Chapter 10: The Dam Bank

His best friend called on Thursday and talked without stopping.

He was Lu Qing's best friend since primary school, and a lab technician at the county environmental station.

He had a theory about the inspection notice, and the theory was that somebody powerful wanted the pond to fail.

"Records," said the technician. "They'll test the water on the day."

"But if you have old records, your grandfather's, anything, it shows the pond was healthy for years."

"He kept notebooks," said Lu Qing.

"Then find them. Please," said the technician. "I can't be there. I'm not allowed near my own friend's case."

On Saturday morning Lu Qing opened the green tin on the bench and took out the notebooks.

There were eight of them, black, with elastic bands, one for each year of the last eight.

Meng Yuhe sat on the bench beside him, drinking from his thermos.

"I'll look at the last one first," said Lu Qing. "The one from this winter."

He stopped, with his thumb on the band.

"Could you come to the dam bank with me? I want to read it where he sat."

"You said I couldn't. Rule two," said Meng Yuhe.

"I'm changing rule two."

"Why?" asked Meng Yuhe.

"Because I'd rather not read it alone," said Lu Qing.

The dam bank was a long grassy ridge above the weir, with one flat grey stone at the end that was shaped like a seat.

Grandpa had sat there every morning for fifty years.

Lu Qing sat down on the stone, and Meng Yuhe sat on the grass, and the water ran under them with its small clear voice.

He opened the last notebook.

The old man's handwriting was square and shaky.

Most of the entries were short.

Water clear. Fed at six. Heron on the weir. Fish taking bait slow, cold coming.

Then, near the end, they changed.

Qing visited. Fished badly. Talked the whole time. Good.

Qing is thin. Gave him soup. He pretended he wasn't hungry.

If I go in winter, the pond will need someone who talks. A pond is a quiet thing and it gets lonely. Qing talks. He will manage.

Lu Qing read the page, and then he read it again.

His voice stopped working on the word manage.

He sat on his grandfather's stone with the notebook in both hands.

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