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

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The Song of Everlasting Sorrow: A Novel of Shanghai (Weatherhead Books on Asia) Page 17

by Anyi, Wang


  Mr. Cheng was confused and took a moment to recognize her. When he did, past events rushed back in torrents.

  Mr. Cheng and Jiang Lili had not seen each other for some time. Each was nursing a wounded heart and felt an instant empathy with the other. After all, in the vast sea of people drifting through this crowded city, the two of them shared something. The reunion was bittersweet. Now they were ready to write a sequel to an interrupted story, even though each had a different version in mind. Mr. Cheng opened the door, turned on the light, and led Jiang Lili inside. It was her first time in the studio, and she was amazed, even though the place had fallen into neglect. She walked around, touching this and that, until her hands were covered with dust. Watching her, Mr. Cheng pulled himself together. He went to lift up the cloth covering the lighting equipment. This sent dust flying all around.

  “Have a seat,” said Mr. Cheng. “I’ll take your picture!”

  Jiang Lili sat down, ignoring the dust clinging to her cheongsam. During that instant when the lights came on, there was a split second when Mr. Cheng thought it might be Wang Qiyao sitting there before him. Jiang Lili had her hands on her lap; the expression on her face was strained but happy. She dared neither move nor smile, aware that her body and soul were completely enveloped by Mr. Cheng’s gaze. How she wished this moment could last forever. But as soon as Mr. Cheng had pressed the shutter, the light went dark. She was still in a daze when she heard the sound of his voice speaking to her. He asked if she had seen Wang Qiyao. Jiang Lili’s burning heart cooled instantly.

  “I haven’t had dinner yet!” she replied, rather stiffly.

  Mr. Cheng was confused. He had no idea what her hunger had to do with him.

  She continued, “I got here in the afternoon and have been waiting for you all this time!”

  At this Mr. Cheng hung his head like a shamefaced schoolboy. Jiang Lili softened.

  “Would you accompany me to dinner, Mr. Cheng?”

  Mr. Cheng agreed and they filed out of the door.

  Outside the building, night lights and starlight sparkled on the river, and the street was alive with people and cars. The excitement infected them.

  “Jiang Lili,” Mr. Cheng turned to her enthusiastically. “I’m going to take you to someplace special for dinner.”

  “I’ll go wherever you take me,” she responded.

  He walked briskly ahead, and she had almost to jog to keep up with him until, as if something had come into his mind, he abruptly slowed down. He did not seem to pay too much attention to Jiang Lili’s questions. They arrived at a tiny little restaurant nestled at the top of a narrow wooden staircase. It was not originally designed to be a restaurant, just the upper storey of someone’s house. Seated at a table by the window, they looked down onto the noisy street below, with its sidewalk lined with fruit stands, where the light was dimmed by the steam curling up from wonton stalls. Mr. Cheng did not ask Jiang Lili what she wanted; he went ahead and ordered several local specialties, including duck feet in wine sauce and shredded pressed bean curd, and then stared blankly out the window.

  After a while he began to reminisce. “Wang Qiyao and I were having dinner here one time when she suddenly developed a craving for mandarin oranges. So we dangled a rope down with a handkerchief and money. The vendor took the money and sent up the oranges.”

  Mr. Cheng had avoided thinking about Wang Qiyao for a very long time—this was his way of punishing himself—but seeing Jiang Lili, he could not help it. He took no thought for Jiang Lili’s feelings; in fact he half-consciously exploited the situation, knowing full well that Jiang Lili would listen to whatever he said.

  Though Jiang Lili, for her part, was aware that Mr. Cheng and Wang Qiyao had gone on dates, this was the first time she heard him describe their time together. Overwhelmed by a mixture of anger, impatience, and bitterness, she put her head down on the table to cry. Mr. Cheng stopped talking and looked at her helplessly, but offered no comforting words. After weeping a while, Jiang Lili took off her glasses to wipe away the tears and forced a smile.

  “I waited half the day for you, Mr. Cheng. Do you think I am here to hear you talk about Wang Qiyao?”

  Mr. Cheng lowered his head and stared at a gap in the table.

  “Don’t you have anything to say that’s not about Wang Qiyao?” she asked.

  Mr. Cheng smiled in abashment. Jiang Lili turned her head to look out of the window. The fruit stands were not selling mandarin oranges, but golden melons. She thought perversely of having a melon pulled up on a rope but decided against the idea. What is the point of imitating Wang Qiyao? All the dishes on the table are apparently her favorites: she had already captured the fellow’s heart. But Wang Qiyao was nowhere to be found. Why should Jiang Lili be threatened by a phantom?

  She recomposed herself and smiled sardonically. “You, Mr. Cheng, keep thinking of Wang Qiyao, but Wang Qiyao doesn’t even remember you. Isn’t that a pity!”

  That hit a sore spot. However, he was a man after all and did not cry, only letting his head drop lower, and this again aroused Jiang Lili’s pity.

  Changing her tone, she said, “Actually, I have also been looking for Wang Qiyao, but I have nothing to report. Her family’s lips are sealed and I can’t pry a word out of them.”

  Raising his head, Mr. Cheng said pathetically, “If you ask again, you can probably wheedle something out of them. After all, you are her best friend.”

  Jiang Lili became furious. She raised her voice. “How much is friendship worth? I have stopped listening to friends—they are all cheats. The more I trust them, the more they hurt me.”

  There was truth in what she said, and Mr. Cheng fell silent. Having vented her anger, Jiang Lili calmed down considerably. She continued after a pause, “Actually, I don’t mind asking again. I am curious why they should behave so mysteriously. Perhaps it is something scandalous.”

  At this Mr. Cheng lost the urge to press the matter.

  In reality, Wang Qiyao moving into a unit in Alice Apartments that Director Li had rented for her was a fairly big event in Shanghai society, one of the few notable peaceful events during an extraordinarily turbulent time. However, Mr. Cheng belonged to another world, and because of recent setbacks he had been keeping a low profile. In her search for Mr. Cheng Jiang Lili had been oblivious to everything else, but once she settled down the news filtered through to her. Her source was none other than her own mother.

  “That classmate of yours . . . the one who stayed with us,” Mrs. Jiang mentioned one day. “She has become an ‘apartment lady’! I hear she now belongs to Director Li.”

  Jiang Lili quickly asked who Director Li was, but her mother had only the vaguest idea, as she was merely repeating what she had heard. She had the impression that he was famous, someone everyone knew. Jiang Lili was stunned. How could Wang Qiyao go down that path? Then she thought back to the awkward expressions Wang Qiyao’s parents had greeted her with and suddenly everything made sense.

  “You know,” Mrs. Jiang added, “it would be better for girls of her class stick to their own kind. Once they get a taste of the outside world, they all end up going down that path.”

  Clearly she was prejudiced, not to mention vindictive, but one could not deny that there was truth in what she said. However, Jiang Lili would hear none of it. Waving her hand in dismissal, she fled.

  It was true that Wang Qiyao had hurt her, but Jiang Lili still hoped that Wang Qiyao would happily settle down with someone—that would leave Mr. Cheng for herself. Still, she found the news distressing and even secretly hoped that the whole thing was just a rumor. Wang Qiyao is an educated girl, she thought to herself. From her manners and speech one can tell that she usually has a good head on her shoulders. How could she be so foolish as to destroy herself! Jiang Lili was determined to investigate the matter and refute this story. But everything she learned only confirmed the news—she even found out the address of the apartment. Jiang Lili wanted to see for herself. I should go see Wang Qiyao. If it
is as bad as they say, then perhaps Mr. Cheng will give up on her. But at that moment she realized that it was only because of Mr. Cheng that she had put herself on the case. Mr. Cheng will be crushed! The very idea depressed her, and she spent the rest of the day feeling sorry for herself. Since she was a child, everyone had tried to please her; the only people she had ever tried to please were Wang Qiyao and Mr. Cheng. And in the eyes of these two people, she might as well have never existed.

  Jiang Lili had never been to Alice Apartments, though she knew of it by reputation. She felt a certain apprehension, but also a bit of a thrill in anticipation of her adventure. The afternoon was overcast, with dark clouds hanging low. The pedicab driver gave her a strangely appraising look. Once past the Paramount, the streets took on a different air. As Jiang Lili paid the driver and walked toward the iron gate of the longtang, she could feel eyes watching her from behind. Inside the complex silence reigned. All the windows were shut and shaded. Jiang Lili thought she could tell which window belonged to Wang Qiyao: it must be the one with the rustic floral pattern. Could Wang Qiyao really be living here? It was with some trepidation that she rang the doorbell, not certain whether seeing Wang Qiyao appear was something she hoped for or dreaded. Meanwhile, the sky had darkened further as it prepared to unleash its rain. The door opened a crack, revealing a sliver of an indistinct face. With a provincial Zhejiang accent, the person behind the door asked who she was looking for.

  “I’m looking for my classmate, Wang Qiyao,” Lili replied. “My name is Jiang.”

  The door was shut again, but reopened soon after to let her in. The floor gleamed with wax. There, at the other end of the dark living room, in the doorway of a brightly lit bedroom, stood Wang Qiyao. She was in a floor-length dressing gown; her long hair had been permed into large wavy rolls, and she seemed taller. As each stood, backlit, able to see the other’s silhouette but not her face, a feeling came over both of them that was at once familiar and strange.

  “How do you do, Jiang Lili?” Wang Qiyao asked.

  “And how do you do, Wang Qiyao?” Jiang Lili returned.

  When they moved over to the sofa in the middle of the living room, the maid had already brought tea, and they both sat down.

  “How are your mother and your brother?” Wang Qiyao asked.

  Jiang Lili responded politely to her queries and glanced around. A little light had stolen in around the edge of the window curtains, and she could see that Wang Qiyao had gained a little weight and that her complexion was lustrous. Along the bottom of her pink dressing gown was a border embroidered with large flowers. The sofa and the lampshade were also covered with large flowers. She remembered how Wang Qiyao used to favor tiny little flowers in her cheongsams, and thought to herself that those flowers had turned grandiose along with their mistress.

  Pretty soon they ran out of things to talk about, and simply sat facing each other in awkward silence. They couldn’t talk about the past; things had changed so drastically that it was hard even to remember what had happened.

  “I have come,” Jiang Lili began after a long silence, “because Mr. Cheng asked me to see you.”

  Wang Qiyao smiled faintly. “What does Mr. Cheng do to keep himself busy these days? Is he still doing photography? Has he bought new equipment? Several lamps burned out in his studio, and he was talking of replacing them.”

  “He has not touched those things in a long time.” Jiang Lili replied. “These days he can hardly work up enough energy to turn on an electric light, much less the lamps in his studio.”

  Wang Qiyao laughed. “That old Mr. Cheng! Sometimes he really acts like a naughty child.” Then she asked, “How about you, my dear? When are you going to get your Ph.D.?”

  Having made this first jab at Jiang Lili, Wang Qiyao grew livelier and took aim with another. “And have you written any new poems lately?”

  Jiang Lili was livid. How dare she speak to me as if I were a child? Rounding on Wang Qiyao, she asked, “What about you, Wang Qiyao? You must be doing very well?”

  Wang Qiyao raised her chin a little bit.

  “Not bad.”

  It was an expression she had never shown before: the heroic pose of a martyr.

  Then she went on, “I know what is going through your mind. I even know what your mother thinks. Your mother is certain to compare me to your father’s kept woman in Chongqing. Please excuse my bluntness, Jiang Lili, but if I don’t say these things aloud, we shall have nothing else to say to each other. I understand you are avoiding the subject so as not to embarrass me. Therefore let me talk about it.”

  Jiang Lili felt her face turning red and white by turns. She wished a hole would open up in the ground into which she could burrow; at the same time, she had to acknowledge Wang Qiyao’s superiority in handling the situation—she had certainly hit the nail on the head.

  “I hope you do not mind my making this comparison,” Wang Qiyao continued. “How should I put it? . . . Your mother is like the fabric sewn on the outside, to be shown to the world, because she is presentable. The woman in Chongqing is the fabric used for the lining. It mayn’t be presentable, but it’s inexpensive and serves a necessary function. Your mother and the woman in Chongqing are each mistress of her respective domain, neither taking away from the other. Whether we end up as one or the other is not within our personal control. It is all fate.”

  Jiang Lili had ceased to be agitated. Even though her parents were being used as examples, she felt she was being given a lecture on life. The matter under discussion bore no resemblance to the relationships in her romantic novels, but it was straightforward and had a ring of truth. Wang Qiyao spoke unexcitedly, as if she were analyzing someone else’s affairs with cold detachment.

  “Of course, it would be ideal if one could both be presented to the world and serve a real function,” she went on to say, “but we all come with our distinct properties. Rather than making do, it’s better to put each fabric to its most fitting use. This is to pursue the ideal in a far-from-ideal world. Furthermore, there’s an old saying that even the moon goes through cycles of perfection and incompleteness, and when the vessel is full, the water spills over. Who’s to say that, lacking the other half, one might not be more secure as a result?”

  Jiang Lili listened intently. Perhaps Wang Qiyao was justified in belittling her after all. Putting things this way, her explanation could even make her mother feel better about the woman in Chongqing.

  Wang Qiyao was right. With the taboo subject now out in the open—exposed in all its starkness and simplicity—they both felt much more at ease. To Jiang Lili’s queries about Director Li, Wang Qiyao answered truthfully, recounting for her an outline of the events that had led her there. She even took Jiang Lili to see their bedroom, but before they entered, she rushed forward, blushing, to stuff something from the bed into the dresser. Jiang Lili realized that Wang Qiyao was no longer the pure young girl she once had been and that henceforth there would always be a line dividing them. After they returned to the living room, Wang Qiyao ordered the maid to go out and buy some crabmeat buns for snacks. As they ate, they gossiped about Wang Qiyao’s neighbors, thereby confirming many rumors and correcting others floating about in Shanghai. The sky outside brightened. They seemed to have gone back to old times, putting their differences aside. They acted as if Mr. Cheng did not exist and talked more about Director Li. Wang Qiyao showed Jiang Lili his pipes, large and small, in a metal box. She took one out and clowned around, puffing away at it. When Jiang Lili stood up to say goodbye, Wang Qiyao insisted that she stay for dinner. She even made a show of asking the maid to prepare special dishes. The maid was as enthusiastic as the mistress at the prospect of entertaining their first dinner guest.

  Over dinner, Wang Qiyao said poignantly, “I have had countless dinners at your house. Now I can finally have you over to my home.”

  Jiang Lili was touched and for the first time appreciated how confined Wang Qiyao must have felt living at her house. Darkness had fallen outside, and
the lights in the living room were turned way up. A record of the opera king Mei Lanfang singing in his usual falsetto played on the gramophone; the lyrics were difficult to understand but the emotion in his voice was palpable. The chinaware under the lamp had a serene look, the food was delicious, and the warm Shaoxing wine gave off a comforting vapor.

  Jiang Lili was uncertain as how she was going to break the news to Mr. Cheng. She was afraid he would take the blow very hard. She also worried for her own sake—if Mr. Cheng were to become totally despondent, her own dream would have no chance of being realized. She pitied both Mr. Cheng and herself for their lack of control over their own destinies.

  She made a date to meet him in the park. From afar, she saw him standing alone and felt sorry to have to bring him such unwelcome news. Mr. Cheng spotted her and came up to greet her as she was getting ready to step out from the pedicab. Walking on the paved road that ran along the edge of the park, neither wanted to bring up the subject, so both remained silent. They made a full round before deciding to rent a rowboat. Out in the middle of the lake, facing each other in the boat, they felt the invisible presence of Wang Qiyao between them.

  After they had been rowing a while, Jiang Lili finally said, “Does Mr. Cheng still remember? The last time we were in a rowboat here, there were three of us.”

  She meant to prepare him for what was coming with this. Mr. Cheng sensed that she was about to report something devastating. He turned red and tried to push the topic away by calling attention to a willow tree, so pretty it should be in a painting. Ordinarily, this remark would have been pleasing to Jiang Lili, but she was not about to be diverted from her mission today. She tried another opening.

  “My mother says, ‘Ever since Wang Qiyao stopped coming around, Mr. Cheng has disappeared as well.’”

  Mr. Cheng forced a smile but could find nothing to say by way of a response, so he hung his head. Sorry as she felt for him, Jiang Lili was determined to get it over with. She mustered up her courage and blurted it out.

 

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