He did not quite know how to show his anger. Just at that moment Ah Liu appeared like a ghost and asked Miss Pao for a tip. Miss Pao’s eyes exploded with sparks as she said, “I tipped you yesterday for waiting on the table. What other tip do you want? You don’t take care of my cabin.”
Ah Liu silently reached his hand into his pocket and after a long time pulled out a hairpin. It was one of those Miss Pao had flung away the other day. While sweeping the floor he had found only one of the three. At first Fang wanted to scold Ah Liu, but seeing how seriously Ah Liu had pulled out this magical object, he couldn’t help laughing.
“You think it’s funny?” Miss Pao snapped. “If you think it’s so funny, you give him some money. I don’t have a cent!” And with that she turned and strode off.
Afraid that a disgruntled Ah Liu might run his mouth off to Dr. Li, Fang gave Ah Liu some more money, charging it up to his bad luck. Fang then went on deck by himself and watched disconsolately as the ship drew up to the Kowloon wharf. Other disembarking passengers, both Chinese and non-Chinese, also came up. He hid himself in a corner, not wishing to see Miss Pao. On the wharf, policemen, porters, and hotel agents who had come to greet passengers were clamoring noisily; a group of people were waving handkerchiefs at the ship or gesticulating. He was sure Dr. Li was among them and wanted a closer look at him. Finally, the gangplank was lowered, and after the immigration procedures were completed, friends of departing passengers swarmed aboard. Miss Pao rushed into the arms of a balding, dark, pudgy man in big glasses. So this was the fiancé he was supposed to resemble! He looked like that? Well, of all the insults! Now he understood everything. That remark of hers was nothing but a “come-on.” Up to this time he had been quite pleased with himself, thinking she had taken a liking to him. Who would have thought that having been tricked and made use of by her, he was even being secretly ridiculed by her. What was there to say except that adage, which was so old it had grown a long white beard and so stale it was moldy: “Women are the most dreadful of all!” As he was leaning against the railing and thus lost in thought, Miss Su’s soft voice unexpectedly came from behind him, “Are you staying on board daydreaming, Mr. Fang? Somebody has gone and left you! You have no one to keep you company!”
He turned around and saw Miss Su dressed with elegance and charm. Without knowing what possessed him, he said, “I’d like to keep you company, but I’m afraid I haven’t the good fortune or the qualifications!”
Having made this rash remark, he braced himself for a polite rebuff. A spot of red appeared on Miss Su’s cheeks beneath her lightly applied rouge, spreading out like oil stains on a piece of paper, covering her face in an instant and making her look bewitchingly bashful. As if barely able to raise her eyelids, she said, “Who, me? I don’t think I’m important enough!”
Spreading out his hands, he said, “Just as I said, you wouldn’t give me the honor.”
“I want to find a hairdresser to have my hair washed. Would you like to go with me?” she said.
“Splendid!” he said. “I was just about to go get a haircut. When that’s taken care of, we can take a ferry to Hong Kong and go up to the Peak26 to have some fun. When we come down, I’ll take you to lunch. After lunch we can have tea at Repulse Bay27 and in the evening see a movie. How’s that?”
With a smile she answered, “Mr. Fang, you’ve really thought of everything! You’ve planned for the whole day.” She didn’t know Fang had only passed through Hong Kong once on his way abroad and couldn’t even remember the directions.
Twenty minutes later, Ah Liu took his bag of clothes to the dining hall to await the French supervisor to clear him for going ashore. Through the porthole he caught a glimpse of Fang Hung-chien behind Miss Su, descending the gangplank with his hand around her waist. He couldn’t repress a feeling of surprise and admiration as well as scorn. Unable to express these complicated feelings in words, he spat a mouthful of thick saliva into the spittoon with a loud “Tsui!”
2
IT IS SAID that “girl friend” is the scientific term for sweetheart, making it sound more dignified, just as the biological name for rose is “rosaceae dicotyledonous,” or the legal term for divorcing one’s wife is “negotiated separation by consent.” Only after Fang Hung-chien had escorted Miss Su around Hong Kong for a couple of days did he realize that a girl friend and a sweetheart were actually two completely different things. Miss Su was the ideal girl friend, with the brains, the status, the poise, and looks of a girl of good family. Going to restaurants and theaters with her was no cause for disgrace. Though they were quite close, he was confident his friendship with her would develop no further. Like two parallel lines, no matter how close they are, or how long they are extended, they will never join together. Only once—during that moment before they had gone ashore at Kowloon and he saw her blush—had his heart suddenly gone limp and lost the power to beat. Afterwards there was no recurrence of that feeling. In many ways, she had a very childish temperament, he discovered. For instance, she could be mischievous and she could play dumb, traits he had never expected of her. Yet for some reason, he always felt this “little-girlishness” did not quite suit her. It had nothing to do with her age; she wasn’t much older than Miss Pao. Besides, in the presence of the man she loves, every woman has the amazing power of rejuvenation. One could only say that it was out of character: For example, we think it’s funny to watch a kitten go around in circles chasing its tail, but when a puppy follows suit and turns hectically around after that stubby tail, then it isn’t funny any more.
When the other students on board saw that Miss Pao had no sooner gone than Little Fang took up with Miss Su, they teased him unmercifully. Miss Su, however, was very generous to him. During the five or six days before the ship reached Shanghai, she didn’t once mention Miss Pao and became much warmer toward the others. Though Fang never spoke with her on intimate terms and never held her hand except for helping her up and down the gangplank when they got on and off the ship, her occasional gestures made it seem as though their relationship went far beyond the stages of proposal, engagement, or newlyweds. Her nonchalance made him apprehensive, giving him the feeling it was a demonstration of confidence secured by love, just as the sea stays calm after a storm while underneath its tranquil surface lies the power to rise up in a rushing torrent.
After the ship left Hong Kong, he and Miss Su were on deck eating the fruit they had bought there. Patiently tearing off the skin of a juicy peach, he remarked, “Why aren’t peaches made like bananas? It’d be so much easier to peel them! Or else simply like apples. A few wipes with a handkerchief and you can eat them, peel and all.”
She peeled and ate a few lichees; then, before eating anything else, she offered to peel the peach for him. He wouldn’t agree under any circumstances. After he ate the peach, telltale marks were left on his cheeks and his hands. She looked at him and laughed. Afraid the peach juice would stain his trousers, he stuck his little finger into his pocket to hook his handkerchief. After two attempts, he managed to pull it out and was wiping his hands when she, in a voice full of alarm and disgust, cried out, “Oh! How did you get your handkerchief so dirty! How could you? Hey! You can’t wipe your mouth with that thing. Here, take mine. Go ahead and take mine. I hate being refused.”
Reddening, he took her handkerchief and lightly dabbed at his mouth, saying, “I bought a dozen new handkerchiefs before I came on board, but the laundry man lost half of them. Since these little things are so easily lost and it takes so long to get them washed, I thought I’d wash them myself. In the last couple of days when we were ashore, I didn’t have time so all my handkerchiefs are dirty. I’ll go wash them after a while. Let me wash this one of yours for you before I return it.”
“Who wants you to wash it?” she said. “You won’t get it clean anyway! It looks to me as if your handkerchief wasn’t ever clean in the first place. Those grease spots are probably souvenirs accumulated all the way from Marseilles. I just wonder how you washed them.
” At this she giggled.
Shortly afterwards they went below. Picking out one of her handkerchiefs and giving it to him, she said, “Use this one for the time being and give me yours to wash.”
Alarmed, he said again and again, “You can’t do that!”
Puckering her lips, she replied, “You really are being silly! Is it such a big deal? Give them to me.”
Left with no choice, he returned to his cabin and took out a bunch of wrinkled handkerchiefs. In an apologetic tone, he said, “I can wash them myself! They are very dirty. You’ll hate them when you see them.”
She grabbed them and shook her head. “How did you ever get so sloppy? Did you use them for wiping apples?”
This incident left him fearful and uneasy for the rest of the day. He thanked her again and again, only to have her call him “Granny.”1 The next day he moved a lounge chair for her and the strain popped two buttons from his shirt. She jokingly called him “Little Fatso” and asked him to change his shirt later and let her sew on the buttons. His protests were in vain. Whatever she said must be. He just had to submit to her benevolent dictatorship.
The whole situation with Miss Su made him feel uneasy. Washing handkerchiefs, mending socks, and sewing on buttons—these were the little chores a wife performed for her husband. On what basis was he enjoying these privileges? Enjoying a husband’s privileges meant by definition that he must be her husband, for otherwise why was she willing to perform these duties. Was there anything in what he had said or done that could make her mistake him for her husband? When he started thinking about all that, he shuddered in horror. If the engagement ring were a symbol of the trap one had fallen into, button-sewing was likewise an omen of being tied down. He had better watch out! Fortunately they would be arriving in Shanghai in a day or two. After that there would be no more chance for them to be so close as this, so the dangers would decrease. But during those one or two days, whenever he was with her, he’d either be afraid of suddenly tearing a hole in his sock or worried a button somewhere would come loose. He knew that her services were not to be taken casually; every time she sewed on a button or mended a hole, the moral obligation to propose to her increased by one point.
Sino-Japanese relations were worsening every day, and the news from the ship’s radio made everyone nervous. On the afternoon of August the ninth, the ship reached Shanghai. Fortunately the war had not yet erupted. Miss Su gave Fang Hung-chien her address and asked him to come see her. Readily he promised that after going home to see his parents, he would certainly come to Shanghai to visit her. Miss Su’s elder brother came on board to meet her, and before Fang could hide, she introduced her brother to him. After sizing him up a moment, her brother warmly shook hands with him and said, “I’ve heard about you for a long time.”
Hell! thought Fang Hung-chien. An introduction like that may as well be her family representative’s official approval of me as candidate for son-in-law! At the same time he wondered why her brother had said, “I’ve heard about you for a long time.” She must have often mentioned him to her family, a fact which rather pleased him. He then left the Su brother and sister and went to have his luggage inspected. After walking a few steps he turned his head and saw Miss Su’s brother smiling at Miss Su, who blushed half in pleasure and half in anger. Thinking they must be talking about him, he felt a little embarrassed.
Soon he ran into his brother Fang P’eng-t’u, who had gone looking for him in second class. Meanwhile Miss Su knew someone in customs, so she breezed through customs without having her luggage inspected. While Hung-chien and his brother were still waiting for inspection, she came over especially to shake hands with him and urged him repeatedly to come see her. When his brother P’eng-t’u asked him who she was, he replied her name was Su.
“Oh, the one with a French doctorate,” said his brother. “I read about her in the newspaper.”
Fang Hung-chien laughed, scornful of women’s vanity. He hurriedly sorted out the luggage that had been inspected, then called a taxi; he was to spend the night at Manager Chou’s and return home the next day. P’eng-t’u was a clerk in a bank. Because the war rumors had become stronger in the last few days, he had been kept busy moving the bank’s valuables from one place to another and he got off the taxi along the way. However, before he took off, Hung-chien had told him to send a telegram home indicating the train he would be taking the next day. Considering that a needless expense, P’eng-t’u merely made a long distance telephone call instead.
Fang Hung-chien’s in-laws were overjoyed at seeing him. He gave his father-in-law a rattan cane with an ivory handle purchased in Ceylon; his mother-in-law, an avid mahjong player and a Buddhist, a French handbag and two Ceylonese Buddhist religious books; and his fifteen-year-old brother-in-law, a German fountain pen. His mother-in-law, then remembering her daughter who had died five years ago, said sadly with tears in her eyes, “If Shu-ying were alive today, how happy she’d be to have you come back from abroad with a Ph.D.!” Choking back emotion, his father-in-law said that his wife was being silly and that she should not say things like that on such a happy day.
Fang’s face was grave and sorrow-ridden; inwardly he felt ashamed, for during the last four years he had never once thought of his fiancée. Her large photograph, which his father-in-law gave him as a memento when he went abroad, had been stowed away in the bottom of a trunk, and he didn’t know whether its color had faded or not and wanted very much to atone for his sins and make up for his wrongdoings. In any case he would be taking the 11:30 express train the next morning, and he’d have time to go to the International Public Cemetery. Thus he said, “I am thinking of visiting Shu-ying’s grave the first thing tomorrow morning.”
With that Mr. and Mrs. Chou became even more fond of him. Mrs. Chou showed him his room for the night, which was none other than Shu-ying’s old room. On the dressing table were two large photographs placed side by side: one of Shu-ying; the other, an enlarged picture of himself in a doctoral robe. At the sight of them, he felt dazed, as though he had died along with Shu-ying. It was a gloomy, dismal feeling, like that of the departed soul returning after death.
During dinner when Manager Chou learned that Fang still hadn’t found a job for the rest of the year, he reassured his son-in-law, “That’s no problem. I think you should try to find a job in Shanghai or Nanking. The situation in Peking is very critical, so you mustn’t go there. Go home for a couple of weeks, then come back and stay here. I’ll put you on the payroll at the bank. You can drop in during the day and in the evening tutor my son while looking for a job. How’s that? You needn’t take your luggage with you. In this heat, you’ll have to wear Chinese clothes when you go home anyway.”
Genuinely grateful, Fang thanked his father-in-law. His mother-in-law brought up the subject of marriage, asking him if he had a girl friend. He quickly said no.
His father-in-law said, “I knew you wouldn’t. Your father gave you a good upbringing. You’re a gentleman and not the type to get mixed up with any free courtship. Free courtship never comes to a good end.”
“Hung-chien is such a simple-hearted soul; he won’t be able to find a girl for himself. Let me watch out and make a match for him,” said his mother-in-law.
“There you go again,” said his father-in-law. “As if his own father and mother couldn’t take care of him. We mustn’t interfere.”
“Hung-chien went abroad at our expense,” argued his mother-in-law. “He certainly can’t push us aside when he gets married. Would you, Hung-chien? Your future wife must certainly be my adopted daughter.2 And let me make this perfectly clear. Once you have new relatives, don’t forget the old ones. I’ve seen too many such ungrateful people.”
Fang could only smile resignedly and say, “Don’t worry. I’d never do that,” while inwardly to the image of Miss Su, he said, Hear that? You want to take this woman as your adopted mother?3 Lucky for you I don’t want to marry you.
As though picking up his inner thoughts, his little
brother-in-law asked, “Hung-chien, there’s a returned student named Su. Do you know her?”
He was so flabbergasted that he nearly dropped his rice bowl. American behavioral psychologists can prove that “thoughts are a soundless language” he thought. What are this kid’s jug-ears4 made of? How did he overhear all my silent, private remarks!
Before he could answer, his father-in-law said, “Oh, yes! I forgot. Hsiao-ch’eng, go get that newspaper. When I got your picture I had Chief-secretary Wang write up a news item for the newspaper. I know you don’t care to show off, but this is something to be proud of. You don’t have to hide it.” When these remarks were added, Fang paled.
“That’s right,” said his mother-in-law. “After putting up so much money, why not get a little honor!”
Fang’s face had already turned red with shame and indignation. By the time his brother-in-law brought the newspaper and he had glanced at it, the redness had passed from the back of his ears and the nape of his neck down his spine to his very heels. It was an early July Shanghai newspaper, with two small photographs in the educational news column. The plates were as blurry as the picture of a ghost taken at a divining altar. The caption under the first picture read, “Wen-wan, daughter of Political Councilor Su Hung-yeh, is returning home with a Ph.D. from Lyons.” The caption under the second picture was twice as long: “Fang Hung-chien, the gifted son-in-law of Chou Hou-ch’ing, a prominent local businessman and general manager of the Golden Touch Bank, recently received his doctorate of philosophy from Carleton University in Germany after pursuing advanced study abroad under Mr. Chou’s sponsorship at the Universities of London, Paris, and Berlin in political science, economics, history, and sociology, in which he made excellent grades and ranked at the top of his class. He will be touring several countries before returning home in the fall. It is said that many major organizations are vying for him with job offers.”
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