by Sheng Keyi
As he crested the hill, the moon went into hiding. He was suddenly plunged into darkness. The strange nocturnal sounds made his hair stand on end.
As he walked on in the darkness, in an attempt to warm himself, he began to think of his most recent conquest. Suitang was a lovely girl. She chewed gum the first time she reported for work. She looked so much like Qizi that Mengliu had to catch his breath. When she took the initiative and asked to be his assistant, his mind became even more muddled. He compared her to a lily which flowed with a secret fragrance. He knew that Suitang would be completely taken in by this sort of elaborate but common analogy. At night, she would stand before the mirror, blushing, posturing and preening, seeing the dazzling human world reflected in her dark eyes.
The next morning the sun shone into the forest and warmed the ground. Mengliu felt a tongue of sandpaper licking him all over. Opening his eyes, he saw a huge lion’s head, and his whole body went limp. As he stared at it, he realised that the lion must be a benevolent creature, since it allowed birds to perch atop its head and sing. Another lion stood nearby grazing on a clump of grass. An antelope, an elk and a kangaroo played close to them. The eyes of the animals looked happy, their ears moved like strings on a plucked instrument and their tails were swaying gently.
It was a harmonious society of beasts.
Mengliu suddenly felt that everything was going to be just fine. He picked fruit from the trees and quickly filled his stomach. At a small brook, he washed his unshaven face. He wove a pair of sandals from grass and, leaning on a walking stick that he had made from a fallen branch, set out on a journey that would last several days.
It was not an easy forest for a hike. Sometimes he climbed like an ape, sometimes he rolled down, and sometimes he had to swim. He came to a strange place that seemed to have been burned. There was no flora or fauna, and no wildlife. All around were scattered hideous-looking glossy black stones, and the land was dry and desolate. The mountain peaks in the distance formed the jagged lines of a country mapped against the sky. One stone was particularly striking for its gigantic size. Its porous surface seemed to have retained warmth, and was emitting an infernal gaseous substance.
He lay down to sleep. Before long, ants woke him up, and he found himself covered with countless red blisters. He got back on the track.
Ahead there was only one path to follow, through a weird crevice in the cliff like a huge wound that had scabbed over. He fumbled along, following the foot-wide trail along the edge of the cliff for a few dozen metres. He reached the crevice, and the path became even narrower. He eased himself forward. His skinny shrunken frame seemed to be tailor-made for the narrow space. He smelled moss, followed by an occasional burst of floral perfume. He heard the sound of a spring, bubbling with girlish laughter. From its initial merriment, it grew more melodious. Suddenly, as if a car window had been thrown open, there was a sound like that of a beast’s low threatening roar. Before he could distinguish what it was, there was another roar and it leapt on him – a huge waterfall, seeming to fall from the sky, crashing down to the base of the cliff. Flowers grew wild on the rocky face, soaking up the spray from the waterfall.
He stepped forward, and his foot found only empty space. He plunged headlong into the pool below. The surface of the water was covered by large peonies. He felt that he had been dropped into a pot of hot dumplings. The waves buffeted him, and the spray from the waterfall hit him like tiny stone missiles, momentarily stunning him.
The grass looked soft. The sun lightly covered his body. The birdsong grew to a crescendo. Mengliu waded over to the bank and fell to the ground. He lay there motionless. Weak and somewhat dazed, he saw a beautiful girl walking toward him, her long hair hanging loose around her naked body, which was heavy with fruit like coconuts on a tree. She looked like Suitang at first, but as she drew nearer, she looked more like Qizi. The girl bent over him…
In his exhaustion, Mengliu had an erotic dream. When he woke, he thought of the vision of Qizi he’d seen in his dream. It had been over twenty years, but her likeness was engraved on his heart. It had not gathered any dust, nor had his love for her subsided in the least. He would never know such love again. Back in those days, Qizi and another girl called Shunyu had frequently made appearances in his diary. After the Tower Incident, Qizi had gradually come to play the central role. Mengliu visited the cinemas, shopping malls and eateries in Beiping with the wealthy little princess Shunyu. Shunyu was infatuated with his friend Hei Chun, and Mengliu had fallen for Qizi, so the two had banded together for mutual entertainment and consolation.
The photo of the Three Musketeers he had kept, depicted them as being full of vigor, self-confidence, and idealism. One look at Hei Chun’s hardened eyes was enough to convince anyone of his influence. Bai Qiu’s shoulder-length hair, full and ready to take flight, made him look romantic and elegant. Mengliu was the perfect image of a frail scholar, cool and reserved with his Adam’s apple protruding above the neckline of his white shirt, hands held low and clasped in front of his body. The timid rabbit-like expression he wore demonstrated his trust in and love for a peaceful society. He always thought he should have put his hand on Hei Chun’s shoulder, or perhaps slipped both hands into his pockets, rather than letting them hang low, tightly clasped together, as if he were a football player afraid he was about to be kicked in the nuts.
The background in the photo was the double-tracked wall outside the Wisdom Bureau. The wall was covered with posters, all of which had later disappeared. The photo had faded, turning yellow and wrinkled. It was becoming more distinctly representative of its era. No one wore that expression anymore. It was the special property of the 60s generation.
This photo was a cherished memorial to his poetic past. He regretted keeping it, because of the memories it evoked. Yet, he was glad too, as it retained signs of the romantic youth he had experienced. If anyone thought a rift had developed between him and Hei Chun because of a girl, it definitely wasn’t a crack in their relationship. No, it was more like a line of poetry. Thinking it over carefully so many years later, he still held the same opinion. Back then, the country was unsteady, dealing with economic decline, disorder, and rife with government corruption. The fate of both nation and individuals were uncertain.
Shunyu was a big-eyed, shy girl who could set off a storm with a furtive glance, but Hei Chun remained unmoved. Shunyu was worth remembering. In the end, she had been hit by a stray bullet in the middle of the chaos. As she waited in the long queue outside the hospital door, she died slowly from loss of blood. She died beneath the flag of Dayang, fluttering in the wind overhead.
Startled out of his reverie, Mengliu sat up. The sound of the water falling from that terrible height reminded him of the rumble of the tanks as they lumbered toward him.
6
The April following the Tower Incident, the flowers were in bloom, but remained smothered under a layer of snow. The old acacia tree was covered in leafy green, its sharp points rising out from under its thin snowy coat, bringing a cold hint of spring, flowing with life. Mengliu walked beneath the tree and considered going overseas. In an attempt to lure him into staying on board, the Wisdom Bureau had offered him a promotion and, before the venerable leader, he had made a show of being touched. He said he would think about it.
Mengliu pined for Qizi. The love buried deep in his heart flowed continuously like an underground spring. Only when he had written several poems about her could he find any peace of mind. To be fair, Qizi was a good girl, possessing all the beauty and frail delicacy of the women of olden times, just as she was equipped with the cool aloofness typical of the women of Dayang. Her career ambitions were quite exceptional. He felt ashamed when he recalled how he had treated her scientific ideas like crazy talk.
He remembered how she looked – pale, thin, short hair, pert nose, pointed chin, and a distinctive fragrance. Her demeanour as she spoke…
When the joy born of that memory revived, he got a bicycle and raced around the com
pound at the Wisdom Bureau, his head full of dreams in which he held her and kissed her, running his lips over her responsive breasts. He was pedalling so hard the bike was gasping and moaning, when he unexpectedly came across his friend Bai Qiu near the entrance to the library. He was so startled that his lust fluttered away like a frightened bird.
Bai Qiu was dressed in an oversized military coat, the sleeves so long they hung over his hands. Mengliu slowed down, then put his right foot down to brake. Stopping in front of Bai Qiu, he exhaled heavily. His friend, apparently composing a poem in his head, was so stunned he took a step backward. Seeing it was Mengliu, he smiled as if in a trance but, quickly recovering, he commented that Mengliu’s eyes were glowing so much he looked like a dog in heat. Though Bai Qiu had a keen mind, he appeared so slow that it was hard to believe that harsh words could come off his tongue, or that sharp verses could be penned by his hand.
They shared a few laughs by the roadside, lifting their spirits. Bai Qiu proposed they go to a bar. Mengliu’s earlier hot-blooded state had cooled down now, and he put aside his thoughts of Qizi. He accompanied Bai Qiu along Liuli Street to the Green Flower Bar, one of their favourite haunts. The proprietor tried to be especially generous toward the poets with his home-brewed Chinese wine, often going so far as to offer them drinks on the house. Of course, if the poets occasionally received special treatment on account of the proprietor’s daughter, whose name was Shunyu, the proprietor got something good out of it too. They held a variety of literary salons there, turning the Green Flower into a hub for Beiping’s literati.
The Green Flower was in an old wooden house, and occupied both the upper and lower floors. Inside, it was warm, with Chinese-style decor. It was said that the tavern’s owner had been a soldier and had seen action on the battlefield. He had travelled to China and loved Chinese culture, Chinese food and Chinese liquor. He had purchased several items at a private auction and had them shipped to back Dayang, bringing a Chinese flavour to the bar that included everything from the furnishings to the waiters’ uniforms. He paid even more attention to the inner rooms. One room was furnished with an ancient wooden day bed and an intricately designed drinking table. Another had elaborately designed square tables, with chairs to match. The seats were covered with an eclectic assortment of brightly-coloured cushions, upon which the patrons could recline when they became drowsy with talking. Ancient calligraphy and paintings hung from the walls, and porcelain pieces from the Song through to the Qing dynasties adorned the shelves. Even the coat rack was carved wood. The literati gathered in the Green Flower to talk freely about politics, ideals, literature and women. They drank until the small hours, then squatted on the curb and vomited. They talked bullshit and shared their truest aspirations, and at the end of it all, the old boys disappeared one by one into the cold still night.
At first, Mengliu and Bai Qiu sat in the main hall by a window with bowls of fried peanuts and seeds and nuts, assorted cold dishes and shredded squid accompanied by warmed wine. They poured the wine into porcelain cups no thicker than a thumb, and toasted each other with them. After they had had a few drinks, Hei Chun and some others lifted the curtain and entered the bar, followed by two girls, one dressed in black and the other in white. Mengliu took one look and froze. His gaze bounced back like a spring and his hand nervously reached for an ashtray. He pinched a cigarette and inserted it into his mouth, only to spit it out immediately after.
Hei Chun had already seen them and cried ‘Cheers!’ He hurried over and exchanged a few pleasantries then invited them to join him in a room on the second floor where they could all catch up. They settled in, but the atmosphere had not livened up, and no one had yet taken up quarters on the day bed. They all looked like they had gathered for a meeting, propping their elbows on the edge of the drinking table. When the waiter carried their dishes up and laid them out, the profile of the girl dressed in white was visible through the crook of the waiter’s elbow, allowing Mengliu a chance to watch her secretly. Soon he met her gaze through that same aperture. His heart was set on fire with a crackle like that of a newly-lit match.
Just as they were warming up, the proprietor came in. He was in his fifties, his head sprouting a shock of silver hair and his cheeks as rosy as a tuberculosis patient. He lumbered over and plopped down on a stool, making it immediately appear small and frail. He did not employ his usual loud tone, and seemed almost to be a completely different person. In a small voice he said, ‘Wine. You all drink whatever you’d like. Just don’t talk politics, and don’t make trouble.’
After fiddling with the wine cups for a while, he got up. Walking to the door, he turned back and called, ‘Shunyu, come here. I’ve got something to tell you.’
The girl sitting inside, the one in black, stood up. With a weary grimace, she reluctantly followed him outside.
Her figure wasn’t bad at all, her appearance decent. She looked like a typical honour-roll student, fit to be a civil servant or hold a job in education.
‘Shunyu just joined the Plum Party. Her father has been a part of the literary movement all his life. He wanted her to be a poet, but is also afraid for her to mix with the likes of us.’
Hei Chun rubbed his palm over his hair, which was shimmering with grease. ‘Pity the loving parents! I guess we’re just like chicken ribs. We’re tasteless, but even if a thing is tasteless, it’s a waste just to throw it out.’ Finished with his self-deprecation, he glanced around the circle and asked, ‘You all know each other, right?’
They glanced at each other, but before anyone could speak, Hei Chun pointed the girl in white out to Mengliu. ‘I guess you don’t know Qizi, from the Physics Department. She’s very talented. Her ex-boyfriend is from the Chemistry Department, a jerk called Dadong who helped someone with some research into the making of fake antiques a while back, and caused an explosion, that reduced the guy’s house to nothing. He’s been in the hospital for nearly a month himself, practically in ruins.’
In large groups, Hei Chun always liked to preside over the small talk. Sometimes his talk was over the top, and he liked to season it with foul language.
The girl in white smiled in acknowledgement. She pulled off her white down jacket and hung it on the coat rack. Beneath, she wore a tight black low-cut sweater and low-waist denim bell bottoms. It was quite revealing. Everything about her was petite and exquisite.
They all made the most of the occasion, laughing and enjoying themselves. Bai Qiu said he and Dadong had played a bit of soccer together. Dadong was a handsome guy but a lousy soccer player. He ran around the field haphazardly, committing fouls all the time. If a shot didn’t ricochet off the goal post, it was only because it had sailed right over it.
They spent some time making fun of Qizi’s ex-boyfriend as a source of merriment. Every idiotic move that could be made by a football player was attributed to him, and the poor chap’s name was turned into dirt right there in the bar. But then, this was common practice. Any time they drank together, there were always a couple of absentees whose names would be brought to the table and dragged through the mud. Sometimes they would become the subject of a limerick, which would be relived at their next drinking session.
As they sipped at their wine, the conversation livened up.
Mengliu’s expression gave nothing away, but his heart was fluttering. He was thinking about Qizi, and his joy once again broke down the door to his heart. It was as if he had entered a garden in full bloom. He helped himself to the wine, noticing how dazzlingly white Qizi’s skin was, like a spotlight aimed right at him. He longed for a moment alone with her, to hold her delicate hand, and to whisk her away to some secluded spot where he could express his affection to her.
Shunyu returned to the party. Their mockery of Qizi’s ex-boyfriend came to an abrupt end.
Shunyu was young, with long hair, large eyes, a tiny mouth, and a flat chest. Her canines were perfectly aligned with an adorable set of jug ears. Playing host, she was in an unbridled state, constantly reaching
out her slender arms to add tea or wine to each empty cup. With this wellspring flowing from her, her face became as rosy as the proprietor’s, though hers was a healthier hue.
‘My father just told me that he’s heard news that some people are going to be picked up. It’s best to behave ourselves, and also to avoid large gatherings.’ As Shunyu spoke, she took on the manner of a member of the Plum Party.
‘Not again!’ The tea was too hot, so Qizi sipped it carefully. ‘Don’t worry. I was picked up last time. It was nothing.’
‘You were arrested? For what?’ Hei Chun was taken aback.
Qizi stole a quick glance at Mengliu and said, ‘I was guilty of being in love.’
The stolen glimpse at Mengliu was enough to establish a tacit conspiracy between them. The halo that seemed to surround her reached right into his chest. He thought she must have learned she could trust him.
Shunyu stared at them with eyes that had grown rounder than their wine glasses. This didn’t necessarily mean that she was surprised. She wanted her lashes to seem longer, her mouth to grow smaller, and her face to appear sharp and thin, like an adorable cartoon character, in the hope that the boys would be fascinated. Specifically, it was all for Hei Chun’s benefit. It was obvious that everything she did was motivated by concern for Hei Chun’s wellbeing. Hei Chun pretended not to notice. He looked at Qizi, and after scrutinising her for a bit, stubbornly returned to the topic of her ex-boyfriend.
‘Dadong is not completely useless. The fake antiques he helped make were sold at exorbitant prices. Someone alerted the National Cultural Relics Protection Bureau, and he was almost thrown in jail for stealing and selling national treasures. If he’d put his brains to good use, he’d be fine. At the very least, he could apply it to his love life.’ Hei Chun tucked his feet in and sat in the Buddha pose as he continued, ‘Qizi, look around here carefully. Which of us can’t measure up to Dadong? You could choose any of us. I think that punk just got lucky.’
