by Qiu Miaojin
Other times, before she’d even gotten dressed, she’d talk to me through the crack of my door, animatedly and rapidly unloading a massive stream of information. She’d talk about her crotchety old colleagues at work, or how she’d take advantage of the times when no one else was in the office to make long-distance phone calls to friends on three different lines at the same time. Or how she’d managed to plow through a huge pile of work, or how in the middle of the day, some shady madam had dragged her to a beauty salon to help settle a dispute. Or she’d mention any good music they’d played at the bar, or interesting customers she’d met, or even how her old boss K was hanging around the bar one night, pestering her. . . .
She talked nonstop. She’d talk while getting dressed, while getting ready for bed, while straightening up her room. I’d listen enthusiastically and contentedly before starting my day. I’d eat the breakfast she’d made, then take a shower. Sometimes when I was in the shower, she’d pull a chair up to the door and sit there, going into excruciating detail about a movie plot. In spite of being completely captivated, I was impassive. I’d be silent for so long that she’d jokingly threaten to break down the door. Listening to her talk about movies was the greatest pleasure of all, not just because of her eloquence but because the only time that she shed her self-consciousness and guardedness was when she was wrapped up in her feelings about a movie. In those relaxed moments of openness, I could observe and experience her as she authentically was, soaking up her brilliance. But the occasions when she was uninhibited were few and far between. Whenever her mind wasn’t encumbered by some major problem, I felt relieved, if only for the time being.
Before bedtime, she would read quietly in her room, and I’d sit nearby in the living room to keep her company. I’d put on some background music in my room. Occasionally she’d come out and sit beside me. She’d watch me until she was sleepy, then turn out her light and climb into bed. Her bedroom door was directly across from my reading spot, and she left it open so I could check in on her, since she had trouble sleeping. A little while later, I’d go over and see if she’d fallen asleep, then tiptoe inside and tuck her in. I’d gaze at her before leaving, gently closing the door behind me. Then I’d go back to my room and get ready for bed, or I’d stay up all night reading in the living room, keeping watch as she slept. On nights like this, it felt like we were best friends, or even lovers.
But alas. Alas, our conversations always avoided one part of her daily regimen. She refused to discuss him. It was as if he didn’t exist. She went to increasingly greater pains to keep the two of us in separate worlds, compartmentalizing her life into two distinct halves. It was her way of adapting to the new instability that arose when I came into her life. Even as I watched her from the living room while she slept, that other person known as her fiancé was likely waiting downstairs, and once the lights in her window went out, he’d start the engine of his motorcycle, then take off. But alas, these things Xiao Fan and I both knew.
4
Ever since Shui Ling turned me away with a wave of the hand, I didn’t know what kind of affection I needed. All I knew was that I needed a woman who wouldn’t run away. Every time I fell in love with someone, they never met my basic needs—meaning, I never should have fallen in love with them in the first place. Knowing this about myself, I didn’t expect much from Xiao Fan. I simply hoped to cherish our time together and to care for her. The most important and only thing left for me to do was to concentrate on loving the one I was with. Xiao Fan just happened to be there by my side, and that was why this privilege had been bestowed on me. With the click and turn of a key, the happiness inside her was mine to be had.
Or maybe, just maybe, she wanted to love me, but what she gave me was a love with too much pride.
That’s the kind of person she was. As far as intimacy went, she no longer had any desires or fantasies. What she had instead were crippling fears. She not only realized that she couldn’t afford to pay the price but she refused to. All of her energy went toward upholding the responsibilities of another intimate relationship, and so she refused to take up the same kind of romantic involvement elsewhere. In forgoing any further intimacy, she dispensed with romantic involvements altogether. She had come to experience everyone as an intractable burden. Her worst nightmare was to be loved. That was why, at the core of her passion, there was fear. She had rejected love and taught herself to live without intimacy.
It was too late for her to fend off my encroachments, which confounded her. Even if she did accept my love, she didn’t process it or know what to do with it. Her only response was a passive guardedness that prompted me to commit more severe encroachments. In the end, things fell apart and she withdrew from me. As long as I treated her this way, she would remain impervious to me and frustrate me whenever necessary. Our relationship entered a vicious cycle, and living under the same roof, we were fast headed toward a standoff.
She let me give myself over completely, then prevented me from falling madly in love with her by forcing me to love her in a rational, controlled way. She didn’t want the soul-baring embrace of intimacy. She wanted to admire me from afar, and it was enough for her to know that I’d always be there. That distance partly served to help her make sense of me. She was so impervious that she couldn’t tell how much I needed her. Even if she could tell, she’d never be able to give me what I needed. Instead, she’d drop hints about how little she had to give. To make matters worse, she’d sometimes give me the exact opposite of what I needed, so that there was no point in expressing my needs. She constantly had the upper hand. That was her way of protecting herself from me—by giving herself an out—and protecting me from even greater pain.
It was plain to see that in needing her love, I was doomed. It didn’t matter how she saw herself or how she loved me: She was too proud. She was so set in her ways that I stopped wanting her.
Because I couldn’t stop loving her, a single directive took over me: Never, ever let her hurt you. I had to lock up my love and leave it to die. I had to repress my desire for intimacy, or else she’d never let me near her again. Our dynamic was shameful, and it reflected the worst in us. I could lend her my ear, but that was about all. Even though I wanted badly to listen to her endless chatter and answer her every beck and call. And even though I’d come running if she needed me.
We’d signed a perverse unspoken contract. Due to some greater good, we were each unwilling to part with the other. At some point, I developed the savage conviction that she would never truly love me. Or perhaps it was the sheer intensity of my love that caused me to fiercely resist her. At my weakest and neediest moments, I avoided her. Otherwise, she’d start messing with me. During those times, I told myself that the problem was in me. I could no longer balance her out as I once had. I was backsliding. She cut me off completely to punish me, and so I stopped craving intimacy. It was all based on a frightening dysfunction: lack of trust.
In the end, our conflict erupted in an argument. “Can I come in?” She leaned against my bedroom door, trying to feel out the situation.
“Come on in. Didn’t I say my door was always open to you?” I replied calmly, lying in bed.
The night before, she had come home and locked herself in her room without saying a word, without knocking on my door or leaving hers open. Having learned my lesson last time, I tried not to worry and instead left my door open all night so she could talk to me if she felt like it. The note that I stuffed through the crack under her door read:
Xiao Fan. If you’re not in a good mood tonight, that’s fine. I just wanted to say, no problem. If you need a little time out, don’t worry about it. So if you’ve locked yourself in your room because you’re going through a hard time or just have stuff to deal with, I understand. At times like these, you can handle it on your own. You say that if I approach you, it’ll make you pull away. There’s no way I can give you the sense of security that you need or make you open up to me, but maybe you’ll come to me one day. I still don’t
know if I should give you a hug, or ignore you and give you space.
I just wanted to tell you how I feel. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to talk because I have a sore throat. For the rest of the night I’ll be with you—over in my room, patiently waiting for you, waiting with a smile.
The next day was Sunday. At eight in the morning, I heard her door open. I waited, but she didn’t come to my door, so I went out there. She was in the kitchen, boiling water for eggs. Her expression seemed normal, as if nothing had happened, except for that strange veil of detachment. Cautiously, I asked her what was going on, and right away, she replied coolly that it was nothing, that it had nothing to do with me. Then she went about her business.
I didn’t ask anything more. After hitting a brick wall, I felt dejected. I turned and headed back to my room, where I fell asleep with the door open. I slept until the sky turned dark. I’d inadvertently slept for more than ten hours.
“Why did you sleep for so long?” She sat on the floor near my door.
“I don’t know. It just happened. I probably needed to.”
“Did you know that you’ve never slept this much before when I’ve been at home? Whenever I’m here, you’re asleep. It must be because of me.” There was some guilt in her voice. Her face looked even paler than usual.
“It’s just me. Don’t think about it too much. I solve problems by sleeping.”
“What kinds of problems? Are you still thinking about what you should do about me?”
“No, I’m over that. I don’t need to do anything about you, I just need to deal with myself.”
“Did you make up your mind? It worries me to see you this way.” She sounded dismayed.
“I couldn’t make up my mind. If I could, I’d be fine. In the end, I can’t leave you. I want to be there for you, to take care of you, but I need to look out for myself first. Otherwise I’ll become a burden to you.”
“Take care of me? What do you mean, ‘take care’? How are you taking care of me? I don’t need your sage advice. You never even say what you want. You just wait for other people to make up their minds, then you accept it and feel like you’ve been left empty-handed. I’ve watched you live aimlessly and grow more dissatisfied by the day. I don’t know what to do about you.”
“Is it really that painful? Maybe it’d be better if you didn’t pay attention to my aimless existence. That way you wouldn’t have to watch me suffer.”
“Oh, is that your latest decision? What else am I supposed to do? Hold your hand while you throw your life away?” Stone-faced, she stood up abruptly. Then she turned on her heels and left. The door slammed behind her.
I froze in terror. My mind was spinning. The realization cut through me: I’d hurt her feelings. A second later, I stumbled to her door and pounded on it, hollering for her to open up.
“Xiao Fan, open the door. I was wrong. I won’t say anything like that again. You put me in my place. Please, open the door!”
I heard the lock turning. I stormed in. Xiao Fan sat on the floor, looking devastated. I noticed traces of tears on her face. She didn’t see or hear me. There was a faraway look in her eyes, which were almost black. Her hair was a mess. Her appearance startled me. Gathering myself, I braced for the worst. This was divine punishment; it was what I deserved. Strength was a part of her character, but at that instant, she’d suffered a shattering blow, and she was letting it all show. Because of my love for her, I was about to be shattered, too, if I didn’t harden myself.
“Xiao Fan, listen to me. I’m not going to let you go, even if it kills me. We’re friends for life!” I hugged her with all my might. She responded slightly, touching my hair.
“You dummy! You tossed aside what I had to give. I saw. You threw it away,” she said weakly, offering a pained smile.
“It wasn’t what I needed. Even if you weren’t secretly trying to push me away with it, I’d still have to say no. If I started to need or rely on you, and you didn’t reciprocate, I’d die from having this tenderness for you. I’d resent you. It would change everything between us, and then I’d really be left out.
“I have to learn not to need or rely on you so that I can give you what you think you need, but I haven’t been doing a good job of it. Sometimes when I wait for you to rely on me, you throw me this chilly look that’s devastating to me. It feels like we’re in a boxing match, and you just landed a knockout punch.”
“Whatever it is you want, just tell me!” Her voice was filled with sadness. She caressed my face.
“I finally understand what you meant when you said, ‘You can’t give me what I want.’ It wasn’t because you didn’t want to give me anything. I told you the best way to pay me back was to let me take care of you, but I realized you can’t give anybody anything. I’ve been trying in vain.” I glared at her.
“I understand, all right. You wouldn’t take me as your lover if your life depended on it. You ask too much. Your expectations are too different from how I love, in that you have a lot of pride. You can only love someone who’s more arrogant and difficult than you, though you probably don’t see it that way. But I’m the exact opposite. I can only love without holding back, and that’s not what you need. We’re not well matched when it comes to give and take. You might need me, but you don’t understand why I’m in your life. Maybe someday it will all make sense!” I managed to get it all out in a single breath.
There was a helpless look on her face. “I don’t know why it’s like this, either. In the beginning, I didn’t treat you this way! I feel like I have to reject you and force myself not to feel anything, or else you’ll just keep sliding further into the abyss. But every time I check on you, you’ve already slid further, and I can’t help you.
“I gave you a chance before, and this time, I’m trying my hardest. Just now I felt like running away so I wouldn’t have to see you all the time. That’s my gut feeling. When it gets like this, I end up denying that I’ve ever gotten anything from you. I don’t want to run away, though. Maybe I should give it another try and see if I can still have you around somehow.” She sighed.
“Thanks! Thanks a lot! You should just pretend I’m your building superintendent,” I said.
“No! I don’t want you as a superintendent!” She shook her head. There was tenderness in her eyes.
5
Tragedy lurked in our relationship. Xiao Fan and I had relied on our mutual understanding, supporting each other and weathering crises. Yet things had deteriorated and taken a turn for the worse.
The following week, Xiao Fan’s fiancé finished grad school and enlisted in the military, based in the south. Xiao Fan grew visibly uneasy, fearing that because of her fiancé’s sinister, warped nature, anything could happen. She was in a strange mood that week, and I knew it was because of her fiancé. Realizing how close she was to the grave she’d dug for herself, she was all nerves. Day after day, I watched her, feeling the chasm between us. Living in the ancient castle she shared only with him, she wouldn’t be poking her head out anytime soon. She didn’t realize that she had sealed herself off. Though it hurt, I stayed out of it and simply looked on. She didn’t even notice me.
One night, I waited for the sound of the door until three a.m., but she still didn’t come home. That had never happened before. I went into her room and opened the window facing the street, and a cool breeze entered. I stood there for a few hours, counting the cars passing by, and every so often, I’d call one of her friends. Then, out of nowhere, a car pulled up directly below. I just wanted her to come home, and I was about to shut the window and return to my room when I took one last glance at the car. I could barely make out two people huddled inside. I sensed that they were locked in a long, passionate embrace: I knew that her fiancé had returned. I forced myself to keep watching and watching. I’d been waiting for the ax to fall, and now a bloody limb hit the ground with a thud. I knew it was over. My heart a lead weight, I quietly returned to my room and sat down at my desk. Xiao Fan came up the stairs.
She didn’t say anything, and only glanced guiltily at me as she passed. I tried my hardest to act normal. She had no clue how I felt.
It’s hard to explain the horror I felt in the split second I witnessed them together. In actuality, this man had always existed in my life and in my heart. He was responsible for creating the close bond between me and Xiao Fan, and I’d accepted his role a long time ago. Xiao Fan was never to be mine, and though I’d accepted it, the circumstances that had once been far-flung and thus under control were paraded before my very eyes. I’d had a rude awakening. From that moment on, my world with Xiao Fan was fundamentally changed. She’d left me with a scar that revealed my sacrifice had been in vain, with the realization that I’d become subservient.
I kept my mouth shut. Didn’t say a thing, didn’t try to argue. It was all because of my festering wound, and I knew it. I just kept living under the same roof as Xiao Fan, trying my best to smile when I saw her each day, and it felt like I was treading along the ocean floor, expelling air bubbles in lieu of words or emotions. It marked the beginning of the end for me, and I silently awaited the day when my languishing body would breathe its last.
I spent every minute and every second of the day crying. As I was walking, riding the bus, talking to other people, in class, during tests, in my room, in my sleep, as I dreamed, every single moment, in my heart I was crying and no one knew. At all hours, from inside of my chest came a sob, a distinct wail that only I could hear. After two weeks of bawling like that, I didn’t shed another tear. Life returned to normal, but I was rarely at home, where I’d likely run into Xiao Fan.
Two months passed. The time had come for madness to beget a complete unraveling, and it came precisely the day before my college commencement.
That evening was one of the rare occasions when I returned early to the apartment. The phone suddenly rang. It was somebody I didn’t know, telling me to hurry to the hospital to see Xiao Fan. She’d had an attack of acute hepatitis. One of her colleagues, who’d taken her to the emergency room, said she’d repeatedly asked for me.
