The Remote Country of Women

by Hua Bai

  Jiang retorted, “Why did you get up so early?”

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “What have you been doing the whole night long?”

  “Training my voice.”

  How could anyone find fault in someone training her

  voice? The earlier she got up, the harder she trained herself for revolution.

  Once, when they were shopping on the street, Sunamei

  disappeared when Jiang blinked. Jiang searched everywhere among the crowds and was on the verge of tears when she

  asked an old granny who was selling preserved turnips.

  “Old Granny, have you seen Sunamei?”

  “Which Sunamei?”

  “The girl who sang ‘I Am Waiting for You by the River’

  on the stage.”

  “Oh, that Mosuo girl.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “She’s right behind you, isn’t she?”

  2 8 6

  Bai Hua.book Page 287 Friday, October 26, 2001 2:56 PM

  “Oh!” Turning her head, she found Sunamei right behind

  her, smiling. “Where have you been?”

  “Behind you.”

  “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Why didn’t you

  say anything?”

  “How should I know you were looking for me? You were

  running so anxiously, and my feet got sore running after you. I thought you were looking for a man.”

  Jiang was so angry that tears swam in her eyes.

  “Jiang, you must be very tired.” Sunamei hopped lightly

  to lead the way. Jiang, wiping her eyes, hurried to follow for fear of losing sight of her again.

  One night, Jiang and Sunamei were lying in bed awake.

  Jiang suddenly asked a question she should not have asked:

  “Sunamei, do you have a daddy at home?”

  “What’s a daddy? ” Sunamei asked deliberately.

  “Daddy is your father – your mother’s husband.”

  “My family does not have fathers, and my ami does not have a husband.”

  “I mean the man who lives with your mother so as to

  bring you into this world.”

  “If no man had slept with my mother, how could I have

  been born?”

  “Look how obscene your words are!”

  “If you have better words, please teach them to me. If

  sleep isn’t right, then let’s say they played with each other.”

  “Even more disgusting! All right, I want to sleep now.”

  Sunamei giggled naughtily. “You want to sleep, but I

  want to talk. Let me tell you, our families do not have

  fathers. A father is not a member of our family, for he has his own family. Mine only came to look for my mother at night and sleep with her. They played together.”

  Jiang covered her head in protest. But Sunamei did not

  stop explaining. She told in detail how Mosuo people make axiao and express their love, related her own experience of 2 8 7

  Bai Hua.book Page 288 Friday, October 26, 2001 2:56 PM

  having Longbu and Yingzhi and even described vividly the pleasures of her sexual life. Because she did not have a vocabulary of euphemism or ambiguity, she told everything candidly, crudely, and incompletely. Jiang seemed to have fallen asleep. Sunamei called to her: “Jiang! Would you like to go with me to my hometown and have a look some day?”

  All of a sudden a pillow flew over and hit Sunamei, mak-

  ing her break into a laugh. As expected, Jiang was not sleeping and had heard Sunamei’s every word. Jumping out of

  bed naked, Sunamei lifted Jiang’s head gently and placed the pillow under it.

  2 8 8

  Bai Hua.book Page 289 Friday, October 26, 2001 2:56 PM

  I gaze at her window. In the past it was pasted

  over with black paper; now a cloth curtain with tiny blue flowers hangs there.

  The drizzling rain feels nice. Lifting my

  face, I try to receive as many drops as I can. The longer I stand here, the more I seem to gain strength. I try my legs.

  Good! I do not need the support of the tree any more.

  There are few cars and people on the street; it is pretty late. I lift the baggage at my feet. Actually, it is not baggage, being dirtier and more worn out than the rags people pick up from the garbage. When the warden announced my

  release, and I stretched out my hand for something like a document, he misunderstood me and thought I was asking

  for any belongings confiscated on my arrival at the prison.

  In fact, I had brought nothing to prison. Never expecting we would get out of prison alive, the warden had dumped

  all the prisoners’ belongings in a leaky storeroom, and they gradually became a moldy hill. He took some of them and

  passed them to me at the end of a rope.

  I said, “I don’t want them because I brought nothing

  here.”

  He said, “Don’t stand on ceremony. I know you are

  homeless.”

  I said, “I have a girlfriend.”

  He shook his head with a sigh. “Young fellow, you are

  2 8 9

  Bai Hua.book Page 290 Friday, October 26, 2001 2:56 PM

  your most dependable friend. As a released convict, do you expect to be received like a returning hero? Take it with you. Don’t worry, it cost me nothing. Perhaps its owner has already gone to the other world.”

  I accepted the goodwill of the dead owner and asked

  again for a release document.

  He explained, “Because you came in without a warrant,

  you are now freed without an official paper. Just leave. No need to worry about technicalities. The important thing is your freedom. For now just leave.”

  I had a good laugh over that. A man being imprisoned

  and released for no reason is a technicality.

  Yes, I have a girlfriend. She and I once shared the sweet world of a cocoon. She had once pretended to be an investi-gator to see me in jail. Although it was only one visit, it’s the reason I’m looking for her now. She won’t refuse me, because adversity had brought us together. We knew each

  other so well that her personality, her voice, her smile, and her eagerness for my kiss at the most unforgettable moments flash before me as if they had occurred yesterday

  and we had parted only this morning. With a few vigorous strides, I cross the street. I gasp all the way upstairs, reaching the third floor to stand before her door. I lean against the door for a while to catch my breath. The door opens at my knock and I use my hand to shade my eyes from the

  sharp light from inside.

  “Who are you looking for?” asks the grudging voice of a

  middle-aged woman.

  “I’m looking for Yunqian.” As my eyes gradually adapt

  themselves to the light, Yunqian comes over, uttering in surprise: “Oh, it’s you, Liang Rui!” She waves at the plump, middle-aged woman with her hand to provide introduc-tions: “My mother and father.” She points to a gray-haired old man sitting in the midst of crowded furniture. Her

  father seems to recognize the name Liang Rui. Straighten-ing his back with his hands pressed against his knees, he 2 9 0

  Bai Hua.book Page 291 Friday, October 26, 2001 2:56 PM

  watches me attentively. The first response from the mother is a loud complaint.

  “Sorry, but please leave your stuff outside the door. The mayor’s skin is terribly delicate. If a flea is brought in, it would be disastrous.” She dumps my stuff outside and

  adds a smile. “Don’t worry. It won’t get lost; nobody would want it.”

  I swallow the insult, for my stuff really is a mess. Looking around the apartment, I find it has lost the magic vision of our cocoon, as it is now crammed with floor lamps, electric fans, plates, and bowls.

  Yunqian explains: “My mother has brought back our old

&nbs
p; furniture. We are moving into a house soon. The new house is being whitewashed; things are a mess at the moment.”

  I had hoped to find something familiar in her voice, but unfortunately there is nothing. As if standing in a wasteland, I suddenly feel lonely.

  Her father says nothing, and her mother, after getting rid of my dirty stuff, disappears into the kitchen, perhaps to wash her chubby hands. By recollection and association

  of the past and present, it becomes clear to me that Yunqian’s stepmother, who had rebelled against the family, has returned of her own accord. Her tactic is truly admirable.

  For ten years she suffered nothing, and in the end simply came back to assume her role of mistress. In addition, she kept her interest in the family property. She could be said to be the heroine who has saved the family – in a round-about way.

  Finally, my eyes fall on Yunqian. Although the spring is chilly, she is wearing close-fitting wool pants of a light gray color, a white silk blouse, and a rose-colored lamb’s wool sweater, unbuttoned. In spite of her placid face, her gently undulating chest betrays the turmoil in her heart. Her

  expression is cool. To be fair, her eyes do show signs of controlled affection. But I can’t imagine the body thus clothed as the one I had once embraced. The distance between us has 2 9 1

  Bai Hua.book Page 292 Friday, October 26, 2001 2:56 PM

  become a hundred thousand times greater than the distance between us in my memory. I no longer feel weak, and my

  vision and hearing have regained their sensitivity.

  The little room is still filled with Tchaikovsky’s Sixth Symphony, not an illusion but real notes hanging in the air.

  I notice that the album no longer makes the needle jump at every revolution. There are no extra quarter notes or intervals of a sixth. The symphony is now complete. Perhaps the tune flowing through Tchaikovsky’s brain when he was

  composing it had been like this: fluent, sonorous, cheerful and sorrowful. I suppress my weak soul, called up by this music. Saying nothing – actually I had nothing to say – like a foreign military officer, I arrogantly march out the door.

  Picking up my stuff like a fancy suitcase, I quickly zoom downstairs.

  I heard Yunqian’s steps following me closely. “Liang Rui, Liang Rui, Liang Rui!”

  I walked to the street and heard the window open. Yun-

  qian’s parents were calling together. “Yunqian, Yunqian!

  Please come back, come back!”

  Yunqian ignored them, and I ignored her. She caught up

  with me and walked beside me, saying, “Liang Rui, you are too proud.”

  I gazed at my path, illuminated by two rows of street

  lamps.

  “Liang Rui, where are you going to settle down?”

  The path ahead was endless.

  “I can help you. Now my father will probably be rehabil-

  itated. I can help you.”

  I felt proud that I could walk so steadily and so fast by myself.

  “You should forgive me, because now everything has

  become normal again.”

  Everything has become normal? Thank heavens. Thanks

  to this generous drizzle that nurtured my parched lips. In 2 9 2

  Bai Hua.book Page 293 Friday, October 26, 2001 2:56 PM

  prison I never got to drink such pure water, nor could I lift my face freely like this.

  “You know I love you – ” The word love, tumbling from her mouth at that moment, seemed out of place. If the street lamps could say love, and the raindrops could say love, and any stranger coming toward me could say love, it would

  seem more apt.

  “It’s a pity we have only love and nothing – nothing

  else.”

  My stride quickened.

  “If nothing else but love, love alone. But I love you.”

  Having been released, I wanted to whistle. Human be-

  ings die so easily and are resurrected so quickly.

  Her steps became slower and slower. The distance be-

  tween us grew greater and greater, from the measurable to the immeasurable. How simple, much simpler than falling

  in love at first sight. Fortunately, I was not a romantic. The sharp blade of night cut off the road behind me. I would never again look up at that window. I regretted not antici-pating the consequences when I was gazing at the window, where a cloth curtain with tiny blue flowers now hung.

  The world of humanity was merciful and considerate.

  Thinking of food, I found a small wonton shop on the street.

  It sold baked cakes, too. I had 2.25 yuan, given me by number 97. He was the first in cell number 45 to be released from prison. In his excitement he had taken out the cash hidden in the sole of his shoe, 11.25 yuan in all. Divided into five shares, each inmate got 2.25 yuan. Everyone had to accept it, because he said it was good luck and wished we all could be released like him. So I accepted, and he permitted no thanks. Now the money would be put to good use.

  Before I entered the shop, I really did not know how the manager and its customers would treat me. I immediately

  recalled Hugo’s Les Miserables, a book Yunqian and I had read together, in which Jean Valjean could not buy any food 2 9 3

  Bai Hua.book Page 294 Friday, October 26, 2001 2:56 PM

  with the money in his hand after being released from prison.

  Now how about the currency in my hand? I stood hesitantly at the entrance. I wanted to tell the manager that I did have money. Crowded with customers, the shop seemed to have

  no vacant seat. From their eyes, I could see how filthy and fearful I looked. The manager in the kitchen was a young, good-hearted woman. She was stretching her white arms

  into the oven to remove baked cakes; she looked at me with pity. Pity was of course better than disgust, although I did not need either.

  She said, “Tsk, tsk! What a poor man. If he is not fresh from jail, he must be going up to make an appeal.”

  The customers pushed back to make room for me, and I

  sat down unceremoniously. They were huddled together; I

  had all the space I needed. I tried to order like a wealthy man who frequents restaurants. “Four bowls of wonton and four cakes.”

  “Okay,” the manager answered with an affected calm. In

  less than a minute, she and a waiter brought me the food: not four but eight bowls of wonton, not four but eight cakes, doubling my order. I looked at her with a puzzled look.

  She said, “Eat more. Eat all you can. Half this order is on me. Free.”

  Swallowing the saliva oozing into my mouth, I folded

  two cakes one on top of the other and took giant bites. I felt all the customers in the shop put down their bowls and

  chopsticks and stop chewing. I could hear only my own

  loud munching. But I couldn’t be bothered. In my life I

  had never eaten such crisp, tasty cakes. Before I knew it, the eight cakes were gone. Then I started in on the soup. Two and a half mouthfuls a bowl – no more than ten seconds

  each – and eight empty bowls were stacked on the table. In the end, I even picked up the scattered sesame seeds with my sticky, dirty fingers and popped them into my mouth

  for a good chew. I heard a commotion of surprise and admiration from the onlookers.

  2 9 4

  Bai Hua.book Page 295 Friday, October 26, 2001 2:56 PM

  The woman manager, quietly picking up the eight bowls,

  asked me, “Do you want more?”

  “That’s enough. Here’s the money.” I passed all my

  money to her, as I had no knowledge of the price of things in the human world. After a while, she gave me my change wrapped in a neat square of clean paper. I took it, stood up, pulled aside the bench, and nodded goodbye. I was too full to bow to her. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. Take care, take care.”

  No sooner did I go out than all the customers in the shop sta
rted talking as if someone had hit a beehive. I could not hear what they were saying, nor did I wish to.

  The endless road belonged to me again. The rain let up.

  Standing in the middle of the street, I saw that nearly all the shops had closed and that the lights from the windows by the street were drastically reduced. Each light extinguished meant one person or one couple, or a whole family taking their nightly rest, enjoying warm quilts, the warm breath of their loved ones, and warm dreams. I heard a voice of protest from my heart to this world. “Is there a place for me to go? Is there a place I can stay?”

  A tiny tobacco shop in the distance was still open, casting a spot of yellow light on the street. I suddenly felt a craving for a smoke. As I had never smoked before, I did not know the taste of tobacco. Why did I want to smoke? Perhaps my stomach was full. When the stomach is full, does a man have more desires? Smoking must be a special kind of joy. Shutting my eyes, I recalled many smokers’ delight.

  Narrowing the eyes, one lit up a cigarette, inhaled half the smoke and exhaled the other half from the nostrils. Even the way a man knocks the ash from his cigarette conveys pleasure. I stood at the glass shop counter, dazzled by the rich, colorful brands.

  Measuring me with surprised eyes, the girl behind the

  counter asked, “Cigarettes?”

  “Yes.” I handed her my money.

  2 9 5

  Bai Hua.book Page 296 Friday, October 26, 2001 2:56 PM

  “What brand?”

  “Eh…” Suddenly the brand Great China caught my eye

  and slipped from my tongue. “Great China, if I have enough money.”

  Unwrapping the paper, the girl told me, “More than

  enough. You have five yuan here.”

  Five yuan? Impossible. How could I have that much

  money? “Look, one one-yuan bill and two two-yuan bills.

  Doesn’t that make five?”

  “Oh.” Now I realized that the woman manager must

  have given me the money. I wanted to laugh at myself. She had treated me like Han Xin [a man of the Three Kingdoms who early in his life had been insulted by being forced to crawl between others’ legs, but eventually became a great general]. Yet I had never thought of seeking favors from anyone. The girl gave me a packet of Zhonghua cigarettes.

  She handed me a matchbox with my change. I took out a

  cigarette. With a long sigh, I kissed the golden characters of Zhonghua, which gave the girl a big scare.