The Song of Everlasting Sorrow: A Novel of Shanghai (Weatherhead Books on Asia)

by Anyi, Wang

  That afternoon Mr. Cheng completely lost track of time while developing the photos in his darkroom—not even the sound of the Customs House’s bell could break his trance. He anxiously awaited the appearance of Wang Qiyao’s face in the water as if he had just learned to develop photos; but this time he wasn’t anxious about getting the technique right—he was anxious to see her. An image gradually began to form on the photographic paper and slowly grow darker; it was as if Wang Qiyao was walking toward him. He could feel his heart twitching.

  Wang Qiyao had come to divide Mr. Cheng’s heart against itself. She was not merely another woman captured by his lens, for she had an added significance that eluded the grasp of his camera. Actually, Mr. Cheng didn’t want to grasp anything. He felt he had lost something—something deep inside—and he needed to get it back. And so he tried different tactics, but the whole process took place in the dark because he didn’t know what the cause was—just as he could never know the outcome. He submitted Wang Qiyao’s photo to Shanghai Life magazine, never imagining that they would actually publish it. Knowing that people were handling her picture, however, didn’t make him feel good. Not only had he failed to find that missing something on the inside but he seemed to lose something else as well.

  The picture had been Mr. Cheng’s favorite, but now that it was published, he came to disdain it. Only once did he visit the photo shop that had Wang Qiyao’s picture on display in the window, and this was late at night. There were barely any people or cars still out on the streets, the city lights were all dark, and the late-show crowds that had been lingering around outside the movie theater were already gone. As Mr. Cheng stood outside the shop window, an awkward feeling welled up inside him; the image in the window was so close and yet so far. In the window he could see his own reflection, the face under his fedora hat revealing traces of sorrow. Standing there under the streetlights of the deserted road, he felt lonely. Beyond those pockets of excitement animating this city that never sleeps lurks the loneliest breed of loneliness.

  After this he did two more photo shoots with Wang Qiyao, but not only did he fail to find what he was looking for, but each time he seemed to come away with an indescribable feeling of loss. At the same time, Wang Qiyao did not even seem to be looking into Mr. Cheng’s camera; she was looking into the eyes of the people. Each pout, every smile was arranged for the front or back cover of another magazine; her image seemed to be waving to her readers. Mr. Cheng felt as if his eyes were not his own; they represented the people. That was the last time that he suggested Wang Qiyao sit for his camera.

  He thought of asking her out, but couldn’t bring himself to. On one occasion he called her up, having already bought two movie tickets, but as soon as Wang Qiyao picked up the phone, he lost his nerve and said he was calling about something else. Although at twenty-six Mr. Cheng had seen his share of beautiful women, he had always viewed them with detachment. In many respects he couldn’t even measure up to a sixteen-year-old boy. At the very least, sixteen-year-olds have courage, but Mr. Cheng had neither courage nor experience—he had nothing. Mr. Cheng’s dream of having a date with Wang Qiyao was only realized after she became friends with Jiang Lili. He ended up inviting both of them out. That was the only way he could get up the nerve to ask. And although Wang Qiyao didn’t say so, she was secretly quite pleased. Not that she was interested in Mr. Cheng, but she was eager to be on a more equal footing with Jiang Lili. Since she had become close with Jiang Lili, the two had spent all their time around the Jiang social circle, and now Wang Qiyao finally had a chance to take her out with one of her friends. That night Mr. Cheng invited them to an American film at the Cathay Theater. He arrived first and waited for them at the entrance; the two schoolgirls were in high spirits as they came down the street, chatted animatedly in the sunlight under the parasol trees. The clear sky was festooned with a few silk-like clouds, their shadows dancing on the side of the buildings. A man taking two girls out is a wondrous sight. It is an event of bashful solemnity, a grand affair that leaves one full of thoughts and questions. Some afternoons are designed especially for these types of dates, afternoons redolent with languor, ambiguity, feigned naiveté, and genuine feeling.

  Jiang Lili had heard about Mr. Cheng, but this was the first time they met. Wang Qiyao introduced them before they entered the theater. Jiang Lili sat between Wang Qiyao and Mr. Cheng. Of course there is always something going on between the two who sit on the outside and although the one in the middle acts as a partition, she is also a bridge. When Wang Qiyao offered Mr. Cheng some olives, Jiang Lili had to hand them over. When the film’s dialogue got complicated, Mr. Cheng would translate for Jiang Lili, who would in turn pass on the translation to Wang Qiyao. Throughout the movie Wang Qiyao was holding Jiang Lili’s hand as if they were trying to isolate Mr. Cheng. And though Mr. Cheng was equally attentive to both girls, Jiang Lili was actually getting in the way. The theater was pitch black, save for the column of rotating light emanating from the hole in the projection room to create an illusionary world. The cinema was far from full at this afternoon show; people sat scattered in twos and threes throughout the theater, and everyone seemed occupied with their own thoughts. The dialogue on the screen reverberated above their heads and buzzed in their ears. Feeling somewhat intimidated, the three of them pressed close against one another. Jiang Lili could hear the sound of breathing and hearts beating only inches away; she didn’t catch much of the film, but instead served as a mouthpiece for the two sitting on either side of her. Although Mr. Cheng leaned close, whispering to her, every word was meant for Wang Qiyao, even if his utterings did happen to reach Jiang Lili’s ears first.

  As they emerged from the theater onto the sunny street, Mr. Cheng appeared a different person. Afterward they went for coffee, the two girls sitting together on one bench with Mr. Cheng on the opposite side. Although Mr. Cheng’s words were directed at Wang Qiyao, he kept looking at Jiang Lili. Wang Qiyao didn’t answer his questions; Jiang Lili spoke for her. Their conversation was not about anything in particular, just small talk, and either of them could have answered. But gradually Jiang Lili began to say more and hog the conversation. Mr. Cheng would ask a question clearly directed at both of them, but she would answer only for herself, while Wang Qiyao remained silent. Mr. Cheng had no choice but to follow Jiang Lili’s lead. In the end the two of them were having a heart-to-heart talk. They acted as if they were close friends who had known one another for years, as Wang Qiyao watched from the sidelines. What a shame that, although Mr. Cheng was completely consumed by Wang Qiyao, he couldn’t share a word with her, nor did he dare look directly at her. Jiang Lili’s words were like a river overflowing with literary phrases, but it was awkward for Mr. Cheng to let his eyes linger on her, so he stared into his cup of coffee. Reflected there in the cup was Wang Qiyao’s image, but still she did not speak. Only when he looked down did Jiang Lili stop talking. She too lowered her head to gaze into her coffee cup—and there was reflected Mr. Cheng’s image, looking down in silence.

  From then on Mr. Cheng became their regular evening date. He was like their guardian angel, always following close behind them and seeing them both home. Mr. Cheng began to neglect his old hobby of photography. His camera became covered with dust and his darkroom began to grow mildew; whenever he stepped inside he would be struck by a strange, unnamable sensation. The true love that lurked deep in his heart had transformed from something cold into something hot, from something hollow to something tangible.

  Mr. Cheng was an ardent enthusiast for their evening dates at first; they filled up many lonely nights for him. Parties had not lost their novelty, but attending them with Wang Qiyao quickly cast a pall over them. The main reason he went to the parties was to get closer to Wang Qiyao, but Wang Qiyao grew even more distant from him. Eventually Wang Qiyao did begin to talk more and acted more cordial—in order to fend him off—but oddly enough Mr. Cheng then found himself at a loss for words. Whatever he said failed to capture his true feelings and en
ded up being the kind of empty talk he could have said to anyone else. Everything that took place on their dates was shared; when they laughed or got silly they did it together and when they met up and departed it was always as a group. Parties were settings uniquely devoid of personal freedom, and someone like Mr. Cheng, who thought up designs of his own, was doomed to be disappointed. Still he couldn’t stop himself from going. Even though Wang Qiyao had become a phantom, he couldn’t stop chasing after her. Even when the phantom had disappeared in the wind, he continued to search for her. At parties he would stand in the corner, holding his drink, barely moving the entire evening. Wang Qiyao seemed to fill the air, waiting for him to gaze upon her, but he couldn’t see her. The nights were full of dejection. The surrounding excitement mocked him, but still he did not retreat.

  In Jiang Lili’s eyes, Mr. Cheng also turned into a phantom at those parties, a phantom who had lost his way. She said whatever she could to bring him back into the world, but her loquaciousness irritated him. However, being a soft-natured man who did not like to hurt anyone’s pride, he would always force himself to make a few perfunctory remarks in reply, but this left him feeling even more dejected. The gloomier Mr. Cheng appeared, the more Jiang Lili became set on cheering him up. Even if he was as cold as ice, she believed that she could melt him with her warmth. This was where all the novels she had read came in handy. They taught her how to be soft and passionate, how to use elegant words, and how to analyze situations—a pity, then, that she was playing the wrong part. Having started off with an awkward sentence, the rest of the essay had run askew. She was operating under misguided hopes and misplaced confidence. Mr. Cheng was completely at her mercy at these parties. Although he was almost catatonic, even a shell of a man would have satisfied Jiang Lili—and if the shell were smashed, she would have assiduously picked up the broken pieces. Jiang Lili always said she went to these parties for Wang Qiyao’s sake, but actually it was for Mr. Cheng. She was like an outsider, always standing in the corner. That wasn’t what she wanted, but because Mr. Cheng was an outsider, she had no choice but to go over to the corner to join him. When Mr. Cheng was depressed, she couldn’t help being depressed too; her whole heart was with him. A shame, then, that Mr. Cheng couldn’t see any of that. The only thing on his mind was Wang Qiyao—only Wang Qiyao and he were real, for everyone else was wearing a mask; only their two hearts were genuine, while the others could not even recognize what was authentic. A pity that those two hearts were not on the same path; the more genuine they were, the more difficult it was for them ever to meet.

  Suggesting that she compete for “Miss Shanghai” was Mr. Cheng’s way of trying to please Wang Qiyao. When Jiang Lili enthusiastically seconded the nomination, it was only partially in support of Wang Qiyao; the main reason was actually Mr. Cheng. Those days may have been difficult for Wang Qiyao to get through, but they represented the best of times for Mr. Cheng and Jiang Lili. The three of them saw each other almost every other day, but whenever they met they always had an endless array of things to talk about. Once Wang Qiyao moved into the Jiang house and Mr. Cheng started to come around, even Jiang Lili’s mother got fired up. Visitors to the Jiang house came in spurts, waves of excitement followed by dry spells of cheerless desolation. But whenever Mr. Cheng dropped by, the desolation would lift and the house took on a warm glow. Though a visitor, he brought a sense of family to this house where there was no man aside from a boorish young son. Furthermore, Mr. Cheng was the kind of man who could help them make decisions. Even when he was not making decisions, his presence in the living room was a welcome sight.

  In the days leading up to the pageant Mr. Cheng and Jiang Lili both found a channel for their energies and a temporary object upon which they could sublimate their respective infatuations. They both couldn’t have been happier. Now that they had a common objective, they suddenly found a common language—but Wang Qiyao found herself in the awkward position of being forced to sing a different tune if only to assert some control over her own life. So the more united the other two grew in trying to please her, the more discordant her song became. The three of them ended up on two teams, and for Wang Qiyao it was two against one. In her heart she knew that they were trying to help her, but she couldn’t help displaying a bit of guile and stubbornness to boost her own confidence. Thus, though divided into opposite camps, they were united in a common cause; cocooned in their separate passions, they were nonetheless willing to sink their differences and try to make the best of things.

  One man and two women was the most common grouping of lovers to be found in 1946. Herein lies the starting point of the comedies and the tragedies, the truths and the absurdities. In the dappled shade under the trees, a pedicab carries two ladies, followed by a second pedicab carrying a man—so begin countless stories like this one. Who can guess how this one will end?

  As the pageant drew closer, Wang Qiyao became genuinely excited whenever Mr. Cheng showed up. At this time, when nothing else was certain, he was a known factor. And although he wasn’t enough, at least he was something—someone she could rely on. To what extent Wang Qiyao was willing to put her fate in his hands was something to which she gave little thought; she couldn’t. Perhaps she was thinking: Even if I take ten thousand steps back, in the end I’ll still have Mr. Cheng; even if everything comes to naught, when all is said and done he will still be there. Mr. Cheng was her cushion. Staying with the Jiang family had hundreds of benefits, but not a single one rightfully belonged to her. Although she was living the good life, that life lay at the margins of someone else’s life. It was as if she were living her own life as a remnant. Returning home meant that she could be a whole piece of fabric again, but her whole piece was smaller than other people’s remnants, not even good enough to serve as the lining of a presentable suit. Even though Mr. Cheng was also a remnant, at least he was presentable.

  During those times when her spirit was at its lowest, Wang Qiyao went out with Mr. Cheng alone a couple of times. Once he accompanied her home to pick up some things. He did not enter the longtang with her but instead waited in a coffee shop down the street. Staring out the window at the passersby, Mr. Cheng would say to himself: Wang Qiyao should be coming up behind this girl. Or Once that guy walks past, I bet she’ll appear. He didn’t even realize that his coffee had grown cold. The chimes of the trolley clanking by were pacifying music to his ears, and the sunlight shining through the parasol trees seemed as if it too was playing a silvery tune. Finally Wang Qiyao emerged in the sunlight, which seemed to shine right through her. She was so stunning, as if she had walked straight out of a painting, that he feared she was about to melt into thin air. Mr. Cheng had the sudden urge to run over and save her, no matter what it might cost him. He was so agitated that his eyes grew teary. At the same time, however, he felt somewhat aggrieved. The dust had continued to collect in his photo studio. The container of fixing solution left in his darkroom had become discolored. Countless days had passed since he had even stepped inside! He was aware that he had put himself in an awkward situation, without a backup plan, virtually cutting off any way out. He could only move forward. By the time he realized his coffee had grown cold, Wang Qiyao was already standing before him. But once she was there his rancor was replaced by a wholehearted devotion. Wang Qiyao didn’t even sit down; she wanted to leave straightaway, as if sitting down would signal that she had made some kind of commitment. Although she valued him as a fallback in the event of complete debacle, her present circumstances were nowhere near so desperate. Nonetheless, she wanted him around for a sense of security, as well as for Jiang Lili’s sake.

  Naturally she understood Jiang Lili’s heart. As long as she wasn’t blinded by passion, there wasn’t anything a sensitive girl like Wang Qiyao couldn’t see. She even understood the heart of Jiang Lili’s mother, an incompetent woman who needed to consult Wang Qiyao on everything, no matter how trivial—at least before Mr. Cheng came along. When Mrs. Jiang had to attend a relative’s wedding, she used the pretex
t that Wang Qiyao wasn’t feeling good to get Mr. Cheng to accompany them to the banquet. Her transparent actions left Wang Qiyao feeling at once angry, bemused, and sorry for her. Whenever things like this occurred, Wang Qiyao knew she had to step aside and let the Jiangs have their way. This time the problem was that if she didn’t go, neither would Mr. Cheng. In the end, all four of them attended together so that Mrs. Jiang would not lose face. Throughout the evening, Wang Qiyao never left Mrs. Jiang’s side, while keeping open the seat next to Mr. Cheng, which Jiang Lili dutifully filled. By bringing together Jiang Lili and Mr. Cheng, Wang Qiyao was partially setting things up for her own retreat. It was also her way of looking out for Jiang Lili and her mother, as well as an opportunity to sit back and laugh at them. She knew better than anyone that Mr. Cheng had already invested his heart in her, which gave her self-esteem a padding she could always fall back on. Although it was painful to see Jiang Lili throwing herself against a brick wall, it was also a means for Wang Qiyao to vent some of her own pent-up resentment.

  Mr. Cheng never knew what she was thinking. She had a complicated mind, one made more complex by her situation. Mr. Cheng had unwittingly fallen into a labyrinth, wherein he was constantly chasing after Wang Qiyao, but somehow always ending up in Jiang Lili’s company. Mr. Cheng was a straightforward man who never overanalyzed his surroundings. He thought of Jiang Lili and her mother only as warmhearted people and, although they sometimes seemed to go a bit overboard, he never suspected that anything else was afoot. So he repaid their warmheartedness in kind, never imagining his innocent actions would take him down a path he did not wish to follow.