After dinner mother showed Fang one of the two guest rooms, and the room she told her to take was the one across from mine. After a while, as uncle went to his room and mother started washing the dishes, I retired to my room. I picked up a new book I had bought three days before, War and Peace, and started reading.
About an hour later, I heard a creak. I put the book down as I saw Fang standing at my door, and I smiled at her. She returned a sweet smile. She had on a pale pink nightdress, which perfectly complemented her creamy-white skin.
“Did I disturb you?” she asked.
I shook my head.
She slowly came in and closed the door behind her. Her eyes started roaming in the room.
“You’ve got so many interests in life.” She picked up a yellow origami dragon from my desk. “Do you ever get bored with your life?” The question was alien to hear.
“Yes,” I replied frankly. “I may even commit suicide one day.”
She giggled, taking my words as a joke. My eyes kept exploring her from the top of my bed; she was so hot, so sexily slim. I could see her nipples, which suggested she was wearing no bra beneath the one-part dress she had on. My mind raised a secret question whether she was wearing her panties. My eyes were focused on her bottom. Despite the pale-coloured dress, I couldn’t see her genitals.
All of a sudden, she approached and put her face in front of mine. Her silky black hair was tickling my face, and I could smell Nivea cream from her face.
“Did you like what you saw today?” she whispered.
She smelled so good! The fragrance of her mouth was a mixture of the mint toothpaste she used and her original sweet fragrance. It made me gasp inside. I got a hint of where her words were leading, but I wasn’t sure.
“What?” I asked.
She reached her hand and placed it on top of mine. Then she seized my hand and with a slight force of her slim power, she pulled my hand and slipped it into her v-shaped neckline, then moving it and ending the journey on the top of her left breast.
I could see that what I had thought she was hinting was true. Her glossy body was under my control. I could see it vividly. Her long black hair fell like curtains on both sides of my head as she moved her body on top of me. Her face was still so close to mine that if I moved it a few inches towards hers, our noses would touch. Suddenly, small kisses were raining all over my mouth. My senses were stimulated, and I knew that I was losing it—losing myself to the moment. I brushed my free hand over her thigh, moving it slyly up under her dress and up again to her bare back. Her skin started getting moist and more delicious when my mouth returned her kisses. Her body pressed more against mine, and I added to its intensity with my hand on her back. I brushed my thumb on her breast, and with this motion, her wet tongue started brushing under my lips.
Despite everything I had achieved up to that time, I had never felt so close to heaven as at that moment. It was like heaven kissing the earth. It was like a gentle dream I didn’t wish to wake up from. It was like reviving to life once again from the depths of my grave. It was like watching the twilight with your real eyes open and your emotions full of love. It was like finding yourself after being lost.
“This is the heart of women.” My father’s voice came to my ears, and I could see him standing in front of me holding the heart of my mother. I was so scared that my body started shivering. I opened my eyes and held Fang very tightly in my arms. I had a gasping attack. I could hear Fang’s voice, troubled and frightened, asking me about what was going on with me.
“It is fine… it is… fine,” I said, calming her down. “Please go to your room… I cannot do it… I am sorry.”
Fang stood on her feet and stared at me wearily for a while before going out the room. I didn’t feel sorry for hurting her in any way. I didn’t feel sorry for disappointing her, and I had no plan to give her any explanation. I had no feeling at the time but that of anger. The memory my father had given me was so intertwined with my heart and mind. It broke down my moments of paradise.
7
The pure feelings Fang aroused in me that night had befriended me and accompanied me ever since. My thoughts were disturbed, and my ideas were shattered here and there, so that I found it hard to collect myself altogether without thinking, even for a split second, about her ivory body and rosy scent. It haunted me day and night, and even Elizabeth noticed something different in my expression.
But none of this stood as an obstacle in the path of my desire to finish my studies. The king inside of me, however inferior, refused to give in to the filthy rugs of my whims. I had finished my high school successfully and was the top of my class and the tenth in the whole state.
I was packing my clothes for the journey to China when Elizabeth came to me to say that Fang was on the line. I didn’t believe this girl. Although I had ignored her since that night, she hadn’t given up on me. Despite what was said about my physical beauty, I strongly believed that she could find better-looking boyfriends than me. She was a very cute girl when all was said and done, and any guy would love being with her. I asked Elizabeth to tell Fang that I was taking a shower and that I would call her later. Poor Elizabeth innocently did what I asked. I just didn’t wish to reach Fang. I didn’t want to interact with her. I even switched off my mobile phone for more than a week. I hoped that Fang would get the message, and I think she did at that moment.
My flight was just a day away, and I was trying to put everything in its place before I left. I arranged everything in my room—my books, drawings, violin. I made my room tidy so that Uncle could use it, for whatever purpose, in my absence.
Uncle made me the promise that he would support me to finish college but that he would like to see me working. I informed him that I would grant him the latter wish, and I assured him that I would handle the former by working part-time while studying. I have always respected my uncle, and I knew that he was not in a great financial situation, even though he owned a small business with his wife.
The next morning, I walked to the public library to return some of the books I had still with me. I cleared my possession of any books from the library and then, just out of curiosity, I decided to take a quick stroll inside and look for any new titles. Surprisingly, I found myself the only person there at that early hour until I met Sophie, one of the girls I worked with in the origami and handmade festival and a close friend of Fang.
We greeted each other, and she asked me about my visit to the library. I told her about some books that were in my possession. She asked me about my plans after high school, and I told her (just a lie) that I would be stuck in the city and would start some sort of business there. She asked me then, for whatever reason, to search for her for a book by Stephen Covey, Effective Leadership. I knew the location of the book, and I think she knew it also, but still I acted dumb and followed her to search for something she had already found. She looked so hot in my eyes! She may not look the same now under the same conditions, nor had she looked at all pretty yesterday or the month before, but she did at that particular moment.
The wild, long-numbed animal started rising inside me as my eyes captured Sophie’s small round ass. She was thin enough, but the jeans she had on were even thinner. I just couldn’t imagine how she would take them off later or how she had put them on in the first place. The small visible part of her abdomen and back grew bigger as she reached with her hands to get a book a few shelves up. She asked me for help, but I refused, with the excuse that I had a shoulder pain. I enjoyed staring at her bare skin as she kept trying to reach the book. I have no idea why young girls put on such dresses in the early hours of the morning. No average man will molest a woman unless she invites him, and Sophie was making gestures of invitation. From my side, I never had any objection to seeing young girls with such lovely tight dresses; it had always been a pleasant picture in my eyes.
I swallowed and let my desir
e a little loose. My fingers reached across the narrow space separating us and touched her bare lower back. Sophie paused without saying anything; she just inhaled in a lot of air—a gesture which, combined with her silence, was a pure sign of happy invitation—and I started rubbing my fingers against her skin. She turned to me and pressed her lips against mine. I embraced her thin body, and my hands started roaming all over her clothes, and then underneath. She helped me with this part, and in a minute we were in a heap in a corner, with me on top of her. In less than fifteen minutes, we were over, consumed. She was smiling widely at me, so happy at the pleasure I bestowed upon her.
In a split second I suddenly felt a shadow walking behind me. I turned and could only see part of the dark-haired girl passing by. My heart pounded a little as my lips whispered “Fang”. I lifted myself off Sophie and hastened to the end of the rack. Yes, my heart was correct: it was Fang. She walked quickly out of the library, and looking at the bright sun-lightened wooden floor, I could see a few tiny wet drops. I realized Fang was crying. She had a crush on me. I had no intention of walking after her and giving her some explanation that would just be a lie. I didn’t feel any obligation towards her to do so. I just let go.
“Who was that?” Sophie asked. She approached me and held my little finger.
“I got to go,” I said. I felt disgust for Sophie now. Her open-neck orange T-shirt wasn’t fully adjusted, and nor was the bra underneath; one nipple almost popped out of the hanging bra.
“I will be always available for you,” she said, to my surprise. “I want to start it properly this time. I am breaking up with my boyfriend now. I just want to be frank with you from the beginning.”
Her words seemed somewhat humorous in that situation, but I didn’t wish to comment on them. She slid then a piece of paper in my palm. I opened it and found some numbers.
“Call me,” she requested, with eyes full of joy and hope.
I smiled and walked out of the library. The animal inside me became numb again after being fed, and I had no feeling whatsoever for Sophie. I could see that she built a lot of bridges based on just a quick, casual episode. As I walked pass a garbage bin, I threw the piece of paper in.
8
Given that my mother was Chinese, I didn’t find it difficult to merge in with daily life while studying in China. There were many students in my college from India, Pakistan, and Vietnam. I was glad to see such diversity in the college. In my class and my major, there were four students from Vietnam and two from India. My complexion carried just a shade of my Chinese origin, while the rest of my looks leant towards the west. I found it very easy to talk with students from different cultures.
My major was mostly focused on programming, but I still studied other subjects such as project management, business, mathematics, and English. Though my father was a programmer, I didn’t know anything more than usual about it, but I had the will to learn and deepen my knowledge. The programs my father had once developed were kept safe with me, and I continued to check them from time to time. Though I hated to hear anything about my father, I still didn’t wish to remove those programs of his.
Though many of the students found the subjects a bit difficult, I embraced them easily. Our courses started with programming algorithms and the basics of computers. Then followed subjects like Visual Basic 6, Java basics, HTML, ASP, ASP.NET, JSP, PHP, Visual Basic.NET, C#, Oracle, and then advanced Java programming. Courses related to hardware and networking occupied a smaller portion of our studies, like A++ and Network+, and those related to general subjects, like English and math, occupied an even smaller portion.
The programming courses were of great interest to me, and I used to do my own extra research about each topic in my leisure time. I never limited myself to what the teachers used to explain. My Java instructor, a young Japanese guy, called me a genius and always held me up as an example to encourage other students do their best. I was informed later that this instructor already had a business in Japan and that teaching was just a source of extra income, something that accommodated his life-long interests and complemented his other activities.
My Visual Basic instructor, Howin, a Chinese lady in her late thirties, used to depend on me to solve issues and errors she would be asked about by the other students, either in my class or another. She would note down the issue or the error and tell her students that she would be bringing the answer later. Whenever she couldn’t solve it herself or when she didn’t have enough time for it, she would bring it to me. Because of her ignorance, she didn’t realize that one learns more when faced with issues to work on solving. I was glad of her dependency on me; in the end, it was benefiting me and increasing my knowledge about the subject. But I must say the instructor was pretty; she took good care of her body and skin and she didn’t look like the mother of three kids, but she was.
Most of my instructors were just dumb in my eyes. What else would you say about people clinging to life so strongly and yet not doing their best to justify the salaries they receive? I used to help students in the classes, those having issues in their programming assignments and projects. If there is no instructor available to help, should the students fail and waste the money they spent for the course? The instructors, seeing the fact that there was an internal instructor in the class, took it for granted that I would always help my classmates.
Even though I didn’t try to make friends during my studies, many students were attracted to me. I believe it was a gesture of thanking me for giving them a hand when asked. Otherwise, most people don’t like to approach someone mysterious like me.
There was one Vietnamese girl who always asked me for help. She always used to sit in the back row in the class and was a serious quiet girl. I never intentionally tried to look directly at her face or figure, nor did I ask her name, but I became aware of her anyway. She was a small-figured girl, and she was always late for class. I got to know that her name was Trinh from the instructors calling her name almost every day when she came in late. She wouldn’t call me for anything, but when she saw me getting up from my chair and trying to help other students, she would bug me. Only then did I glimpse her tiny skull, which was always rainbow-coloured with makeup, the sight of which warded off any boy from approaching her. As I was explaining any topic to her, I could sense her eyes all over my head.
My inner self didn’t quit talking to me about girls, and what encouraged that was the sight of lovely girls all around—in the college, the college library where I did my part-time job to finance my studies, in the market, on television, and in my day and night dreams. Lovely creatures were everywhere, and many would just approach me here and there. My complexion was something of interest for many girls. Some Chinese teenage girls would pass me and drop their eyes on my well-shaped chest or would circle my muscular arm with their hands. My body had always been in good shape because that I never quit going to the gym. Most girls like to talk, always have something to say about someone. When the Chinese girls talked about me, they referred to me as “Charming”
But no girl bugged me outside the classroom more than Qiuyue. She was a regular customer in the college library. I didn’t know her at all. She was really cute, to be honest, and very hot. She always wore a knee-length plain flared skirt, which she had in four colours (alizarin, antique brass, candy pink, and white) and a semi-fitted T-shirt with short, slightly ruffled sleeves, shirred and cooped in front, and with a slight shirr at the centre back. Again, I noticed that she wore only four colours of the same T-shirt: gold, light blue, bubble-gum, and black. It was as if she was sponsored by a particular fashion brand. She would wear the same skirt or T-shirt only after the cycle of four had been repeated. I recall when she first came to borrow a book, she was with a friend of hers, and I could see them whispering to each other while their eyes watched me. That day she borrowed a thick book about economics and just smiled at me. I thought then that she was studying economics. Two da
ys later, she returned the book, but she was alone on this visit, and she took a book related to accounting. Before leaving, she asked my name and where I was from. I gladly answered and gazed with joy at her slim figure as she walked out. She would come in on alternate days, borrowing different sorts of books about politics, literature, surgery, and so on, apparently without realizing that borrowing such a diversity of books at short intervals didn’t make any sense. With each visit, she would ask me a question about myself. It was like an interview that lasted over a month. Finally, she bravely stood in front of me one day. I looked at her and reached out to take a book from her hand, when, to my surprise, she put her hand in mine. I lifted my eyes.
“I am asking you out,” she said. Her bravery was so weak that that her lips were trembling.
“Okay,” I tenderly smiled at her.
Now, she was shocked by my instant response. I could read it clearly in her face. She was wondering what to do next, as (I could tell) she wasn’t quite prepared for immediate acceptance from my side. She put her hand in her small purse that was in the shape of a single flower, and took it out in haste and then repeated the action twice before I interrupted.
“Can I have your phone number?”
“Yes… yes.” Her voice trembled. She started mentioning her number. She would pause for a while in between and excuse herself and then correct some digits over. That day was the only day she would leave without a book in hand. She was so embarrassed.
As I left the library that day, the image of Qiuyue kept coming back to my mind. Inside, I was laughing at her nervous behaviour and the way she approached me. I could tell now that she had intentionally been visiting the library just to get to know me better. I took my phone out of my pocket and dialled Qiuyue’s number. Though it was almost eight-thirty in the evening, I didn’t feel shy calling her as she was the one who had approached me.
MEMORIES from the EAST Page 3
