by Sheng Keyi
‘Why don’t you dance?’ Youqing said to Xiaohong, waving to the men.
When the light from the dance floor flashed across Youqing’s face, Xiaohong suddenly saw on her earlobes a pair of green studs. Other than the colour, which she could not see very clearly, the earrings were just like those Julia Wilde had always worn, exactly the same size and style. The image of Julia in those studs leapt into Xiaohong’s mind.
‘Hey, Youqing, those earrings are really pretty! I like them.’ Xiaohong laid hold of Youqing. Moving in closer to look at the earrings, her fingers squeezed tightly on the other girl’s arm. When the lights flashed on them again, illuminating Youqing’s face, Xiaohong was almost certain that this was the same pair of green earrings.
‘I like them too,’ Youqing said, smiling happily.
‘Where’d you buy them? I’d like to get a pair,’ Xiaohong said casually.
Youqing, smiling sweetly, was invited to dance with one of the men. Xiaohong sat down slowly, her heart pounding. She was excited by the mystery, so excited she was filled with a sort of terror. It was as if she had just seen Julia Wilde herself walk into the party, making her hair stand on end and her skin crawl. She felt like she had seen a ghost. She suddenly began to tremble violently.
She looked through the crowd at Xia, who was weaving his way through the tables and chairs on his way out of the karaoke room.
II
Xiaohong tossed and turned on her bed for half an hour, trying to sleep. She suddenly felt something caressing her chest, then a wet tongue was dragged across her breast, licking and sucking on it. She had just begun to feel very comfortable when the licking and sucking turned into a pair of manly hands, poking, prodding and pinching with fingers hard as dead twigs. She felt the pain, and cursed angrily. Jolted into wakefulness, she heard the last of the cursing escape her mouth, ‘Fuck!’
She got up. Without bothering to turn on the light, by the dim glow from the window she flip-flopped in her bedroom slippers to the bathroom to relieve herself, listening to the splashing sound through her sleepy daze. She straightened up, rubbed her eyes, went back to the room and plopped down onto the bed again. Feeling her pyjamas were a bit tight, she tugged at the front, then the back, yanking at the fabric. As she pulled, she discovered that her breasts were swollen, as if her body were inflated. She probed her breasts and found that they were tender to the touch. She might as well bare her breasts, the way they were swelling, as if demanding to be released. They bounced a couple of times, like balls falling to the ground. She pressed them with both hands and felt they had grown. Inspecting them again, she did not find any lumps. They were as soft as they had always been. She took comfort in touching them for a moment and it occurred to her that the swelling might have been caused by ovulation. Putting the matter out of her mind, she went back to sleep.
The next morning when she was putting on her bra, she realised that she had not imagined the extent of the swelling. Practically speaking, her bra could not cover her breasts. The flesh spilled over the bounds of the garment. Like flowing oil, they refused to be bound. Xiaohong undressed and stared at the things she had been carrying for years. She could not understand why this cycle of ovulation was causing such a major change. She sat down again and examined them carefully. The flesh was white with the small blue lines of blood vessels showing through like earthworms crawling under the surface. She noticed that the nipples were redder than normal and that they stood up as if excited. The look was that of a balloon not fully blown up, with plenty of room left for expansion.
Xiaohong tossed the bra aside, picking up some loose-fitting clothes to put on. It did not cross her mind that, from now on, her breasts might only live without the confines of a bra. She walked slower than usual, so that the unfettered swing of those two fellows inside her clothes wouldn’t be too extreme. She felt like a woman suffering from engorged breasts, but without a child to nurse.
‘Wow, you’re not wearing a bra anymore. Fashionable.’ Youqing was not the first person to discover that Xiaohong had not worn a bra, but she was the first to announce it in shrill tones. Xiaohong had just plopped two scoops of rice into a bowl and handed it to Youqing. With the movements of her body, her breasts glided here and slid there, like bowling balls on a well-waxed alley. Laughing, Xiaohong scooped her own rice and went to sit with Youqing.
‘Where’d you buy those earrings? I really like them.’ Now out of the dance floor lighting, Xiaohong could clearly see the earrings Youqing was wearing. They were light green. She knew without a doubt that they were Julia’s.
‘My lover gave them to me. I’m sure you can’t buy them.’ Youqing’s arrogance reared its head again.
‘Which lover? Can I guess?’ Xiaohong sipped at her soup, only half-joking.
‘You’d never guess.’ Youqing smirked. Her hair was still the same as it had been at her party. Obviously she had not washed it since then.
‘Give me three guesses.’
‘What makes you think I’ve got three lovers?’
‘I only know of Xiao Yuan. So, can I guess?’
‘Sure. But if you don’t get it right, you have to eat four more scoops of rice.’
‘Xia Jifeng.’
‘What the hell?’ Surprised, Youqing denied it sharply.
‘Then it’s Xiao Yuan?’ Xiaohong said with a weak smile.
‘Non. Last chance.’
‘Or…. Xia Jifeng.’
‘Uh—!’ Youqing coughed as if she had swallowed a jar of pepper. She sputtered, her face turning red and her eyes beginning to water.
III
The peak season had passed and the powers that be had not notified Xiaohong to go back to the publicity department. The hospital seemed to have forgotten the matter. Xiaohong waited several days and, while she was waiting, received a telegram from her sister saying her father had died. Xiaohong, feeling that the world had turned black, took a week off work to go home for the funeral.
She called Liao from the train station and told him about Youqing’s earrings. She said that they were just like those Julia had often worn and that, since they had been a family heirloom, it was not possible to buy them in a market today. Perhaps this was a clue, she said. Liao replied enthusiastically, ‘We’ll investigate. If they really are Julia’s earrings, it’s certainly a very important clue that could be the key to the case.’
‘I’m at Guangzhou train station. My dad died. I’ve got to make a quick trip home.’ Xiaohong hung up, biting her lip. She fought to hold back the tears, her throat tight, and walked calmly through the crowd.
When she got home, her sister told her that their father had had an accident at the construction site. A heavy object had fallen on him and he had drawn his final breath on the way to the hospital.
As her sister spoke, she looked at Xiaohong’s chest with eyes that were red from crying. ‘Why’re they… like that?’ She noticed the unusually large breasts.
‘I don’t know. It’s like they get bigger by the day. They don’t hurt. I don’t feel anything at all.’
The shape of her sister’s worn-out bra was visible through her silky-thin blouse. She sighed, not knowing what to say.
The older sister pondered for a long time and finally added in a hesitating tone, ‘You’re already twenty. You shouldn’t still be developing.’
‘Alright, alright. Let them grow. Let’s see how big they want to get,’ Xiaohong answered irritably.
Thinking she had angered Xiaohong, her sister closed her mouth and silently stared at their father’s coffin on the other side of the room where the wake was being held. There were three photos of the household’s deceased. They were arranged in order, Grandfather’s first, then Grandmother’s then Father’s. Only Mother’s was missing. They wondered why her photo was not hung with the rest. They had never thought to ask their father while he was alive. He was the only one who knew the reason and now he would never be able to sit down and explain it all to them.
‘Have you started making pl
ans with your boyfriend yet?’ To her sister, Xiaohong was no longer young. After all, when she was Xiaohong’s age, she was already a wife and mother.
Xiaohong searched her mind for a moment, thinking through her relationships with the men who were close to her but she could not reach a satisfactory conclusion. She could not even think of one worth calling a boyfriend, so how could she make any plans? She wasn’t even sure what sort of plans she should be making. Maybe her sister had asked the wrong question. She should have just said, Have you slept with other men? That was a question with a clear answer.
Finally, she settled on an answer. ‘Jie Jie, when I decide to make plans, I’ll bring him here to meet you.’
Xiaohong was a little depressed. She suddenly felt her sister’s life was a happy one. Even though her brother-in-law liked to have his fun, the couple always slept side by side, quarrelled with one another, made love and worked together in the fields.
A clucking sound bubbled over. A hen that had just laid an egg hopped out from the coop, proudly singing. It strutted about the empty ground with its head held high. It greeted the sun and the sun dropped the colours of youth upon it. Recalling for Xiaohong the warmth of her grandmother’s lap, it shone onto the canopy that sheltered her father’s wake. Tears began to fall, streaming down her cheeks.
‘Don’t cry. Save your tears for the funeral procession.’
The voice was that of the bearded Jin Haishu. He pulled a hemp rope over the coffin, preparing to carry it out of the hall where the wake had been held. The veins on his arms protruded with the heroic level of effort it required. About thirty-five, Jin had been a soldier for ten years. After his demobilisation, he had returned to the village and entered the ranks of the cadres. He was a powerful man, in a position of authority. Practically every woman in the village idolised him.
Jin’s words did not seem to be coloured with emotion but Xiaohong heard in them the concern of the village leaders. Her tears seemed to shut off like a tap. She looked at Jin and he averted his gaze from her bust. He caught her eye and smiled vaguely, his longing turning to affection. A dizzy feeling flowed from Xiaohong’s mind to her chest, making several rounds of her body’s private places and giving rise to warm fluids.
‘When you were little, I used to carry you,’ Jin said.
Xiaohong did not answer, picturing in her mind the image of Jin holding her.
‘I’d often pick you up with one hand, or throw you into the air. You’d laugh so sweetly. Ah, and here you are now, all grown up in the blink of an eye.’ When he said ‘grown up’ his eyes fell to Xiaohong’s chest, as if to indicate the growth of her breasts.
Xiaohong looked at his big hands but didn’t say anything.
‘What day is my dad’s funeral procession?’ she asked, suddenly thinking of it.
‘Tomorrow. If there are still other relatives we need to wait for, we can hold off until the day after tomorrow. Tonight, we’ll keep vigil.’
‘I’ll stay up.’
‘You should.’
IV
As Specs was leaving the newspaper office, he felt he was like a ball, bouncing rhythmically and reaching a great height.
A newspaper reporter had prepared an interview concerning Sijiang’s situation. He hoped that, when the report appeared, it would stir up public interest and build some momentum, finally resulting in a wave of public opinion that would help Sijiang reach a favourable outcome to her case.
When the reporter came to their flat, Sijiang did not want to speak to him, feeling that sacrificing that much of her privacy would be unbearably embarrassing. She was even more reluctant to reveal her real name. She evaded him for some time, while the reporter emphasised over and over that by making her name known publicly, she would get better compensation. Sijiang began, reluctantly, to answer the reporter’s questions. When he asked her about how she felt after the surgery, she wept as desolately as if facing her own father with this news. She cried until her throat was raw. Gasping, she answered, ‘I wanted to die. I desperately wanted to die. If it hadn’t been for him standing beside me every minute, every second…’ She could say no more. She stopped, burying her face in her hands.
‘Go on, let it out.’ As she cried, Specs reached over and patted her back, as if doing so would speed up the grieving process. The reporter, turning his attention to Specs, asked how they’d met and fallen in love. He sighed a lot, recognising the sincere feelings of stress expressed by Specs.
‘Simple working class folk with such a deeply moving love story. It’s the paper’s obligation to report this. It’s our duty to spread light and love. People everywhere need to know the truth.’
Even the reporter seemed to be moved nearly to tears. He looked back over his notes, thinking carefully, afraid of missing anything and considering whether there was any additional little nugget he could dig out.
Specs smiled humbly, as if to say that it was a small thing. If you love someone, isn’t this how it should be?
As the conversation between Specs and the reporter went on, Sijiang gradually stopped crying. It was like she was stepping into a role. Perhaps it was as the reporter had said and she was indeed the heroine in this love story. She no longer felt it was a stigma. Her eyes brightened and she found the courage to face the reporter.
‘You can’t have children. What do you plan to do?’ the reporter asked, turning first to Sijiang, then to Specs.
‘We’ll adopt,’ Specs said.
‘It’ll be just like having our own,’ Sijiang added. The reporter looked from one face to the other, feeling they looked pretty unconcerned, considering all that had happened. He nodded as he took a glance around at the environment, looking just a little envious of their love nest.
As the reporter was leaving, Specs seized the opportunity to ask him a question. ‘How much do you think is appropriate for us to claim?’
The reporter turned back and thought a moment before replying. ‘I’ve never seen a situation like this before, but I’d say sixty or eighty thousand should be possible. Of course, there are some things that cannot be compensated.’
‘Well, we’ll settle for eighty thousand, then, and we won’t stop till we get it,’ Sijiang said to Specs after the reporter had gone.
She suddenly found that Specs had a cigarette in his mouth, and he was acting like he knew just what he was doing with it. She didn’t know where it had come from. She cried sharply, ‘You smoke? How come I didn’t know?’
‘It’s not mine. That reporter gave it to me just now. Seems a pity to waste it. Can you find a match for me? I’m going to smoke it,’ he said.
‘Don’t. It’s addictive.’
‘How will I get addicted? I’m going to smoke this one. You afraid I’m going to smoke us into the poorhouse? Silly girl. Wait till we get our eighty thousand. We won’t be poor then. By the way, what do you want to do once we’ve got it?’ Specs seemed to have all sorts of plans, as if he already had the cash in his hand. He dragged on the cigarette like an old pro.
‘I’ll go to beauty school. I want to open a salon. There should be plenty for a salon. Then we’ll rent a nicer flat too, save some money, and buy a place later.’ Sijiang’s calculations were always very down to earth.
Specs released a smoky breath, not quite agreeing with Sijiang’s plan. He inhaled so deeply that his eyebrows wrinkled up and his eyes narrowed to a thin line. His Adam’s apple moved up and down, as if swallowing a word. Catching a glimmer of hope in his face, she began to initiate some affectionate intimacy with him but he was not particularly interested. He held the cigarette butt, dragging on it desperately. Even when it had burned nearly all the way down, he still put it fearlessly to his lips. Sijiang took it and tossed it to the floor, placing her own mouth to his. Specs sat passively, like a woman waiting to be stirred to the point of excitement, numbly waiting for the feeling to find him.
V
Dr Lei had been looking haggard recently. With the peak season of surgeries over, he seemed on the ver
ge of mental collapse. In fact, it was quite odd to see him like this. The other doctors had been through the same peak season and none of them were showing signs of collapse. As head honcho, he could have easily taken some time off. All the doctors who met him would say, ‘Dr Lei, you’re overworked! Take a few days off!’
It was as if all the work had been done by him, all those tubes cut by his own hand. Dr Lei would just put a smile on his hairless face and say, ‘Everyone’s in the same boat. We’re all overworked.’
Three days after Xiaohong had left, a new girl of twenty-two or -three was promoted to the publicity department. Xia helped her clear out Xiaohong’s desk, putting everything from the drawers into a pile and laying it aside. The girl sat on Xiaohong’s chair. Rolling it back and forth over the floor a couple of times, she said to Xia, ‘I don’t like these moving chairs.’
‘Then we’ll buy one that doesn’t roll,’ he said.
‘I don’t like the desk facing the door,’ she said, still not satisfied.
‘Then we’ll move it,’ Xia said and immediately got to work moving it.
When Liao and his partner entered the door of the publicity department, they heard the sound of desks being dragged across the floor. Liao knocked on Dr Lei’s door. The chairman was sitting in his large boardroom-style chair with his eyes closed. When the two armed police officers came in, Dr Lei stood up hurriedly, nearly sweeping his mug off the table as he did so.
‘What do you need… can I help you?’ He started to pour tea for them.
Liao held out a hand to stop him. ‘Sorry to trouble you. We need you to find Yu Youqing for us. We need her help in our investigation of a case,’ he said.
‘Yu Youqing? The lab technician? Oh, well, wait a moment.’
He picked up the phone and called the lab. ‘Ask Yu Youqing to come to my office, please.’