Three Sisters

by Bi Feiyu

  Yuyang's sense of humiliation brought her more than pain; she was consumed with outrage. The anger she felt toward the slanderer went beyond loathing. She racked her brains trying to ferret out the culprit. Over the three-week break, this thought consumed all her time and energy. Using logical deduction and imaginative power, she set her mind on finding the slanderer. First she made a list of all the students in Section Three of the class of '82 and examined each of them whenever she could. Everyone was guilty, and everyone was innocent. When she finally settled on someone, she'd change her mind the next day. Who was it?

  Who was it? Two days into the semester, Pang Fenghua tripped herself up and revealed her foxtail. She had developed the habit of skipping the last rung on the ladder to the upper bunk whenever she was in a hurry or in a good mood. That was what she did that morning, except that this time she let out a scream and fell into the lower bunk, where she rolled around. Startled, the other girls crowded around her but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Yuyang, thinking that she might have twisted an ankle, held up Fenghua's feet to check and was greeted by a frightening sight. Two thumbtacks were stuck in one of her heels and the force from her jump had pushed them deep into her flesh. All Yuyang could do was hold Fenghua down and pull them out, which left two punctures in her heels that immediately began to bleed.

  Her face contorted with pain, Fenghua slapped Yuyang.

  "You put those in my shoes! You did it!" Her outrageous accusation was groundless, since everyone had been given a box of thumbtacks for a sketching class that semester.

  What made Fenghua assume that it was Yuyang who had put the tacks in her shoes? Two of her own tacks could have fallen into her shoes. Covering her mouth with her hand, Yuyang felt tears well up. No one said a word; Fenghua's wails were the only sounds in the room.

  Everyone knew that Fenghua hadn't really meant it, that pain and anger had made her lose her temper, but that was not what Yuyang was thinking. Through her teary eyes, she finally saw through Fenghua.

  What made her assume that it was Yuyang? Why had she thought that Yuyang had sought revenge? She had something to hide, which meant that she had written the slanderous letter.

  Yuyang managed to force back her tears as the corners of her mouth curved upward, almost as if she were smiling.

  Very well, Pang Fenghua, very well, Yuyang thought to herself as she let go of Pang's foot, turned, and left the room without a word.

  Fenghua was frightened because she had slapped Yuyang for no justifiable reason. Yuyang might look like an open book and be easy to get along with, but it was hard to say whether or not she'd report her. Fenghua was also unsettled by the look in Yuyang's eyes and her smirk, so she hobbled over to the homeroom teacher's room that evening, where she burst out crying the moment she saw him.

  After hearing her out, he sighed.

  "It's all my fault," he said with a look of torment. "I've spoiled you." Then he added, "How could you have done that?"

  That effectively brought a halt to their conversation. With neither of them saying anything, the room was quiet except for the buzzing of the transformer in the fluorescent light. Fenghua kept her head lowered and picked at her fingernails. Her teacher was too fond of her to sit and watch her suffer, so he reached out for her hand, which he examined, front and back, before he said with a smile, "I didn't realize you could be so ferocious."

  That stopped her tears; she retreated, pulled her hand back, and held it behind her. She swayed uneasily as she bit her lower lip and looked ashamed. With a stern look he said, "Don't do that again. Don't ever—or I'll slap you." He raised his hand threateningly, never expecting her to look up, take a step forward, cock her head, and push her face right up to him.

  "Go ahead, slap me," she said softly.

  Caught off guard, he didn't know what to do. His hand was suspended in midair.

  "Do it." Her eyes, only inches away, stared down at him. "You don't dare. You don't have the nerve, do you?"

  His arm began to drop, but then he froze like a statue, and so did she. This was totally unexpected—for both of them—and it was torturous, for they both yearned for the next step though neither knew what that would be. They heard each other's heavy breathing and felt the blood race through their veins as they breathed on each other like snorting horses.

  What happened next took them both by surprise. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him; it looked impulsive, and yet it was completely natural. His lips fell on hers as she stumbled toward him, confused and not realizing what was happening. Neither had any experience doing this, so their kiss was awkward and rushed. It wasn't anything like a real kiss; it was more like bumping lips together. They were frightened and yet dying to try it out, so after touching lips, they quickly separated.

  But that touch was a lethal one—now there was no fear to stop them. They went ahead with the next kiss, a serious, proper one. Their lips seemed glued together, and before it was over, tears were streaming down the teacher's face while Fenghua nearly fainted.

  "My life is over," he said, finally revealing what he'd been hiding in his heart.

  Fenghua felt a sadness well up inside her, and she went limp. "Take me with you and we'll die together," she said with her eyes shut.

  The paper-thin curtain separating them had finally been torn open to reveal a welcoming intimacy. They had been in love all along, a secret, private, heartbreaking love. But now the most important thing shifted from love and the expression of that love to something else, something they had to face and confront together: Their only hope for the future was to never let their love come to light.

  The consequences of public exposure were unthinkable; that thought paralyzed them. They stared at each other, and the more they stared, the stranger the other one looked. Unable to gaze any longer and incapable of believing what they'd done, they nearly stopped breathing from the anxiety, as if they were in a minefield where any misstep could be fatal. Still breathing hard, the teacher listened at the window to make sure no one was within earshot.

  "Do you understand?" he asked mournfully. She stared at him through teary eyes and nodded. How could she, his student, not understand? Not completely convinced, he said, "Tell me you understand."

  She burst out crying. "I do."

  Love is essential, but sometimes it is even more essential to hide and shun it so as to escape watchful eyes. They made a pact to stop seeing each other and to wait until she graduated. With their arms around each other, they gave voice to their love with unusual vows. Over and over they vowed to stay apart while fantasies filled their heads over what awaited them after her graduation. But they tried not to think about that, for the uncertainty brought only sadness.

  Vows are loud and clear, firm and vigorous, but it doesn't take much for them to become laughable or unrealistic. The teacher and Fenghua both forgot one thing: People who are in love cannot control their feelings. They simply couldn't do it. It was as if their lives were in danger and they needed to be together every second of every day. So they continued to see each other, to shed endless tears, and to repeat their vows, as if they were meeting not because they missed each other but because they needed to review and reaffirm their promises.

  "This is the last time, absolutely the last time," they'd say, but it didn't help. They felt that they were on the verge of insanity.

  Fenghua's eyes brightened like clear glass one moment and darkened like frosted glass the next, depending on whether they could meet. Try as she might to be calm and control herself, she couldn't hide her abnormal behavior from Yuyang's watchful eyes. Fenghua used every trick in the book to hide what was going on, but in the end it was all in vain. Yuyang knew what was going on in Fenghua's life more thoroughly and in greater detail than Fenghua herself. Here is what Wang Yuyang recorded in her diary.

  Wednesday: Pang Fenghua left the classroom at 8:27 P.M. and returned to the dorm at 9:10; she was sobbing under her blanket after lights-out.

  Saturday: 4:42 P.M., the ho
meroom teacher and Pang Fenghua had a brief conversation in the hallway before going their separate ways. Pang Fenghua did not eat in the dining hall and did not return to the dorm until 9:32. At midnight, she turned on a flashlight to look at herself in the mirror.

  Saturday: Pang Fenghua washed her hair at 6:10 P.M., left the room at 6:26, and did not return until 9:08. Her eyes were red as if she'd been crying.

  Monday: Pang Fenghua complained of a headache during evening study period and asked to be excused, leaving the classroom at 7:19. She was not in the dorm room when study period was over; she returned at 9:11. Her spirits were high and she was very talkative. After getting into bed, she sang "The Waves in Honghu Chase Each Other" softly.

  Saturday: Pang Fenghua washed her hair and brushed her teeth at 6:11 P.M. Left the room at 6:25; returned at 9:39.

  Saturday: Pang Fenghua washed her hair and brushed her teeth at 6:02 P.M.; she left the room at 6:21. At 7:00 the homeroom teacher came to inspect the dorm, talking loudly at the door of Room 412, but he did not enter. He left at 7:08. Pang Fenghua returned at 9:41.

  Sunday: Pang Fenghua was lost in thought in front of a mirror. She had a wound on her neck; it was oval in shape, like a human bite. Pang muttered to herself, "What lousy luck to be scraped by a branch." She was lying; a scrape from a branch looks different.

  Naturally Fenghua's name did not appear that way in Yuyang's diary; it was represented by the letter P. Pang Fenghua was now just P. As mysterious as P might be, she would not come to a good end. How could she? She simply couldn't. Yuyang was not just keeping a record; she was also analyzing the data. Using impeccable logic, she compared the times listed in the diary and reached a definitive conclusion—Pang Fenghua was in love. When Saturday rolled around, she gave herself a thorough cleaning, including her teeth.

  Except for going out to see someone, why else would she do that? That was point one.

  Point two: Pang's love interest was still unknown, but in Yuyang's view, it could very likely be the homeroom teacher. Leaving other possible signs aside, Yuyang noticed that he had been ignoring Pang for a while. He never asked her a question during class, and sometimes he even avoided looking in her direction. That was a new wrinkle, one that could only invite suspicion. When someone tries too hard to hide something, they usually wind up drawing attention to it.

  Point three: Except for Saturday, which clearly was their meeting day, they occasionally saw each other on Mondays or Wednesdays. Yuyang had yet to determine where they met, and that was something she needed to work on. She had to increase her surveillance, but she was confident that all the secrets would be exposed like sprouting seeds. All she had to do was follow and observe Fenghua a while longer. As time went by, it became easier to detect a routine in her movements, and routine meant regularity. That would help explain the situation. Regularity is the biggest and most powerful thumbtack that, with adequate pressure, can pin you to the pillar of shame and humiliation.

  To be absolutely accurate, Yuyang began tailing Pang Fenghua and digging up dirt on her simply as part of her job; she had no particular motives of her own. After a while, though, she found to her surprise that she had developed a fondness for the job. It was a good job, which she became so powerfully addicted to that she didn't think she could give it up. She was convinced that even if Pang Fenghua had not offended her, she'd still have enjoyed the work.

  Nothing escaped her attention; she saw everything. This was a special gift, an extra reward from life that gave her an extraordinary sense of accomplishment. No wonder Wei Xiangdong wanted to cultivate "all-hearing ears" and "far-seeing eyes." She found it easy to like whatever he liked. It was simply perfect; her life was filled with all sorts of activities, colors, trepidation, and stirring emotions when she hid in dark corners to ferret out others' secrets. She was grateful to life and to her job.

  And yet Yuyang was not happy, not really. Something still weighed on her; it was the money order, a zombie that had come back to life and opened its eyes to glare at her. She saw it, an eerie blue light: the light of death. It was during the afternoon extracurricular activities period when it reentered her life. Teacher Wei walked up and asked her to come with him to the duty office. She did not want to go, not now, not ever, for whenever she saw that building, she was reminded of how she'd bared her body for Teacher Wei. But she had no choice; she had to go, especially when Wei mentioned the money order, so she followed him without a word.

  The money order lay on Wei's desk. He said nothing, nor did she. But as she looked down at it, a sense of calmness came over her, and she sneered inwardly as she realized what he had in mind. He might be older and appear proper, but what he wanted was simple enough—to touch her.

  How repulsive.

  It was at that moment that Yuyang began to despise him. How she looked down on him now! Though her fear had not abated, she now knew that she had the psychological advantage, so she waited calmly, thinking to herself: Let's see what you've got to say. Let's hear how you conduct this transaction. Even if I'm willing to go along, I want to see the money order and verify its authenticity, then I want to see it turn to ashes before you can have what you want from me. I tell you, Wei, I've seen through you.

  Without betraying his feelings, Wei took out a lighter. To light a cigarette?

  No. Instead, he held the money order in one hand and the lighter in the other as he walked up to her. She examined the piece of paper and decided that it was indeed hers, with her handwriting. The lighter flicked on and the yellow flame licked the money order, which curled in the flame, turning first to smoke and then to ashes.

  Yuyang stared blankly at it, trying to sort things out as the ashes settled to the floor. Wei put his foot down and erased everything, sending "ashes flying when the smoke dies down" in the words of Su Dongpo. That was not what she'd expected, so she stole a glance at Wei, who remained composed. Guilt feelings crept up inside her as she reproached herself for mistaking his good intentions as an evil scheme.

  Tears of remorse wetted her face. Wei laid his right hand on her left shoulder and patted it twice, which served to increase her guilt. She covered her face, but a loud thump made her open her eyes. To her astonishment, Wei was kneeling in front of her, silent tears flowing from his upturned face. It was an ugly sight to behold; his mouth was open, his arms raised in the air. He inched forward on his knees and wrapped his arms around her legs. "Yuyang."

  Now she was truly frightened. No. Stunned.

  "Yuyang, help me! Please help me, Yuyang."

  Her will softened, and so did her legs. She slumped to the floor and blurted out, "Please don't be like that, Teacher Wei. I beg you. You can touch me wherever you like."

  Yuyang did not expect to bleed so much. She shouldn't have; where had all that blood come from? It stained a towel, but in the end it stopped, though the pain remained. And she was not the only one who was shocked by the bleeding.

  Wei cried again, his forehead drenched in sweat and his hand covered in blood. But he ignored her as if nothing interested him except the blood on his hand, as if the blood was Yuyang, for he kept saying tearfully to his fingers, "Yuyang, ah, Yuyang! Yuyang, ah, Yuyang!" The way he called out her name was touching. "Yuyang, ah, Yuyang! Yuyang, ah, Yuyang!"

  All night long she was tormented by a terrible dream in which she was surrounded by a tangle of snakes. There were so many of them, like baskets of noodles, knotted, twisted, and snarled. They were sticky and slimy, writhing, roiling, surging, and slithering. Worse yet, she was naked and the snakes glided over her bare skin, cold and chilly. She wanted to run, but couldn't. She could only move her hands. But finally she was running, with the teachers and students cheering her on, and the loudspeaker blaring, "Yuyang, ah, Yuyang! Yuyang, ah, Yuyang!"

  She ran as if her life depended on it until she reached the finish line of the 10,000-meter race.

  Why wasn't she ashamed of her nakedness? How could she be so shameless?

  Then the PA system crackled to life, and so
meone was talking. It was Wei, waving a red flag in one hand and holding a microphone in the other.

  "Pay attention, everyone," he shouted. "Look carefully. Yuyang is dressed. Let me repeat, Yuyang is wearing clothes. She did not steal the twenty yuan. It wasn't her." And that put her mind at ease. With Wei around, it didn't matter whether she was naked or not, because with his announcement, she would be clothed one way or the other.

  She woke up early the following morning, and as she lay in bed she was sure she was sick. But she moved around a bit and did not feel any discomfort; except for the dull pain down below, everything else felt fine. She got up and took a few steps; she was fine. As she sat on the edge of the bed, she realized that she had dreamed all night, but she was unable to recall her dreams.

  Yuyang really did feel fine, but she was exhausted. She had bled a lot the day before, but apparently nothing terrible had happened, and for that she was grateful. She had thought she'd be in terrible shape, but nothing seemed to be out of place. He'd fondled her again, that was all. Other than the bleeding, she didn't feel humiliated like she had the first time.

  She actually felt better, since this was the first time in her life that anyone had actually knelt down to her, not to mention that the someone was her teacher. After this, it would be him, not her, who needed to fawn. Yuyang told herself that he had fondled her before, and since it was him again, she had lost nothing in the process. Once, twice, it was all the same, except that it took longer the second time. What did it matter if she bled? What girl doesn't bleed once a month? Besides, he had promised that he would never mistreat her and that he would try his best to keep her in town.