by Gao Xingjian
She couldn’t say he had forced himself upon her. He had invited her to his room for lunch. She went, had a cup of liquor, felt a bit happy but not really happy, and began laughing like this.
She says she doesn’t completely blame him. At the time she only wanted to see what would happen and drank in one gulp the half cup of liquor he had poured for her. She felt a bit dizzy, she hadn’t imagined the liquor was so potent. She was aware that her face was burning and that she was laughing inanely. Then he kissed her, pushed her onto the bed, no, she didn’t resist, she even knew when he was pulling up her skirt.
He was her teacher and she was a student, and this sort of thing shouldn’t have happened. She could hear footsteps coming and going in the corridor outside the room, people were always talking, people always have so many totally meaningless things to say. It was midday and people were coming back to their dormitories after lunch in the canteen, and she could hear them clearly. In these surroundings it was like being a thief and she felt thoroughly ashamed. Animal, animal, she said to herself.
Afterwards she opened the door of the room and left, chest out and head held high. As soon as she got to the stairs, someone called out her name, and she says at the time she blushed, it was as if her skirt had been pulled up and she was wearing nothing underneath. Fortunately the lighting was poor on the stairs. It turned out to be a classmate who had just come in and wanted her to go with her to see this teacher about choosing courses for the following semester. She made the excuse that she was rushing to a movie and didn’t have time, then went off. But she will always remember the sound of being called, she says her heart almost leapt from her chest. Even when she was being taken, her heart didn’t pound as fiercely as it did then. In the end she got her revenge, in the end she took revenge, took revenge for all those years of anxiety and fear, she avenged herself. She says on the sports field that day the sun had a harsh glare, and in the sunlight there was a heart-rending scream, like a razor blade scratching on glass.
You ask who she is.
She says, her, and starts laughing loudly again.
You become apprehensive.
She urges you not to be like this. She says she is just telling a story, she heard it from a friend. She was a student from a medical college who had come to the operating theatre for practical experience. Afterwards they became friends and talked to one another about everything.
You don’t believe her.
Why is it all right for you to tell stories but not for her?
You ask her to go on.
She says she’s finished.
You say her story ended too abruptly.
She says she can’t tell mysteries like you, and moreover you’ve told lots of stories and she’s only just started.
Then go on telling it, you say.
She says she’s lost interest and doesn’t want to go on telling it.
She’s a fox spirit, you say after some thought.
It’s not only men who lust.
Of course. It’s the same with women, you say.
Why can’t women do what men can? It’s natural to all human beings.
You say you’re not censuring women, you’re only saying she’s a fox spirit.
There’s nothing bad about fox spirits.
You say you’re not criticizing them, you’re just talking about them.
Then talk about them.
Talk about what?
If you want to talk about fox spirits then talk about them, she says.
You say the husband of this fox spirit hadn’t been dead for a full seven–
Full seven what?
In the past when the husband died a woman would have to stay by his corpse for seven times seven equals forty-nine days.
Is seven an unlucky number?
Seven is an auspicious day for ghosts and spirits.
Don’t talk about ghosts.
Then let’s talk about the one who didn’t die. Before she’d taken off the white mourning strips from the tops of her shoes she was like the prostitutes at the Joy of Spring Hall in Wuyizhen, all the time leaning at the gate with her hands on her hips and one foot slightly raised on her toes. As soon as she saw someone coming she’d posture seductively and pretend she wasn’t looking in order to entice men.
She says you are debunking women.
No, you say, even the women couldn’t stand it and quickly walked away. It was only the shrewish Sun the Fourth’s wife who spat in her face.
But when the men walked past, didn’t they all look greedily at her?
It was impossible not to. All of them eagerly looked back, even the hunchback. There were more than fifty of them, all staring with their heads turned to one side. Now don’t laugh just yet.
Who’s laughing?
Let’s talk about Old Lu’s wife in the house next door. Right after dinner, she was sitting at the doorway sewing shoe soles and saw all this happening. So she said, Hunchback, your foot’s treading in dog shit! This really embarrassed the hunchback. On those very hot days when all the villagers sat out on the streets to eat their evening meals, she would walk by every doorway, wriggling her bottom with two empty water buckets on her carrying pole. Maozi’s mother poked her husband with her chopsticks and got such a thrashing during the night that she howled with pain. That sexy fox spirit, the women in the village with husbands all wanted to box her ears. If Maozi’s mother could have had her way, she’d have ripped the clothes off her, grabbed her by the hair, and pushed her head into a nightsoil bucket.
That’s disgusting, she says.
But that’s how things turned out, you say. To begin with, it was discovered by Old Lu’s wife that Zhu the Eldest, whom the villagers called Blockhead and who couldn’t get himself a wife, was always visiting her melon shed. He said he was helping her to spread around fertilizer. And this certainly was a place for spreading around fertilizer. If things hadn’t fallen upon the head of Sun the Fourth’s wife, events wouldn’t have taken such a tragic turn. Before sunrise Sun the Fourth said he was getting up early to go into the mountains to cut firewood. He shouldered a pointed carrying pole, circled around the village lanes and in a flash climbed over the wall of this woman’s courtyard. Sun the Fourth’s wife suspected what was happening and without waiting for her husband to come out, began beating on the door with a carrying pole. The woman came and opened the door, still fastening the buttons at the waist of her jacket, as if nothing was wrong. As if Sun the Fourth’s wife would let her off. Faster than it would take to say it, she had already charged at the woman and the two of them were brawling, crying and shouting, and everyone had turned up. All the women sided with Sun the Fourth’s wife but the men watched the fighting in silence. The woman’s clothing was torn and her face was scratched. Sun the Fourth’s wife later said it was her intention to ruin the woman’s looks, the woman sobbed with her hands over her face, writhing in pain. Of course it was a clear case of immoral behaviour but it was after all women’s business and both Sixth Grand Uncle and the village head, stood to one side and could only cough drily. However, as it is said, a woman’s mind is indeed most venomous and the women themselves decided to punish her. They talked it over and when the woman was on her way to fetch firewood on the mountain path, a few hefty women accosted her, stripped off her clothes, trussed her up, and carried her off on a pole. She called out again and again for help but even when those who got on with her heard and came running, the very sight of these mean women who would strip the skin off someone, deterred them. They carried her into the mountains to Peach Blossom Flat. In the past, because this peach blossom mountain flatland produced wanton women, it became a lepers’ village; they dumped her and the pole on the road, spat and stomped on her, cursed her, then left.
Then what happened?
Then it rained, it rained for several days and several nights on end before stopping. At noon people saw her returning to the village. She was wearing a pair of tattered trousers and her bare upper body was wrapped in a straw cape, her
lips were bruised and drained of colour. When the children playing under the eaves saw her they ran away and houses one by one closed their doors. A few days later when she re-emerged from her house, she had recovered and was even more bewitching – her lips were bright red and her cheeks were peach-pink. But she no longer dared to walk around in the village and would only go to the stream to fetch water and wash clothes in the early morning before daybreak or else after nightfall, always hurrying with her head down and walking close to the wall. When children saw her they would shout from a distance, “Leper woman, leper woman, your nose will rot first and then your lips!” as they followed her and then run off. Afterwards people forgot about her. Every household was busy harvesting and threshing, and after that it was ploughing, and then seeding and planting. After the busy period of early harvesting and late planting was over, it was noticed that no work had been done in the woman’s fields and that she hadn’t been seen for a long time. People thought someone should be sent to have a look but no-one wanted to go. In the end it fell upon Old Lu’s wife to go and have a look. She came out and said, “It seems that retribution has been meted out to this seductress, her face is covered in sores so it’s no wonder she dares not leave the house!” On hearing this the womenfolk all heaved a sigh of relief, for they didn’t need to worry about their husbands anymore.
Then what happened?
Later on, it was time to harvest the late crop. By the time the last field was harvested, frost began to fall. The villagers started to prepare for the New Year and the millstones had to be washed for grinding rice flour. Maozi’s mother noticed sores on her husband’s bare back when he was pushing the mill but didn’t dare tell anyone except her husband’s younger sister. Unexpectedly, the day after she told her husband’s younger sister, when the younger sister got up in the morning she saw that her husband’s chest too had developed sores. The matter only needed to be told to another, once one woman had told another it was impossible for any secret to be kept, even Sun the Fourth had developed running sores on his legs. Following that, it was naturally a very gloomy New Year. In every household the women were fraught with anxieties, while the menfolk of the women either had their heads or their faces wrapped up. However, it was winter so it didn’t look too bad. Then it was again time for the spring ploughing and it was cumbersome to still have one’s head and face wrapped up. The men weren’t too worried about how they looked because at the time everyone was either losing skin, losing hair or had running sores. Even Sixth Grand Uncle had developed a sore on the end of his nose. It was the same with everyone, so they couldn’t say anything about one another and just kept raking the soil. When all the seedlings had been planted and people had a bit of free time, they remembered the seductress and wondered if she was still alive. However, everyone said that if you sat in a chair the leper woman had sat in you’d get boils on your bottom, so no-one would go near the door of the seductress.
They all deserved it, these men, she says.
However the first to go to the fields to weed with a kerchief over her face was Sun the Fourth’s wife. The older people all said, “A crime was committed and there is retribution in the present world.” But what could be done? Even Old Lu’s wife didn’t escape – she developed mastitis and her breasts rotted completely. Unmarried girls and children were the only ones to escape this bad fate if they went far away to another village.
Is that the end of the story? she asks.
Yes.
She finds the story disgusting.
Because it’s a man’s story.
But aren’t there men and women in the story? she asks.
You say of course it’s a story with men in it but it’s a story which men tell women and a man’s story which women like to listen to. You ask her which type she likes listening to.
She says your stories are becoming wicked and crude.
You say this is what a man’s world is.
Then what is a woman’s world like?
Only women can know what a woman’s world is like.
So there can’t be any communication?
It’s because there are two different perspectives.
But love can communicate between the two.
You ask her if she believes in love.
If I don’t believe in love why do I go looking for it? she asks instead.
This is because you still want to believe in it.
If there’s only lust but no love, what meaning would there be in life?
You say this is women’s philosophy.
Don’t keep saying women this women that, women are also human beings.
They too were moulded from mud by Nüwa.
Is this your opinion of women?
You say you are simply making a statement.
A statement is also an opinion.
You say you don’t want to debate the matter.
You say you’ve finished telling stories, and that they are all common and vulgar or else like the venom of the Qichun snake. You may as well listen to some women’s stories, or rather stories women tell men.
She says she can’t tell stories, not like you, you can just make them up as you go along. She wants truth, totally undisguised truth.
Women’s truth.
Why women’s truth?
Because men’s truth is different from women’s truth.
You’re becoming strange.
Why?
Because you already possess me. When you have something you don’t treasure it, this is men for you.
But you acknowledge the existence of a woman’s world beyond a man’s world, don’t you?
Don’t talk to me about women.
Then what shall I talk about?
Talk about your childhood, talk about yourself. She doesn’t want to hear your stories, she wants to know about your past, your childhood, your mother, your old grandfather. She wants to know even the minute details, your memories from the cradle, she wants to know everything about you, your most secret feelings. You say you’ve already forgotten them. She says she wants to help you recall these memories, she wants to help you recall the people and events you have forgotten, she wants to go wandering with you through your memories, go deep into your soul, to experience with you the life you have experienced.
You say she wants to possess your soul. She says, yes, not just your body. If she is going to possess you she wants to possess everything, she wants to listen to your voice as she goes into your memories, she wants to imagine with you, curl into the deepest recesses of your soul and, together with you, manipulate your imagination, she says, she also wants to become your soul.
You are really a seductress, you say. She says, yes, she wants to become the ends of your nerves, she wants you to touch with her fingers, to see with her eyes, to create images with her, to climb with her up Lingshan, she wants to look down on the whole of your soul from the peak of Lingshan, including secrets of which you are ashamed, hidden in the darkest corners. She savagely says that even your wrongdoings mustn’t be concealed, she wants to see everything with absolute clarity.
You ask if she wants you to confess your wrongdoings to her. Oh, don’t make it seem so serious. This is something you want to do, this is love, she asks, isn’t it?
You say you can’t refuse and ask where she’d like you to start. She says talk about whatever you like, the only condition is that you must talk about yourself.
You say when you were young you saw a fortune teller, but you can’t remember whether it was your mother or your maternal grandmother who took you.
That’s not important, she says.
What you remember clearly is that this fortune teller had very long fingernails. He worked out your horoscope by positioning little brass flags on an Eight Trigram Chart, and he also spun a compass. You ask if she’s heard of Ziwei Constellation fortune telling, an ancient school which can predict a person’s life, death and future. You say, as he positioned the brass flags he flicked his fingernails loudly, it was scary, and c
hanted incantations: ba-ba ka-ka, ka-ka ba-ba, this child will throughout his life have many demon problems. His parents in a past life want to take him back, it will be difficult for him to survive, he has too many debts in a past life. Your mother, or maybe it was your grandmother, asked whether there was a way of dispelling this calamity. He said this child must change his features so that when the aggrieved ghosts summon his spirit, they won’t recognize him. Your grandmother therefore seized the chance while your mother was out, you remember this quite clearly, to put an earring on you. She rubbed your ear lobe with a green soyabean and a pinch of salt and said it wouldn’t hurt, but as she rubbed your ear lobe became swollen and began to hurt more and more. However, before she got to piercing it with a needle your mother came home and had a big row with her – she grumbled but had to give up the idea. As for you, at the time you had no fixed ideas about having your ear pierced.
