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plz answer these questions for me

1. In what places in the story is its title especially relevant?  Who can be considered a "saboteur," and what acts of "sabotage" does the story deal with ? Define what these terms mean to you .

2. What evidence is there that Mr. Chiu is not used to being treated the way that the police treat him? Identify specific passages.  Do you find him unreasonably naive ? Why ,or Why not ? 

3. Why, apparently, do the police arrest Mr. Chiu and demand a confession from him before they are willing to release him? How might the author be using their behavior to comment on Chinese authorities in general? 

4. In his  fiction, Ha Jin typically mentions small physical details that may appear trivial at first but can eventually be thought of as significant. Identify some moments in "Saboteur" when he uses such details, and explain what their actual importance might be .

5. How sympathetic were you toward Mr. Chiu  until the story's end? Was your degree of sympathy affected by what he ultimately did? What do you conclude about him from his final action?C2F26A84-5302-4982-9EC7-A91E46F9706D.jpeg1E124377-2B82-4F28-B8AF-112E95CF3451.jpeg4F34AA80-13CD-4DE6-9479-E943AC9AF368.jpegF0F9A78C-5136-459B-B81D-D4F69B00663C.jpeg516BA321-0FDC-4912-9CDF-D8810F880879.jpeg80DA658E-6C0D-4F29-B558-D375971C180D.jpegADD3D9D5-B18E-4CE1-B9BC-A7A56F55337D.jpeg051B6320-DC6E-4132-883D-1B23BD1A0A77.jpegC9D5F990-ADB4-4252-9FCE-72BECC56F87A.jpeg

JIN Saboteur
ng? At
young comrade, who was tall and of athletic build. Now and again they would
steal a glance at Mr. Chiu's table.
The air smelled of rotten melon. A few flies kept buzzing above the couple
lunch. Hundreds of people were rushing around to get on the platform of in
catch buses to downtown. Food and fruit vendors were crying for customers in
Lazy voices. About a dozen young women, representing the local hotels, held up
placards which displayed the daily prices and words as large as a palm, like FREE
es its
PEALS, AIR-CONDITIONING, and ON THE RIVER. In the center of the square stood a con-
crete statue of Chairman Mao, at whose feet peasants were napping, their backs
on the warm granite and their faces toward the sunny sky. A flock of pigeons
perched on the Chairman's raised hand and forearm.
The rice and cucumber tasted good, and Mr. Chiu was eating unhurriedly.
His sallow face showed exhaustion. He was glad that the honeymoon was finally
over and that he and his bride were heading back for Harbin. During the two
weeks' vacation, he had been worried about his liver, because three months ago
he had suffered from acute hepatitis; he was afraid he might have a relapse. But
he had had no severe symptoms, despite his liver being still big and tender. On
the whole he was pleased with his health, which could endure even the strain of
a honeymoon; indeed, he was on the course of recovery. He looked at his bride,
who took off her wire glasses, kneading the root of her nose with her fingertips.
Beads of sweat coated her pale cheeks.
"Are you all right, sweetheart?" he asked.
"I have a headache. I didn't sleep well last night."
"Take an aspirin, will you?"
"It's not that serious. Tomorrow is Sunday and I can sleep in. Don't worry."
As they were talking, the stout policeman at the next table stood up and
threw a bowl of tea in their direction. Both Mr. Chiu's and his bride's sandals
were wet instantly.
"Hooligan!" she said in a low voice.
Mr. Chiu got to his feet and said out loud, "Comrade Policeman, why did you
do this?" He stretched out his right foot to show the wet sandal.
"Do what?" the stout man asked huskily, glaring at Mr. Chiu while the young
fellow was whistling.
"See, you dumped tea on our feet."
"You're lying. You wet your shoes yourself."
'Comrade Policemen, your duty is to keep order, but you purposely tortured
us common citizens. Why violate the law you are supposed to enforce?" As Mr.
Chiu was speaking, dozens of people began gathering around.
With a wave of his hand, the man said to the young fellow, "Let's get hold of him!"
They grabbed Mr. Chiu and clamped handcuffs around his wrists. He cried,
"You can't do this to me. This is utterly unreasonable."
"Shut up!" The man pulled out his pistol. "You can use your tongue at our
The young fellow added, "You're a saboteur, you know that? You're disrupt-
ing public order."
JIN Saboteur
head was throbbing. He was sure that the hepatitis was finally attacking him.
Anger was flaming up in his chest; his throat was tight and clogged.
signature ."
The chief resumed, "As a matter of fact, you don't even have to write out
your self-criticism. We have your crime described clearly here. All we need is your
Holding back his rage, Mr. Chiu said, "Let me look at that."
words :
with a smirk the donkey-faced man handed him a sheet which carried these
I hereby admit that on July 13 I disrupted public order at Muji Train Sta-
tion, and that I refused to listen to reason when the railroad police issued
their warning. Thus I myself am responsible for my arrest. After two days
detention, I have realized the reactionary nature of my crime. From now on,
I shall continue to educate myself with all my effort and shall never commit
this kind of crime again.
A voice started screaming in Mr. Chiu's ears, "Lie, lie!" But he shook his head
and forced the voice away. He asked the chief, "If I sign this, will you release both
my lawyer and me?"
"Of course, we'll do that." The chief was drumming his fingers on the blue
folder- their file on him.
Mr. Chiu signed his name and put his thumbprint under his signature.
'Now you are free to go," the chief said with a smile, and handed him a piece
of paper to wipe his thumb with.
Mr. Chiu was so sick that he couldn't stand up from the chair at first try.
Then he doubled his effort and rose to his feet. He staggered out of the build-
ing to meet his lawyer in the backyard, having forgotten to ask for his belt
back. In his chest he felt as though there were a bomb. If he were able to, he
would have razed the entire police station and eliminated all their families.
Though he knew he could do nothing like that, he made up his mind to do
"I'm sorry about this torture, Fenjin," Mr. Chiu said when they met.
"It doesn't matter. They are savages." The lawyer brushed a patch of dirt off
his jacket with trembling fingers. Water was still dribbling from the bottoms of
his trouser legs.
Let's go now," the teacher said.
The moment they came out of the police station, Mr. Chiu caught sight of a
tea stand. He grabbed Fenjin's arm and walked over to the old woman at the table.
"Two bowls of black tea," he said and handed her a one-yuan note.
After the first bowl, they each had another one. Then they set out for the
train station. But before they walked fifty yards, Mr. Chiu insisted on eating a
bowl of tree-ear soup at a food stand. Fenjin agreed. He told his teacher, "You
mustn't treat me like a guest."
"No, I want to eat something myself."
As if dying of hunger, Mr. Chiu dragged his lawyer from restaurant to restau-
rant near the police station, but at each place he ordered no more than two bowls
of food. Fenjin wondered why his teacher wouldn't stay at one place and eat his fill.
Crime and Justice
Should he call out to let his student know he was nearby: He decided not to
because he didn't know what had happened. Fenjin must have quarreled with to
police to incur such a punishment. Yet this could never have occurred if Fenjig
hadn't come to his rescue. So no matter what, Mr. Chiu had to do something. But
what could he do?
It was going to be a scorcher. He could see purple steam shimmering and
rising from the ground among the pines. Poor devil, he thought, as he raised
bowl of corn glue to his mouth, sipped, and took a bite of a piece of salted celera
When a guard came to collect the bowl and the chopsticks, Mr. Chiu asked
him what had happened to the man in the backyard. "He called our boss bar.
dit, the guard said. "He claimed he was a lawyer or something. An arrogant son
of a rabbit."
Now it was obvious to Mr. Chiu that he had to do something to help his
rescuer. Before he could figure out a way, a scream broke out in the backyard
He rushed to the window and saw a tall policeman standing before Fenjin
an iron bucket on the ground. It was the same young fellow who h
who had arrested
Mr. Chiu in the square two days before. The man pinched Fenjin's nose, then
raised his hand, which stayed in the air for a few seconds, then slapped the lawyer
across the face. As Fenjin was groaning, the man lifted up the bucket and poured
water on his head.
"This will keep you from getting sunstroke, boy. I'll give you some more every
hour," the man said loudly.
Fenjin kept his eyes shut, yet his wry face showed that he was struggling to
hold back from cursing the policeman, or, more likely, that he was sobbing in
silence. He sneezed, then raised his face and shouted, "Let me go take a piss."
"Oh, yeah?" the man bawled. "Pee in your pants."
Still Mr. Chiu didn't make any noise, gripping the steel bars with both hands,
his fingers white. The policeman turned and glanced at the cell's window; his pis-
tol, partly holstered, glittered in the sun. With a snort he spat his cigarette butt to
the ground and stamped it into the dust.
Then the door opened and the guards motioned Mr. Chiu to come out. Again
they took him upstairs to the Interrogation Bureau.
The same men were in the office, though this time the scribe was sitting there 85
be seated."
empty-handed. At the sight of Mr. Chiu the chief said, "Ah, here you are. Please
After Mr. Chiu sat down, the chief waved a white silk fan and said to him,
"You may have seen your lawyer. He's a young man without manners, so our
director had him taught a crash course in the backyard."
"It's illegal to do that. Aren't you afraid to appear in a newspaper?"
"No, we are not, not even on TV. What else can you do? We are not afraid of
any story you make up. We call it fiction. What we do care about is that you coop-
erate with us. That is to say, you must admit your crime."
"What if I refuse to cooperate?"
"Then your lawyer will continue his education in the sunshine."
A swoon swayed Mr. Chiu, and he held the arms of the chair to steady him-
self. A numb pain stung him in the upper stomach and nauseated him, and his
CHAPTER 11 Crime and
both the interrogators smiled contemptuously. Well, we've never done
that," said the chief, taking a puff of his cigarette.
"Then make this a precedent."
That's unnecessary. We are pretty certain that you will comply with on
wishes. " The chief blew a column of smoke toward Mr. Chiu's face.
At the tilt of the chief's head, two guards stepped forward and grabbed the
criminal by the arms. Mr. Chiu meanwhile went on saying, "I shall report you ,
the Provincial Administration. You'll have to pay for this! You are worse than the
Japanese military police."
They dragged him out of the room.
After dinner, which consisted of a bowl of millet porridge, a corn bun, and
piece of pickled turnip, Mr. Chiu began to have
have a fever, shaking with a chill
and sweating profusely. He knew that the fire of anger had gotten into his liver
and that he was probably having a relapse. No medicine was available, because
his briefcase had been left with his bride. At home it would have been time for
him to sit in front of their color TV, drinking jasmine tea and watching the eve-
ning news. It was so lonesome in here. The orange bulb above the single bed was
the only source of light, which enabled the guards to keep him under surveillance
at night. A moment ago he had asked them for a newspaper or a magazine to
read, but they turned him down.
Through the small opening on the door noises came in. It seemed that the
police on duty were playing cards or chess in a nearby office; shouts and laughter
could be heard now and then. Meanwhile, an accordion kept coughing from a
remote corner in the building. Looking at the ballpoint and the letter paper left for
him by the guards when they took him back from the Interrogation Bureau, Mr.
Chiu remembered the old saying, "When a scholar runs into soldiers, the more he
argues, the muddier his point becomes." How ridiculous this whole thing was. He
ruffled his thick hair with his fingers.
He felt miserable, massaging his stomach continually. To tell the truth, he
was more upset than frightened, because he would have to catch up with his
work once he was back home- a paper that was due at the printers next week,
and two dozen books he ought to read for the courses he was going to teach in the
A human shadow flitted across the opening. Mr. Chiu rushed to the door and
shouted through the hole, "Comrade Guard, Comrade Guard!"
"What do you want?" a voice rasped.
"I want you to inform your leaders that I'm very sick. I have heart disease
and hepatitis. I may die here if you keep me like this without medication."
"No leader is on duty on the weekend. You have to wait till Monday."
"What? You mean I'll stay in here tomorrow?"
"Your station will be held responsible if anything happens to me."
"We know that. Take it easy, you won't die."
It seemed illogical that Mr. Chiu slept quite well that night, though the light
above his head had been on all the time and the straw mattress was hard and
'Work unit?"
"Harbin University.'
"Political status?'
"Communist Party member."
The chief put down the paper and began to speak. "Your crime is sabotage.
1 to
although it hasn't induced serious consequences yet. Because you are a Party
Member, you should be punished more. You have failed to be a model for the
masses and you-"
"Excuse me, sir," Mr. Chiu cut him off.
"What ? "
"I didn't do anything. Your men are the saboteurs of our social order. They
Threw hot tea on my feet and on my wife's feet. Logically speaking, you should
criticize them, if not punish them."
"That statement is groundless. You have no witness. Why should I believe
you?" the chief said matter-of-factly.
with a pistol."
"This is my evidence. " He raised his right hand. "Your man hit my fingers
fingers yourself."
"That doesn't prove how your feet got wet. Besides, you could have hurt your
"But I am telling the truth!" Anger flared up in Mr. Chiu. "Your police sta-
tion owes me an apology. My train ticket has expired, my new leather sandals are
ruined, and I am late for a conference in the provincial capital. You must compen-
sate me for the damage and losses. Don't mistake me for a common citizen who
would tremble when you sneeze. I'm a scholar, a philosopher, and an expert in
dialectical materialism. If necessary, we will argue about this in The Northeastern
Daily, or we will go to the highest People's Court in Beijing. Tell me, what's your
name?" He got carried away with his harangue, which was by no means trivial
and had worked to his advantage on numerous occasions.
"Stop bluffing us," the donkey-faced man broke in. "We have seen a lot of
your kind. We can easily prove you are guilty. Here are some of the statements
given by eyewitnesses." He pushed a few sheets of paper toward Mr. Chiu.
Mr. Chiu was dazed to see the different handwritings, which all stated that
he had shouted in the square to attract attention and refused to obey the police.
One of the witnesses had identified herself as a purchasing agent from a shipyard
in Shanghai. Something stirred in Mr. Chiu's stomach, a pain rising to his rib. He
gave out a faint moan.
"Now you have to admit you are guilty," the chief said. "Although it's a seri-
ous crime, we won't punish you severely, provided you write out a self-criticism
and promise that you won't disrupt the public order again. In other words, your
release will depend on your attitude toward this crime."
"You're daydreaming!" Mr. Chiu cried. "I won't write a word, because I'm
innocent. I demand that you provide me with a letter of apology so I can explain
to my university why I'm late."
Crime and Justice
The bride was too petrified to say anything coherent. She was a recent college
graduate, had majored in fine arts, and had never seen the police make an arrest
All she could say was, "Oh, please, please!"
The policemen were pulling Mr. Chiu, but he refused to go with them, hold
ing the corner of the table and shouting. "We have a train to catch. We already
bought the tickets."
The stout man punched him in the chest. "Shut up. Let your ticket expire .
With the pistol butt he chopped Mr. Chiu's hands, which at once released the
table. Together the two men were dragging him away to the police station.
Realizing he had to go with them, Mr. Chiu turned his head and shouted to
his bride. "Don't wait for me here. Take the train. If I'm not back by tomorrow
morning, send someone over to get me out."
She nodded, covering her sobbing mouth with her palm.
After removing his belt, they locked Mr. Chiu into a cell in the back of the Rail-
road Police Station. The single window in the room was blocked by six steel bail
it faced a spacious yard, in which stood a few pines. Beyond the trees, two swings
hung from an iron frame, swaying gently in the breeze. Somewhere in the build.
Chiu thought.
ing a cleaver was chopping rhythmically. There must be a kitchen upstairs, Mr
He was too exhausted to worry about what they would do to him, so he lay
down on the narrow bed and shut his eyes. He wasn't afraid. The Cultural Revo-
lution was over already, and recently the Party had been propagating the idea
that all citizens were equal before the law. The police ought to be a law-abiding
model for common people. As long as he remained coolheaded and reasoned with
them, they probably wouldn't harm him.
Late in the afternoon he was taken to the Interrogation Bureau on the sec-
ond floor. On his way there, in the stairwell, he ran into the middle-aged police-
man who had manhandled him. The man grinned, rolling his bulgy eyes and
pointing his fingers at him as if firing a pistol. Egg of a tortoise! Mr. Chiu cursed
The moment he sat down in the office, he burped, his palm shielding his
mouth. In front of him, across a long desk, sat the chief of the bureau and a don-
key-faced man. On the glass desktop was a folder containing information on his
case. He felt it bizarre that in just a matter of hours they had accumulated a small
pile of writing about him. On second thought he began to wonder whether they
had kept a file on him all the time. How could this have happened? He lived and
worked in Harbin, more than three hundred miles away, and this was his first
time in Muji City.
The chief of the bureau was a thin, bald man who looked serene and intel-
ligent. His slim hands handled the written pages in the folder in the manner of
a lecturing scholar. To Mr. Chiu's left sat a young scribe, with a clipboard on his
knee and a black fountain pen in his hand.
"Your name?" the chief asked, apparently reading out the question from a form.
"Chiu Maguang."
CHAPTER 11 Crime and Justice
Mr. Chiu bought noodles, wonton, eight-grain porridge, and chicken soup
respectively, at four restaurants. While eating, he kept saying through his teeth
"If only I could kill all the bastards!" At the last place he merely took a few sips of
the soup without tasting the chicken cubes and mushrooms.
Fenjin was baffled by his teacher, who looked ferocious and muttered to him.
self mysteriously, and whose jaundiced face was covered with dark puckets. For
the first time Fenjin thought of Mr. Chiu as an ugly man.
Within a month over eight hundred people contracted acute hepatitis in
Muji. Six died of the disease, including two children. Nobody knew how the epi.
demic had started.
Although originally from China, Xuefei Jin writes in English under the pen name, Ha
Jin (b. 1956). He served in the People's Liberation Army during his native country's
Cultural Revolution, a period during the 1960s and 1970s when militant follow-
ers of leader Mao Zedong brutalized China's intellectuals and other segments of its
population. After undergraduate and graduate education in China, Ha Jin was study-
ing at Brandeis University in Massachusetts when, in 1989, the Chinese government
attacked protesters in Tiananmen Square. He has written about this event in his novel
The Crazed (2002), and it played a role in his deciding to settle in the United States.
Currently a professor at Boston University, he is the author of several books. His other
novels include A Free Life (2007), War Trash (2004), and Waiting (1999), for
which he won the National Book Award. His latest novel is The Boat Rocker (2016).
The following story first appeared in a 1996 issue of The Antioch Review and was
then reprinted in his 2001 collection The Bridegroom: Stories.
Mr. Chiu and his bride were having lunch in the square before Muji Train Sta-
tion. On the table between them were two bottles of soda spewing out brown
foam and two paper boxes of rice and sauteed cucumber and pork. "Let's eat,'
he said to her, and broke the connected ends of the chopsticks. He picked up a
slice of streaky pork and put it into his mouth. As he was chewing, a few crinkles
appeared on his thin jaw.
To his right, at another table, two railroad policemen were drinking tea and
laughing; it seemed that the stout, middle-aged man was telling a joke to his
fested with fleas. he was afraid of ticks, mosquitoes, cockroaches- any kind
Minsect but fleas and bedbugs. Once, in the countryside, where his school star
of and staff had helped the peasants harvest crops for a week, his colleague
Why joked about his flesh, which they said must have tasted nonhuman to head
except for him, they were all afflicted with hundreds of bites.
More amazing now, he didn't miss his bride a lot. He even enjoyed sleeping
rest .
jone, perhaps because the honeymoon had tired him out and he needed more
The backyard was quiet on Sunday morning. Pale sunlight streamed through
the pine branches. A few sparrows were jumping on the ground, catching cater-
"Pilars and ladybugs. Holding the steel bars, Mr. Chiu inhaled the morning all
Which smelled meaty . There must have been an eatery or a cooked-meat stand
Wearby. He reminded himself that he should take this detention with ease. A serif
"nice that Chairman Mao had written to a hospitalized friend rose in his mind:
since you are already in here, you may as well stay and make the best of it.
His desire for peace of mind originated in his fear that this hepatitis might get
worse. He tried to remain unperturbed. However, he was sure that his liver was
swelling up, since the fever still persisted. For a whole day he lay in bed, thinking
about his paper on the nature of contradictions. Time and again he was over
whelmed by anger, cursing aloud. "A bunch of thugs!" He swore that once he was
out, he would write an article about this experience. He had better find out some
of the policemen's names.
It turned out to be a restful day for the most part; he was certain that his
university would send somebody to his rescue. All he should do now was remain
calm and wait patiently. Sooner or later the police would have to release him,
although they had no idea that he might refuse to leave unless they wrote him
an apology. Damn those hoodlums, they had ordered more than they could eat!
When he woke up on Monday morning, it was already light. Somewhere a man
was moaning; the sound came from the backyard. After a long yawn, and kicking
off the tattered blanket, Mr. Chiu climbed out of bed and went to the window. In
the middle of the yard, a young man was fastened to a pine, his wrists handcuffed
around the trunk from behind. He was wriggling and swearing loudly, but there
was no sight of anyone else in the yard. He looked familiar to Mr. Chiu.
Mr. Chiu squinted his eyes to see who it was. To his astonishment, he recog-
nized the man, who was Fenjin, a recent graduate from the Law Department at
Harbin University. Two years ago Mr. Chiu had taught a course in Marxist mate-
rialism, in which Fenjin had enrolled. Now, how on earth had this young devil
landed here?
Then it dawned on him that Fenjin must have been sent over by his bride.
What a stupid woman! A bookworm, who only knew how to read foreign novels!
He had expected that she would contact the school's Security Section, which
would for sure send a cadre here. Fenjin held no official position; he merely worked
in a private law firm that had just two lawyers; in fact, they had little business
except for some detective work for men and women who suspected their spouses
of having extramarital affairs. Mr. Chiu was overcome with a wave of nausea.

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