Massage

by Bi Feiyu

  Xiao Kong was quite a character, and had only one failing. She was not generous with money; she could even be called stingy. Whenever she got hold of some money, she tucked it under her arm and you couldn’t take it from her, even with a machine gun. If she’d been just a friend, that would have spoiled the relationship; but now that she would one day be his wife, that character trait was no longer a flaw – she was not stingy, she was family focused. Back in Shenzhen, her tight-fisted nature had created problems in dealing with receptionists. The interaction between a tuina therapist and a receptionist is important and unique, and a poor relationship can have a direct impact on one’s livelihood. Only the sighted work at the reception desk, and they have sharp eyes that enable them to tell at a glance if a client is rich or poor. Deciding who gets the wealthy clients and who gets the poor ones is a complex process, and it all comes down to the receptionist. A tuina therapist relies upon tips, which is how the same eight hours of work can produce drastically different results. Of course, a centre has its own rules of rotation, but they mean little, since someone other than the therapist is in charge of the sequence. Take, for instance, toilet breaks. A rich client walks in while you are in the toilet. If the receptionist wants to be helpful, she will offer the client some water and invite him to take a seat. After you’ve done your business and have breezed back in, the rich client is sent to you. Conversely, you’ve just gone to the toilet when the receptionist sends the rich client to the next in line. By the time you finish and rush back from whatever you were doing, the rich client is lying on someone else’s couch, chatting and laughing. What can you say? Nothing. That’s why you have to maintain a good relationship with whoever is up front. When the receptionist’s eyes are on you, your world is filled with seeing eyes, and so how can you make a living? How do you smooth it out? Easy. Squeeze. Squeeze what? Money. The clinics have strict rules against this type of transaction, but what therapist would let a piece of paper control his actions? He’d find a way to get the receptionist to accept a little something. Eyes are nothing if not special. Who doesn’t fear them? All therapists want the receptionist to turn a blind eye to certain things, and as long as that’s being done, they can live happy, normal lives.

  Xiao Kong was tight-fisted and refused to hand out any squeeze, even found justification for her miserly behaviour. With a sense of pride, she told Wang that she was a Taurus and that they love money. To them, money was like oxygen, without which she would find it hard to breathe. It was a joke, of course, though they had talked about it. It’s not that Xiao Kong was stingy; she simply could not accept the practice. ‘I am a blind woman who works hard for her money. Why should I squeeze some of it into their sighted eyes? I won’t do it!’ Wang understood, but he had to suppress a sigh. What a foolish girl.

  He smiled and said, ‘You often get the worst of it, you know that.’

  ‘Of course I know that,’ she said with a laugh. ‘I lose some, but I save money, and in the end I pretty much break even.’

  He turned his face skywards. So, that’s how she sees it. He wrapped his arms around her. ‘You really don’t know how to play politics,’ he said.

  Wang knew that Xiao Kong’s personality would always bring her to grief; wherever she went, she was treated badly. She might not admit it, but she had suffered in Shenzhen to a degree no one knew. Being tight-fisted was only one reason; she suffered mostly because she was too proud. Anyone that proud is fated to suffer, which was why, in the end, Wang decided to work for his old schoolmate. No matter how he looked at it, the boss would be his old friend and classmate, and Xiao Kong would not suffer, since no one would make things difficult for her.

  He picked up the phone and dialled Sha Fuming’s number.

  ‘Boss Sha,’ he said.

  Sha was ecstatic to hear his voice, his enthusiasm spilling into Wang’s ear. But then he said, ‘I’m with a client. Call back in twenty minutes.’ Wang flipped his phone shut with a smile, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. How could Sha forget that he, Wang Daifu, was blind too, a level B-1, authentic sightless man? The visually impaired are alike in one important respect; they can’t see what’s next to them, but they can see things a million miles away, especially over the phone. Sha wasn’t working. He was in the reception area, the noise coming through loud and clear over the phone. To Wang, a reception area and a therapy room were two buttocks; they look the same, but are separated by a crack down the middle. Sha was becoming more like a sighted man in the way he talked and dealt with people. He was becoming somebody. No doubt about it.

  Though Wang was not pleased, he didn’t let his anger spill out. Twenty minutes later he called again.

  ‘Business is good, Boss Sha,’ he said.

  ‘Not bad. Good enough to feed myself.’

  ‘I’d like to come to work and get fed myself,’ Wang said.

  ‘You’re joking,’ Sha said. ‘After all these years in Shenzhen you must be pretty thick around the waist, not to mention your thighs and arms. And you want to come here to get fed? I’d have to thank my lucky stars if you didn’t take over my business.’

  Sha had acquired the gift of the gab; he was getting more like people who can see.

  Wang had no time to get angry at him. ‘I mean it,’ he said. ‘I’m in Nanjing. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to come over. If it is, then I’ll come up with something else.’

  Now Sha could tell that Wang was not joking. Lighting a cigarette, he laid out the situation. ‘Here’s how it is. You know that what we get here in Nanjing can’t compare with what you get in Shenzhen. Sixty yuan an hour, forty-five for a VIP, and you get fifteen. Sixteen if you work over a hundred hours a month, and eighteen for a hundred and fifty. No tips. People in Nanjing aren’t used to tipping. But you know that.’

  Of course Wang knew. With an embarrassed laugh, he said, ‘I’m bringing another mouth with me.’

  Sha understood immediately. ‘You’re quite the man, aren’t you?’ he said with a laugh. ‘What about her eyes?’

  ‘Same as mine, B-1.’

  ‘You’re quite the man,’ Sha repeated. ‘You really are.’ Then he raised his voice. ‘Married?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Good. I wouldn’t be able to help if you were. You know I supply room and board. If you were married, I’d have to rent a room for the two of you and I can’t afford that. But since you’re not, that’s easy. You’ll stay in the men’s dorm and she’ll be in the women’s. What do you say?’

  After hanging up, Wang turned to Xiao Kong. ‘We’ll go there tomorrow. You can take a look and if you like the place we’ll start the day after.’

  ‘Sure,’ Xiao Kong said.

  Wang had not planned to start working again so soon. In Shenzhen they’d agreed to take some time off to rest over the New Year holiday, treating it as a sort of honeymoon. They’d planned on a simple wedding, since a splendid affair was lost on people who could not see the effects – why do it for someone else’s eyes? ‘I want you to soak in a honey jar for a month this spring,’ he’d said. ‘I’ll do whatever the bridegroom says,’ Xiao Kong had responded sweetly.

  In the end, their honeymoon lasted fewer than twenty days. Wang Daifu had changed his plans for practical reasons. He couldn’t bear to stay with his parents, mainly because of his younger brother, a troublemaker. It was a long story. This brother should, in fact, never have been born, since the national one-child policy was in effect and strictly enforced. He came into this world as a result of Wang Daifu’s eyes. At the time, Wang was old enough to know what his parents’ happy laughter meant, and, as a child, was happy owing to a deep sense of relief; at the same time he was bitter because he could not put aside his jealousy. There were times when he harboured such hatred for his brother that sinister, evil thoughts sprouted in his mind. But those transient childhood thoughts evolved into an irrepressible fondness for his kid brother after he grew up; Wang would have willingly died for him. His brother had married on 1 May the year before, and
, on the eve of the wedding, had called him in Shenzhen, saying jokingly, ‘Older brother, I’m getting married first. I can’t wait for you.’ Wang Daifu was happy for his brother, and so excited he was shaking from anxiety. Then he counted the days. But he couldn’t make it back to Nanjing by train. His first thought was to take an aeroplane, but he was reluctant to spend that kind of money. Still, he had been about to say to his brother ‘I’ll buy a plane ticket’ when his suspicious nature had stopped him and come to his aid. Maybe his brother didn’t want a blind man sitting at his wedding banquet. So he’d said, ‘Aiya! Why didn’t you tell me earlier?’ ‘It’s no big deal,’ his brother said. ‘It’s just a wedding. There’s no need for you to come all the way home. I just called to let you know.’ Now Wang Daifu realised that his brother simply wanted a red envelope – the traditional wedding gift of money – and nothing else. Lucky for him he was the suspicious type, or he might have embarrassed his brother. After offering his best wishes and some additional auspicious words he hung up, feeling as if he’d fallen ill, as if someone had pulled the tendons right out of his body. He went to the bank, and then to the post office, where he wired twenty thousand yuan to his brother. Originally, he had planned to wire five thousand. But owing to a sense of sadness and a loss of self-esteem, he was so angry he felt like slapping himself; he gritted his teeth and quadrupled the amount. The action was partially motivated by childish pique and a wish to sever all ties. The twenty thousand announced that the brothers would have nothing to do with each other from then on. When the postal clerk took his money she asked, ‘You made all this?’ Feeling hurt and in a bad mood, he felt like saying, ‘I didn’t steal it’, but had been too well brought up to do that; besides, he could tell that she meant it as a compliment so he smiled and said, ‘Yes. With eyes like mine, I could only use my left hand to steal from my right hand.’ The self-mockery was humorous; the clerk laughed and so did everyone else in the post office. He knew that they were all looking at him. She leaned forward and patted him on the arm. ‘Young man, you’re terrific. Your mother will be so happy when she gets this.’ He was grateful for the laughter and for the touch of her hand; a strong and totally unexpected current of warmth raced through him and down into his heart, putting him on the verge of tears. Little brother, my own flesh and blood. You’re not the equal of a total stranger. I won’t cause you to lose face, all right?

  After returning to Nanjing, Wang had realised that his brother was blameless. It was the woman, Gu Xiaoning, who had turned him. Wang could tell that Gu was a bossy woman who spoke with a south-side accent and had brassy airs. Not a nice person; nor, for that matter, was his brother, who turned into a good-for-nothing after his marriage and let his wife decide everything. You can’t do that! It took Wang Daifu only a second to forgive his brother and shift his hatred to Gu Xiaoning, who set a fire burning in him the moment he heard her voice.

  Wang began to worry about his brother. Since neither he nor his wife had a job, how would they get by? Fortunately, her father was in the military, with a relatively spacious home; otherwise, they wouldn’t even have had a place to live. Yet they managed to live like carefree immortals, taking in a movie one day and going to a teahouse the next, then off to sing karaoke. Gu even walked around reeking of perfume. Why weren’t they worried? How could they keep living like that?

  Wang Daifu had been away from home for a long time, living in a dormitory from the age of ten, when he went off to school, until he graduated from college, after which he went straight to Shenzhen. From the age of ten he’d had only sporadic dealings with his family, so he knew little about his younger brother, except that he had been a brat as a child. Wang could not understand why he would marry someone like Gu Xiaoning. Listen to how she talked to her husband: ‘You’re blind as a bat!’ ‘Can’t you see anything?’ She had a total absence of tact, and Wang was always upset to hear how she scolded her husband. The blind do not treat the word ‘blind’ as a taboo, and often use it themselves, sometimes in a jocular manner. But they tend to be more sensitive with outsiders. Gu may not have intended to be insensitive, but her choice of words proved that her brother-in-law meant nothing to her, and that her attitude would surely carry over to Xiao Kong. That was a given. He did not mind if she didn’t care about how he felt, but what about her sister-in-law? How could the woman be so inconsiderate? Xiao Kong must have felt that as well, since she was quiet when Gu Xiaoning was around.

  None of these presented serious problems; those he sensed at the dinner table. On New Year’s Eve, Wang’s brother had agreed to come home for dinner. But they still had not arrived by the time the New Year celebration came on TV. The following evening, around sunset, they came to wish their parents happy new year and left after a few inane exchanges with Wang. The real problem began on the seventh day of the new year. His brother and his wife showed up in time for lunch each day and left immediately afterwards. Come dinnertime, the same thing. That went on until the fifteenth day, when Wang finally figured out what was happening. They must have assumed that he and Xiao Kong were getting free meals at home, and if they could eat for free, how could the two of them be left out? So they joined them in what became a public dining hall.

  One meal meant nothing, nor did two or three. But it could not go on indefinitely. When would they stop taking advantage of the old folks, who eked out a meagre living? In a way, what they were doing amounted to forcing Wang Daifu and Xiao Kong to leave, a plan they carried out aggressively. It had to be Gu Xiaoning’s idea. It had to be. Wang didn’t mind leaving, but what about Xiao Kong and her honeymoon? He said nothing. Though filled with deep anger and resentment, he could say nothing.

  Yet he had to say something to Xiao Kong, at least. He’d give her a honeymoon later. One night, after sitting with his parents in the living room watching the evening news, he and Xiao Kong went to their room. As they sat on the edge of the bed, he took her hands but could not find the words to begin. She, on the other hand, began to act out of character by kissing him, keeping him from saying anything. As she continued to kiss him, she started taking off his clothes; he could not free his mouth until she was pulling off his sweater. But then, when he was about to say something, her lips returned to block his words. He knew she wanted to make love, but he wasn’t in the mood. Feeling gloomy, he hesitated, while she was stripped naked, her body warm to the touch. She pulled him down. ‘Come on, darling,’ she said. He was reluctant, but couldn’t reject her, and their bodies quickly merged. She clamped her legs around his waist before blurting out, ‘How many are we now?’ He arched his back and said, ‘One.’ She held up his face and said, ‘That’s right, darling. You must never forget that. We are one. I know what you’re thinking and what you want to say. You don’t have to say anything. We’ll be one just the way we are now. You’re in me and we are one.’ He heard every word, but just as he was about to say something, he felt something happening. It was too late to speak, as a powerful sensation surged inside him, and he came. It was so sudden that he thrust his body upwards and felt himself freeze. It was like a stampede of horses. Tears gushed from him, down his cheeks to his chin and falling, one by one, onto her face. She opened her mouth to swallow his tears, a spontaneous wish that brought a surprising result – she came too. The brief sex was simply incredible, unrepeatable; though they hadn’t had time to work on it, it was seamless, nearly perfect. She let her legs fall back onto the bed and lay there, hips arched, as if dead. But she was floating, weightless, defying gravity. She was flying away. A dangerous moment. At this critical moment, she grabbed him by the ears and held on with all her might, but again she seemed to be flying away. Danger loomed. She pulled him down onto her; she needed his weight; she needed his body to keep her down.

  ‘Hold me tight – press down – don’t let me fly away – I’m afraid.’

  Chapter Two

  Sha Fuming

  TEN O’CLOCK IN the morning was the time when Wang Daifu was scheduled to come ‘take a look’ with ‘another mou
th’, also the time when Sha Fuming’s stomach ache began, an increasingly punctual bodily ailment that also occurred at three or four in the afternoon, and in the middle of the night. He had become an expert whenever his stomach acted up – he took out a Xile tablet, popped it into his mouth and chewed on it before swallowing it without water. In a few minutes the pain would be gone. Chinese medicine was good, but could never be as quick acting.

  Fuming was chewing his tablet in the front room when Wang Daifu, who was standing in the doorway of the Sha Zongqi tuina centre, called out, ‘Boss Sha!’ Wang had, after all, been around, so instead of referring to Sha as an old schoolmate, he shouted ‘Boss Sha’ in a resounding voice, almost like a truck horn. Fuming came to the door and greeted Wang, who introduced Xiao Kong. Adopting a formal tone, he referred to her as Kong Daifu, which immediately told Sha that the two were indeed not yet married.

  Boss Sha and Wang Daifu had a controlled greeting that lasted less than two minutes before Fuming led Wang into the lounge. It was deadly quiet, but Wang sensed that it was crowded with people, who stood when they came in. It caught him off guard.

  ‘You must be having a meeting,’ he said with a smile.

  ‘We usually hold our meetings on Mondays. Today we’re having study sessions,’ Fuming said.

  ‘Then I came at the right time, since I could use a bit of study myself,’ Wang said.

  ‘You’re joking, old friend. You can teach them things when you find the time. Schools aren’t as rigorous these days as they once were, and one generation is worse than the one before. There’s no comparison, really. It’s just not like it was back in our day.’