Massage

by Bi Feiyu

  The friendship blossomed, and in a very short time they were talking about everything under the sun. And yet Du Hong held back when it came to revealing her most private thoughts. She said nothing about Sha Fuming. That is the last thing she could reveal to Gao Wei. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Gao; it was just that, to her, a different pair of eyes came with a different mouth. The blind and the sighted exist on different levels, and maintaining a distance between them can preserve a friendship.

  Du Hong was not the only one whom Gao Wei treated with kindness; to be fair, she was nice to all the blind therapists. Her issues were with the centre’s sighted employees: two receptionists – herself and Du Li – two staff members, who were also called assistants – Xiao Tang and Xiao Song – and the cook, Jin da-jie. Gao Wei and Du Li did not get along, hadn’t from the very beginning. Jin da-jie, a distant relative of Zhang Zongqi, was better connected than the others, and Du Li had got her job because of her. Unaware of that connection at first, Gao Wei came on a bit too strong, because she had completed two years of high school, while Du had not even finished junior high. By the time she had a fallout with Du Li and learned of the connection, she had already seriously offended Jin da-jie. Who was Jin da-jie? She was the one who controlled everyone’s meal at the centre; more of one thing, less of another, and the days were not the same. That was why Xiao Tang and Xiao Song tried hard to butter her up, which made things difficult for Gao. Life is hard for an intellectual.

  In the broadest terms, there were two groups at the therapy centre, the blind and the sighted, and they managed to get along quite well. If it had to be said which side had the edge, then it would be the blind, who had a profession, were skilled and were paid better. The sighted, on the other hand, played supporting roles, the helpers. Generally speaking, neither side meddled in the affairs of the other. They worked well together, though different, water from the well and water from the river, one safe and secure beneath the surface, the other gushing along on top.

  Gao Wei got along fine with the other sighted employees at first, but a meting out of punishment caused a rift between her and Du Li. One night, Du Li was scheduled to be on duty and asked Gao to switch with her so she could take care of some personal business. Gao agreed. Unfortunately, she carelessly forgot to turn off the air-conditioning in room six that night. The following morning, Sha Fuming and Zhang Zongqi determined that Gao Wei was responsible for the air-conditioning running all night and fined her ten yuan, an unjust outcome, in her view. To make matters worse, Du Li never paid back the shift she owed.

  Did Du Li never make a mistake? In fact, she made far more mistakes than Gao Wei. The reception desk was the scene of most mistakes. Couldn’t there be minor discrepancies in the accounts. Wasn’t it inevitable that a client’s name might be entered incorrectly? Wasn’t it unpreventable that a client would lodge a complaint because of the receptionist’s tone of voice? Wasn’t it likely that a receptionist might occasionally doze off? Could it happen that a receptionist forgot to turn off the lights or air conditioner before leaving at night? Everyone makes mistakes. Running the reception desk at the Sha Zongqi tuina centre was a high-risk job. At other therapy centres, the receptionist could make a little extra by opportune client assignments, but not at the Sha Zongqi tuina centre, whose bosses had both worked in the trade and knew all the tricks. A wrong move could cost a receptionist her job.

  Gao Wei’s and Du Li’s mistakes were dealt with differently. When Du Li made a mistake, she was punished privately. But not Gao Wei, for whom there would be a meeting every time she did something wrong. Meetings terrified her. There was something special about them. While there were only so many employees, only so many mouths at the centre, everything changed at a meeting. Everyday conversational tone was abandoned, as the people took pains to speak standard Mandarin and to reach a consensus. A meeting was called, agreement was reached, the results were announced. Everyone else was right – Gao Wei was the daughter of a whore and deserved to be taken out and shot. She felt she was always walking on eggshells.

  Given how hard things were for her at the centre, Gao Wei had thought of leaving, but it was just a thought, because she found it difficult to admit defeat; she had attended high school, and it would be a huge loss of face if she could not outsmart a junior high student. So she forced herself to stay, a believer in the adage that after thirty years of floating eastwards, the river will turn and flow westwards. One must always take the long view, and as time passes, life can get better. One mustn’t hurry things along.

  When had Sha Fuming fallen in love with Du Hong? There had been no prior indications. Du Hong was a beauty, Gao Wei knew that. But Sha Fuming could not see, so why would he care what she looked like? Gao gave this plenty of thought, without coming up with an answer. No matter. At least she discovered that the blind also care about appearance. And that made things easy. We’ll see what happens the next time Sha Fuming calls a meeting. She was well aware that Sha was a smart man. If a smart man wants to win over a woman, he cannot overlook her confidante. One’s appearance is manifested in people’s tongues.

  Gao Wei treated Du Hong like royalty and was totally selfless. She expected nothing in return. She had only one goal in mind, and that was for everyone to see that she and Du Hong were best friends. Then, when Boss Sha and Du Hong finally got together, she could be his most trusted ally. Meetings? Go ahead, have them. Sometimes they’re useful, sometimes not. That’s how it goes.

  In contrast to Gao Wei’s selflessness, Du Hong wanted to repay Gao for her friendship. She went overboard to make known the fact that she and Gao Wei were friends. It was a safety measure to ward off hidden dangers. She didn’t know when or from where Sha Fuming’s desire would rage towards her. Only one end of sugar cane is sweet. If letting his desire rage was what the boss had in mind, that secured her job; but she had to face the dangers of that desire. Now she had Gao Wei, and she was safe. Gao Wei had eyes that could see. Sha Fuming had to be cognisant of that fact. Gao Wei’s eyes were Du Hong’s sun in the day and her moon at night. If he dared to make a move, and Gao Wei’s eyes were the switch, bam, the desire would disperse.

  One day at noon, Du Hong and Ji Tingting went to the supermarket and asked Gao Wei to come along as their guide. They held hands, two blind girls and their sighted companion. Gao Wei was on her best behaviour, mainly by not talking too much. Normally, when a blind person is with a sighted one, low self-esteem keeps the blind person quiet; they rarely speak. But things were different now; as the two blind girls kept up a conversation on the way, Gao held her tongue, which was so unusual and commendable that even Ji noticed. She said to Du Hong later that night, ‘Gao Wei’s okay. She doesn’t talk much.’ Du Hong thought about it and had to agree. On the following morning, Du Hong got out her key and went to her lounge locker, from which she took out two chocolate wafers before locking it and going to the front desk, where she ate one of the wafers and gave the other one to Gao. Gao Wei knew that the blind therapists rarely exchanged gifts, which added special significance to Du’s gesture. Cheerfully putting the wafer into her mouth, Gao began to goof around with Du Hong for the first time. Grabbing her ponytail from behind, she gave it a gentle tug and turned the girl’s face upwards. Du smiled at the ceiling. This girl is a real beauty; a smile like that could win many hearts. Boss Sha fell for her, but what does he know? He knows nothing. Her visible charms are wasted. What a shame.

  Gao Wei finally got up the nerve to start giving Du Hong special favours with her appointments, so brazenly that the sensitive blind therapists detected the difference almost immediately. When word reached Du Li, who was direct by nature, she had a fit. But, lacking proof, she dodged the issue of favouritism and turned her attention to the three-wheeler issue, bringing it up at the beginning of the next meeting. ‘Who does the three-wheeler belong to?’ she asked. ‘The centre or some individual? Do centre rules mean anything?’ she demanded.

  What was left unspoken was obvious. A hush fell over the loun
ge. Not a sound. They were expecting Gao Wei to say something. She didn’t. She was waiting. She knew that Boss Sha would speak up. He did, he talked about professional matters, specifically youthful anorexia, focusing on the parents of those children, asking if they are willing to treat the condition pharmaceutically. The answer was no. The best way to deal with anorexia was physiotherapy. Kneading the stomach area relaxed the stomach. It was a new area, one awaiting development.

  From there he elevated the tenor of his talk. He spoke of humanism, the most important element of which is compassion. He quickly raised the issue of ‘mutual assistance’ to the lofty notion of ‘spiritual civilisation’. He was quite serious, but maintained a tone of affability. He did not bring up the three-wheeler, but he did offer everyone his conclusion. ‘People working together in the same unit should help each other out, and that is worth promoting.’ He followed that with a question: ‘Should we hold to the old rules?’ He answered it himself: ‘The good ones, yes. The bad ones need to be changed. Reform is nothing but continuity and change. Even the central government suggests that reform is carried out like groping at the rocks to cross a river. So what reason do we blind people have not to do the same?’

  Du Li sneered. She didn’t say it, but she inwardly cursed Sha for the crap that had come out of his mouth. Continue what? Change what? You’re just flapping your lips. Du Li stole a look at Gao Wei, who was not looking at her. What was there to see on her face? Gao Wei was surprised to hear a connection between her action and the central government, something she could never have imagined. She was unworthy of such a comparison. Still, she could not help but be nervous.

  Xiao Kong, who was sitting on the sofa, felt extremely unhappy. She didn’t care who rode in the three-wheeler, but she could not tolerate any collusion between a tuina therapist and the front desk. Back in Shenzhen she’d been victimised by people at the reception desk and had no good thoughts for them. But what particularly upset her was any therapist who buttered up a receptionist. How can they demean themselves like that? It’s a huge slap in the face of the disabled. Du Hong is a force to be reckoned with. You’ve sewn up a solid relationship with a receptionist. No wonder you’re doing so well. Gao Wei’s helping you out. Now I get it.

  Xiao Kong did not easily hold her tongue. She and Tingting were on the same shift, and Xiao Kong could not keep it in. ‘Damn,’ she said. ‘There are ass-kissers no matter where you go!’ It sounded vague, but was suggestive. Xiao Kong was well aware that Ji Tingting and Du Hong were good friends, and she wanted to know what Tingting would say.

  But before another word was spoken, Wang Daifu heard the comment as he was walking down the hallway. He coughed. Ji Tingting smiled and coughed back, as a reply both to Wang and to Xiao Kong. Not responding to Xiao Kong’s complaint, Tingting teased her instead. ‘Wang Daifu is so nice, Xiao Kong, he’s too good for you. Can I have him?’

  Disappointed at not getting the answer she wanted, Xiao Kong returned with her own teasing. ‘No you can’t. But if you want, you can be his number two, and I’ll treat you nicely.’

  Ji’s client laughed. He was a return client, and knew her well. ‘Congratulations, Ji Daifu,’ he said. ‘You’re a concubine now.’

  Without a word, Ji quietly reached under the client’s buttock and, with her left thumb, pressed down hard on the weizhong acupoint, such a sore spot that the client yelped.

  ‘Concubine, my foot!’ Ji said. ‘I’m the grand aunt.’

  That night Du Li dropped a bombshell in front of everyone. Du Hong wasn’t kissing ass. What was gained by kissing Gao Wei’s ass? Was it worth the effort? The real ass-kisser was Gao Wei. She wasn’t kissing Du Hong’s ass; she was kissing the ass of the future boss lady.

  Du Li was not making this up. More and more indications showed that Boss Sha had fallen in love. A man who placed such importance on face, he made a fool of himself when Du Hong was around. That was bad enough, but he made a fool of himself around Gao Wei too. He wore a goofy smile when he talked to her. Everyone could hear it. Love is toxic. Anyone in love is a fool. Boss Sha, you’re finished. You’re done.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Zhang Zongqi

  OUTSIDERS, OR THE NEW arrivals, often mistakenly assumed that Sha Fuming was the sole owner of the tuina centre. That was not the case. There were, from the beginning, two bosses. If only one were to be picked, then it would have to be Zhang Zongqi, not Sha Fuming.

  In contrast to Sha, an extrovert and a show-off who was articulate and talkative, Zhang behaved more like a blind man. His blindness was most severe. When he was a year old, he had lost his eyesight during a botched medical procedure. On the surface, he was considered blinded after birth, but where visual memory was concerned, it made more sense to consider him having been born blind. On the other hand, even if he’d had perfect eyesight, he could not easily have changed his introverted and reserved nature, which he seemed to have further magnified. He was extremely reticent, borderline autistic, for he hardly ever spoke. Put differently, he never said anything superfluous; whatever he said had to reflect how things should be, and he would rather not say anything if a word from him could not change or determine the outcome of a matter.

  As one of the bosses, Sha Fuming rarely took clients, since his responsibility at the centre was day-to-day management. He walked around checking things, the clients’ perfect image of a boss. Zhang was different; he was a boss and a tuina therapist, never giving up on working with clients. This meant that he had two incomes, one the year-end bonus, which was the same as Sha’s, the other from the therapy work, fifteen yuan an hour, nearly the same as Wang Daifu’s. With an aversion to being idle, Zhang always found something to do, even when taking a break in the lounge – reading, for instance. His favourite book was Dream of the Red Chamber, with the two characters he liked the most. One was Lin Daiyu, whose brows were described as ‘frowning but not quite, as if shrouded in misty smoke’, and whose ‘eyes, filled with emotion, seemed to be happy but not quite’. Lin was blind to reality; she was smart and she was clever, but she saw nothing, and she could not even control her own destiny, which was a pity. The other person Zhang liked was Jiao Da, a rough-hewn man, totally lacking in literary qualities, but who knew everything. It made no difference which branch of the family, the Rongguo or the Ningguo, nothing escaped his attention. He even spotted his daughter-in-law’s frantic footprints in the doorway.

  Sha Fuming liked to do things in a big way; he loved the style of being a boss, and since he was fond of acting like one, he was the boss, something Zhang was happy to concede. Zhang liked things one way, Sha the other way, and that made everything easy. Since each got what he wanted, they were both happy. Unlike Sha, who was overambitious and unrealistic, Zhang was more practical, with eyes only for actual profits. He would never let his hands go idle simply because of the empty title of a boss; he considered himself to be an employee. Only when he and Sha sat down face to face was he a boss, the boss’s boss, that is to say, but never the domineering type. Since Sha made most of the decisions, it would not be unseemly for Zhang to share his views on some matters; besides, they were friends to begin with. His understated style turned out to be more effective, and in any case, he was invariably meticulous when it came to important matters. One thing Zhang was sure of was that, since he was not directly involved in management, he could not easily offend the others; yet his opinions were usually treated as guidelines during votes. He suffered no loss of power and had two sources of income. Not bad. All he wanted was for the centre to run smoothly and stay in operation.

  But the centre stopped running smoothly. The disturbance came out of nowhere.

  It was lunchtime. Jin da-jie walked into the lounge with a pot of soup. That was her routine: soup first, followed by the rice and other food. The employees ate out of identical lunch boxes, which she filled with food in the dorm, then carried over to the lounge and handed out one by one.

  ‘Lunchtime,’ she called out while distributing the boxes.
‘Lunch is ready. We’re having mutton today.’

  Zhang Zongqi knew it was mutton from the smell the moment Jin da-jie had walked in. He loved mutton, mostly because of the unique gamy smell. Many people were given to showing off their hometown by saying that the mutton in their village had no gamy smell. That struck Zhang as utter nonsense. How could they call it mutton if it wasn’t gamy? If it’s not gamy, could it deserve to be sold at places where they palm off dog meat as mutton? It was one of his favourite dishes, but he didn’t eat it as often as he’d have liked. The reason was simple: the tuina centre had rules stipulating that room and board was provided for all employees. If the bosses wanted to bring in more money, the employees’ palates would have to suffer. Since bosses and employees ate together, controlling one controlled all. Dining on mutton was a rarity.

  Taking the lunch box from Jin da-jie, Zhang opened it and let his nose savour the fragrance. That is how you treat good food. Instead of digging in, you must enjoy the aroma until you can’t hold out any longer, and then slowly bring it up to your mouth. That’s what whetting the appetite means. The better the food, the greater the need to whet your appetite, and the more you whet your appetite, the better the food tastes in the end.

  But without warning, Gao Wei stood up and slammed her lunch box down on the table. It made a loud noise. ‘Hold on, everyone. I have something to say.’ She sounded hostile.

  Clueless, Zhang cocked his head and waited, a piece of mutton suspended in the air between his chopsticks.

  ‘I have three pieces of mutton in my lunch box. Count those in yours, Du Li, and tell us how many there are.’