Little Reunions

by Eileen Chang

  “I just had several new suits made,” he moaned, “and now I won’t be able to wear them.”

  Concerning current affairs, he said, “Of course now I’ll have to go along with them. I’ve already registered at the neighborhood unemployment office.”

  “As if they’re going to hand you a job on a silver platter,” thought Julie.

  Julian often indulged in wishful thinking. When he dropped out of school, before he had found a job, he told Julie, “If only I had a bit of money right now. The classified advertisements in the newspapers say banks are looking for investors, and I could be a deputy manager or even a section chief. Actually, a senior staff position would suit me just fine.” He hemmed and hawed as he said the words “senior staff position,” as though he knew he was a little too young to play the part. “Then later I could be promoted to be section chief of a branch, and rise up the ranks step by step.”

  When he began his “chickens produce eggs, eggs produce more chickens” sermon, after being taken for a ride by grifters, Julie laughed and couldn’t refrain from crying out, “Stop it, please, I can’t take it anymore!”

  Julian looked at Julie, puzzled, but stopped anyway.

  Then he continued, “Second Brother told me that when he was unemployed, he would force himself to keep his spirits up and go out and socialize every day.”

  Julian, having received his comfort and encouragement at the New House, obviously admired Second Brother.

  Casually mentioning Second Brother in such a way meant that he had completely forgotten he had written a letter to Second Brother accusing Julie of disgracing the family’s honor. Perhaps that damning letter had been a little premature. And of course it never occurred to Julian that Julie had seen the letter; otherwise, Julian wouldn’t have visited Julie once in a while to “stay in touch,” as he put it.

  Julian stayed for a while that day. When he was about to leave, Yen Shan arrived. This was the first time Julian had bumped into a male at her residence, and a movie star at that, so he naturally burned with curiosity though sensibly didn’t linger.

  Julie had once told Yen Shan that he looked a bit like her brother when he was a little boy. Yen Shan thus paid close attention to Julian. “He really was born with a strange physiognomy,” Yen Shan marveled after Julian departed.

  Julie was taken aback, and said in her brother’s defense, “He didn’t look like that growing up.” It was the first time she had looked at her brother through the eyes of an outsider. She wasn’t sure when the transformation happened—as a teenager it looked like he would grow up to be quite dashing. But puberty passed and his neck remained thin, making his head appear to be too large and heavy, his nose protruding like a solitary alpine peak. If that nose were a chicken’s beak, he would indeed resemble a tall chicken. He actually looked somewhat like a foreigner, an eccentric one.

  Actually, it wasn’t that bad—Yen Shan was just a little oversensitive. He had lost weight and appeared haggard. Naturally he was sensitive about a man’s appearance, which served as a key asset in his career as an actor.

  When Julian first arrived that day, he saw Judy. Later on, Judy burst out giggling. “I think little Julian will get picked up by an older woman looking for a bargain.”

  Julie acknowledged the comment with a smile but felt a bit sad that Third Aunt would still regard Julian with the same condescending eye.

  Yen Shan became engaged to a young, pretty actress. Her mother kept her on a short leash. Before, she could only marry a famous owner of a theater in Shanghai at the very least—an actor like Yen Shan didn’t have a chance. But nowadays they were all merely art and cultural workers.

  Hsün Hwa became an official at the Cultural Bureau and grew rather plump. He had left the two women and married yet another. Yen Shan was close to him and invited several friends to a dinner party at his home in Hsün Hwa’s honor. Julie was also invited, most likely because Yen Shan thought Hsün Hwa could help her out, given that they knew each other. But if Yen Shan really had such a purpose in mind, he never mentioned it to Julie.

  At the dinner table Hsün Hwa said very little and not one word to Julie. After the meal, he immediately stood up, walked to the living room, and leaned against the piano with an air of desolation.

  “Is he a Party member?” Julie asked Yen Shan later.

  “I don’t know.” Yen Shan chuckled. “Didn’t I tell you that already?!” He continued, “When I went to see a preview screening once, his first wife sought him out at the theater and made a huge scene. They weren’t divorced yet and the new incumbent had just moved in with him. The woman rolled about on the ground and wailed, ‘Let your friends be the judge!’ Later Hsün Hwa said to everyone, ‘Money’s been handed over, the family visits are being made, what more can I do?’” Yen Shan smiled as he spoke, but it was obvious that he feared Julie would make a public scene like that when he married.

  Yen Shan visited again. He seemed anxious as he paced the room in circles.

  “When do you plan to get married?” Julie inquired solicitously.

  “Already married,” Yen Shan replied, and then smiled awkwardly.

  A raging river immediately surged between them.

  His expression also changed a little as if he too heard the sound of the river torrent.

  The last “reformed” tabloid that remained after the communists came to power still occasionally carried society gossip about movie personalities. One report had the headline: “Newlyweds Yen Shan and Resplendent Autumn Snow Visit Our Newsroom.” Yen Shan feared reports like that would upset Julie, so he asked a friend to pass on a request to the tabloid editor that he not publish news about their private life in the future.

  Julie had only seen a blurred photograph of Resplendent Autumn Snow in costume. All women look more or less the same in costume, so Julie couldn’t get much of an impression, other than her petite frame. Julie imagined his head snuggling up close to her chest, while she stood behind the woman’s shoulder looking down, as if observing herself. Her pyramid-shaped breast in Yen Shan’s hand looked like a little white bird with a red beak. The bird’s heart fluttered. Yen Shan sucked its red beak. His eyes, like black mirrors, were shrouded in a layer of red mist.

  Julie felt her heart burning.

  Perhaps she was innately self-contradictory, as she had never imagined Chih-yung with other women like that.

  Miss Su visited. And so did Yen Shan. Miss Su, who never frequented the theater, had previously met Yen Shan at Julie’s residence. They introduced him as Mr. Feng, which was his real surname. After Yen Shan departed, Miss Su said to Julie, “Mr. Feng appears to have put on a bit of weight.”

  Julie felt as if a knife had stabbed her in the heart. Judy, who stood nearby, said nothing.

  Mr. Niu invited Bebe and Julie to afternoon tea. He obviously knew about Julie and Chih-yung, and despised her. He merely bowed slightly when they met. It became dark early toward the end of the year, and by the time they emerged from afternoon tea it was already dusk. Mr. Niu accompanied them back to Bebe’s residence, not far from the patisserie. As they approached the rear entrance, about to ring the bell, he stepped forward and, with obvious embarrassment, said in a low voice to Bebe, “May I see you again this year?”

  Standing beside them Julie was overwhelmed. Three years earlier, Yen Shan had said the same thing to her over the telephone. At that moment, it felt to them as if not seeing each other until after the New Year was tantamount to not seeing each other for a whole year.

  Bebe often laughed behind Mr. Niu’s back whenever she talked about him. But this time she didn’t. “Of course,” she replied softly, looking up at him, “telephone me.”

  By the time Julie left for home it was midnight. Myriad feelings welled up in her heart.

  Bebe’s mother had insisted on giving her a big red apple. She held it in one hand while holding up her red scarf with the other to cover her mouth. Her dark green rustic wool overcoat billowed in the swirling northwesterly wind, like a broken
lotus leaf covered with frost, floating on the water. On the familiar street, neon lights illuminated the footpath in red and blue.

  The steel gates of the shops were shut. An Indian security guard sitting in the shadows suddenly called out, “Good morning, young lady.”

  Julie was thirty. She didn’t turn her head but felt grateful for the greeting.

  The red scarf covered Julie’s mouth. She remembered Yen Shan’s childhood story of his father using a scarf to cover his mouth in that rickshaw, exhorting him to “Close your mouth tight! Close your mouth tight!”

  Mr. Niu inevitably had to be the one to ask, “May I see you again this year?”

  Julie could deal with a vengeful, eye-for-an-eye, tooth-for-a-tooth, sort of god, but a god with an excessive sense of humor was really too much for her to bear.

  And yet Julie never had any regrets about her relationship with Yen Shan; she felt fortunate to have had him at that time.

  She had long stopped thinking about Chih-yung, though sometimes the pain from those times would reappear for no apparent reason. H. G. Wells wrote a science-fiction novel, The Island of Doctor Moreau, about a scientist who transformed animals into people, but after a short time, their original features reemerged, necessitating a bath in acid, which was called the Bath of Burning Pain, a phrase ingrained in Julie’s memory. Sometimes while taking a bath, luxuriating in the hot water without a book, her mind wandered as she thought about nothing in particular, and then, with no warning, certain thoughts forced their way in, taking advantage of the vacancy. She wouldn’t actually think of Chih-yung’s name, but a familiar feeling that made her viscera seethe would spread over her entire body, searing her flesh, the excruciating pain rising and falling like the tide, totally submerging her again and again before finally receding.

  Julie read a news report about air pollution giving stone cancer to the statues of Venice. “The end of time, when seas dry up and rocks crumble, comes quick,” Julie thought to herself.

  When she reread Chih-yung’s works, she no longer felt admiration. They were suffused with the affected tone she had first sensed in his long letters sent from the countryside, and seeing him write “That too was ideal,” she almost laughed out loud. When she read that it “wasn’t ideal” for Miss K’ang to marry, she snorted but couldn’t help frowning. It reminded her of when her compatriots reversed ideological positions, causing her to grimace with shock and wonder, “Why on earth are people still like this?”

  Now there weren’t any films in China to act in. Living overseas Julie saw an acrobatic troupe from China perform on television where one acrobat did a handstand on a bicycle with a ball balanced on her feet, among other amazing feats, far more impressive than a sea lion balancing a ball on its nose. Julie felt sad with the thought, “We Chinese are indeed very clever, cleverer than sea lions.”

  Julie never wanted any children, perhaps in part because she feared her children would be wicked and exact revenge on behalf of her own mother. Except once when she dreamt that she was in the color movie The Trail of the Lonesome Pine, which she had watched as a child. Based on a popular novel, the film starred Henry Fonda and Sylvia Sidney, though Julie had long forgotten the story, only remembering she didn’t like it. The touching theme song added to the film’s fame—she could still recall the melody. In those early days of color film, the reel progressed like a series of gaudy scenic postcards, depicting blue mountains with red log cabins against a turquoise-blue sky, shadows of trees swaying on the ground in the sunlight. In her dream, some children emerged from the pine forest, and they all belonged to her. Then Chih-yung appeared—elated, beaming—and took her hand to lead her back into the cabin. A comical scene. She blushed as their arms stretched out horizontally in a line, at which point she woke up.

  A movie she saw more than twenty year ago; a man from ten years ago. Julie floated rapturously for a long, long time after she woke up.

  She only had that dream once, yet she never stopped dreaming about exams. Nightmares, always nightmares.

  Only the somber mood of troops waiting in the dawn before battle can compare with the morning of final exams, like the rebel slave army in Spartacus silently peering through the predawn mist at the Roman troops maneuvering in the distance—surely the most chilling moment in any war film—everything charged with anticipation.

  CHARACTER LIST

  AH LEUNG 槁梁: One of Bebe’s suitors.

  ANDREWS, MR. 安竹斯: Julie’s university lecturer in Hong Kong. Died in Japanese invasion of Hong Kong in 1941.

  ANGIE 安姬: Eurasian day student at Julie’s university in Hong Kong.

  ARAKI 粮木: Japanese military adviser. Shao Chih-yung’s friend.

  AUDREY SUN 婀墜: Julie’s schoolmate in Hong Kong. Went out with Mr. Lee.

  B

  BEBE 比比: Julie’s best friend. An Indian girl Julie met in Shanghai. Attended the same university in Hong Kong.

  BOUDINET, COLONEL 布丹大佐: A French military officer. One of Rachel’s suitors.

  BROTHER HSÜ 緒哥哥: Uncle Chu’s son. His birth mother was a servant girl of Uncle Chu’s third concubine. Brother Hsü had a secret relationship with Judy but also had an affair with Brother Wei’s wife.

  C

  CHAN 榍: A man who dated Bebe in Hong Kong.

  CHANG, MISS 章小姐: Middle-aged woman from Rose’s hometown. CHARLIE YANG, DR. 查禮: Nancy’s husband. A famous surgeon. Nancy and Charlie traveled to Hong Kong with Rachel. He once treated Julie’s wound.

  CHENG, MISS 磤斯程: Administrator in Julie’s university in Hong Kong. Nicknamed Automobile.

  CHIEN-WEI 簡煒: See PI CHIEN-WEI.

  CH’IEN, THE SECOND ELDEST 泞翿二: A distant relative who Judy asked about at the dinner table.

  CHIH-YUNG 之椳: See SHAO CHIH-YUNG.

  CH’IN, MRS. 翿秦媽: Judy’s maid.

  CHU, AUNT 瞘大媽: Uncle Chu’s principal consort.

  CHU, MISS 朱小姐: Hsün Hwa’s girlfriend.

  CHU, UNCLE 瞘大爺: Aunt Chu’s husband. Likes to be addressed as His Excellency 大爺. Brother Hsü and Miss Su’s birth father. Embezzled funds that Judy and Brother Hsü tried to repay. He was shot dead.

  CHU’S PRINCIPAL CONSORT 竺大太太: See AUNT CHU.

  COUSIN LÜ 呂瞘哥: An impoverished member of the Keng clan, a distant nephew of Jade Flower. Julie called him Cousin Lü. He later married a bank manager’s daughter.

  CRIMSON CLOUD CHANG 章緋椑: Shao Chih-yung’s second wife. A former sing-song girl.

  D

  DAPHNE 愥絧妮: Julie’s university schoolmate in Hong Kong.

  DONALDSON, MISS 唐納生小姐: English spinster in charge of the women’s dormitory managed by the American Methodist Episcopal Church in Hong Kong.

  E

  ELEVENTH MASTER 十一爺: A distant relative in the wealthy branch of the Sheng clan. A cabinet minister in the Peiyang government.

  ELIZABETH 依慩籲白: Julie’s schoolmate in Hong Kong.

  ELDEST UNCLE and ELDEST AUNT 大爺大媽: Ned and Judy’s elder brother and his wife. Eldest Uncle was twenty years older than Judy and Ned. He looked after them when they became orphans and embezzled their inheritance. Normally Julie would call him and his wife Eldest Uncle and Eldest Aunt. They verbally adopted Julie therefore she was instructed to address her birth parents, Rachel and Ned, as Second Uncle and Second Aunt.

  EMMA 愛瑪: Julie’s university schoolmate in Hong Kong.

  EUGENE 綂焳: Australian journalist in Shanghai. Bebe’s friend who later married Fanny.

  EUPHORIA 愛翿三: Ned’s mistress, a former prostitute. Moved in after Rachel left Ned.

  F

  FANNY 糽妮: A Chinese girl who married Eugene, an Australian journalist.

  FAT NEPHEW and PIGTAIL NEPHEW 缪大姪姪和灒大姪姪: Distant relatives in the Sheng clan.

  FEINSTEIN, DR. 糽斯坦湕生: Famous lung specialist in Shanghai. One of Rachel’s admirers.

  FIFTH UNCLE 五爸爸/五
爺: A relative in the Sheng clan. His younger sisters introduced Jade Flower to Ned.

  FOSTER BOY 寄哥兒: Uncle Chu’s adopted son. Nephew of a concubine.

  FOURTH GRANDAUNT 四姑奶奶: A distant relative of Ned. A female younger cousin whom Ned greeted as Second Younger Cousin lived in Fourth Grandaunt’s household. Second Younger Cousin was once a marriage candidate for Ned.

  G

  GOLDEN BOY 濎寶: Auntie Han’s son.

  GOOD GRANNIE 好婆: Jade Flower’s mother.

  H

  HAIRY BOY 毛哥: Julian’s infant name.

  HAIRY GIRL 毛姐: Julie’s infant name.

  HAN, AUNTIE 栭媽: Long-serving maid in the Sheng family. Julie’s nanny. Mother of Golden Boy.

  HENRI, SISTER 亨利嬤嬤: A Sino-Portuguese Eurasian nun in Julie’s university dormitory in Hong Kong.

  HONEST NEPHEW 畠大姪姪: Distant relative in the Sheng clan.

  HSIANG, MISS 査八小姐: Relative in the Sheng clan. The eighth sibling of the Hsiang family. Julie called her Eighth Sister. Later married Mr. Pi.

  HSIANG CHING 向璟: Writer and friend of Shao Chih-yung.

  HSIU-NAN 秀男: Shao Chih-yung’s niece. Looked after Shao’s household affairs even after marrying Mr. Wen.

  HSÜ HENG 徐瞟: Painter and friend of Shao Chih-yung.

  HSÜN HWA 糀樺: Literary editor who published some of Julie’s writings. Taken away by the Japanese gendarmes for suspected communist activities. Shao Chih-yung used his connections to free him. After 1949, Hsün Hwa became a cultural official in the communist government.

  J

  JADE FLOWER 翠簑: Ned’s second wife. The eleventh daughter of the Keng clan.

  JADE PEACH 碧桃: Part of Rachel’s dowry. Rachel married Jade Peach off to the servant Yü-heng but the marriage did not last.

  JADE PHOENIX CH’EN 榍瑤挍: Shao Chih-yung’s first wife.

  JENNY 劍妮: Julie’s university schoolmate in Hong Kong who was from remote northwest China. She dated Mr. Wei.

  JORY 焦利: Judy’s Eurasian colleague.

  JOY 來喜: Servant girl in Ned and Judy’s elder brother’s household. Later became a concubine of Ned’s elder brother.