CHINA, NATIONAL, NEWS: Among Her Relics, The Story of a Murdered Prostitute
By Hou Dong
On September 4th, around twelve-thirty at night, on a double bed in room 302 on East Street, she lay there, stark naked, with her tongue and eyes popping out, an obvious purple mark around her neck, and a black-and-blue face. She was dead.
The irrational passion of a customer cost the life of Ms Gou the prostitute; at the age of 24, she was strangled to death. The crime scene was horrific. A cotton quilt covered the body. Not far from the head of the bed, under the used tissues, a condom was found. The room had the look of being rummaged; it was the place where she did her business.
"She was seen by a witness go into that house with a rural laborer. He was short and bony, with trousers tucked into his socks. The suspect is still at large. It is an apparent murder," said a police officer.
When the police investigated and tidied up Gou's relics, a diary drew everyone's attention. In it she depicted in detail how deeply she loved her husband, how much she missed him; it displayed her moods, as well as things that had happened between her and her husband.
Between the lines, with each word, the deep love she had for her husband was clearly felt. The diary recorded things from June 13 to August 15. All together there were 60 pages. Almost each piece opened with "My dear husband." In the diary she expressed her beautiful wish to have an extraordinary house, a bunch of loveable children, a whole family living an affluent life together, happy forever.
Judging from the diary, the center of her spiritual life was her husband. Also, apart from the diary, in one big envelope, there were nearly 1000 paper-fold handcrafted hearts made by her. On each one there were words such as "miss you," "kiss you," "love you," along with some other cute expressions.
A reporter discovered that she also recorded in detail her daily disbursements: "110 Yuan for meals, 18 Yuan for clothing, 21 Yuan for make-up..." According to the sketchy statistics, on average, she spent only 270 Yuan a month, which barely reached the lowest social security standard of a medium-sized city.
The diary shocked even the experienced chief police officer, a specialist in the study of psychology within special groups of people, "Who would think a prostitute could bear so deep a love and have so beautiful a life dream, meanwhile leading such an impoverished life?"
Xiao Lin, the husband of Ms Gou, the very one she loved, said as he sobbed: "If there is a future life...I will still have her as my wife." The thin, pale man, unable to restrain his tears, cried his heart out. When asked whether he knew his wife was working as a prostitute, sighing heavily and with a bitter expression, he said yes. "We had to pay our debts...we had to find the quickest way."
Xiaolin and Ms Gou met May 2003 in a supermarket where she worked as a sales clerk and he as a security guard. In the natural order of things, they fell in love. In February 2004, they got married. They had to face the severe realities of life. The wedding ceremony cost nearly 30,000 Yuan, which, to a poor family, is too large an amount of money so they had to borrow from relatives and friends.
To pay the debt, Xiaolin's father went to carry stone, his younger brother went to Beijing to work as a security guard, his wife went to Lanzhou to seek employment, leaving him and his mother to do the farm work. According to Xiaolin, their home was in a small mountain village named Huachi--a 10 square-meter hut with only one bed and a table.
Ms Gou's mother-in-law, who arrived at the murder scene with her son shortly after they received the phone call from the police, choking with tears, told the reporter: "She was kind to everyone...always had a big smile on her face. She had a mild temper...energetic and optimistic. We all liked her so much. I was expecting my grandson next year...."
Ms Gou was brought by a fellow villager to a 'beauty salon' to work, it was a brothel; there she became a prostitute. She was once caught prostituting herself by the police. When Xiaolin received the phone call from the police station, it was the first time he learned what his wife really did in Lanzhou. He said at that moment he collapsed.
On the one hand he was angry with his wife for betraying him physically, on the other, he understood why his wife chose to do it. Finally, he gave in to the hard reality and the heavy debt. Owing to her good performance in prison, her 6-month sentence was commuted to 4 months. With her husband's acquiescence, she went back to her work.
Then a customer ended all of her diary dreams--a beautiful house, a bunch of loveable children, a happy family living together forever, were not to be for Ms Guo the prostitute.
On September 4th, around twelve-thirty at night, on a double bed in room 302 on East Street, she lay there, stark naked, with her tongue and eyes popping out, an obvious purple mark around her neck, and a black-and-blue face. She was dead.
The irrational passion of a customer cost the life of Ms Gou the prostitute; at the age of 24, she was strangled to death. The crime scene was horrific. A cotton quilt covered the body. Not far from the head of the bed, under the used tissues, a condom was found. The room had the look of being rummaged; it was the place where she did her business.
"She was seen by a witness go into that house with a rural laborer. He was short and bony, with trousers tucked into his socks. The suspect is still at large. It is an apparent murder," said a police officer.
When the police investigated and tidied up Gou's relics, a diary drew everyone's attention. In it she depicted in detail how deeply she loved her husband, how much she missed him; it displayed her moods, as well as things that had happened between her and her husband.
Between the lines, with each word, the deep love she had for her husband was clearly felt. The diary recorded things from June 13 to August 15. All together there were 60 pages. Almost each piece opened with "My dear husband." In the diary she expressed her beautiful wish to have an extraordinary house, a bunch of loveable children, a whole family living an affluent life together, happy forever.
Judging from the diary, the center of her spiritual life was her husband. Also, apart from the diary, in one big envelope, there were nearly 1000 paper-fold handcrafted hearts made by her. On each one there were words such as "miss you," "kiss you," "love you," along with some other cute expressions.
A reporter discovered that she also recorded in detail her daily disbursements: "110 Yuan for meals, 18 Yuan for clothing, 21 Yuan for make-up..." According to the sketchy statistics, on average, she spent only 270 Yuan a month, which barely reached the lowest social security standard of a medium-sized city.
The diary shocked even the experienced chief police officer, a specialist in the study of psychology within special groups of people, "Who would think a prostitute could bear so deep a love and have so beautiful a life dream, meanwhile leading such an impoverished life?"
Xiao Lin, the husband of Ms Gou, the very one she loved, said as he sobbed: "If there is a future life...I will still have her as my wife." The thin, pale man, unable to restrain his tears, cried his heart out. When asked whether he knew his wife was working as a prostitute, sighing heavily and with a bitter expression, he said yes. "We had to pay our debts...we had to find the quickest way."
Xiaolin and Ms Gou met May 2003 in a supermarket where she worked as a sales clerk and he as a security guard. In the natural order of things, they fell in love. In February 2004, they got married. They had to face the severe realities of life. The wedding ceremony cost nearly 30,000 Yuan, which, to a poor family, is too large an amount of money so they had to borrow from relatives and friends.
To pay the debt, Xiaolin's father went to carry stone, his younger brother went to Beijing to work as a security guard, his wife went to Lanzhou to seek employment, leaving him and his mother to do the farm work. According to Xiaolin, their home was in a small mountain village named Huachi--a 10 square-meter hut with only one bed and a table.
Ms Gou's mother-in-law, who arrived at the murder scene with her son shortly after they received the phone call from the police, choking with tears, told the reporter: "She was kind to everyone...always had a big smile on her face. She had a mild temper...energetic and optimistic. We all liked her so much. I was expecting my grandson next year...."
Ms Gou was brought by a fellow villager to a 'beauty salon' to work, it was a brothel; there she became a prostitute. She was once caught prostituting herself by the police. When Xiaolin received the phone call from the police station, it was the first time he learned what his wife really did in Lanzhou. He said at that moment he collapsed.
On the one hand he was angry with his wife for betraying him physically, on the other, he understood why his wife chose to do it. Finally, he gave in to the hard reality and the heavy debt. Owing to her good performance in prison, her 6-month sentence was commuted to 4 months. With her husband's acquiescence, she went back to her work.
Then a customer ended all of her diary dreams--a beautiful house, a bunch of loveable children, a happy family living together forever, were not to be for Ms Guo the prostitute.
1 Comments:
At 7:53 AM , Anonymous said...
This is the sad part..
>Then a customer ended all of her diary dreams--a beautiful house, a bunch of loveable children, a happy family living together forever, were not to be for Ms Guo the prostitute.>
Prostitution and pornography, not to mention unmitigated skankiness are becoming relics of the male-dominated past- how some dunno it's all about love is beyond me. I'd like to know more what depth and breadth the Chinese culture has been impacted by the sexual type of confusion. Also, brush up on your french [or][and] babelfish the www.sisyphe.org site. Here's a translated article: http://sisyphe.org/article.php3?id_article=1626
Aha- I just found out sisyphe is in english Sisyphus, the man condemned to roll a stone uphill which then always went down.
gotten from:
http://portland.indymedia.org/en/2005/03/314417.shtml
Post a Comment
<< Home