Bird Talk and Other Stories by Xu Xu

by Xu Xu

  “Love is intuitive,” I replied. “I simply love you, without rhyme or reason. I venerate the beauty I see in you.”

  “So you see some kind of beauty in me, but have you ever calmly analyzed your feelings? Where exactly lies my beauty?”

  “I feel that you possess an otherworldly beauty. There is nothing ordinary about you. When you move, you have the nimbleness and grace of an immortal, and when you are still, you have the solemnness of a Buddha.”

  “If what you say is true, I was only able to attain this otherworldliness by enduring the cruelest of worldly struggles.”

  I did not understand what she meant.

  “I attempted as many as eighteen assassinations. Thirteen times I was successful, five times I wasn’t. I escaped a hail of bullets, fled by steamship, crossed the desert, and slipped away through busy city streets. I broke out of jails. Do you believe me? It’s through these kind of struggles that I have obtained the air of an immortal.”

  She smiled derisively.

  “And during life in jail, sitting quietly in the damp darkness of my prison cell with eyes closed, day after day, month after month, I assumed the solemnness of a Buddha, if you believe it.”

  She changed her tone.

  “Maybe you don’t believe me. You don’t believe I am a ghost, and you believe even less that I have killed people. With that little dagger alone, I have killed three men and one woman.”

  After a frightening pause, she continued.

  “Later, for several years, I went into exile abroad, wandered about, studied. Only after I came back did I learn that the man who had fought by my side and whom I had loved had been arrested and executed. I drowned my sorrow by immersing myself in political work and I offered my love to the *masses.”

  She again changed the tone of her voice.

  “But later, there was defeat after defeat. Some betrayed their friends, others sold secrets, some joined the ranks of officials, some got arrested, some died. Of that band of comrades, only I remained, resigning myself to this bitter solitude. I have seen this world, I have tasted life, and I have probed into the depth of the human heart. I want to be a ghost, yes, a ghost.” She got up, aroused by her own words, but then sat down again and continued, haltingly.

  “But I don’t want to die. Only nothingness awaits the dead. I still want to observe the vicissitudes of this world. That’s why I choose to live as a ghost.”

  “And the people downstairs are your parents?”

  “No.” Again she changed her tone of voice. “You think I am Chinese? No, human, I am Jewish. My mother was Jewish and my father was an overseas Chinese. Neither of them has ever been to China. But they are both dead now. This is the home of the man I used to love. His parents moved here for their son. They mourn their son, and they pity me. That is why I was able to come and live here like their daughter. They even respect my wish and treat me as if I were a ghost. It’s been like this for so long now that they have gotten used to it. It’s just like they said: This room is kept in memory of their deceased daughter.”

  She continued: “I have been living here for several years now. At first, I never went out, and passed the days reading. Later, I started to go for walks at night and, later still, I went out in daytime, dressed as a nun and taunting this world.”

  I cannot recall now the surge of emotions I experienced while listening to her, but when I had heard her out to the end, it was as if I had been instantly cured from insanity. I felt as if I had walked out of a maze in which I had been trapped for several years or as if a tumor that had grown bigger year after year in my heart had all at once been cut out. There was brightness before my eyes and my entire body felt invigorated.

  She suddenly got up and said, “Human, now I have told you everything. I want to live alone in this world and I hope that from now on you won’t disturb me anymore. I don’t want you to come here again.” As she was speaking, she drew away from me.

  I moved closer to her and said, “But I love you, and that is the truth. I heard everything you said, and it has left me more elated than bewildered. It’s just as if you resolved for me a theoretical problem I had long been unable to solve. I feel lighthearted and dazzled by love that shines bright because you are my source of light. I don’t want to call you Ghost anymore, I want you to be a human being, and I want to be the human at your side.”

  “You want me to be a human being? What kind of human being? I have already been every kind,” she replied in a chilling tone.

  But I felt my heart go on fire, because it had been rid of a demon. My whole body glowing, I exclaimed, beside myself with joy, “I want you to be a human being capable of rejoicing in life! I want you to be happy, to enjoy. In this world, you have already sacrificed enough of your blood and tears for the good of society. From now on, you must rejoice in life! I know that you love me. Listen to me: Love, and seize the day!”

  There was a bottle of brandy on the shelf. I poured two cups, gave one to her, and said, “To love! Let’s finish this glass. I cherish this chapter in our lives and this love of ours. Let us strive to fill the next chapter with happiness.”

  By the time she had finished her cup, my lips were already over hers. I felt energized and courageous like never before. Even today, I can still feel that kiss on my lips. It was to be the only one.

  “Tell me that you love me,” I said to her.

  “I suppose I love you. Otherwise I would not have permitted you to enter into my world. But now please leave, my mind needs some rest.”

  “But where do we go from here?”

  “From here? Come back tomorrow evening. Let me regain my energy first before I talk to you again.”

  I saw her lie down on her bed and left.

  ***

  I do not know how I managed to pass that night and the following day. Neither my heart nor my limbs nor the cells in my body could find rest for one minute. I fantasized about what lay ahead and made plans for the future. I imagined how it would be to live under one roof and to go traveling together. I thought about our life side by side, and about what it would be like many years from now. Once dusk had fallen the following day I set out to her place. Along the way, I tried to guess her mood and her dress and the tone of voice in which she would talk to me. My heart had grown wings, it seemed, and constantly wanted to fly off to her. I finally arrived at her door.

  To my utter surprise, it was an old lady who opened the door. Paying her no attention I was about to storm in, but she addressed me.

  “Mister, the young lady has left this morning for a long journey.”

  “Who has left?”

  “That young lady. She left behind a letter for you.”

  My heart was beating hard. I tore open the letter, but since it was already dark, I was not able to make out the words. Only after I had taken out my lighter was I able to read the letter clearly:

  Human: The time we spent together was nothing but a dream. That dream cannot—and should not—become reality. I am going on a far-away journey so that I can escape from reality. When I am no longer coerced by reality, I might return. But it might be three or four years until then. From now on, I will continue to live the life of a ghost. I hope you will live the life of a human, and do so decently.

  I almost fainted. I walked out in silence, feeling dejected and depressed. My heart was heavy with grief and my body no longer supported the weight of my soul. I do not know for how far I walked until I passed out along the road.

  I must have gotten lost. I found myself amidst small street stalls, but all was quiet and deserted. Occasionally, someone would pass in the distance, only dimly discernible. I was exhausted. I knew I was in the realm of ghosts and, no matter how hard I tried, I could not find a way out. Besides, no one paid any attention to me.

  Just when I wanted to sit down in a corner to take a rest, I suddenly caught sight of her and exclaimed, “So this is where you are!”

  “I told you that I am a ghost,” she replied.

  �
��Well …”

  “None of these roads lead to the human world, they only lead to heaven.” Without uttering a word, she pulled me by the hand and, just as if we were walking on flat ground, we walked toward the sky. Suddenly, I felt cold and wet, and my breathing became heavy. I noticed that she was wearing clothes that appeared to be made of black gauze.

  “Aren’t you cold?” I asked her.

  She smiled and said, “No, not me, but I know that you are cold, because the dew is falling. It means we have arrived in the human world.”

  When I awoke, I was confused. I was lying by the roadside, enshrouded in dew. I could hardly remember anything. I could not tell apart my life of the past two or three years from the dream I had just woken from. I tried to pull myself together. It was autumn and already quite chilly. Like in a trance, I dragged myself on, leaning against a lamppost every few yards. I did not know what time it was. Was it still night or already morning? I was no longer conscious of anything. I remember that dawn had already broken when I finally reached Shanghai and found a cab. I do not remember anything of the journey home. When I arrived, I did not say a word, but I could feel that I was sick. My family went to call for a doctor. Soon after, I was admitted to a hospital.

  Everyone asked what had happened to me, but I did not tell them anything. My sickness tied me to my bed for two months, but when I was finally able to get up, I went straight to Ghost’s house. All along, I had harbored a lingering suspicion that maybe the events of the past two or three years had all been a dream. But everything was just as I had remembered. It was the old lady who answered the door. No, the young lady had not returned, she informed me. After two months I went back again, but she still had not come back. After four months, I once more went to see her, but there was still no sign of her. Another three months went by, and she still had not come back.

  The last time I went was two years ago during winter. It was snowing lightly when I reached her house. I almost did not recognize the door, because it had been newly painted in red. The person opening the door was a middle-aged farmer, which only added to my surprise.

  He did not know anything. Only when I asked about the old couple and the young lady did he finally exclaim, “Oh, that old couple passed away one after the other. After the young lady buried the old lady, she sold the house and everything in it. She only took four cases of books with her when she left.”

  “So …”

  “The new owner is named Wang. I am his servant.”

  “Would you mind notifying your master that I would like to meet with him? You can tell him that I am a relative of the previous owner.”

  Not long after he had gone back in did Mr. Wang emerge. He was also an older man, and he repeated what his servant had already told me. He then invited me in to sit down, and I said to him, “Mr. Wang, I only want to find out what happened to the young lady. I am a relative of hers. When the house was sold, were you personally in touch with her?”

  “Yes, someone introduced us, and later she dealt with me directly.”

  “Do you remember what clothes she was wearing?”

  “Ah yes, that was a little strange. She always wore black.”

  “And wasn’t she smoking Pin Head brand cigarettes?”

  “She was smoking, but I am not sure if it was Pin Heads.”

  “And she also sold all the furniture in the house to you?”

  “Yes, but why are you asking me all this?”

  “To tell you the truth, I am very familiar with this place, which is why I care so much. The east-facing upstairs room, doesn’t it have eight windows? And don’t the windows all have thick cloth curtains? And on one side of the room, isn’t there a mahogany-colored bed? And on the other side, there is a sofa and two chairs with purple covers, no?”

  “That was the young lady’s room. How come you …?”

  “We are close relatives. I was raised here from a young age. Later I left for several years, but after I came back to Shanghai, I came here frequently. I was the one who arranged the furniture. I have just returned to Shanghai and had planned to stay here. I didn’t expect that my uncle and aunt had passed away. That’s why I would like to find out the whereabouts of the young lady. Mr. Wang, do you know where she went?”

  “That I really don’t know, but if you …”

  “Mr. Wang, may I ask what you are using that room for now?”

  “Right now it’s empty. My son is away on account of his work. He will come back next year to get married. The room will be the bridal chamber for the newlyweds.”

  “The furniture in that room hasn’t been moved, has it?”

  “That’s right, mister. It won’t be until next year that I might rearrange it.”

  “Mr. Wang, I have an exceptional request. As a matter of fact, I am very attached to this house. What’s more, when my uncle was still alive, he had actually suggested that the room should be my bridal chamber after I get married. That’s why I implore you to allow me to rent the room for a year and to live there until fall next year. I will of course move out should you be in need of the room.”

  “But …”

  “As far as you are concerned, Mr. Wang, the room is empty anyway. I will live here by myself and won’t bother you too much. If you don’t believe me, I can give you a deposit.”

  “So just yourself?”

  “Yes, there won’t be anyone else. It’s just because I have a special attachment to this house. This house now belongs to you, and I just would like to live here for a while, just like someone visiting an old friend.”

  He finally agreed, and for a monthly rent of twenty yuan, I lived there from winter that year until last fall. I did not move any furniture. Every day, I imagined what her life had been like while she had lived there and I tried to relive it. I evoked the past, fantasized about the future, and dreamt I do not know how many dreams. The year passed quickly, and when fall came, I got ready to move out. Mr. Wang invited me to stay for his son’s wedding banquet, but I was too overcome by grief. Leaving a monetary gift for the newlyweds, I took my leave.

  I have stayed in Shanghai since winter last year. I cannot help it, but every other day, I will head to the tobacco shop on the corner of Xiangfen Alley and Nanjing Road. I will then invariably end up wandering all by myself to Xietu Road and then on to Longhua, smoking Pin Heads along the way. Only when dawn approaches will I head home. Until now, I have not found the courage to pay a visit to the Wangs and the house where I lived for a year. It is summer now, and I remember clearly what happened last summer. I also remember clearly what happened the summer two years ago, and the summer before that. Summer has come back again, but what once happened will never repeat itself. I miss her terribly, and there is not a moment when I am not thinking of her. Where in this wide human world will I ever see her again?

  June 11, 1936 (revised on July 11)

  猶太的彗星

  The Jewish Comet

  Xu Xu wrote this short story in May 1937 in Paris, where he had arrived a few months earlier to pursue studies in philosophy and psychology. Like several other stories he wrote during this time, it describes a romance between a cosmopolitan Chinese first-person male narrator and an exotic woman, in this case of Jewish heritage. In hindsight, the story might appear to trivialize the tragedy of the Jewish people in Europe that was unfolding. However, the story bespeaks the genuine interest cosmopolitan readers in Shanghai took in East-West encounters and in European politics. Popular current affairs journals such as Cosmic Winds 宇宙風 or Western Wind 西風 not only published many of Xu Xu’s exotic romances in those years but also frequently discussed the civil war in Spain and the growing anti-Semitism in Germany, both topics “The Jewish Comet” engages with.

  The choice of a Jewish protagonist further illustrates just how much the Jewish struggle featured in the imagination of Chinese intellectuals since at least the end of the Qing dynasty. Not only did it allow for ready identification with tales of national suffering, it also bore the poten
tial to heighten Chinese readers’ own sense of nationalism and national survival. Similarly, the female protagonist’s association with the Spanish Civil War is not bereft of historical likelihood. A considerable portion of the volunteers fighting in the International Brigade were, in fact, Jews. Another important plot detail appears to be based on historical fact: Fascist Italy was an important supplier of manpower, war machinery, and ammunition to Franco’s forces in Spain.

  Jews also formed a sizable contingent of foreigners living in Shanghai, some of whom were Baghdadi Jews who had come with the British following the Opium Wars; others were Russian Jews who had fled their homeland and the subsequent civil war following the October Revolution. In the wake of Hitler’s rise in Germany and the ensuing systematic persecution of Jews in Germany and the territories that eventually fell under German control, Shanghai saw a further influx of some 18,000 Jewish refugees, most of whom arrived between the fall of 1938 and the summer of 1939. The narrator in the short story sails to Europe aboard an Italian steamer, presumably of the Lloyd Triestino line, whose flagship Conte Verde Xu Xu had taken on his passage to Europe the previous year. Incidentally, the Conte Verde and her sister ship Conte Rosso played a crucial role in helping many of the desperate European Jewish refugees reach Shanghai.

  Like “Ghost Love,” “The Jewish Comet” also reveals to the reader much of the reality of life in the Foreign Concessions in prewar Shanghai. Sherkels, the Jewish tailor in the story, has a store on *Avenue Joffre, the main thoroughfare of the French Concession known for its elegant boutiques as well as numerous bars and restaurants. Prior to the narrator’s departure, Sherkels invites him to his apartment, which appears to be located in a modern tenement building of the kind built in Shanghai in the 1920s and 1930s to absorb the ever-growing population. The word * “apartment” appears in English in the original. Inside the foreign concessions, several *foreign-language newspapers circulated and a plethora of languages could be heard.

  When I awoke, all I could see through the porthole was the open sea. I immediately thought of her. Had she gotten sick? Had this big plan been abandoned after all? Yet when I got out of my bunk to have a cigarette, I saw two unfamiliar pieces of luggage. When I also noticed some items of makeup and some toiletries next to the washbasin, I knew that she must have come on board after all. Still, I was not entirely sure yet, because when I had gone to bed, it was three in the morning. The ship had been scheduled to sail at four. Could she really have embarked that late? I wanted to find out and slipped into my shoes. The lower bunk was empty, but the blanket was tousled. She must have already gotten up. Yes, indeed, she must have already gotten up, because her toiletries were wet. In addition, I spotted two brown strands of hair in the washbasin. I could not remember whether her hair had been brown or black or blond, but these strands surely must have been hers. It was already ten. I hurriedly washed and went to the dining room to have breakfast. She probably had already finished hers and stepped out on deck, I thought. There were still a few scattered passengers in the dining room. Even before I could step inside and see if maybe she was still there, I noticed a woman dressed in blue and gray, waving at me from a table on the left. I had no idea whether it was her or not, but since it was a European-looking woman who was waving at me, it had to be her.