by Yu Hua
I took advantage of the possibility presented. “Lin Meng,” I said, “is precisely the person I need to go and see.”
“What do you need to see him about?” My father was not about to do anything silly. He was going to carry on grilling me.
I began to spin him a line. “Lin Meng got married. His wife’s name is Pingping …”
“They’ve been married three years already,” my father said.
“That’s right,” I said. “The thing is, they’ve been happy together all this time, but now there’s trouble …”
“What kind of trouble?”
“What kind of trouble?” I thought for a minute. “You know, the kind of trouble that happens in a marriage …”
“What kind of trouble in a marriage?” My father still wouldn’t let me off the hook.
It was my mother who spoke up then. “They’ve got to be quarreling over something.”
“That’s right, they’re quarreling,” I said.
“If the two of them are quarreling, what’s it got to do with you?” My father grabbed me by the sleeve and tried to pull me into the study.
I resisted. “They’ve started to fight,” I said.
My father loosened his grip, and he and my mother looked at me. At this point I was suddenly inspired and began to explain things with effortless fluency:
“It was Lin Meng who first slapped Pingping in the face. Then she fell on him and took a big bite out of his arm. She bit a big hole in his shirt and must have done a lot of damage underneath, because her canine teeth are sharper than bayonets. She must have spent a full three minutes biting him, and Lin Meng was in such pain he was screaming like a stuck pig the whole time. When those three minutes were up, Lin Meng gave Pingping a taste of his fist and his foot. He punched her in the face and kicked her on the leg, and Pingping was in such pain she collapsed on the sofa and couldn’t say a word for ten minutes. After that, she really lost her marbles, picking up everything she could lay her hands on and throwing it at Lin Meng. She was so crazy, now it was his turn to be frightened. When she smashed a chair against his midriff, it didn’t actually hurt that much, but Lin Meng pretended to keel over in agony, collapsing on the sofa and clutching his belly. He thought Pingping would change her tune when she saw him in this state, that she would stop hitting him, that she would run over and hug him and burst into tears. But what happened was that Pingping, seeing his eyes were closed, picked up an ashtray and smashed it on his head. Now Lin Meng really did faint …”
Finally, I said to my stupefied parents, “As a friend of Lin Meng, I should go and see him, don’t you think?”
THEN I WAS WALKING along the street, on my way to see these two old friends of mine. I had gotten to know one of them when I was five, the other when I was seven. They were both four years older than me. When they married three years ago, I gave them a blanket as a present, and they sleep under this blanket in the spring—and in the autumn too—so sometimes before they fall asleep they will suddenly think of me and say, “It’s almost a month since we last saw so-and-so …”
I hadn’t seen them for a month, and now as I walked toward them I began to miss them. First of all, I thought of their little home with its cute decorations, the dozen or so balloons that they tied to the windows, from the ceiling, and beside the chest of drawers. I didn’t have a clue why these two loonies were so fond of balloons—and pink ones too. I remembered once, when I was sitting on their sofa, I happened to notice there were three pink panties hanging on the line on the balcony, practically the same color as the balloons, and I figured these had to be Pingping’s panties. My first impression had been that they were three balloons, and I was almost about to say that there were balloons hanging on the balcony too. Fortunately I didn’t say that, for I’d realized on closer inspection that they weren’t balloons at all.
I liked them both. Lin Meng is the kind of person who talks and laughs very loudly. Nine months of the year he wears a brown jacket, and the other three months, because it is so hot, he wears something else. Then his bones stick out and his arms dangle loosely as he walks along the street, so it always seems as though there’s empty space inside his clothes.
He is the kind of person who doesn’t know his own weaknesses. He has a tendency to stutter, for example, but he himself doesn’t realize this, or at least he has never acknowledged it. His wife, Pingping, is a good-looking woman. She has long hair, but most of the time she wears it up. Aware that her neck is slender and pretty, she sometimes wears clothes with high collars, and once her neck is concealed it is even more beautiful, for the high collar looks like a flower petal.
Four years ago, there was nothing going on between them, they were just acquaintances. None of us had any idea how they got together. It was me who made the discovery.
That particular evening I was really bored. First I went to see Shen Tianxiang, but his mother said he had gone out at lunchtime and was still not back. Then I went to see Wang Fei, and found him lying in bed all flushed, burned to a frizzle by the soaring temperatures. Finally I went to Chen Liqing’s home, and he was pounding the table and having a big row with his father. My foot never crossed his threshold, because I didn’t want to get involved in other people’s quarrels, especially not one between a father and son.
I went back out onto the street again, and just as I was wondering where to go next, I caught sight of Lin Meng. He was walking along under the trees with a quilt under his arm. Although the leaves obscured the light from the streetlamps, I recognized him immediately and called his name. I was so pleased by our fortuitous meeting that my voice seemed unusually loud. “Lin Meng,” I said, “I was just about to go and see you.”
Lin Meng’s head swiveled in my direction, then turned away. I quickened my pace to catch up with him. “Lin Meng, it’s me,” I called once more.
This time his head kept looking straight ahead, and I had to run forward and clap him on the shoulder. He glanced at me and gave a bad-tempered grunt. It was only then I realized Pingping was walking by his side, a bottle of water in her hands. She gave me a little smile.
Later, they got married. Their married life was happy, so far as I could tell. In the early days we would often run into each other on the steps of the cinema, or sometimes at the entrance to a shop, when I was passing by and they were coming out.
In the first two years of their marriage, I visited their home a few times, and each time I would run into Shen Tianxiang or Wang Fei or Chen Liqing, or all three of them at the same time. We felt very much at home at Lin Meng’s place. We could sit on the sofa, or sit on their bed with their quilt folded up behind us for comfort. Wang Fei would often go and open the door of their refrigerator to see what was inside—not, he said, because he was hungry, but simply to have a look.
Lin Meng is a cheerful kind of guy. He uses as his teacup a large glass jar, the kind designed to hold instant coffee, and he likes to plunk a chair down next to the door and sit there with his back against the door, holding that big jar in his hands and laughing his head off as he talks. In no time at all he starts to bullshit. Often he would divulge indiscreet details about his and Pingping’s private life, and he got a kick out of this. He’d laugh so much he’d knock his head against the door with a resounding thump.
At such moments Pingping would scowl at him and say, “Don’t talk about that.”
When there were a lot of people in the room, Pingping would sit on a little round stool, her hands on her knees, watching us talk with a smile on her lips. When we felt maybe we were neglecting her and asked, “Pingping, why don’t you say anything?” she would say, “I enjoy listening to you guys talk.”
Pingping liked to listen to me summarizing the plot of some recent movies, or Shen Tianxiang telling fishing stories, or Wang Fei comparing different brands of refrigerators, or Chen Liqing singing one of the latest hit songs. What she did not enjoy was Lin Meng’s conversation. It wouldn’t take long for her husband to say, “Pingping wants to fall aslee
p in my arms every night.”
Pingping’s eyebrows would arch in a frown. We would burst out laughing, and Lin Meng would point at his wife and say, “If I don’t take her in my arms, she won’t be able to sleep.
“But once I take her in my arms,” Lin Meng would continue, “she starts breathing down my neck. It tickles …”
At this point, Pingping would say, “Don’t talk about that.”
“Then it’s me who’s unable to sleep.” Lin Meng would give a big laugh and finish what he wanted to say.
The problem was, Lin Meng’s comments on this subject would continue, and would not stop so long as we were there. He’s the kind of guy who likes to have us gathered round him, rolling about in stitches, and he would stop at nothing to achieve this kind of effect. He would recite the complete catalog of nicknames that Pingping gave him when they were in bed, leaving us doubled up in laughter.
The list began with “Darling,” followed by “Precious,” “Prince,” “Knight,” and “Horsie.” Those were the more refined names. Then there were the ones inspired by food items, like “Cabbage,” “Tofu,” “Sausage,” and “Potato,” and also some names that we found peculiar, like “Perky” and “Droopy.”
“Do you know why she calls me ‘Perky’?”
He knew we didn’t understand, so he stood up when he asked us this, very full of himself. Pingping got to her feet also. She looked furious and had gone completely pale. “Lin Meng!” she cried.
We were expecting her to really let loose, but all she said was “That’s enough.”
Lin Meng sat back down with a long belly laugh and looked her in the eye. She returned his gaze, then turned and disappeared into another room. All of us felt very uncomfortable, but Lin Meng acted as though nothing had happened, waving his hand dismissively. “Never mind her,” he said.
He then returned to his question. “Do you know what she means by ‘Perky’?”
Not waiting for us to shake our heads, he pointed below his belt. “This guy here.”
We began to laugh. “And ‘Droopy’?” he asked.
This time our eyes automatically fixed on his crotch, and he pointed at the spot again. “Same thing.”
It’s true what they say, you just have to be prepared to make adjustments when you’re married. After Pingping had lived with Lin Meng for a couple of years, she had gotten used to her husband’s bullshitting, and when his tongue was wagging she would no longer say to him “That’s enough,” but would look down and play with her fingers, already resigned, it seemed, to Lin Meng’s indiscretions.
Not only that, but on occasion she would make some similar comments herself—of a much more restrained kind, needless to say. I remember one day when we were sitting in their house and everybody was saying how charming Lin Meng looked when he laughed, Pingping broke in: “It’s when he’s happy at night that he looks his best.”
We didn’t immediately pick up on what she meant, and we looked at Lin Meng and then at Pingping, unsure whether to laugh. “When he needs me,” she added, for clarification.
We had a good laugh at that, and Pingping, realizing she had said something she shouldn’t have, flushed bright red. Now that he had become the object of amusement, Lin Meng gave a weak, embarrassed chuckle, and he did not knock his head against the door as usual. He went quiet whenever somebody made a joke at his expense.
So we knew one or two things about their sex life, and even more about other aspects of their marriage. Lin Meng was a lucky man, in our view. Everyone agreed that Pingping was an attractive woman, and it was obvious how understanding and capable she was and we had never seen her get into an argument with Lin Meng over anything. When we visited them, she would always be prompt in pouring water into our teacups and quick to deliver matches to any pair of hands that was preparing to light up a cigarette. After Lin Meng got married, his leather boots were always shining and he dressed with increasingly good taste, all thanks to Pingping. In the past, he had been the most slovenly member of our circle.
SO THERE I WAS, recalling these vignettes of them as a couple, and when I arrived at their apartment on this particular morning, it seemed to me it had been a long time since I had last visited. When Pingping opened the door, I found that she had changed. She had put on some weight, it seemed, or maybe she had lost some.
It was Pingping’s hand I saw first. A slender hand grasped the frame, and then the door opened. When Pingping saw me she seemed to give a start—because she hadn’t seen me for a long time, I assumed. I walked in with a smile on my face, only to discover there was no sign of Shen Tianxiang or Wang Fei or Chen Liqing—no sign of Lin Meng, even. “Lin Meng?” I inquired.
Lin Meng was not at home. He had left for the factory at seven thirty in the morning. Shen Tianxiang, Wang Fei, and Chen Liqing would also be at work at this hour. There was only me and Pingping … “Is it just the two of us?” I said to her.
In the apartment, was what I meant. I noticed how Pingping’s face tightened when I said this and I thought to myself, Is that a smile? “What’s the matter?” I asked.
Pingping looked at me uncomprehendingly. “Were you smiling at me just now?” I said.
Pingping nodded. “Yes.”
Her skin tightened once again. It was me who smiled then. “Why do you smile in such a strange way?” I said.
All this time Pingping had been standing in the doorway. She had never closed the door and her hand was still clutching the doorframe. Her posture seemed to indicate she was simply waiting for me to leave. “Do you want me to go?” I said.
At this, she detached herself from the doorframe and turned to face me, her hands moving this way and that as though she couldn’t find a suitable place to put them. I had never seen Pingping in this state, standing completely rigid, her smile unrecognizable as a smile. “What’s up with you today?” I said. “Are you about to go out or something?”
She shook her head helplessly. “If you’re not in a hurry,” I said, “I’ll sit down.” I sat down in the sofa but she kept on just standing there. I laughed. “What are you doing?” I asked.
She sat down in a chair, her face angled away from me. She was breathing heavily, it seemed, and her legs stirred restlessly, as unable to find a comfortable position as her hands had been just a minute before. “Pingping, what’s the matter with you?” I said. “Today I come to visit, and you don’t pour me a glass of water and you don’t peel me an apple—are you tired of me, or what?”
Pingping shook her head vigorously. “No, not at all. Why would I be tired of you?”
She smiled, and got up and fetched me a glass of water. This time her smile looked like a smile. “We don’t have apples today,” she said, passing me the glass. “Would you like a prune?”
“I don’t eat prunes,” I said. “That’s something you women like. Just water is fine.”
Pingping sat down in the chair again, and as I sipped my water I said, “In the past, every time I came to your house, I would always find Shen Tianxiang and the others here, or if they weren’t all three here, at least one of them was bound to be. Today, not one of them has come, and even Lin Meng is not at home, so it’s just the two of us, and you’re not a great talker …”
Pingping was all keyed up, I suddenly realized. Her head had swiveled round in the direction of the door, and she was listening to something, listening, apparently, to the footsteps of someone coming up the stairs. They walked with a very slow step. They seemed to be in no hurry. They reached the landing just outside, then continued up the next flight of stairs. Pingping exhaled, then turned to look at me. Her face was so pale it gave me a shock. She smiled again, the way that made her skin tighten. I couldn’t stand to look at her smile, so instead I glanced around the room. The balloons had disappeared. No pink colors anywhere, so far as I could see, and I couldn’t help but take a quick glance at the balcony, but Pingping had no panties hanging there, so there was no pink there either. “Do you not like balloons anymore?” I asked.
/> Pingping’s eyes were watching me in a way that gave me a feeling she heard my voice but didn’t hear what I was saying. “The balloons are gone,” I said.
“Balloons?” She looked baffled.
“That’s right, balloons,” I said. “Didn’t you used to have lots of balloons hanging in your apartment?”
“Oh …” She remembered.
“I get the feeling,” I said, “that today you’re acting a little … How shall I put it? A little strange.”
“No, I’m not.” She shook her head.
Her denial didn’t seem very confident. “I wasn’t originally planning to come and see you, did you know that?” I said. “We’ve moved to a new place, and I was helping my mother to get things sorted out in the kitchen and helping my father to get things sorted out in the study, and they were both driving me crazy the way they were bossing me about, so I hotfooted it out of there, and at first I had the idea of going to see Shen Tianxiang, but he and I were together just a couple of days ago, and I often hang out with Wang Fei and Chen Liqing, so you two were the only people I hadn’t seen for a long time. That’s why I came to your apartment, not realizing Lin Meng wouldn’t be home. I’d forgotten he’d be at work today.”
I didn’t reveal that I had made up a story about her and Lin Meng having a fight. Pingping was a serious person. “It didn’t occur to me you’d be at home on your own …”
Finding Pingping alone and so preoccupied, I thought I really should leave. I stood up. “I’ll be off now,” I said.
Pingping got to her feet at once. “Why don’t you stay a bit longer?”
“No, I should go.”
She said nothing more and simply stood there waiting. It looked increasingly as though she wanted me out of there right away, and I took a couple of steps toward the door. Then a thought occurred to me. “I’ll just use your bathroom. There are no public toilets on your street,” I added, closing the door behind me.
Originally I was just going to have a pee, but after I’d finished peeing I felt like having a crap, so it was going to take me a while. Just after I squatted down, I heard a thudding outside as though someone was running upstairs at high speed. There was a cry of “Pingping, Pingping!” as he reached the door to the apartment.
