by A. Yi
“Everybody gets married sooner or later. I’ve had my eye on that young man for six months,” Mother said one day. It was already decided, but Mother pretended she was discussing it with her. Of course, when she showed slight hesitation, Mother scolded her loudly. “You know what, a lot of people are introducing girls to him. Who do you think you are?” Later, Mother took her to the county police chief’s house. There was sitting a fair-skinned young man who worked in the township government and whose father was the vice-secretary of the county Political and Legal Affairs Committee.
After the elders left, he kept his head down, rubbing his hands. Zhu Dan said, “I recognize you.”
“How?”
“I just do.”
Leaving, she heard the police chief ask the other in a low voice, “What do you think?”
“I have no objections. It depends on her.”
Soon they got engaged. Trying on her wedding dress, Zhu Dan showed unusual satisfaction with herself as a woman. In front of the mirror, she turned this way and that, over and over. “What do you think?” Mother asked. She suddenly bowed her head, weeping.
“Not satisfied?”
“No.”
“Then why the tears?”
“Happy tears maybe.” Zhu Dan gave an ugly smile. Mother did some more sleuthing afterward and was sure Daughter was satisfied. But as the wedding banquet approached things suddenly changed. Zhu Dan went numb. It became a shadow weighing on the hearts of the two families. A few months after the wedding, unable to tolerate it any more, Mother-in-law came to the Zhu house in a rage and said to Mother: “I know you’re a tough woman. But I have to say this today. There’s something wrong with Dandan.”
“What could possibly be wrong with her?”
“She won’t have marital relations.”
Mother shouted that it wasn’t possible but felt completely crushed. “If Father passing away made Dandan sad we understand, but she can’t be sad so long. If it’s that Dandan despises Xiaopeng, we won’t be ashamed. I won’t tell anyone, but if it continues, they’d better separate, better sooner than later,” Mother-in-law said. Mother thought of the misfortune that affected two generations of women in her own family, fearing frigidness could be passed down. After she married the good Zhu Qingmo, they had marital relations no more than three times a year, all at his constant requesting and pleading. The first time she pushed and shoved, almost breaking his penis.
When Zhu Dan came home Mother said: “All women have to do it. It’s women’s fate.” Zhu Dan lowered her head, scooped food. Mother went on with uncharacteristic sorrow: “Just lie there and let the man poke, be good.”
“I know.”
“Take it, and it’s over.”
Later, after talking with Mother-in-law, Mother knew that Daughter vomited every time after marital relations – even once in bed. Though Mother-in-law said no more, Mother felt utterly disgraced. Mother frightened and coaxed daughter, studied A Must-Read For Newlyweds with her, made her eat cistanche and placenta, but there were no obvious results. Mother felt helpless and turned to a confidant for help. It so happened this sister-in-law, who seemed concerned when she was listening, rapturously told others about it afterward. Soon the whole town knew. Unable to stand the looks, Zhu Dan’s husband, Chen Xiaopeng, had an affair with an intern at the agricultural school. Though the evidence was unequivocal, and the circumstances awful, Zhu Dan and Mother dared not make a scene. But the girl came to the Zhu house and called them out. Mother went and slapped her three times and got pushed to the ground. Mother called the police chief to take the girl away and lock her up a good 24 hours.
As it turned out, Mother was right to choose this husband for Zhu Dan. Though he never enjoyed a single night with her and was constantly urged to get a divorce, he guarded their marriage like a gentleman. During holidays he would come to the Zhu house, one arm full of presents, the other holding Zhu Dan’s hand. He went with the Zhus to worship their ancestors and sided with the family on many things. In public he was agreeable. People had seen so many men who turned their noses up at them. Because he was powerful but unpretentious, they were unusually friendly with him. While Mother liked him at first sight, she found her own son, Zhu Wei, a disappointment. And she continued to regard him with great affection. Mother was grateful he attended to the interests of the two families rather than his own.
When Zhu Dan gave birth to a baby boy, Mother was relieved. Being 1.57 meters tall and 40 kg, giving birth to a six-pound three-ounce son for the Chens nearly depleted her – it was enough wasn’t it? Mother-in-law had been concerned about male heirs, not sex. Since she had gotten one, the family, off balance, attained balance, even more balance than families who love each other from the start. The three women reached a tacit understanding that as long as Chen Xiaopeng didn’t bring a woman home, everything was good. They arranged among themselves roles and responsibilities for the newborn:
Mom, Grandma, Grandma;
breastfeeding, changing diapers, putting him to sleep.
But once the breastfeeding period was over, Zhu Dan went numb again, not only numb but also scared. Sometimes, she would suddenly become possessed in her seat, pressing her breasts, panting, forehead breaking out in sweat. “What’s the matter with you, Dandan?” Zhu Dan stood up, grabbing a bag to go. “What are you doing?” Mother asked.
“Going home.”
“Isn’t this your home?”
She suddenly stopped.
“What’s this about?”
“I am going to die,” she said irritably, then added, “I won’t die. It’s just I felt a bit unwell all of a sudden.”
This symptom came every few days, or a few times a day. Mother asked questions but found nothing. She got insomnia and thought she heard the sound of a man pacing upstairs. He went back and forth a few times, then the sound stopped. Mother thought there was nothing to be afraid of. She was a good person. So she felt her way upstairs. When she switched on the light on the landing, she didn’t see anyone in the attic. In the corner lay the furniture she and Zhu Qingmo bought when they were first married and a four-post bed.
“Old Zhu, Old Zhu,” she called several times, but no one responded.
Mother didn’t dare sleep, so she turned up the television, which disturbed her all night. The next day she hired a maid to live with her. When the fuzzy-lipped maid began to snore in the living room, Mother finally felt at ease. Later she took Zhu Dan to worship their ancestors’ graves and burn incense in the temple. Though the stomping never came back, Daughter’s panic continued.
Once, Daughter seemed to make up her mind and walked into the kitchen mumbling to herself. Mother asked: “What are you doing here, Dandan?” She went numb again and shook her head violently.
“Why’d you come to the kitchen?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t be afraid, Dandan. If there’s something bothering you, tell Mom.” Mother’s tone softened. Zhu Dan tossed a pained look at her, and dropped her gaze. “Don’t be afraid, child. Just tell me. Whatever it is, I won’t blame you.” But Zhu Dan just walked back to the living room. Mother turned off the gas stove, walked over, uncharacteristically took Daughter’s hand and said: “How can I get you cured if you don’t speak. If there’s a disease, we cure the disease. If it’s in the body, we cure the body. If it’s in the heart, we cure the heart. Every woman has a disease of one kind or another. You’re not the only one.”
“It’s fine. I mean, I even gave birth to a child.”
“Right, even gave birth to a child. This means you have no problems.”
“Even got the next generation.”
“That’s right. Don’t think too much. The more you think, the more you can’t think straight.”
Mother said no more. Later she went to Mother-in-law, and Mother-in-law found Chen Xiaopeng, and said to him, “Don’t fool around anymore. You�
�re disgracing us.” Mother said, “Don’t blame Xiaopeng. They’re husband and wife. Husband and wife should look after each other.”
“I know.”
Chen Xiaopeng was a passable husband ever since, or at least appeared to be. He saw Zhu Dan off and picked her up, put his arm around her shoulders at night. But the latter did not improve at all. She took Alprazolam and Prozac, but she just didn’t seem to get any better.
Then one day, Mother took her to the provincial capital to see a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist said: “Breathe deeply.” Zhu Dan breathed deeply a few minutes, and sure enough felt dizzy, unsteady.
“Do you feel like you’re dying?”
“Yes.”
“Afraid of dying?”
“Yes.”
“Before you die, do one thing for me. Put your hands behind your back, squat down, and jump forward.”
Zhu Dan was a bit confused. Mother said: “He asked you, so do it.” Zhu Dan put her hands behind her back, squatted down, and stiffly took a small leap forward like a frog. This made the psychiatrist laugh out loud. He said: “Do you think someone dying could still long jump? Have you seen it?” Mother joined in the laughter. Zhu Dan looked at Mother and laughed too. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” the psychiatrist said.
“Right, she’s always been skittish. Doctor, please give us some medicine,” Mother said.
“Hell no. I’m telling you, the problem with your daughter is that she keeps implicating herself. When she feels uncomfortable, for example short of breath, a tight chest – these are such common things – she immediately thinks they are signs of death then gets panicked. The more panicked she gets the more she feels she might die soon, if not why such panic? Dying my ass, can dying people long jump?”
Mother thought this over a few days; when she saw Zhu Dan she’d viciously say: “Dying my ass.” Daughter would immediately bow her head. This only worked a couple of weeks. Sometimes walking and seeing no one was around, Zhu Dan would hunch over and take a leap. Gradually this became compulsive.
* * *
As her condition continued pain turned into boredom, boredom into numbness, slowly becoming a constant part of life. Only on the day of her retirement, seeing the bleakness in everything, Mother suddenly realized that Daughter had grown old more completely than herself. She hadn’t noticed the changes from one day to the next. But that day it was like she hadn’t seen her in years. She was astounded to see a woman in her thirties with hair like snow-covered coal, so gray.
“Why don’t you dye it?”
“It turns black at first. When the roots show up, they’ll still be white and uglier.”
You’ve still got a long time to live, Mother thought and started to follow Daughter. Daughter never looked around and swung her arms like a goose as she walked in silence. Mother was a bit disgusted. When she fell off a bike the first time she was learning to ride it, Daughter never rode a bike again. Other women rode electric scooters on the street. She was the only one walking, unable to carry anything with her, like an illiterate person. In the morning Daughter walked from home to work; at noon from work to her parents’ home; at dusk from work to home. She paid no attention to anyone, and no one paid attention to her. Nobody knew what had been torturing her, or who.
Just let her be. One day Mother realized her following would be noticed sooner or later, so she walked back. She walked and wept then sat down on concrete stairs by the road, watching the bustle pass before her. These, those, the going, the coming, the joyful, the sorrowful would all be gone in a hundred years. She was in a daze for a long while then she glimpsed Daughter zip by in a taxi. She hesitated for a moment, then as if propelled by something, stumbled down to the road and grabbed a taxi. If Daughter was out on business she would have had a company car at her disposal. Mother called Daughter’s office. As expected her colleague said she had left for her parents’ house, which was in the opposite direction.
The car drove out of town, covered six, seven kilometers of paved road, turned onto a country road, drove through a big rapeseed field, bamboo grove, and pond, and arrived at a village called Erfangliu. She looked around and saw cottages in tight rows with tiled facades and aluminum window frames, three or four stories tall. The one Daughter went so familiarly into only had one story, gray brick walls and an old tiled roof. Daughter went through the gate as if dissolving into a black hole. Five or six minutes later she came out followed by an old couple. The old woman, short, smiling, regarded Daughter with sincerity. The old man was scrawny. All that was left of him was a big, dark-yellow face with the eyebrows, nostrils, and corners of the mouth pressed firmly down. He put his big left hand on the old woman’s shoulder, straining to haul his right leg over the threshold.
“Dad, Mom, no need to see me off. Get some rest.”
The old woman turned around and said, “Old man, Little Zhu is saying goodbye to you.” Daughter walked up, took his paralyzed right hand, called him Dad, whispered softly. His face of tightly welded scrap iron suddenly relaxed and gave a wholehearted smile. “All right, all right,” he said.
At noon Mother sat at the dining table and watched Daughter go upstairs. Like a mime, Daughter changed into slippers, put down her bag, went to the toilet, washed her hands, prepared vegetables, washed rice, and straightened up the tea table. She didn’t ask Mother why she hadn’t cooked, nor did she want to know where Maid was. How many years has she been lying to me? Mother thought. A tinge of terror flashed in her heart, but she sat still, face grim. Eventually Daughter gave a frightened look.
“Put the bowl down,” Mother said.
Daughter’s body shuddered. Then she heard Mother say, “Give that to me.” She regarded the feather duster on the tea table with terror and confusion then passed it to her. Mother pointed at her and said, “Tell me, what have you been doing these years?”
“Haven’t done anything.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why did you call that strokey old man Dad?”
“I didn’t.”
Mother swung the duster down at her, but she dodged it. “Kneel.” Daughter moved around the table, hands on its edge, seemingly about to cry. “Kneel, you shit. I’m telling you to kneel.” Daughter did not obey. Mother held up the duster and chased her around. Just then Zhu Wei returned, said: “Why are you trying to hit her? All you’ve done since we were kids is hit us. Haven’t you hit us enough? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” Then Mother said: “Ask her. Ask her if she has another man on the side.”
“I don’t.”
“You don’t?” Mother swung the duster down again, which Daughter took with her head up. Mother didn’t hit her again, just saw daughter’s nose twitching, weeping and sniffling as she grabbed her bag to leave. Mother grabbed her, and said: “You’re not going anywhere. Come clean now. If you don’t come clean ’cause you’d rather die then die here.” Daughter couldn’t break free, angrily said, “Isn’t it all because of you?”
That was how Mother realized she had broken up a loving couple years ago. She thought she had just given Daughter a warning, but it had unintentionally broken them up. She once lectured Daughter for no apparent reason: “You have to think it through when you’re in love. You only have one life, which like money, if spent on an impulse, is gone for good. You tend to be rash, and like sweet talk. Just remember if you’re not careful with your life, your life won’t be kind to you.” Later Zhu Dan’s cousins brought men home, each elegantly dressed and polite. “Look at them, either wealthy or have parents who are officials, an honor to have them,” Mother said.
Zhu Dan thought Mother already knew. For three years, she’d been in a secret relationship with a classmate. After he retired from the army, he came to work in his relative’s battery factory as director of sales. Though people called him Director Liu, which sounded nice, he was, in the end, a rural resident. “But regar
dless it was my own choice. I decided. I couldn’t have no feelings,” Zhu Dan said. “Now I think if I’d stayed with him things would be a bit harder but better than now. Now I’m not a human or a ghost.”
“Why didn’t you say this back then?”
“How could I?”
“You just try to go against me in everything. Think about it. If I died, didn’t exist, didn’t interfere, would you still want him? Would you be willing to spend your whole life with a man like that?”
“At least it’d be better than now.”
Zhu Wei interrupted: “I understand what you’re thinking, Dandan. But the ruling party is always at a disadvantage. Once the opposing party takes power, you understand it’s even worse than the predecessor. Politics is not reliable, neither are men. I don’t think you could have stayed with that man.”
“It’s not like that,” Zhu Dan said.
That was how they learned about the terrible night Zhu Dan had gone through. Only two weeks before her wedding. Mother was on business, Father took the chance to travel and accompanied her. Big Brother was in the hospital taking care of his wife. She was left alone in their big new house. Like a rabbit she locked the door as soon as she got home and tried to reassure herself that her boyfriend Liu Guohua had no idea about her upcoming wedding. But the latter heard about it at a party. “Your woman took engagement photos with some other guy.”
The looks put a lot of pressure on Liu Guohua, driving him to do something reckless. “Let it go,” a friend said.
“Whatever.”
He grabbed a Mongolian blade and headed for the Zhu house. Rumor had it that people at the party all panicked. Apart from one, who thought it over and called the police, the rest fled home on their motorcycles. The officer on duty said: “Verbal threats aren’t considered crimes.”