she found a little well of space where no one could see her. Although she could hear the market and the traffic in the street just beyond, she felt protected. With her feet she shoved away the scraps of paper and food wrappers in her little haven and settled down. She peered down into her can of change, trying to count the coins in the dark. Although most of Shanghai was as lit vibrantly in neon bright as day at this time of the evening, her little hiding place was nearly black. Li huffed with impatience. She stuck her hand in the can to count with her fingers, her eyes burning with hot tears as she confirmed what she thought - too few coins. She could not go back to Wei Lin. Her empty tummy twisted up sick. Her desperate hand reached for the camera. Maybe Wei Lin would take the camera instead. She could sell it to one of the tourists who were looking for bargains.
         Li’s trembling fingers blindly sought the buttons of the camera, praying it had not broken when it tumbled to the pavement. She pushed a button that did nothing, then another which caused the device to buzz faintly, a green light blooming to life. By the tiny light, Li could make out the screen where a picture would show. Li’s fingers found the biggest button on the top of the camera and pushed it. A flash assaulted Li’s eyes, blinding her for a couple startled heartbeats. As her vision faded in disconcertingly from the edges, Li caught a glimpse of the photo she took on the screen before it disappeared. Li shook her head hard. What she had seen on the screen for the briefest moment was an impossible vision. The angle of the shot had caught Li’s knee and her can sitting on the ground beside her. But it had looked like the can was full of coins and that Li’s bare knee was covered by warm tights and a fine denim skirt rather than the thin cotton of the cast off school uniform that Wei Lin had scavenged for her.
         Li felt strange, another wave of wooziness swamping her head and a tide of shivers rattling through her thin frame. At the same time her heart sped up. Was she imagining what she saw or was this some magic she had found? The lady had dropped the camera right after Li had cursed her. Maybe this was some enchantment that she was meant to have, retribution for the wrong the blond lady had done. Li sat in amazement for a long time, clutching the camera before her until something inside it sent it to sleep again. It buzzed in her hand, the lens winding back down into the camera and the green light fading.
         Li made a desperate sound, her fingers scrambling to turn it on again, fearful that it would not obey, that the one fleeting glimpse she had of something wonderful was all there would be. To her relief, the camera came back to life.
         Excited, Li raised the device, pointing it out toward the surrounding underbrush and pushed the button. Like before, the flash dazzled her eyes and to her amazement, once more the screen showed her wondrous things. As she stared, eyes wide, she saw a vision of her little haven turned into a fine sturdy room with a mattress piled high with pillows and warm blankets, a table nearby laden with a pot of tea, soup and steaming noodles. In that fraction of time Li could smell the food, and she felt warm and cozy. But as the image faded, she sank back into her feverish skin and all she could smell was damp, cool earth and musty, fallen leaves. The sound that escaped her was somewhere between a laugh and a whimper. Was this a good enchantment or bad? For the seconds she saw the image she was so happy, but when it was gone her insides were heavier than before. She hadn’t decided yet when she took the next picture.
         As the dazzlement started to fade, Li laughed out loud with joy. It was an image of her with her father inside that cozy room, looking out at the little town that Li could barely remember. Li’s father had come back for her. He had made enough money for them and found her again. It was good, she decided. The camera was a gift, not a curse. Her joy was such that she could no longer feel the twist in her stomach, the tightness of her skin. As she raised the camera again, she found herself wishing that Wei Lin could see Liu Li and her father together, so happy, and know that Li did not need Lin any longer.
         Flash. The image that Li glimpsed was a furious Wei Lin, her arm seized by a uniformed man, but Wei Lin was twisting out of his grip, her finger pointed straight at the camera, a flinty curse in her eyes, her mouth open in angry words. For a frightening moment, Li could almost hear them. She dropped the camera from numb fingers. No. No, no, no! Li scrambled for the camera with fingers that did not seem to want to work. Her panting breaths sounded harsh to her ears. As she was playing with the camera it had gown late. The lights in the square had gone off and the sound of traffic dampened as Shanghai shut down for the night.
         The shadows of her haven no longer seemed comforting. They shifted and pressed in. She was tempted to run back to Wei Lin, but she knew she could not. She did not have enough coin and the image in the camera seemed so real. Wei Lin was surely furious. Li had done something to cause Lin to be caught by the authorities. A whimper caught in Liu Li’s throat as the shifting shadows seemed to dart in at her. She jerked back, her finger pressing the flash again. The shadows jumped back.
         Li’s throat lumped up over the image on the screen. The shadows were grey, globby things with eyes and mouths, cringing from the flash, but snarling with wet mouths and sharp teeth. Even as Li stared at the fading image, they started forward again. Flash. They fell back. Li’s legs were jelly like the little squashed toy on the sidewalk. She could not get up. Flash. The shadows fell back again. The light on the camera turned from green to orange. Flash. She chased them back once more. There, in the image was something else fighting back the shadows. Her heart took flight. Flash. Her father was getting closer, he was coming to help her. She pressed the button again and again.

         Detective Zhou Xiou shook his head at the pitiful scene. A little beisan, no more than seven or eight years old had been found in the underbrush near the fountain at People’s Square. Her thin body was huddled into a little ball, clutching her stomach. Nearby there was a can with a pitiful amount of change and in her stiff hand, an expensive new camera. Oddly enough, the look on her face was peaceful, even happy. He bent down to pry the camera out of her grubby little paw. When he tried to turn it on, it didn’t respond. He grunted, noticing scratches and a crack on the view screen.
         “What do you got there?” The coroner’s assistant had crawled into the underbrush with him to process the scene.
         “A camera. Won’t even turn on. Either it’s broken or the battery is dead.” Xiou slid the battery compartment open with his thumb and depressed the memory card to pop it out. He weighed the tiny chip in his hand for a moment before slipping it in an evidence bag and the camera in another.