by Tie Ning
“I’m thinking about something else.”
“What is it?”
“There is nothing more broken in the world than an intact ring.”
“Is that also from a book?”
“It’s from me.”
5
On Monday morning, Tiao walked into her office. The cleaner had done the cleaning, so the desk, the chair, and the floor all looked spotless, and so did the windowsill. The flowers had been watered, and the corn plant standing in the corner was growing vigorously. Tiao liked the corn plant very much, not because it was expensive—the plant might have been expensive when it first appeared in the north many years ago. Now it was commonplace, not expensive at all, which was precisely what Tiao liked about it. She saw the resemblance to a stalk of corn. When she felt tired of reading manuscripts and looked up from her desk to gaze at it across the room, she felt as if she were looking at a small piece of a cornfield, and that golden kernels were hidden under the fleshy leaves. Who said that the ripening corn was like little hands on the stalks? It must have been a poet. She didn’t remember. She liked this sort of metaphor. Crops were more human than flowers or other plants.
She sat in front of her desk and started to open a stack of letters on the desk. There was a letter from Fang Jing:
Tiao, how have you been?
You must be very surprised at receiving this letter. I hesitated several times before I decided to write. Next Monday, I’ll be at the premiere in Fuan of my new movie, Going Home Right Away. The distributor there invited me. Will you be in Fuan then? We haven’t seen each other for many many years, but I’ve never forgotten you. In Fuan, it’s you I want to see, nothing else. I think if I go to your publishing house, it might be inconvenient for you. Would you mind coming to my hotel? I’ll be staying at the Holiday Inn at Yunxiang Square, room 888. I pray to God that you receive this letter. I’ll call you when I arrive.
Tiao finished reading the letter and looked at the date and realized that the “next Monday” mentioned in the letter was actually that day.
Fang Jing’s letter didn’t cause too much emotional turbulence in Tiao. It just reminded her of the sixty-eight love letters that she had burned and drunk down. She didn’t plan to burn this one or throw it in the trash can. There was no need. It was not a love letter, and she was no longer the Tiao who clutched the sleeve of Fang Jing’s leather jacket and begged him to stay. She decided to go to Yunxiang Square to see him; she wanted him to see her as she was now, calm and confident.
She got Fang Jing’s phone call before her lunch break. Because of the letter, she was emotionally ready, so she was fairly relaxed on the phone. He said, “Tiao, how are you?”
She said, “Yes, Professor Fang, I’m very well.”
He paused briefly and then said, “Can we meet tonight? I’m fully scheduled for tomorrow.”
“Sure, we can meet.”
At eight p.m., she took a taxi to the Holiday Inn at Yunxiang Square, found room 888, and rang the bell. Fang Jing opened the door for her and there was gentle music in the room. She took the initiative to hold out her hand, as any polite guest who came to visit the host would do. But he didn’t take her hand; instead, he opened his arms and suddenly embraced her. She immediately smelled the cigarettes on his body. Disgusted with his gesture, she turned her head and said quietly, “Please don’t do this.”
Her seriousness made him release her immediately. She rushed to the window, stood with her back to Fang Jing, and said, “Let me repeat it one more time. Please don’t do this.” He then came at her from behind and again tried to embrace her. She cringed at his sudden attack. She drew in her neck and bent her body, and her tone was very serious, “Let me go. Please let me go!”
He let her go.
He said with some emotion, “I don’t know why I’d act like this as soon as I see you.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you would reject me. So, I see you still hate me.”
“Not at all, Professor Fang, I don’t hate you at all.”
“I mean you don’t love me anymore, right?”
“Yes, not at all.”
They seated themselves on two small sofas near the window. He lit his pipe and said, “Yeah, I should have known. Do you think I really look old?”
She glanced at his cheeks, which seemed to have sunken, and at the grey hair on his temples, and said, “Yes, you do look a little old.”
“Can you stop being so formal with me? Also, can you please not call me ‘professor’?”
“I can’t. I’m sorry.”
He fiddled with the silver lighter in his hand and said, “Compared to Westerners, I look pretty young. Western women like Asian men very much. But to be honest with you, I can’t stand them. Their skin is too rough. There’s no real pleasure in touching or even looking at it closely. But the hotels abroad are pretty comfortable. You know, once I went to Spain and stayed in their royal hotel at Madrid. In my room, the sheets, coverlet, pillowcases, bath towels, and even the washcloths were all embroidered with my name. Tiao, do you understand this was the standard? An extremely high standard. There is also this lighter in my hand. Do you know who sent it to me? The Queen of Denmark. Have you seen my movies in the last few years?”
She said, “I’m sorry, but I haven’t had much of a chance.”
“Yeah, I know that lately my movies in mainland China haven’t been as influential as those made by the fifth or the sixth generation of directors, but there are people abroad who recognize my worth. Not long ago, the University of Chicago invited me to give a lecture. Over there I met your younger sister, Fan.”
“I know. Fan told me about it on the phone.”
“Then I don’t need to go over anything, but I still want to explain. Whether you believe me or not, what happened with Fan in America was not just a fling. I seized her like I was trying to seize hope because there was some reflection of you in her.”
She interrupted him. “Would you please change the subject? You probably don’t know my current situation, do you?”
“I don’t know and I don’t need to know. Please don’t tell me.”
“All right, then let’s talk about your new movie.” She looked at Fang Jing smoking, and thought he was still a charming man who could attract women. But he was much less dashing than before. His bragging about how he was received abroad, and how the queen of Denmark sent him a lighter, actually suggested a comedown—not materially, but spiritually and psychologically. Apparently he wanted to pique her interest with this talk of “standard” and gifts; much further down that road and he’d be making a living as a prostitute. Unfortunately for him, these things no longer impressed Tiao; she merely felt some sympathy about his need to boast. Yes, she felt sympathy for him, this man with whom she used to imagine spending her entire life. She wondered what made him look old. Certainly not his sunken cheeks or the grey at his temples, nor his slight stoop or the belly that was starting to show. What made him seem old was his eagerness to boast, which exposed his insecurity and weakness. The more insecure he felt, the more he bragged; the more he bragged, the more insecure he seemed. Tiao knew the man before her could no longer attract her; all she could give him was polite sympathy. Even though she encouraged him to speak about his new movie, nothing could change her feelings. Over the years she had watched only two of his movies, the same old stories about suffering, and the lectures, plus a little formula romance, which she didn’t like. She didn’t know what this new movie, Going Home Right Away, was about, so she asked him to tell her.
He said, “Right Away is a person, a migrant worker from the Henan countryside who works in Beijing. The movie tells the story of how he goes home during the Spring Festival. It’s a very interesting story, it’s … No, I shouldn’t continue. I’m a little afraid to talk about art now around you. Are you coming to see the movie tomorrow? I hope you will, and I also hope …”
“What else do you hope?”
He
put down the pipe and hugged himself with both arms. “Tiao, you’re still not married, right?”
“Yes, I’m still not married.”
“Well, I’m the same. I’m also not married.”
She said, “Oh.”
“Aren’t you interested in my life anymore?”
“We all have our own lives.”
“Don’t you want to know why I’m single? My wife … she died, a brain tumour, a malignant brain tumour.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
He said, “Why do you think I came to Fuan? I made the trip almost entirely because of you. Tiao, if you’re still unmarried, if you could … could recall everything between us before …”
“Professor Fang Jing, I’m not married yet, but I will be soon.”
“Really? Who is he?”
“He’s an architect. This Yunxiang Square where you’re staying was his work.”
He said, “Oh.”
She glanced at her watch and said, “It’s getting late. I should go. I have to work tomorrow, so I can’t attend the premiere, but I’m sure it will be a great success. Please take care of yourself.”
He stood up and stopped her at the door. He said, “I beg you to keep me company a little longer. If you think it’s too late and it’s inappropriate for us to stay in the room, how about going out? Can we go out to have something to eat?”
She smiled at him calmly. “Please let me by.”
He moved aside to let her leave the room. Not quite in step, he walked her into the lift and then down through the lobby. Knowing he would receive her polite but firm refusal if he continued, he stopped at the door of the hotel. He gazed at the back of her figure, so familiar to him but which he could no longer approach, and he remembered the first kiss she had given him, as light as a feather. Suddenly he wanted to return to Beijing right away, right then.
Sitting in the taxi and seeing Fang Jing’s figure, which seemed a bit at a loss at the door of the lobby, Tiao’s stomach started to gurgle. Those tiny black characters, long destroyed by her, seemed to emerge again, flowing around her body, inside her, and down her limbs. On her bare arms, the goose bumps seemed to be the bulges made by the letters. She confirmed to herself again that what she loved were the words, which would never disappear, not the person who wrote the words. Sympathy arose again in her heart and she wished Fang Jing’s life would turn out happy.
She went home and Chen Zai was waiting for her in the light of the desk lamp.
He said, “I read the evening paper. Fang Jing is here.”
“I just came back from Fang Jing’s place.”
“I knew you would tell me.”
“Hold me, Chen Zai. Hold me.”
He held her and kissed her eyebrows gently. “Try to be a little happier, a little happier.”
She buried her head in his shoulder and said, “I’m happy. I’m very happy.” But even then she couldn’t explain to herself why there were so many undercurrents that wouldn’t go away.
6
The experience of many women testifies to the power of shopping in relieving depression. Tiao didn’t think she was depressed, but today she walked around the mall aimlessly. She intended vaguely to buy things for her wedding; she had already bought quite a bit on and off, but still felt as though she’d accomplished nothing.
She went first to a small shop that sold light window curtains and saw many sample products from the Netherlands. Some were quite expensive, such as the pipe organ shade, wooden venetian blind, and a bamboo shade, but she liked them very much; others, like those metal blinds, didn’t appeal to her. She was thinking that the soft-looking pipe organ screen might suit Chen Zai’s study. As for the living room, she preferred a white shade, more classical and traditional, but peaceful. She’d always liked white shades.
After that, she went to the Fuan Famous Brand Department Store, which had opened recently. She took the lift directly to the second floor to shop around in women’s clothes. While she was there, an argument between two customers flared in the makeup section, possibly near the Christian Dior counter. The argument started small, but for some reason it got more and more heated. On one side were two young women with a child, and on the other side, the person who caused their anger and raised voices, was Tiao’s mother, Wu.
Wu had been picking out mascara for herself, and the woman holding her child was also looking through the display in the case. The child in her arms was about two years old and growing increasingly impatient with his mother’s meticulous browsing. He wriggled in her arms and kept hitting his mother, and as a side target, he hit Wu, who stood next to them. Wu didn’t like the child next to her, and she expressed her feelings by staring at him, as if she were one child staring at another, and maybe this was the true flash point. As an adult, if Wu had reminded the mother that she should stop her child from hitting other people, what followed wouldn’t have happened. However, stare she did, a sixty-year-old woman glaring at a two-year-old, which seemed immature and ridiculous. Even though the child’s mother didn’t notice Wu’s rude stare, a seed of hatred had been planted in the child’s heart. Children hold grudges. A two-year-old already has the ability to judge who’s good to him and who isn’t. This strange old woman next to him was apparently not friendly to him, so when she pressed against his little finger accidentally with her elbow, the child suddenly started to cry.
The child pointed at Wu with an aggrieved expression through his tears. Although he couldn’t describe to his mother Wu’s stare from a moment before, he could let his mother know that the person who made him cry was this old woman beside him. It was this old woman who had bullied and violated him, in a manner impossible to bear! Shocked by her son’s crying, the woman immediately seated the child on the counter with an air of entitlement and asked anxiously, “Sweetheart, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Did someone hurt you? Tell Mum what happened.” The child looked even more wronged. He kicked his little legs, pointed at Wu, and was choked with sobs. The woman glared at Wu and walked up to her. “What’s the matter with you? Why did you make my child cry?”
“It wasn’t me. I didn’t make your child cry.”
“Then why did he point at you? Why didn’t he point at someone else?” The crying child pointed his little hand at Wu again and said through his sobs, “Hand … hand …”
Wu recalled that she might have accidentally knocked against the child’s hand with her elbow a moment ago. She said to the woman, “I’m sorry. Maybe I accidentally hit your child’s hand. I apologize.”
As soon as the woman heard that this old woman had hit her child’s hand, her anger flared. She first grabbed the child’s hand, rubbed and blew on it, then blew on it and rubbed it again. She blew and rubbed it some more, and then grabbed Wu’s sleeve and said, “Hmm, you hit my child’s hand and didn’t want to admit it at first. Why did you hit his hand? You’ve lived all these years and learned nothing. Don’t you have eyes? What would you have done if you had broken his hand? Not a single hair on his head has been touched since he was born, and now he has the misfortune to run into you. How could you treat a child this way? How could you? He’s a baby, and what did he do to deserve being attacked by you?”
With her sleeve in the woman’s grip, Wu was embarrassed. She was unprepared for an encounter with so difficult a woman. Yes, indeed, a very difficult woman, a horrid woman, with expensive but tasteless clothes, and at least two diamond rings on her hand. With her child such a treasure, the rest of the world was bound to become her enemy. Wu struggled to get free, but the woman grasped her even harder. Wu had never been good at fighting, and at this point she was more helpless and petrified than she’d ever been. How she had managed to get herself into such a fix was a mystery to her. She found it particularly unbearable to have her sleeve clutched by a total stranger. With a frustrated expression, she said, “What are you doing? What are you doing, pulling my sleeve?”
The woman turned even more fierce. She whirled back and forth from Wu to the cu
stomers who had started to gather. “Everyone listen: she bullies my child and then complains about me pulling her sleeve! So you know what an uncomfortable feeling it is to have your sleeve grabbed by someone? Did my child feel comfortable when you hit his hand? I’ve been talking for so long and you haven’t even apologized. What else could you do if you’ve learned anything in all the years you’ve lived?”
Wu said, “What do you mean, I haven’t apologized? Didn’t I say I was sorry for being careless?”
“Did you say this to my child? Did you apologize to him?”
Wu said, “Why do you keep talking on and on like this? I’ve made it clear that I didn’t do it on purpose and I was just choosing my mascara. The saleswoman will tell you.”
Suddenly a young woman next to the child’s mother, with her hair dyed blonde and lips painted purple, cut in. She taunted Wu. “How old are you? Still painting your eyelashes with mascara? Look at the few you have left. What’s there to show off? Why don’t you go home and take a good look at yourself in the mirror? Come to the mall to give a two-year-old a hard time!”
Blond-Hair-and-Purple-Lips cutting in gave new energy to the child’s mother. Judging by their looks, they seemed to be sisters. Blond-Hair-and-Purple-Lips was the child’s aunt. They appeared to be people with money, the sort who got rich overnight and hadn’t learned to conceal their essential vulgarity. They were eager to attract attention, to have people notice their money and the power money conferred. Faced with an old woman like Wu, with her plodding speech, what scruples would they have? So they couldn’t stop. The older sister chimed in with the younger, “Yeah, what strange things happen these days. Whether the creature is human or not, it always wants to dress itself up like a human being.”
