When Miss T’ang heard “It’s really disgraceful,” she quickly hung up the receiver, feeling faint. Barely managing to fight back the tears, she returned home.
That evening as Fang Hung-chien thought over what had happened that day, he was swept by intermittent fever. He could hardly believe it was all real. After being picked apart piece by piece by Miss T’ang, he felt too vile and despicable to be a man.
The next morning just after he had gotten up, Miss T’ang’s rickshaw boy came with a paper bundle, saying that Miss T’ang had asked for a package in return. He recognized the bundle as the one he saw yesterday. There was nothing written on it, but he guessed it was the letters he had written her. He knew very well she wouldn’t, yet he still hoped she had written a few lines, using the final moment of farewell to let their friendship draw out one more breath. He quickly opened the bundle which contained his old letters. Dejectedly he wrapped up her letters in the same paper and handed them to the rickshaw boy, who then departed.
When Miss T’ang received the box wrapped up in the paper, she opened it with considerable curiosity. It was the gold-papered box of chocolate wafers, which she had sent Hung-chien. She knew her letters were in the box but didn’t want to open it, as if not opening the box meant she still hadn’t completely severed relations with him, and opening it would prove beyond a doubt that she had broken off. She sat in a daze like this she knew not how long—perhaps only a few seconds—then opened the box and saw the seven letters she had sent him. The envelopes had all been torn and repaired with cellophane tape. She could imagine how in his impatience to read her letters he had tom the envelopes and then clumsily patched them up. An unbearable pin pierced her heart. She also discovered, lining the bottom of the box, a piece of paper with her address and telephone number on it and recalled writing them on the last blank page of his book when they first had dinner together. He had cut it out and stored it away like a treasure.
As Miss T’ang sat musing over this, it suddenly occurred to her that his remarks over the telephone the day before might not have been meant for her at all. A month ago when she called him for the first time, one of the Chous had mistaken her for Miss Su, and the person answering her two calls the day before had known right away they were for Hung-chien without even asking her name. Now that their breakup had reached this stage, was this conjecture still worth verifying? Oh, just forget about Fang Hung-chien. But deep down she could not forget him. It was like the gum left empty and aching after a tooth is extracted, or like a small tree in a flower pot. To pull it up roots and all, one must smash the pot. Proud by nature, she preferred to endure the pain until she fell ill.
During her illness, Miss Su visited her and kept her company everyday, telling her that she had become engaged to Ts’ao Yüan-lang. In the throes of happiness Miss Su confided how Ts’ao Yüan-lang had proposed to her. As the story went, at the age of fifteen Ts’ao Yüan-lang had resolved never to marry. The moment he met Miss Su, however, his views on life for the past fifteen years became shattered like a Japanese house during an earthquake. “He himself said that at the very beginning he hated and feared me, and wanted to hide from me but—” giggling, Miss Su twisted around and did not finish the sentence. The proposal had gone like this: When Ts’ao Yüan-lang saw her, he behaved in a very pitiful manner, and suddenly stuffing a velvet box into her hand, he fled with an expression of panic on his face. Miss Su opened the box and found inside a gold necklace with a large piece of jade. A letter was stuck underneath the necklace. When Miss T’ang asked her what the letter said, Miss Su replied, “He said at the very beginning he hated and feared me, but now—oh, you’re such a naughty child, I won’t tell you.”
When Miss T’ang recovered, her elder sister and brother-in-law invited her to spend the summer in Peking. At the end of August when she returned to Shanghai, Miss Su asked her to be the maid of honor at her wedding. The best man was no other than Ts’ao Yüan-lang’s friend, the returned student. When he met Miss T’ang, he showered her with attention. Annoyed, she ignored him. Imitating a British accent, he said to Ts’ao Yüan-lang, “Dash it. That girl is forget-me-not and teach-me-not in one, a redress which has somehow turned into the blue flower.”55 While Ts’ao Yüan-lang praised his unsurpassed beauty of expression, he thought this remark should be passed on to Miss T’ang, but four days after the wedding she went with her father to Hong Kong and from there to Chungking.
4
WHEN FANG HUNG-CHIEN returned the letters to Miss T’ang, he was dazed and stupefied; some time later, he finally awoke as though from a faint, feeling a continuous pain in his heart. It was like the prickly pain a person feels when his limbs, after having gone numb from being curled up, are stretched out and the blood is once again circulating. The day before he hadn’t had time to feel the hurt he had swallowed in one lump. Now, like a cow chewing its cud, he chewed up in bits and pieces the deep, bottomless aftertaste. The sofa and desk in his bedroom, the trees and lawn outside his window were the same, and the people he met every day all went on as usual, seemingly unaware of his traumatic hurt and humiliation. But strangely enough he felt at the same time the world had become dull and colorless, and his own world, at least, had changed its appearance, with his private world severed from the public world. Like a lone ghost cut off from the world of the living, he gazed at its joys of which he could not partake and at its sun which did not shine on him. While he could not enter the world of others, anyone could come into his. The first to enter it was Mrs. Chou. No member of the older generation is ever willing for the young to keep their secrets; it’s the older generation’s duty to coax or force out those secrets.
After the T’angs’ chauffeur had left, Fang went upstairs to wash his face. Midway down the stairs, Mrs. Chou met him face to face and thought of asking him right there and then about what the maid had told her the night before. She, however, managed to keep quiet, proving she was not only dutyconscious but had forbearance as well. Instead she went into the dining room to wait for him to come down. Her son Hsiao-ch’eng, usually a very quick eater, dawdled around that day, waiting for her to question Hung-chien. By the time Hsiao-ch’eng had worn out his patience and had gone off to school, and she had still not seen Hung-chien come down for breakfast, she asked the maid to summon him. Only then did she learn that he had already left. When she found her self-restraint had been in vain, she was furious, calling him a rotten scoundrel. Even staying at a hotel, one should say a word to the bellboy when he goes out. Here he eats our food, stays in our house, earns our money, and yet he carries on outside behind my back and leaves early in the morning without so much as a word of greeting. No respect for his elders. What kind of behavior do you call that? And he’s even the son of a scholarly family. Well, the Book1 says, “In the morning when you rise, pay respects to your parents.” Hasn’t he ever heard that? He’s gone and lost his head over some girl. No gratitude whatsoever. I don’t suppose he ever stops to think if it weren’t for our support, what Miss Su or Miss Tang would ever take a fancy to him!
Mrs. Chou had no idea Hung-chien knew a Miss T’ang. Because of the given term “chih-ma su-t’ang” (sesame seed bar), the word “t’ang” follows naturally after “su.” By blurting the words as they came to her, she had hit the nail on the head. The prophets who foretell the future are all like that [i. e., they hit the nail by accident].
In order to avoid Mrs. Chou, Hung-chien had actually left without breakfast. While wary of being interrogated, he felt even more wary of being pitied or lectured to. The new wound in his heart gave him pain whenever anyone “touched” it. Some people when jilted will immediately display their broken hearts in public and drip with blood like a beggar’s scraped legs to stir pity. Or else, after the whole affair is over, they will pull up their clothes in the manner of a veteran and point it out like an old battle scar to arouse awe and wonder. Hung-chien only hoped he could conceal his scar in the dark recesses of his mind, like the infected eyes which shun the light or the torn
flesh which fears the wind. Thus at first he decided to act as if nothing had happened and not let anyone discover his secret. If he could just keep it from Mrs. Chou, then no one else would meddle in his affairs. But, then, it is no easy matter to keep a man’s anguish from showing on his face, while women may use cosmetics to cover up theirs. By applying rouge a little thicker and dabbing on powder a little more heavily, they can effectively use the red and white to hide their inner misery. For a man who did not usually go about looking disheveled and dirty, Hung-chien, besides his usual hair-combing and shave, had no special way of making up to show that he was the same as always. Unable to deal with Mrs. Chou on such short notice, he decided the best thing to do was to slip away.
At the bank Hung-chien mechanically went through his chores, too confused to think. The telegram from San Lü University came to mind. Heaving a sigh, and without the least enthusiasm, he wired his acceptance of the offer. No sooner had he told the messenger to send the telegram than someone from the manager’s office summoned him to the manager’s office.
When Manager Chou saw him, he asked with a frown, “What’s with you? My wife’s having a gastric attack. When I left the house, Mama Wang2 was calling the doctor.”
Hung-chien quickly explained that he hadn’t seen Mrs. Chou all morning.
With a sad face Manager Chou said, “Well, I can’t figure out your affairs, but since Shu-ying passed away, your mother-in-law has never been in very good health. The doctor said her blood pressure was too high and instructed her not to let herself get upset. If she does, it may be dangerous, so I always give in to her three parts of the way. So don’t you, don’t you give her any trouble.” He let out a breath when he finished as though releasing a heavy burden. He cowered a little before his nominal son-in-law, a squire’s son and a returned student. Today’s talk was a distasteful but unavoidable duty.
From the day he married his wife, he had always yielded to her every wish. The year his daughter died, he had considered taking a concubine to mitigate his grief at losing his daughter in middle age. When his wife learned of his plan, she had fallen ill and in tears begged for death, “I’ll die and be gone; then someone else can come take my place.” Her threat of death frightened him so much that he thought no more of seeking consolation and became even more compliant toward her. The “three parts” referred to in “give in to her three parts” was not the “three parts” of “three parts water, seven parts dust,” but rather the “three parts” as in “There are but three parts moonlight in all the world,” which simply means total surrender.
“I’ll be sure to remember it,” said Hung-chien forcedly. “I wonder if she’s any better now? Should I give her a call and see how she is?”
“No, no, don’t call her! She is angry at you now. No use asking for trouble. Before I left, I told the maid to call me and report after the doctor’s visit. Your mother-in-law is getting on in years. Twenty years ago, before we came to Shanghai, she already suffered gastric attacks. When they occurred, she didn’t call the doctor to give her a shot or take painkiller pills; there weren’t any pills even if she wanted them. Someone urged her to take a few dregs of opium, but she refused for fear of addiction. The only other alternative was our country remedy. She had to lie down on the bed and have someone thrash her with the door bar. I was always the one who did the thrashing, because it’s something only someone close in the family can do. No one else could realize how painful it was and would have been so rough it would have been like beating her with a club. But she can’t take that anymore. The method is very effective though. Maybe you city folks don’t believe in it.”
Hung-chien, wondering whether a nominal son-in-law was considered “someone close,” replied quickly, “Oh, we do, we do! It’s a way of tricking the nerves, diverting attention from the place that hurts. It makes a lot of sense.”
Manager Chou acknowledged that his explanation was correct. Full of misgivings, Hung-chien returned to his desk. If Mrs. Chou’s attitude toward me gets any worse, he thought, I can’t stay on much longer, and I’ll have to leave Shanghai as soon as possible.
After lunch at home, Manager Chou returned to the bank. He summoned Hung-chien for another talk, asking immediately whether or not Hung-chien had replied to the telegram from San Lü University. Hung-chien suddenly realized what Chou was getting at, and a wave of anger roused him from his stupor. He stood stiffly and straight in an arrogant pose, which made Chou want to avoid looking at him, and in fact, what Chou saw was a section of his shirt in front of the desk slowly filling out and expanding and his tie and belt both rising above the desk.
Chou said, “It would be best for you to accept the appointment. Really, there’s no sense for you to waste your talent here.” He then asked Hung-chien “not to get the wrong idea.”
Hung-chien replied with a grating, scornful laugh and asked if his employment was terminated as of that day.
Manager Chou tried feebly to assume a stern air. “Hung-chien, I told you not to get the wrong idea. You have a long trip ahead of you. Of course, you’ll be too busy with your own affairs to come to the bank. Fortunately, there’s nothing very urgent to do here. I’m giving you your freedom. You needn’t come every day. As for your pay, you’ll still receive—”
“Thank you very much, but I can’t accept the money.”
“Now look here. I’ll have the accounting department give you four months salary in a lump sum. You won’t have to ask your father for traveling expenses—”
“I don’t want money. I have money.” By the way Hung-chien spoke, it almost sounded as though he were carrying all four major national banks around in his pocket. Without waiting for Manager Chou to finish, he strode out of the office with head held high. A pity that the manager’s office was so small, for in less than two strides his proud back was out of Manager Chou’s view. Furthermore, without looking he stepped squarely on the foot of a messenger standing outside the door. He apologized. Lifting his foot, a painful smile on his face, the messenger said perfunctorily, “It’s all right!”
Manager Chou shook his head, thinking, Women just don’t understand how things work. All they can do is blow their tempers at home, making it that much harder for their husbands to carry on outside. He had taken great pains to work up a rough draft of the conversation, intending to go from the subject of Hung-chien’s travel expenses to Hung-chien’s father, and then while on Hung-chien’s father, would quickly change his tone and say, Since you came back, you haven’t been very close to your mother and father. Now that you’re about to go far away from home again, it seems you ought to go back home for a month or two and look after them a bit. My wife and I would like to have you stay with us for a long time, and Hsiao-ch’eng will hate to see you go, but if I keep you with us and don’t let you go back home and fulfill your filial duties, your parents will come over and curse us. At this point, he would laugh heartily and pat Hung-chien on his hand, arm, shoulder or back, depending on which “pattable” part of his body happened to be within reach at the time. In any case if you drop over often, won’t it be just the same? If you never come, then I won’t agree to it.
He was confident his little speech was tactful and proper, especially the last part, which had been sewn together as flawlessly as “a divine suit of clothes”; it would achieve his objective in every way, what Chief-secretary Wang called as naturally and effortlessly as “pushing a boat downstream.” The letters Wang himself wrote were probably no better than this. How vexing that this nice little speech should have been so garbled up in the delivery. He had panicked and lost his composure. That damned little Hung-chien with the disgruntled look of one who has just been slapped in the face. He had given Hung-chien a chance to save face, and instead Hung-chien had to go and scratch it apart and quarrel with him. Hung-chien had no appreciation of the kindness extended to him; no wonder his wife detested him. The part that was hardest to say still stayed pent up inside him, like phlegm stuck in the throat, as vexing as an itch that can’
t be scratched. Symbolically, he coughed to clear his throat. He had wasted his money educating Hung-chien, who obviously didn’t amount to much. His wife had just said that recently when she asked someone to have his horoscope analyzed it had turned out that every sign of his was very rough-edged. The marriage would never have come off. Shu-ying had fallen under Hung-chien’s death curse3 before she’d even married him! Now that Hung-chien was having a love affair, there was sure to be trouble. It would be wisest to let Hung-chien go home to be under Squire Fang’s strict guard. That would free himself from any involvement as an elder. But it was rather awkward to be chasing Hung-chien away so suddenly today. Ai, the way his wife used her illness as an excuse to vent her anger was really more than he could take! With a sigh he put the matter aside, and picking up the business correspondence on his desk, pressed the buzzer.
Not wanting his co-workers to see the shame and anger on his face, Hung-chien ran out of the bank in one breath. He cursed Mrs. Chou, considering her the instigator of his troubles. A husband who let his wife make all the decisions like Manager Chou did was pretty despicable himself! The funny thing was that even now he still didn’t understand why Mrs. Chou had suddenly made such a tempest in a teacup. He was sure he hadn’t offended her in any way! But there was no point trying to figure out her reason. If they wanted him to leave, then he’d leave. He wasn’t about to hang around, nor would he bother disputing with them over who was at fault. To please her, he had even thought of buying and bringing home some of her favorite delicacies! When she learned he was seeing Miss Su, she had changed her attitude and began making nasty remarks. On the other hand, Hsiao-ch’eng had never cared much for him to begin with. Helping Hsiao-ch’eng with his studies seemed to mean acting as his ghost writer. Hsiao-ch’eng wanted to bring all his classwork home for him to do, and if he refused, Hsiao-ch’eng resented him for it. Besides, the little rascal liked to meddle in other people’s business. Fortunately, every precaution had been taken, and none of the letters had fallen into Hsiao-ch’eng’s hands. Why, of course! it must have been the T’angs’ chauffeur coming for the letters this morning that had aroused Mrs. Chou’s suspicions. But she didn’t have to get so upset over that! It really made one wonder! Well, let it be, then! When his luck was rotten, it was rotten to the core, rotten all the way through. Yesterday he had been jilted by his sweetheart; today he was thrown out by his father-in-law. Being jilted followed by losing his job, or rather, losing his job because of being jilted. A true case of “skinning the nose while falling on the back!” or “Good luck never comes in pairs, while misfortune always takes a company.”
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