Fortress Besieged

by Qian Zhongshu

  The look that passed between husband and wife deepened in meaning. Tun-weng grew solemn and said, “Then, you’ve been—you’ve been what they call ‘jilted.’ Well, that’s not worth letting yourself go to pieces for! You have a long life ahead of you.”

  Tun-weng not only forgave but pitied his son for having suffered humiliation at the hands of a woman.

  Hung-chien felt even more uncomfortable. True, he had been “jilted”—the word sounded awkward and unnatural on his father’s tongue—but not by Su Wen-wan. His parents’ sympathy was misdirected. It was as though one had suffered a wound in the flesh only to have the sympathizer dress and bandage a perfectly healthy part instead. Should he tell them about Miss T’ang? They would never understand, and his father might even take up his brush and directly propose to Miss T’ang on his behalf. He was quite capable of doing something ludicrous like that. Hung-chien spouted some nonsense to cover up, then showed his father the telegram.

  As Hung-chien expected, the business with Mrs. Chou was forgotten. His father said that this job at last was something worthy of a returned student, much better than eking out a living as a petty bank clerk. “Though P’ing-ch’eng is a little remote,” his father went on, “the Fangs should have someone in the unoccupied interior, so I can keep in touch with the people there. When you go to the interior, you can tell the appropriate authorities about my activities since my home area fell to the Japanese.” After a pause, Tun-weng said, “In the future you should send me a third of your monthly salary. It’s not that I want your money, but it’s to instill in you a sense of responsibility toward your parents. Your two brothers both help out with the family expenses.”

  At the dinner table that evening Mr. and Mrs. Fang clearly sided with their son, criticizing the Chous for being so petty and intolerant that they had to find some excuse to chase Hung-chien out. “Businessmen are always the same. They see that we Fangs have lost our influence. Well, we’ve no need for relatives who are such stingy, snobbish parvenus as that.”

  Hung-chien’s parents settled it that Hung-chien would return to the Chous that evening and pack his bags. The next day Mrs. Fang would go inquire after Mrs. Chou’s health, thanking her on Hung-chien’s behalf for all her trouble. This would make it easier for them to get the bags away.

  After dinner, Hung-chien didn’t feel like going straight over to the Chous, so he went by himself to a movie. When the movie was over, he waited until he thought that Manager Chou and his wife had gone to bed before he finally strolled back. Entering his bedroom, he noticed on his desk Hsiao-ch’eng’s English grammar textbook with a note stuck between the pages: “Brother Hung-chien, I can’t wait for you any longer. I have to go to bed. Please do grammar exercises nos. 34 and 38 as fast as you can. Also there’s a Chinese composition on any topic. Just write two hundred words on something. If you could do three hundred, that’d be even better. Just any which way, don’t make it too good. It has to be handed in tomorrow. Thank you very much.”17 Beside the book was a large plate of loquat seeds which Hsiao-ch’eng had evidently eaten to pass the time while waiting for him. With a snort Hung-chien packed his bags, then lay down and dozed for a while. Early the next morning he left the Chous.

  Mrs. Chou had actually regretted everything that same afternoon. Having tasted the hollowness of victory, she was merely waiting for Hung-chien to come meekly back and apologize and then she would rescind all her orders. When she discovered the next morning that Hung-chien had left without saying goodbye, and her son was jumping and cursing about, wanting to skip school for the day, she was so infuriated she began muttering incessantly. When Mrs. Fang arrived, she nearly found herself an actress in an impromptu performance of “Cursing Relatives.” At lunchtime a messenger from the Golden Touch Bank delivered Hung-chien’s salary for four months to the Fangs. Fang Tun-weng accepted the money for his son.

  Fang Hung-chien’s life at home was quite boring. Every day he wrote letters for his father, copied prescriptions, and whenever he had a spare moment took a walk. Each time he left the house he was always secretly hoping that on the street, in a rickshaw, or in front of a movie theater he would accidentally run into Miss T’ang. And what if he did? Sometimes he imagined himself proud and aloof, staring through her as though she weren’t there, making it unbearable for her. At other times he pictured himself smiling serenely and being exasperatingly courteous toward her, while she herself completely lost her composure. Sometimes his imaginative powers took even greater leaps, and he saw himself walking arm in arm with someone more beautiful than Miss T’ang, when suddenly he found himself face to face with Miss T’ang, who still had no boy friend. But if Miss T’ang were to show the slightest sign of hurt or disappointment, he would immediately drop the other girl and reconcile with Miss T’ang. The Miss T’ang of his imagination sometimes chided him for being “cruel,” and other times she suppressed her feelings and turned her face away to hide the tears on her eyelashes.

  After he had been home for nearly ten days and the Dragon Boat Festival18 had come and gone with still no word from San Lü University, he began to worry. One day early in the morning a special messenger came with a letter from Chao Hsin-mei. The letter said that the day before Chao Hsin-mei had gone to the Golden Touch Bank to see him but had not found him there. If he were free this afternoon, could he please drop by after four for a chat? Hsin-mei had something important to tell him, adding, “What happened before grew out of a misunderstanding. I hope you will not take it to heart.” Strangest of all Hsin-mei called himself “Hung-chien’s lovemate.” After he had read the letter, he was greatly perplexed. Since Chao Hsin-mei was now engaged to Miss Su, what would Hsin-mei want with him? Hsin-mei certainly wouldn’t be asking him to be best man at their wedding.

  Shortly afterwards the newspaper came, and Third Daughter-in-law immediately grabbed it and began reading. Suddenly she asked, “Your girl friend’s name is Su Wen-wan, isn’t it?”

  Aware that she was watching his face with great interest, Hung-chien hoped he wouldn’t blush. In confusion, he asked her why. She pointed to an announcement in the newspaper for him to read. The announcement, placed by Su Hung-yeh and Ts’ao Yüan-chen, was intended to inform the readers that the daughter of Mr. Su and the brother of Mr. Ts’ao had on that day become engaged. Hung-chien was so astonished that he could not suppress a cry. This must be that “something important” Chao Hsin-mei had referred to in the letter. If Su Wen-wan could marry Ts’ao Yüan-lang, then there was really no limit to the stupidity of women. What a pity for Chao Hsin-mei!

  What Hung-chien didn’t know was that after accepting Ts’ao Yüan-lang’s proposal, Miss Su had said, “Poor Hsin-mei. He’s going to complain about how cruel I am.”

  In his great joy the poet Ts’ao’s usually minute understanding of the female psyche was completely forgotten, and he blurted out, “Don’t worry about that. He’ll find someone else. I hope everyone can be as happy as I, and I wish him quick success in romance.”

  When Miss Su’s face fell and she grew quiet, Ts’ao Yüan-lang realized his mistake. Having always concentrated on new-style poetry, he had never noticed the two lines from Yüan Wei-chih’s poem:

  He who has seen a great ocean cannot content himself with a pond.

  Having viewed the clouds over Wu Mountain, he will call nothing else a cloud.19

  Ts’ao was filled with remorse. Miss Su of course felt that anyone who had once fancied her could not easily be attracted to another woman. While she wasn’t marrying Chao Hsin-mei, subconsciously, perhaps, she expected him to remain celibate and wait patiently for Ts’ao Yüan-lang to die, so he could step in and fill his place.

  Ts’ao Yüan-lang hurried home and wrote a love poem to send to Miss Su, first to commemorate the happy occasion and second to make up for his blunder. The general idea of the poem, other than condemning the evils of private property, was that he shared his mind and body with Miss Su. Being so ardent in his emotions and having made a few extra trips into the intense
heat of the summer sun, he had developed two small sores on his head, and on his face a layer of pimples had broken out. All these of course he also shared with Miss Su.

  At exactly five o’clock, Fang Hung-chien found the Western-style apartment20 house where Chao Hsin-mei lived. Even before he entered the apartment complex, he could hear the radios of several apartments in the building blaring out the popular tune, “The Love Song of Spring.” The air was ripped to pieces by the shrill voice of the universally acclaimed Chinese female movie star:

  Spring, spring, oh why has it not come?

  The flowers in my heart already are in bloom!

  Oh, my love—

  The logical conclusion to this was of course that before summer came her body had already borne fruit. There was a turgidity in the sharpness of the star’s sweet voice, which seemed for the most part like something blown out from the nose—greasy, sticky, and soft, the characteristics of mucus, the main product of the nose. But it must have been at least as long as the nose in order to hold that endless, whining sound.

  He walked up to the door of the Chaos’ apartment on the second floor. The song was playing inside there too. As he pressed the bell, he thought, Hell! Listening to a song like that is like looking at pornographic books or pictures. It’s a sign of intellectual backwardness and mental abnormality. He had never expected Chao Hsin-mei to sink so low after being jilted! The maid opened the door, took his name card, and went inside. The radio was turned off.

  The maid came out and invited him into the small sitting room, which was exquisitely furnished and had several large framed pictures on the walls. Among them was a large photograph of Chao Hsin-mei’s late father, a large photograph of Chao Hsin-mei in his master’s gown with his diploma in his hand, and an autographed picture of Chao Hsin-mei’s American professor. In a group picture of the Summer Conference of Returned Students from America, Chao Hsin-mei was seated on the ground in the front row. In order to make it easier for the viewer to pick him out, he had marked a cross on the top of his head in red ink, which was also on the torso of the person standing behind him, making it look as though that person had performed Japanese harakiri on him. Most striking of all was a long, narrow color photograph of Miss Su with a stick in her hand herding a flock of sheep. She had a kerchief tied around her head and was dressed like a shepherdess in a classic, romantic, rustic setting. Unfortunately she did not seem to be wholly occupied with tending the sheep but was looking out of the picture frame and smiling slyly at the viewer. The two lines of inscription on the edge of the picture indicated that it was taken in the French countryside where Miss Su had gone to escape the summer heat. She had had the picture enlarged and given it to Hsin-mei after returning from abroad. In spite of himself Hung-chien felt a slight twinge of jealousy. Miss Su had never shown him this fine photograph. Besides these photographs of the principal relationships—including family, teachers, friends, and women—there was a poem and a painting both written especially for Hsin-mei. The poem was by Tung Hsieh-ch’üan written in the Nine-palace calligraphy style:21

  Still lacking a Mandarin duck society,

  Not noisy from geese and duck neighbors.

  My good friend Hsin-mei,

  Unmarried at thirty

  Like the Man of Tao in Li Tung-ch’üan’s poem.22

  He moved and asked for a few lines,

  So in fun I wrote these to clutter his wall.

  The painting, by Mrs. Tung Hsieh-ch’üan, was inscribed, “A hut in the zone of human habitation.”23 Hung-chien was just about to take a closer look when Hsin-mei came out, his clothes, thrown on in haste, remained unbuttoned. It was hot, and perhaps he may have been feeling a little embarrassed, for his face was as red as a tomato.

  Hung-chien said quickly, “I’d like to take off my clothes. Do I have your permission?”

  Hsin-mei said, “By all means.”

  The maid took their clothes out to hang up and brought in some tea and cigarettes. Hsin-mei told her to go fetch some cool refreshments. Hung-chien admired the elegance of his apartment and asked how many people were in his family. Hsin-mei replied that there were only his mother, himself, and three servants, while his brother and sister-in-law lived in Tientsin. Eyeing Hung-chien he said solicitously, “Hung-chien, you’ve lost a lot of weight.”

  With a wan smile Hung-chien replied, “It’s all from getting sick that day you made me drunk.”

  “Please, don’t bring all that up again!” exclaimed Hsin-mei hurriedly. “We wouldn’t have known each other if we hadn’t had a fight. We’ll be together for a long time later on, so we should try to be good friends. Tell me, when did you find out that Miss Su was in love with Ts’ao Yüan-lang?”

  “I just learned about it this morning when I read her engagement announcement in the newspaper.”

  “Oh”—Hsin-mei’s voice revealed satisfaction—“I found out three days ago this morning. She told me herself and even consoled me with lots of kind words. But I still don’t know what sort of guy that Ts’ao fellow is.”

  “Well, I’ve met him before, but I never thought Miss Su would go for him. I thought for sure she’d marry you.”

  “Don’t you know it! And I thought for sure she’d marry you. Who’d have thought there was this Ts’ao fellow! That girl sure is something. We were both taken for a ride. Objectively speaking, I admire her for it. But enough of that. We’re now co-sufferers and we will be co-workers in the future.”

  “What? You mean you’re going to San Lü University too?”

  Thereupon Hsin-mei opened up and explained the whole affair from beginning to end. San Lü University had just been founded this year. Kao Sung-nien was a former professor of his. Originally Kao had asked him to head the political science department, but he had not wanted to leave Miss Su. Then he suddenly remembered hearing her say that Hung-chien was anxious to find a position with a national university, so he sent a telegram to recommend Hung-chien to Kao, hoping to get Miss Su away from Hung-chien. But Kao wasn’t willing to let him go and instead sent one telegram after another asking him to come. Three days ago he had received his walking papers from Miss Su and had wired his acceptance as soon as he left her house. In the last letter Kao asked him to have Hung-chien send a resumé and said that there were others in Shanghai who had also accepted jobs at San Lü University. Kao wanted him to arrange for all of them to set off together, and would forward the traveling expenses and itinerary to him.

  All was now clear to Hung-chien. He said, “I have to thank you for finding me a job.”

  “Not at all!” said Hsin-mei. “People in the same boat should help each other.”

  “I forgot to ask you. In your letter you called me ‘lovemate.’ What do you mean by that?”

  Hsin-mei said with a grin, “That’s something Tung Hsieh-ch’üan thought up. He says people who study under the same teacher are called classmates, and people who go to the same school are called schoolmates, so people who are in love with the same girl should be called ‘lovemates.’”

  Hung-chien burst out laughing and said, “That’s very clever. Unfortunately your lovemate is Ts’ao Yüan-lang, not me.”

  “You’re being too dishonest!” exclaimed Hsin-mei. “We’re fellow sufferers now. I’ve been jilted and so have you. You needn’t put on a front or try to save face around me. Don’t tell me you aren’t in love with Miss Su?”

  “I’m not in love with her. I’m a fellow sufferer but not with the same person.”

  “Then who jilted you? Can you tell me?”

  The secret could be kept no longer. “Miss T’ang,” said Hung-chien dejectedly in a low voice.

  “T’ang Hsiao-fu! You have good taste, all right! How stupid of me.”

  At first, when it seemed that Hsin-mei and Hung-chien had both suffered the same misfortune, Hsin-mei had tried his best to outdo his friend in his expression of pain and misery, not daring to let Hung-chien alone get a name for being brokenhearted. Now that he realized he and Hung-chien were not
in each other’s way, his attitude toward Hung-chien changed considerably, and his voice recovered its usual resonance. He made Hung-chien wait while he called up Tung Hsieh-ch’üan to ask him over. The three of them went out for dinner together.

  Hsieh-ch’üan knew all about Hsin-mei’s being jilted. After dinner they began discussing Miss Su’s engagement to Ts’ao Yüan-lang. Hsin-mei remarked magnanimously, “It’s for the best. They have similar interests. Both have studied poetry.”

  Hung-chien and Hsieh-ch’üan disagreed, maintaining that people in the same line of work were least suited for each other. Both being experts, neither one could dupe the other. The husband would not boundlessly worship his wife, and the wife would not blindly worship her husband. So the marriage would not have a firm foundation.

  Smiling, Hsin-mei said, “There’s no point telling me all that. I just hope they’ll be happy.”

  They said Hsin-mei was so serene and even-tempered that he could be a saint. The saint laughed and said nothing. Then after a long pause he took out his pipe and with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, said, “Ts’ao Yüan-lang will at least have Miss Su to read his stuff, and Miss Su will at least have Ts’ao Yüan-lang to read hers. Neither will lack a reader, so won’t that work out nicely?”

  They laughed and said Hsin-mei was no saint yet but would still do as a friend. Hung-chien no longer felt lonely after this, and the three of them often got together.

  Three weeks later Hsin-mei invited his new colleagues to a teahouse for breakfast, so that everyone could get acquainted. There were three others besides Hung-chien. The chairman of the Chinese Literature Department, Li Mei-t’ing, an old colleague of Kao Sung-nien, was in his forties. He had on a pair of dark glasses and looked haughty, paying little attention to anyone and showing a contemptuous disregard for the weather as well, for though it was mid-June, he still wore a black wool Western-style jacket. Hsin-mei asked him to take it off, but he adamantly refused, so Hsin-mei perspired for him. His white shirt looked like it had a case of yellow fever. Another, Ku Er-chien, a distant relative of Kao Sung-nien, had apparently never dreamed of being offered a position as associate professor in the History Department, and his happiness overflowed onto the whole table like boiling water. He was particularly courteous to Messrs. Chao and Li. He was a wizened man of nearly fifty, who had the sweet innocent air of a young girl. His smile was a good thirty years younger than his face and was made especially bright and dazzling by two gold front teeth. Miss Sun Jou-chia was the daughter of a senior colleague of Hsin-mei’s at the newspaper office. She had just graduated from college, and being young and ambitious, she did not want to stay in Shanghai. Her father had asked Hsin-mei to get her a job as a teaching assistant in the Department of Foreign Languages. She had a long face with slightly freckled cheeks, which resembled the color of aged ivory. Her eyes were too wide set, giving her a perpetual look of astonishment. She was dressed very plainly and was too shy to utter a word, but her face flushed in successive gushes. When she came into the teahouse, she greeted Hsin-mei as “Uncle Chao.”24 Hsin-mei quickly asked her not to address him in that manner. Hung-chien smiled to himself.