by Anchee Min
The other is Tang Nah's. It is sealed, waiting to be mailed. She feels the burn inside her. She can't think further. She has to open the letter and she does. She tears the seal, her hands trembling. I am greatly interested, she reads, for love like this is unusual and rare. His charm, again lavishing his knowledge and wisdom. He gives compliments to the girl using phrases he once used on Lan Ping. The words Lan Ping once held in her heart, depended on for strength and took as a weapon against her mother's ghost. Now as her eyes hit Tang Nah's elegant handwriting her breath stops.
I force myself to sit still and breathe. I leave him a note. I thank him for the opportunity to read the letters. I say things seem to be going very well. Now there is nothing to worry about anymore. Everything is falling into the right place. I couldn't be happier for him. I wish that I didn't so appreciate his handwriting, but unfortunately I do. It is beautiful.
Without telling a soul I go to the train station. I buy a ticket to Jinan. I don't know why I am running off to Jinan. My grandparents have died and I have long ago lost contact with my mother. But Jinan is my hometown and there is comfort in the idea. After I get off the train I head toward my grandparents' old house where I find a distant relative occupying the place, who doesn't recognize me. I decide to call her Aunt and I ask if I can stay for a while. She welcomes me.
I can't believe it when I receive a message from the manager of the town's only hotel. It is the third day. Tang Nah is waiting in the Railway Inn for me. I am surprised that he has found me. But I refuse to see him. He keeps begging, comes to the neighborhood, walks up and down the street and stands in front of the house. Finally my aunt invites him in.
He looks pale as if his blood has drained out of him. He says he needs to clarify something.
What's the point? We're finished. We can't change ourselves.
He yells loudly, almost screaming, I knew I would not be able to fight fate the moment I met you!
I fail to help myself. It is impossible to gather my thoughts. My will retreats but I manage to say, I won't go back.
He says fine, never mind. It is no problem.
The next morning, the hotel manager runs gasping up to our house. He looks like a man who has lost his soul. We can hardly make sense out of his words. Finally he gets me to understand that Tang Nah has overdosed himself with sleeping pills and is in the hospital.
I rush to his bedside. I call his name. He opens his eyes, tries to force a smile and passes out again. I don't know what to say. After Tang Nah gets out of the hospital I bid my aunt good-bye and go back to Shanghai with him.
***
Lan Ping moves into Tang Nah's place. They make themselves believe that love will conquer all. While they put on their best behavior they are still on guard. When his body recovers and he wants to make love, she is unable to. He feels her rejection. Her body's coldness, its stiffness. He feels its dying. He weeps. He knows that they can't go on. He gets up and asks if she has forgiven him.
For what? The letters?
It was terrible, he repeats over and over. I was frustrated and drunk. It doesn't mean anything. I don't even know the girl. She could be a prostitute. I don't remember her at all.
He says he is destroying himself—that is who he is without her affection. She says, It is not up to me. My heart has its own way. You see how hard I try. You see I am forcing myself. But my body remembers the hurt. Again it is not up to me. One reaps what one sows.
He gets up and passes into the drawing room, which they share with other tenants. She lies in bed. She is not aware that he is leaving her a note.
She doesn't recall how long it took her to find the note. She followed him as one sleepwalker might follow another, tracing his steps along on the edge of a high roof. The shadow of their past, the ghost of their love must have dragged her. She discovers his note. It says that he is going to kill himself again. There is no other way, the note says. He has to go. That way he will free her from his trouble.
Show my note to the police, so they'll know that it is my own choice to end my life. You may pity me for I am unable to give up this love. Now, finally, you know the truth about me, you know that I am not strong enough for you.
She looks into the crowd, trying to locate him. Finally she sees him, running away from her. She races.
They are face to face. He is stared at by death. Yes, this is the look in his eyes. Stared at by death. She shakes him. He doesn't respond. The buses, bicycles, crowds pass by them. Scenes seem unreal. People, objects move, pull in and out. The suffocation. Slowly everything begins to freeze. The way death stills. She hears her heart's cry.
We will talk, she says.
They are coming down from the peak of their crisis. In Lan Ping it takes the form of fever. She lies in bed in his arms, shivering, collapsing. One moment she cries hysterically, sits up, punches the mattress with her fist. The next moment she passes out, unconscious. He tends her, in repentance. He feeds her porridge the way a mother would her infant. He is at her bedside every time she wakes. Sometimes it is at midnight. Three o'clock in the morning. She opens her eyes, sees him sleep, head over his folded arms, on a stool. In front of him, a bowl of porridge, still warm.
She weeps, doesn't know what to do with him and herself. She feels for him but cannot love a man who has lost his way. The image of the letters haunts her. She pities him, wants to love him back but can't break through the wall. It is impossible to see him in a new light. She can't erase what happened—can't even decide what troubles her most: his infidelity or his attempts to take his own life.
Yet another part of her fights this logic. There are reasons to revive their love. She is attracted to his stubbornness, his doglike loyalty. His willingness to die for her. The way he bluntly said that if love doesn't conquer, then it is not love. She is moved by his faith in love and his promise that he will never abandon her. She is sure there is no other man on earth who would do what Tang Nah does for her. She remembers the unhappiness of living without love. She is not sure which is worse.
They bury themselves in work. He becomes a freelance writer and she still hunts for roles in theater and film, but their loneliness grows. She doesn't want to find out about the girl who wrote the letter, and yet she can't let go. The girl preoccupies her thoughts—the ghost opens a kitchen in her mind and cooks. She can taste her in him sometimes. She is suspicious. She can't stand him touching her. She has lost her desire for him completely.
He goes out, spends evenings with his friends, doesn't stop drinking until he's drunk. In Dan and Junli he finds comfort and understanding. They have been trying to help him locate a staff position on a paper or magazine, but the editors reject him—his suicide attempt is now a household story. In their eyes Tang Nah has sacrificed his dignity.
Interestingly enough, on Lan Ping's part the story increases her popularity and helps her find work. She becomes involved in political low-budget movies produced by independent film-makers. She has had no luck getting roles in mainstream romantic-themed movies. She can't beat those moon-face and vase-body creatures. But the political films serve her well. There is less competition. The producers are unable to get the famous actresses so they turn to the starlets and even unknowns.
China, my country, matters more to me than my personal misfortune. The news of Japan's preparation for further invasion has filled the papers. To my distaste, the Shanghainese are not terribly affected. Seeking pleasure is forever the city's priority. Theaters are still packed for romantic movies. The audience's lives seem to require sucking on illusions. I resent those who play conscience-numbing doctors, those who offer opium-feeding tubes to the masses' brains. Many of them are Tang Nah's friends. Tang Nah hangs out with them to escape his own frustration. He has become a layabout.
Tang Nah no longer answers her challenge. He avoids her. Soon she discovers that he is having an affair again.
She finds herself too hurt to weep. She goes out and walks in the shadows of the streetlights. One night she stops at the
door of Zhang Min, the director of A Doll's House. She knocks. He is home and is surprised at her visit. She asks if she can come in. He opens the door, offers a chair, puts out drinks, tells her that his wife and daughter are away. She breaks down, sobbing, tells him her story. He has all the time and attention in the world for her. He has always adored her.
They drink, she feels better. She says she doesn't want to go home, says that there is no reason. He offers his arms. It is what she wanted. She is here for this. To be cared for.
She thought she would feel better afterwards. But it is not the case. She can't speak of it to herself. She gets up to go. Says it's time. He understands and goes to open the door. He helps her into the coat and hugs her good-bye. Ping, I want you to know that I will always be here for you.
7
WE ARE HEADING TO a group wedding ceremony. We are joined by two other couples, Dan and Lucy, Eryi and Lulu. Junli will act as our host. The witness is Tang Nah's lawyer friend, Mr. Sheng. Both Tang Nah and I hope that the ceremony will rescue our love. We are vegetables after a heavy frost. We need the warmth of the sun. The journey seems perfect. It is a soothing spring day. We ride a train from Shanghai to Hang-zhou. The place has been described by poets and travelers throughout history as the face of heaven.
They can't see the trouble-mountain because they are on it. The truth is that there is nothing left in their love. She has doubts, but chooses to believe in love, plus the bonus—Tang Nah has promised to convince Junli to cast her in his films. That is how she decides to go forward, on to the wedding ceremony.
Here is Junli. She presents herself to him again, performing her tricks. But in the end there are no results to her effort. She tries as hard as she can, so does Tang Nah. But Junli is not only unmoved but disgusted. If it weren't for Tang Nah, he wouldn't even look at Lan Ping. She takes it so personally that she feels a sense of disgrace. Her resentment is so great that thirty years later, during the Cultural Revolution, she orders the Red Guards to destroy Junli. Put him away so he won't spread rumors about her. Junli is beaten to death by the Red Guards and Madame Mao won't admit that it has anything to do with a personal grudge.
Junli's sympathy toward Tang Nah has spoiled everything. He disregards my expectations for Tang Nah. If it weren't for his lazy attitude, Tang Nah could be a much greater man than he is now. Junli and Dan would have come to beg me for Tang Nah's favor. I think it is selfish for Tang Nah to accept himself as a loser. His friends are selfish to stand by while his talent slides down the drain. They buy him drinks when he is depressed. Junli even holds special parties to cheer him up. He invites Tang Nah to stay at his house so that he can avoid me. Tang Nah calls Junli his soulmates. Once Tang Nah confessed things that Junli and Dan had said about me. It made me furious. They believe that Tang Nah is too good for me. They give him permission to forget his responsibility to our love. They have ruined Tang Nah's future along with mine.
The truth is deeper. They are star-crossed. There is betrayal. And then comes her disappointment. She had expected Junli to cast her. She thought he was Tang Nah's best friend. But he did the opposite. He cast her rival, Bai Yang, a pancake-faced actress, in his film The Spring River Runs East and made her a superstar. How foolish she was. How can she possibly be liked while the man thinks that she is the source of his best friend's misery? The one who drove Tang Nah to attempt suicide? Junli is too smart. He has always seen Tang Nah and Lan Ping as a mismatch. He disliked her before she even introduced herself.
We are posing for photos. The Pagoda of Six Harmonies is a perfect background. Junli is trying to direct us in his frame. The stars of China. The most handsome men and women. I am aware that the photos will generate attention and career opportunities. But my intention is not just to be in this shot. My intention is to show Tang Nah how much I care for and love him. I am making a lifetime commitment to a man whom it is hard to keep loving. It is a sacrifice. But for love I am willing to do anything. I am shaking inside. I am rolling the dice.
Why am I nervous? You must have faith first to let it work for you, a Buddhist preacher once said to me. I must establish faith in Tang Nah, I must establish faith that our relationship will work. This is what I am thinking when the picture is being taken. I offer myself no alternatives. I burn all bridges. I cut my backings in order to be fully engaged in the battle.
Standing in the middle toward the back I am trying to smile but I am unconfident. I am afraid that my face will be compared to those of the other two obviously love-struck couples. I try to hide myself from the truth.
Junli is holding the camera. It is he who has suggested the Pagoda of Six Harmonies. A symbolic place. We have six in our group. The lucky number. Always stand up tall like the pagoda, Junli says. He is a good director who knows how to inspire actors.
Dan is by Lucy on my right. They can't stay off each other. I am jealous of Lucy. In Dan's look God teaches the beauty of men. Dan could have anyone he wanted, but he chooses Lucy. Dan can't wait to belong to her. Surely they know happiness. Eryi and Lulu too. I am sad.
I can't tell what's on Tang Nah's mind. He seems nervous too. His beret is pressed low, almost covering his eyes. He places himself behind me as if he wants to be out of focus.
Thirty years later Madame Mao desperately wants to destroy this picture. She wants to erase every face shown here. It is 1967 and she is on her way to becoming the ruler of China. The aging Mao is her ticket. She has to prove to the nation that she had been Mao's love since her birth. She has to prove that there had been no one between her and Mao.
It is then Junli and Dan become the men-who-know-too-much. Madame Mao feels that she has no choice but to let them go.
Cut! Junli calls as he would on the set. The actors exhale. The group heads back to Shanghai the same night. Three days later they all attend a big reception. As expected, it catches the media's attention.
Tang Nah and Lan Ping are back home. But the marriage seems to be dead. They pretend that it is not bothering them. Both try to bury themselves in work. Yet there are no calls, no offers of roles for her. No business for Tang Nah either. Bills pile up. Money demons keep visiting from hell. But he still smiles, says that she is the biggest prize he has ever won. The rest he couldn't care less about. Broke or jobless, it doesn't bother me. I am a complete man as long as I have love.
She is in despair. You are not keeping your promises, she yells at Tang Nah. They are out of each other's bed. Can't be together yet can't be apart either. The bad pattern repeats.
***
Then they go out again to seek air and comfort in friends. They end up sleeping in other people's beds. He goes to the girl who wrote the letter, and she to Zhang Min, who is now working on a new play, The Storm, by the Russian playwright Ostrovsky. They deny their acts. It is becoming her new role in life. With Tang Nah it is a perfect scene.
In this scene she develops her own plot. When there is tension she makes the protagonist leave. She pulls out, disappears from the stage. Yet she is not able to turn her table around. Like her country she keeps falling apart. The Japanese troops enter in full force. The studios downsize. The box offices close. 1936. Absolutely no sign of luck.
Make up your mind and do it, I tell myself. I am packing and will be gone tonight. I will stay in a friend's place and will keep my address a secret. When I write the letter I imagine how Tang Nah will receive it. I give the letter to Junli. I ask Junli to pass the letter to Tang Nah when they are alone together. It is not that I trust Junli, or his wife Cheng. It is just that they will be the ones to sustain Tang Nah's anger. Junli will be the one to stop him from killing himself right on the spot—making me a true criminal. I will not be manipulated this time. I won't give Tang Nah another chance to control me.
I am sure you have been waiting for this letter. Well, this is the last time you will hear from me. I believe that you understand perfectly what kind of pain I must undertake in order to write this way. You have no idea how I suffered in order to save both of us. I need to
leave in order to live. That is what I am telling myself. Banging my head, for I am numb, deaf, blind, and dead inside.
I'm trying to explain the contradiction of my feelings. How hard it is to tear myself away from this relationship. Our love operates in a very strange way. The darkness that didn't end until I met him. I explain what the departure means to me. Moments during which my nerves almost break down. Moments in which it is clear to me that life was not worth living.
You know how I tried. I lived to please you. I can't believe that this is the way I am supposed to feel happiness. To please you. I can't forget how we fought. The nastiness of it. Our selfishness. The moment that comes to me as an ending.
I break down every time I recall how you used to love me. The words you said when we walked along Nan-yang Boulevard in the evenings. It pulls me back, tells me to go on, to stick with you until the end of time. It tells me not to allow this pain to spoil my future. The pain is like a fish bone stuck in my throat—can't take it out yet can't swallow it. This is where I am. A fish bone stuck in the throat.
She feels the passion. The passion of speaking in a familiar voice, Nora's voice. The sensation of being on a real-life stage keeps her going. She is her role again. Like Nora she is struggling to break away. She tells Tang Nah-Torvald that she must depart.
I live to be recognized, to leave a trace, to be someone, mean something. I had expected to see the same effort from you, for you are a talented man. You ought not to waste your life. You ought to perform to your highest capacity. To show the world who you are. I hate it when I see you opiumed by those who you call friends. You claim to be an artist only to excuse yourself from obligations. It gives you a reason to be lazy.