Hard Like Water

by Yan Lianke

  I felt that the woman in the photograph looked very familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on who she was. I couldn’t believe she might be someone famous. If she in fact was someone well-known, then who would be bold enough to write that line on the photograph? I stared at that photograph and at that “My beloved wife!” inscription, then excitedly handed the photograph to Hongmei.

  Hongmei glanced at the photograph, whereupon that solemn, unforgettable moment we had both been waiting for suddenly came to pass. We heard some footsteps outside the doorway. These footsteps were neither urgent not leisurely but warm and rhythmical, resonating in an unforgettable manner outside the window. We knew this must be Secretary Guan returning from his meeting, which meant that the historical moment of decision—which would determine whether we would be appointed revolutionary successors in town or revolutionary helmsmen in the county seat—had finally arrived. The crucial conversation—which would determine whether we would rocket to prominence or need to laboriously climb the ladder step-by-step—had finally arrived. Hongmei and I looked at one another and then simultaneously stood up from our couches just as Secretary Guan appeared in the doorway. As I mentioned, he was thin, dark-skinned, gray-haired, and bright-eyed, and was wearing an old military uniform. In short, he looked just as we had expected (though we were curious about his relationship to the female soldier in the photograph). When he entered, he looked at us radiantly, then gestured and said, “Sit, please, sit! Have some tea!”

  (He was so kind and affable! But what was his relationship with the female soldier in the photograph?)

  As Secretary Guan was gesturing for us to have a seat and drink some tea, he pulled over a chair and proceeded to engage us in conversation for about three minutes:

  “I have inspected your dossiers, which aren’t bad at all. The revolution needs more people like you.

  “Do you realize the significance of your discovery and revelations regarding Wang Zhenhai? The provincial-level officials have taken great interest in this matter, and even the central leadership has offered written comments. This was a terrifying time bomb hidden beneath socialism’s collective body, and if you hadn’t discovered it then, at some point it would have detonated, blowing a black hole in socialism’s blue sky.

  “Little Gao, my comrades in the prefectural Party committee organizational bureau want to assign you to a county-level position, and we can discuss whether this would be as county head or as county Party committee secretary. The heavier the burden, the more this would be a test put to you by the Party organization. But there is no need to worry, because as long as you work fearlessly, and as long as you master the relevant routes and Party guidelines, you’ll definitely persevere.”

  Secretary Guan turned to Hongmei and continued:

  “Little Xia, during the past four years that I’ve been working in the district, I’ve rarely encountered such an enlightened female revolutionary as yourself, particularly in the countryside. You and little Gao are very unusual youth cadres—young and with great promise and a boundless future. As for whether you’ll be appointed director of the county-level women’s association or deputy county head, let’s decide that after further consideration. Of course, even if you are appointed director of the women’s association, you’ll still be a member of the county Party committee, a deputy county-level position.”

  Finally, upon receiving our delirious expressions of gratitude and our assurances that we would definitely make good on the education and cultivation we received from the upper-level organization, Secretary Guan stood up and, in a deep, hoarse, yet powerful voice, said, “My other meeting hasn’t yet concluded. Why don’t you first go to the guesthouse, and this afternoon we’ll find time to discuss all this in more detail.” He looked at us and added, with a smile, “I know your respective household situations. Each of you has experienced a family tragedy, but neither of you permitted your will to be crushed by those setbacks. You are truly a rare couple, and if you harbor comradely affection and revolutionary love for one another, then I, in my capacity as Party secretary of the prefectural Party committee, would be very happy to serve as your matchmaker. The only condition is that after the marriage, you wouldn’t be able to remain in the same work unit, and instead one of you must be reassigned to work in either the county or district seat. This is a Party regulation. The Communist Party doesn’t permit people engaged in revolutionary work to open mom-and-pop stores.”

  Finally, Secretary Guan affectionately shook our hands, walked us out of his office, and arranged for someone to escort us to the county committee guesthouse.

  3. Shadows under the Sun

  Like flower buds yearning for a spring breeze, like parched earth longing for water, like petrels waiting for a storm, and like floodwaters waiting for the sluice gates to open, we settled into our respective rooms in the guesthouse and waited for our worker escort to leave. But he seemed to understand that Hongmei and I were future county leaders and, therefore, kept solicitously showing me where the towels and soap were and reminding me that when I finished the drinking water in my thermos bottle, I should call to him and he would refill it. He explained which of the switches over the bed controlled the wall lamp, which controlled the ceiling lamp, and which controlled the radio. (There was even a radio in the room, meaning that we could pipe in revolutionary songs and music whenever we wanted!)

  The worker was both thoughtful and garrulous, helpful and annoying. After he finally left, I immediately turned on the radio above the bed, and music from a revolutionary model opera was piped into the room. Then I headed over to Hongmei’s room, but when I entered the hallway I ran into Hongmei, who at that moment was on her way to my room. When she saw me, she uttered the very same words that I had planned to say to her: “Aijun, above my bed there’s a radio that is currently playing the revolutionary model opera Taking Tiger Mountain by Strategy.”

  I replied, “Come to my room. The cabinet above my bed also has a radio.”

  We returned to my room.

  When we arrived, we locked the door, pulled the blinds, turned on the radio, and proceeded to strip naked. Neither of us said another word, nor did we make a single gesture to each other, and instead, silently and crazily, we proceeded to do that thing.

  We did that thing to celebrate our success and our happiness. We did that thing to calm our excitement and enthusiasm. We did that thing to deepen our comradely affection and our revolutionary love for one another.

  As I was doing that thing to the rhythm of the music playing over the radio, I had assumed that Hongmei would scream passionately, or perhaps would turn pale and faint, sweat streaming down her face. In the end, however, she didn’t scream and she didn’t faint. Instead, she stared affectionately at me and caressed my face with both hands, whereupon she suddenly began to cry, tears pouring like a waterfall down onto the pillow. I was startled by the sound of her crying. When I saw her tears, I was afraid I had injured her, so I slowed down and wiped away her tears.

  I asked, “What’s wrong?”

  She caressed my face even more affectionately and replied, “Nothing.”

  I said, “You’re crying, and now your pillow is completely soaked.”

  She said, “Aijun, we are worth it, the revolution is worth it, and even death itself is worth it.”

  I pushed a strand of tear-soaked hair behind her ear.

  “So, that’s why you’re crying?”

  She said, “I remembered what happened in the past, and my belated fear made me cry.”

  I said, “What are you afraid of? We have our ideals and our ambitions. We dare to struggle, and in an instant we transitioned from low-level figures to county-level officials. As long as we work, work, work, and as long as we pursue revolution, revolution, revolution, we’ll surely be able to attain a full county-level, deputy district-level, full district-level, deputy provincial-level, or even a full provincial-level position. We’ll be able to advance from the position of peasants to high-level cadres, and after
we become high-level cadres, what will our past deeds amount to? For revolution there must be sacrifice, and heaven itself doesn’t even know the things you and I know. So, what are you worried about?”

  Because we were discussing a very serious topic, because her tears were pouring out even more dramatically than before, and because her sudden sorrow had stanched my ardor, our passion dissipated like smoke. I gazed at her with endless regret. Ashamed, she said, “Aijun, this is all my fault.” I turned off the radio and replied, “It’s OK. Now that we have this radio, we can do that thing whenever we want.” As I was saying this, she got dressed, folded the blanket, and straightened the sheets. Then she turned over the tear-soaked pillowcase and placed it back on the pillow. Finally, she opened the window, so that the early spring light could pour in, bathing the room in bright light as though it were a revolutionary’s heart.

  By this point it was already noon, and there were golden specks of dust flying around in the sunrays shining into our room. In the sunlight, the portrait of Chairman Mao and the image from the model opera The Red Lantern that were hanging on the wall appeared dazzling and indistinct. Looking out the window, we could see the evergreens in the guesthouse courtyard, and in this early spring period their needles were either tender green or black. These trees had all been carefully trimmed such that they were low and square. When I looked more carefully, I noticed that they had been planted in the shape of the Chinese character for “loyalty.” I said to Hongmei, “Look, Secretary Guan asked me to consider accepting a position in the county seat, and I think that after becoming county head or Party secretary, the first thing I’ll do will be to plant a garden at every intersection in the county seat, and in each garden I’ll arrange pine trees and cypresses in the shape of the character for ‘loyalty.’” Hongmei straightened up the bed and walked over and looked out at that green character. She remarked that the character for “loyalty” was too monotonous, and asked why they couldn’t have arranged the trees to form the phrases “Three Loyalties” and “Four Boundlessnesses.” I asked how many trees that would require and how large of a garden? Hongmei reflected for a moment, then smiled and rested her hands on my shoulder. She said, “Not only will we pursue revolution and develop our understanding of agriculture, we will also master forestry, water conservancy, and rural animal husbandry. In mastering forestry, you should find a hillside and plant trees so that they spell out the phrase ‘Long Live Chairman Mao.’ That way, the phrase will be legible to people located dozens of li away and even to those flying overhead in airplanes. As a result, we’ll become famous throughout the nation, and people will come from Beijing and make a documentary about this incident, which will then be screened around the country.”

  Intrigued by this idea, I turned and grasped Hongmei’s face with both hands. I saw that there were wrinkles around her eyes, which pierced my heart like needles. She noticed my sudden change of expression and asked, in an anxious and aggrieved tone, “Do I look old?” I replied, “People may age, but heaven never will. If heaven could experience emotion, however, it too would age.” She said, “Will you still like me when I’m old?” I said, “We are a revolutionary couple, and when we are together there will be revolution, regardless of our age or beauty. As long as the revolution hasn’t yet concluded, the love we feel for each other will persist.” I don’t know whether or not she was satisfied with this reply, but I do know that she didn’t respond. Instead, she silently sat back down on the edge of the bed. In order to reassure her, I pulled over a chair and sat down beside her. Grasping her hand in mine, I said, “Do you want to be director of the women’s federation, or deputy county head? Being deputy county head definitely sounds better, but you would have to follow the orders of the county head. Being director of the women’s federation might not sound quite as good, but you would be in complete control of the federation.”

  She let me grasp her hand, like a warm and soft bird sleeping in its nest. She gazed thirstily at my face and my mouth, even as the corners of her own mouth continued to twitch. “I know you want to be appointed county Party committee secretary and that you don’t want to be county head. The Chinese Communist Party directs the core power of our national enterprise. The Party directs everything, even the army. Therefore, if you want to be Party secretary, guess what I want to be? I want to be deputy county head and director of the women’s federation. After we are properly married, I hope the day will come when you’ll be assigned to the district, and you will have me be county head or Party secretary.”

  I said, “How could that be?”

  She said, “Why couldn’t it?”

  I said, “Would Secretary Guan agree to this?”

  She said, “Not only should we have Secretary Guan serve as a matchmaker when we get married, we should also invite him to be our children’s godfather.”

  I released her hand and said, “Are you like an imposter trying to imitate the great hegemon-king Xiang Yu?”

  She laughed. “Do you think that wouldn’t be possible?” She wiped her hand—which I had squeezed so hard that it was soaked in sweat—on the bed. Then her eyes became even brighter, and she gazed at me as though looking at her younger brother. She said, “From when I was young, I knew that the Red Liberation Army soldiers in the county cadre’s sanatorium were fond of adopting godsons and goddaughters. If you and I get married, and Secretary Guan serves as the matchmaker, we will have a special relationship with him. With this special relationship, we’ll be able to periodically visit him in his home, and furthermore, we’ll be able to let Hongsheng, Honghua, and Tao’er call Secretary Guan ‘Grandfather’ and call his wife ‘Grandmother.’ We could ask where Secretary Guan’s family is from, and if they are from the south, then whenever we visit we could take them some chili peppers and pickled vegetables, but we would make sure not to take them anything valuable. If they are from the north, then we could take them some rice or red dates. Our children would sweetly address them as ‘Grandmother’ and ‘Grandfather,’ so how could they not recognize them as their godchildren? After Secretary Guan recognizes our children as his godchildren, how could he not permit us to work together? How could he not let me be appointed both deputy county head and director of the women’s federation? And even if he appoints you as county head and not Party secretary, why wouldn’t you be able to be reappointed whenever you wanted to serve as Party secretary?” (My soul and my flesh, my revolutionary lover and wife!)

  Hongmei’s comments left me speechless, as though a student had stepped in for a teacher and solved an age-old riddle. Infatuated, I stared at her mouth, her face, her hair, and her shoulders, and after a while I suddenly grasped both of her hands, as though grasping a couple of birds that had just flown away. I said, “I believe Secretary Guan is a northerner. If he is from the northeast, whenever we visit we should take him yam jelly and cold noodles. If he’s from Shan-dong, we should take him chives and fried pancakes. If he’s from Shaanxi, we should take him rice and sorghum. And if he’s from Shanxi, we should take him some aged vinegar.”

  During that time before lunch, we sat in our room in the guesthouse, planning out our revolutionary work, our careers and our futures, our marriage and our family, our relationship and our friendship. We had already decided to wait patiently until the announcement of our appointments and our marriage, whereupon we would use a “double happiness” marriage scroll outside our door to add a bright smile to our brilliant lives, so our revolutionary ship could set off at full sail toward a destination where the brilliant sun shines down on people who are ascending to heaven at high speed. It would be best if we (or I) left the county seat and proceeded to the district seat between the age of thirty-three and thirty-five, to be appointed district-level deputy commissioner or mayor of the city of Jiudu.

  At that moment, at that instant, the director of the guesthouse came to invite us to come eat.

  The food was, of course, of the highest quality, given that the guesthouse was treating us as though I were already the
newly appointed county head. All sorts of exquisite dishes were arranged on the table in front of us—including rice and vegetables, broiled fish, stewed chicken, ribs, salted duck, and meatball soup. In the end, however, the only person who came to join us was Director Liu from the prefectural Party committee’s organizational bureau. It had originally been agreed that the county’s political leaders would all attend, and Secretary Guan would introduce us to them, in the style of a piece of “internal information,” so that we could familiarize ourselves as quickly as possible with each department’s leaders and their responsibilities. In the end, however, Secretary Guan didn’t come, and neither did the county’s political leaders. Instead, the only people present in the county committee guesthouse dining hall—with its four tables overflowing with food—were Director Liu, Hongmei, and myself. In retrospect, it occurred to me that the earthquake of our revolutionary enterprise had already begun to develop, and the previously firm ground on which we stood had already begun to sway. However, at the time, we were blinded by our own success, and our vision of the revolution’s brilliant future obscured the enormous tragedy that had already begun to unfold.