A lot happened after that, but I can omit some of it. Like how Little Horse and Annie discussed where we should go for our next move, and how we should get there. Whether or not we should meet with Uncle Xu. And whether or not the shipping yard was truly safe. I can leave out things like these. After they got halfway through their debate, Annie once again felt that I shouldn’t get tangled up in this business and they should just take me home. But Little Horse stood his ground, saying that they first had to verify whether or not that cologne-wearing assassin saw me, otherwise nowhere would be safer than with them. Their discussion lasted around an hour and finally they decided we should hop on a public bus, transfer to another bus that took us all the way out to Sanchong, wind back to Xinzhuang, and probably ended up in some other ridiculous place. But since I fell asleep on the bus I had no idea where we were going. We ended up back on some Taipei street. After we’d been walking for a while it began to rain, and only then did I really wake up. Annie told me, “We’re going to a hotel.”
All together we stayed in hotels for six nights. Every two days we’d change hotels, so in the end we stayed at three different joints. All three were the kind of dingy places that are made from thin wooden walls, black tile floors, and a sign hanging outside saying THE SO-AND-SO GRAND HOTEL. Actually there was nothing grand about any of them; each was just a tiny hole in the ground. Each time, Little Horse stayed in one room while Annie and I stayed in another. At first I felt uncomfortable about it, but Annie said that she couldn’t sleep unless there was a man beside her. I told her that she could sleep with Little Horse. She said that it was terrifying to wake up in the middle of the night and see Little Horse’s long hair. I figured she was probably just making some crazy excuse, and what she was really looking for was a chance to jump my bones. Only later did I realize that Little Horse slept during the day and went out with Little Xinjiang at night to take care of whatever business they had to do.
Hotels are among the most boring places in the world. Especially the type that we were staying at. The rugs were always sticky, the blankets were constantly damp, the bedsheets were eternally mapped with yellow and red stains, and the closet and dresser at the foot of the bed would periodically emit the stench of mildew and cockroach eggs. None of the rooms had a refrigerator and the only one that had a television set could pick up sound but no picture. The worst part was that Annie and I had to stay inside almost twenty-four hours a day; later I would even feel that there was more than forty-eight hours in a single day. That’s probably because by that time Annie had already told me everything about herself.
Every morning, not long after we woke up, Annie would go out to buy over a dozen newspapers. We would read through them separately, trading sections that we hadn’t yet read, checking to see if there were any new developments in the Young River case. After we finished reading the papers, Annie would take out the Walkman that that gang leader had given her to listen to the news. After that we’d call for takeout, eat our lunches, take a nap, listen to the news, and then read through the evening paper. There were two occasions when I was so fucking bored that I even went next door to Little Horse’s room to count how many times he snored. When Little Horse stopped snoring, that meant it was about time to order our evening takeout.
“Don’t you feel bored?” I asked Annie.
“For a long time now, for a long time I’ve been used to it.”
“Is it really that dangerous outside?”
“You’d better not test the waters.”
“Do you often have to hide out like this?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Will we have to continue on like this forever?”
“Don’t worry, Bull-boy! That’s impossible.”
“So how much longer then?”
“We’ll have to wait and see what Horsefly is thinking.”
Who knew what Horsefly was thinking? But no matter what, I was clear on one thing—that was the first time I truly had my heart set on returning to school. What did I care if they sent me directly back to the principal’s office to stand in the corner? Even then I’d be willing.
“I want to call my classmate.”
“Use your imagination to call.”
“I could tell your story to Weng Jiaping.”
“And what if Weng Jiaping tells Mr. Hippo, and Mr. Hippo goes and tells the cops?”
“…”
“…”
“I really, really hate hotels.”
“Me too.”