by Xinran
‘Isn’t that an exaggeration?’
‘Exaggeration? The real world of women is full of even greater contrasts. It you want to deepen your understanding of women you should try to find a way to get out of this radio station and observe life. Sitting in an office and a studio all day is no good.’
Old Chen had inspired me. He was right. I had to see more of ordinary women’s lives and let my views mature. But, at a time when travel was restricted, even for journalists, it was not easy. I started to make opportunities whenever I could, collecting information about women on business trips, visits to friends and family, and when I went on holiday. I wove this information into my programmes and noted what reactions it elicited from my listeners.
One day, I was hurrying to the radio station from the university where I was a guest professor. The university campus was a hive of activity at lunchtime, and I had to push my bicycle through crowds of students. Suddenly, I heard several young women having a conversation that seemed to be to do with me:
‘She says Chinese women are very traditional. I don’t agree. Chinese women have a history, but they have a future too. How many women now are traditional? What’s traditional anyway? Padded coats that fasten at the side? Wearing your hair in a bun? Embroidered shoes? Covering your face in front of a man?’
‘I think the tradition she is talking about must be a concept, precepts passed down from the ancestors, or something like that. I didn’t listen to the programme yesterday so I’m not sure.’
‘I never listen to women’s programmes, I only listen to the ones with music.’
‘I’ve heard it, I like going to sleep listening to her programme. She plays nice music and her voice is soothing. But I don’t like the way she harps on about women’s gentleness. Surely she can’t mean that men are savage?’
‘I think she does, a bit. She must be the sort of woman who acts like a spoiled princess in her husband’s arms.’
‘Who knows? She could just as well be the kind of woman who makes her old man kneel at her feet so she can vent her anger on him.’
I was dumbstruck. I didn’t know young girls talked like this. As I was in a hurry, I didn’t stop to ask them about their opinions as I usually would, but resolved to spend some time talking to university students. Since I worked at the university occasionally as a guest professor, it was easy for me to set up interviews there without any bureaucratic hassle. It is always among students that revolutions start; these young people were cresting the wave of change in the modern Chinese consciousness.
Someone told me about a young woman who was a celebrated member of the ‘in-crowd’ at the university, well known for her initiative, modern ideas and opinions. Her name had a fine ring to it: Jin Shuai, ‘golden general’. I invited her to meet me in a tea house.
Jin Shuai looked more like a PR executive than a student. Though her features were unremarkable, she commanded attention. She wore a well-cut navy suit that showed her figure to advantage, an elegant shirt and seductively high leather boots. Her long hair hung loose.
We sipped Dragon Well tea from small vermilion glazed cups.
‘So, Xinran, are you as well read as people say?’
Jin Shuai immediately reversed our roles by asking the first question.
Keen to impress her, I listed some of the books on history and economics that I had read.
She was not impressed. ‘What can those dusty old tomes teach you about human needs and desires? They just witter on about empty theories. If you want to read some books that are of use to you, try Modern Commercial Management, The Study of Personal Relations, or The Life of an Entrepreneur. At least these help you make money. Poor you, you’ve got all those important connections, not counting your thousands of listeners, and you still work day and night to earn a paltry salary. You’ve wasted so much time reading all those books that you’ve missed your opportunity.’
I grew defensive. ‘No, everybody makes their own choices in life . . .’
‘Hey, don’t take it badly. Isn’t it your job to answer listeners’ questions? Let me ask you some more. What philosophy do women have? What is happiness for a woman? And what makes a good woman?’ Jin Shuai drained her cup in one gulp.
I decided to hand the reins to Jin Shuai, hoping she would reveal her true thoughts. ‘I want to hear what you think,’ I said.
‘Me? But I’m a science student, I’ve no idea about social science.’ She had turned strangely modest, but I suspected I could use my interview skills to make her continue.
‘But your opinions are not limited to the sciences,’ I suggested.
‘Yes, well, I do have a few opinions.’
‘Not just a few. You are well known for your opinions.’
‘Thank you.’ For the first time, she spoke in the respectful tone I had previously thought all university students employed.
I seized the opportunity to ask her a question. ‘You are clever, young and attractive. Do you consider yourself to be a good woman?’
‘Me?’ She appeared irresolute for a moment, then replied firmly, ‘No.’
My curiosity was piqued. ‘Why?’ I asked.
‘Waitress, two more Dragon Well teas please.’ The confidence with which Jin Shuai placed her order displayed an ease born of wealth. ‘I don’t have the necessary gentleness and conscientiousness. Good Chinese women are conditioned to behave in a soft, meek manner, and they bring this behaviour to bed. As a result, their husbands say that they have no sex appeal, and the women submit to oppression, convinced the fault is their own. They must bear the pain of menstruation and childbirth, and work like men to keep the family when their husbands don’t earn enough. The men pin pictures of beautiful women above the bed to arouse themselves, while their wives blame themselves for their care-worn bodies. Anyway, in men’s eyes, there’s no such thing as a good woman.’
I queried this. Jin Shuai needed no encouragement.
‘When men’s hormones are raging, they swear undying love. This has given rise to reams of poetry through the ages: love as deep as the oceans or what have you. But men who love like that only exist in stories. Real men make the excuse that they haven’t met a woman worthy of such emotion. They are expert at using women’s weaknesses to control them. A few words of love or praise can keep some women happy for a long time, but it’s all an illusion.
‘Look at those old couples who have relied on each other for decades. You’d think the man would be satisfied, wouldn’t you, but give him the chance and he’ll reject the old to marry the new. The reason he’s bound to give is that his wife is no good. In the eyes of men who keep mistresses, there are still fewer good women. Those men simply see women as playthings. They despise their mistresses, or else they would have married them long ago.’
Jin Shuai paused, and grew solemn. ‘Do you know what sort of woman men want?’
‘I’m not an expert,’ I replied truthfully.
Jin Shuai spoke with an air of authority. ‘Men want a woman who is a virtuous wife, a good mother, and can do all the housework like a maid. Outside the home, she should be attractive and cultivated, and be a credit to him. In bed, she must be a nymphomaniac. What is more, Chinese men also need their women to manage their finances and earn a lot of money, so they can mingle with the rich and powerful. Modern Chinese men sigh over the abolition of polygamy. That old man Gu Hongming at the end of the Qing dynasty said that ‘one man is best suited to four women, as a teapot is best suited to four cups’. And modern Chinese men want another cup to fill with money too.
‘So tell me, how many Chinese women can fulfil all these requirements? All women are bad by these standards.’
Two men at the table next to us turned to look at Jin Shuai from time to time. She continued undaunted.
‘Have you heard the saying “Other people’s wives are always better, but your own children are always best”?’
‘Yes,’ I said, relieved that I could finally claim to know something.
She mused, ‘I o
nce read a book about love where it said: “A hungry lion will eat a rabbit if there is nothing better, but once he has trampled the rabbit, he will abandon it to chase a zebra . . .” The tragic thing is that so many women accept men’s judgement of them as “bad women”.’
Feeling that Jin Shuai counted me among these women, I coloured slightly. She did not notice.
‘Xinran, do you know that it is the really bad women who are the lucky ones? I believe the saying “Money makes men bad; badness makes women money.” Don’t think that we’re all poor students here. Many of us young women live in style without a penny from our parents. Some girls couldn’t even afford to eat meat in the canteen when they first came to university, but now they wear cashmere and jewels. They take taxis everywhere and stay in hotels. Don’t get me wrong though, these girls aren’t necessarily selling their bodies.’
Jin Shuai could see that I looked shocked and continued, smiling.
‘Today, rich men are becoming more exacting in their requirements for female company. They want to parade a “personal secretary” or “escort” with learning. With China’s current shortage of talent, where can so many “personal secretaries” be found, apart from in the universities? A woman with no certificates will only be able to attract some small businessman; the better educated you are, the more you have the chance to hook a big entrepreneur. A ‘personal secretary’ works for just one man, an “escort” works for many. There are three levels of companionship. The first level involves accompanying men to restaurants, nightclubs and karaoke bars. The second level takes it further to include accompanying them to other events such as the theatre, cinema and so on; we call this “selling art not self”. Of course, letting those men fumble with your clothes is part of the deal. The third level involves being at a man’s beck and call night and day, also for sex. If you’re this sort of “personal secretary” you don’t sleep in the university dormitory, except in the unlikely event of your boss going home. Even then, the man mostly lets you stay on in the hotel room he has rented, to make it easier for him to find you when he returns. As a “personal secretary” all your meals, clothes, lodging and travel are taken care of. Nobody dares to cross you when you’re so close to the boss. You’re under one man but over a thousand! If you’re clever, you can soon get some real power, and if you’re really sharp, you’ll never have to worry about money.’
She poured herself more tea.
‘Don’t they say “Times make the man”? The “personal secretary” in China is a creation of Deng Xiaoping’s Reform and Opening Up policy. As soon as China opened up, everyone started chasing money; everybody wanted to be a boss. Many dream of wealth, but few succeed. Have you noticed that everyone’s title is “general manager” or “director” on their business cards? Regardless of the size of the business, their companies inevitably have grandiose names.
‘And how can all these men start a company without a secretary – wouldn’t they lose face? But a secretary for only eight hours aday is not enough, someone has to be there to fix everything all the time. Add to this the law of sexual attraction, and opportunities abound for attractive young girls. Fashionably dressed young women rush about between the stuffy government departments and quicken the pace of economic development in China.
‘Personal secretaries are also required by the foreigners fighting to stake a claim on our economy. They don’t understand the first thing about China and its customs. If not for the help of their secretaries, the corrupt Chinese officials would have made mincemeat of them long ago. To be a foreigner’s secretary, you also have to speak a foreign language.
‘Most “personal secretaries” are quite realistic about their prospects. They know that their bosses will never abandon their families. Only a fool would take their sweet words for love. There are some fools though, and I hardly need to tell you the result.’
I had listened to Jin Shuai’s exposé of the world of ‘escorts’ and ‘personal secretaries’ open-mouthed. I did not feel that we came from the same century, let alone the same country. ‘Does this really go on?’ I stuttered.
Jin Shuai was astounded by my ignorance.
‘Of course! Let me tell you a true story. I have a good friend, Ying’er, a lovely, considerate girl, tall and slender, with a sweet face and voice. Ying’er was a talented student at the art college. She could sing and play any kind of instrument, so she brought music, smiles and laughter everywhere. Both men and women liked her company. Two years ago, when Ying’er was in her second year, she met a Taiwanese company director called Wu at a dance hall. He was good-looking and smart; the real estate company he ran in Shanghai was doing well, so he wanted to open a branch in Nanjing. But when he arrived here, he found it hard to get to grips with all the commercial regulations. He spent thousands of US dollars, but was nowhere near setting up the branch after six months.
‘Ying’er took pity on Wu. With her resourcefulness, pleasant manner and good contacts, she sorted out the red tape with the commercial bureau, the tax office, the city council and the bank. Soon, the branch office was in business. Wu was overcome with gratitude. He rented a suite in a four-star hotel for Ying’er, and covered all her expenses. Ying’er was a woman of the world, but she was won over by Wu’s gentlemanly behaviour. He did not behave like the fat cats who think that money can buy everything. Ying’er decided to stop escorting other men and to throw herself into helping Wu with his Nanjing business.
‘One day, at about three o’clock in the morning, Ying’er rang me, sounding extremely happy:
‘“This time it’s the real thing. But don’t panic, I haven’t told him how I feel. I know he has a wife. He said she was a good woman. He showed me their wedding photographs: they’re well matched. I don’t want to tear his family apart, it’s enough that he’s good to me. He’s so loving; when I feel down or lose my temper, he doesn’t get angry. When I asked him why he was so patient, he said: ‘How can a man call himself a man if he gets angry with a woman in pain?’ Have you ever heard such tenderness? All right, I won’t disturb you any longer, I just didn’t want to keep anything from you. Good night, my dear.”
‘I couldn’t get to sleep for ages, wondering if such ideal love between men and women could really exist. I hoped Ying’er would prove it, and give me a bit of hope.
‘I didn’t see Ying’er for the next few months as she withdrew into the bliss of love. When we met again, I was shocked at her thin, drawn appearance. She told me that Wu’s wife had written to him, ordering him to choose between divorce and leaving Ying’er. Naively, Ying’er had thought Wu would choose her since he had seemed unable to live without her. Besides, the Wu fortune was so large that dividing it wouldn’t affect his business too much. However, confronted by his wife, who came over from Taiwan, Wu announced that he could let neither wife nor fortune go, and ordered Ying’er to get out of his life. He and his wife gave Ying’er 10,000 dollars as a token of gratitude for her help with their affairs in Nanjing.
‘Ying’er was devastated, and asked for time alone with Wu to ask three questions. She asked if his decision was final. Wu said it was. She asked if he had meant his earlier declarations of affection. He said he had. Finally, Ying’er asked him how his feelings could have changed. He replied brazenly that the world was in a constant state of flux, then announced that her quota of three questions was up.
‘Ying’er returned to her life as an “escort”, now firm in the conviction that true love did not exist. This year, less than two months after she graduated from university, she married an American. In the first letter she sent me from America, she wrote, “Never think of a man as a tree whose shade you can rest in. Women are just fertiliser, rotting away to make the tree strong . . . There is no real love. The couples who appear loving stay together for personal gain, whether for money, power or influence.”’
‘What a pity that Ying’er realised this too late.’
Jin Shuai fell silent, moved by her friend’s fate.
‘Jin Shuai, d
o you plan to get married?’ I asked curiously.
‘I haven’t thought much about it. I can’t figure love out. We have a professor who abuses his power to determine exam marks. He calls up pretty students for “a heart-to-heart talk”; they talk their way to a hotel room. This is an open secret, everybody except his wife knows. She talks contentedly about how her husband spoils her: he buys her everything she wants and does all the housework, saying he can’t bear for her to do it. Can you believe the lecherous professor and devoted husband are the same man?
‘They say, “Women value emotions, men value the flesh.” If this generalisation is true, why marry? Women who stay with their unfaithful husbands are foolish.’
I said that women were often slaves to their emotions, and told Jin Shuai about a university lecturer I knew. Several years before, her husband, also an academic, had seen many people make a lot of money by starting their own businesses. He was chafing to leave his job and do the same. The woman told him that he did not have the business or management skills to compete, and reminded him of his skills: teaching, research and writing. Her husband accused her of looking down on him, and set out to prove her wrong. His business was a spectacular failure: he drained the family savings and had nothing to show for it. The woman became the family’s sole breadwinner.
Her unemployed husband refused to help her in the home. When she asked him to help with the housework, he would protest that he was a man, and couldn’t be asked to do womanish things. The woman left early for work and came home late, staggering with exhaustion. Her husband, who never got out of bed before one o’clock in the afternoon, and spent all day watching television, claimed that he was much more exhausted from the stress of unemployment. He could not sleep well and had little appetite, so needed good, healthy food to build up his strength.
His wife spent all her spare time tutoring children for extra money, only to be criticised by her husband for running herself down. He did not give a thought to how the family was being fed and clothed. Unwilling to spend money on make-up or new clothes for herself, the lecturer never let her husband go without good suits and leather shoes. He was unappreciative of her efforts, and complained instead that his wife was not as well dressed and elegant as before, comparing her unfavourably to attractive younger women. For all his education, he seemed like a peasant anxious to prove his power and position as a man.