The People’s Republic of Desire

by Annie Wang

  "When everybody inside China is trying to get out, why do you decide to come back and stay?" Weiwei asks me.

  I think for a second. "We Chinese no longer keep our desires hidden; that is what turns me on. I guess it makes bad girls like me feel like a good girl again," I say with a mouthful of chocolate mousse.

  100 Discovery

  The morning after the birthday party, I oversleep and don't go to work. At my courtyard home, the side where CC used to live is now empty. I walk around in the courtyard, and my thoughts jump constantly like the pieces on a chessboard. Those memories of America that I have suppressed for so long, that I have tried to put behind me, suddenly start exploding like firecrackers in my mind. I walk down the alley, my shadow following me.

  "I spend every day working with other people's stories, finding stories, listening to stories, writing stories. Why do I suddenly feel so lonely?" I ask myself.

  I feel that the storm in my heart is about to break. I'm anxious – and filled with longing.

  I want to talk about myself. To whom? I think of my newly discovered bosom buddy.

  I drive to Mimi's office.

  I cut straight to the chase as soon as I see Mimi. "Mimi, are you free? Can we have a chat about love and stuff?" I say.

  Mimi laughs. "Of course."

  "We've known each other for some time. Could I hear your love stories? Not as a reporter, but as a friend," I say.

  Mimi nods.

  "Mimi, you are a person with stories, right?"

  "What about you, Niuniu?"

  "My story?"

  "Yes."

  "Of course I have stories," I say. "Perhaps to other people they don't seem like anything much, but to me, they have had a deep influence. I really want to tell you. But I'm such a bad storyteller when it comes to my own story. I guess I'm more a listener than a storyte ller."

  The two of us sit by a window looking over the Avenue of Heavenly Peace, and as the traffic flows past outside, Mimi begins to speak:

  "My most deep-rooted experience wasn't love, but hurt. I once hurt a man who loved me. I hurt him very deeply. At the time, my family sent my sister Wenwen and me to the United States. I went to graduate school, and she was in high school. We lived together, looked after each other. We were best friends as well as sisters. We had a deep affection for one another. Our family was always very close. Wenwen was extremely clever, always the best female student in her class, better than me. We all thought that she would end up going to Yale Law School. But it all changed, because a man appeared.

  "I fell in love with this man. My little sister Wenwen also loved him. I thought I should look after my younger sister, so I bowed out. But perhaps that man loved me. Because I gave up, he stayed with Wenwen for awhile. He tormented her, then left her, and disappeared. Later, he found me. By then I was already married. He had changed. He was very depressed, heartbroken. Only then did I realize how much I had hurt him when I rejected him.

  "Wenwen loved him so much she went a little crazy. She was one of those obsessive girls. After she was dumped, Wenwen quit school, started taking drugs, gave up on herself, and cut off contact with me. My parents were worried sick. Wenwen must have been deep in depression. She bought a gun – she wanted to die with him. When she saw him, she discovered she couldn't do it, but it was too late, because she had threatened him with a gun. She was arrested and went to jail. When she got out, she didn't love men anymore. She only loved women."

  "Is she still in the States?"

  "Yes."

  "Where?"

  "In Montana, with her girlfriend. Her girlfriend is an environmentalist. They do environmental work together."

  "It sounds just like a movie. What kind of man was he?"

  "It's very difficult to use words to describe him. He was the kind of person who could be laughing and chatting at the most desperate times. But he seemed destined to be a tragic character. I can't explain."

  "What does he do?"

  "He is an ophthalmologist."

  "What was his name?"

  "Len."

  "Len?" As I repeat the familiar name, I nearly lose control. Tragic character, ophthalmologist, Len, could there be more than one man like this?

  "Yes, Len. L-E-N."

  "Where is he now?"

  "We haven't been in touch for many years. A year ago, after Wenwen got out of jail, he phoned me once. He said he regretted hurting Wenwen, and that he had hurt another girl. But he could never find that other girl. He was extremely unhappy."

  "Did he say what that other girl was like?"

  "He said she was sweet and innocent, just like Wenwen."

  "What else did he say about her?"

  "He didn't say anything else."

  "Why is he still unhappy? Is his work not successful?"

  "He is an outstanding ophthalmologist."

  "Then why?"

  "Perhaps he's just always been that kind of person."

  "Perhaps Len still loved you, Mimi. He's unhappy because he still thinks of you."

  "I didn't want it that way."

  "But you know it in your heart. Giving way to Wenwen was your crime against him. You destroyed him! You destroyed Len. Never in his life could he attain you. Of course he is unhappy," I say, losing my gentleness.

  "I used to think I was right. For the sake of my sister's happiness, I sacrificed my own love. But I was wrong. It was too simple. I wasn't a god, but I insisted on playing the part of a god." A tear trickles down Mimi's cheek. It is the first time I have seen Mimi cry. Mimi, this woman who has inner strength and self-confidence – crying. When she cries, it is so touching. She seems so frail. Such a perfect combination of inner strength and delicateness. What man could not be charmed by a woman like this?

  "Tell me, do you still love Len?" I ask.

  Mimi raises her head, closes her tearful eyes, and says, "The only man I love is my husband, Lee."

  There was something ruthless about her curt finality. In an instant, Lee – elegant, tolerant, and healthy – has made Len's painful and melancholy love appear insignificant.

  "If it weren't for Wenwen, if you had the freedom to chose, would you have chosen Len?"

  Mimi tilts her head and thinks. "Probably not."

  "But why? You loved him."

  "Yes. Very deeply."

  "But in spite of that, you would not have chosen to be with him?"

  "He is a character from a story. But we live in the real world, not in a story."

  "I don't understand."

  "Some emotions last only for a moment, and some emotions can last forever."

  "Do you mean that the feelings between you lasted only for a moment and not forever?"

  "I don't know precisely how to explain this kind of emotion."

  "You know. Someone as clever as you – of course you know how to explain it. You know the answer." I suddenly become angry with Mimi. Why did Len love this woman, care for this woman, when she didn't care?

  "What answer?" Mimi sounds confused.

  "I know what you really thought. You and Len had a moment of passion, you were turned on, and then you didn't want him. For you, he wasn't a good choice for a husband. He was too depressed, too crazy. You took advantage of the excuse to leave him to Wenwen. You wanted both an instant of passion and everlasting love. You really are a businesswoman. You will never come off second best. When you dumped Len, did you ever think about how he might feel?" I say, passionately making accusations at her.

  Mimi looks at me, then lowers her head. "Niuniu, you can think whatever you want, I'm not going to stop you. But it's not at all the way you think it is."

  "But don't you feel bad for Len? You have found happiness, but he is still unhappy. Because of you, he will never be happy for the rest of his life." I think of Len's sighs and heartache. How could I have expected that it was all for this mysterious Mimi.

  "People can only destroy themselves, and people can only save themselves. Other people's strength is always limited. I hope Len c
an find his own happiness."

  "Mimi, I have to go. Sorry for being so hysterical all of a sudden. It's probably P.M.S." I decide to leave and get up to hug Mimi. As we embrace, I can feel her pregnant stomach press against me. For a moment my anger and confusion subside and I am filled with a feeling of serenity. She told me before that she was expecting a baby.

  "Take care of yourself and the baby!" I say to Mimi.

  101 In Search of My Own Story

  As I walk down the street, I think of Mimi. I like her so much. Why is it she? Why is she the one true love of Len's life? Everyone has secrets, sweet secrets and deadly secrets. There are reasons why some of them cannot be told. And this secret about Len, it seems, I should never have heard.

  What makes me feel saddest is that, with this love and that love swirling around him, what did I mean to Len?

  His world is so complicated. Is there a corner in it for me? Len, a man with such soul-stirring love. In his life, I was insignificant. But I have rewritten my life for him.

  I remember the first time I went to Len's office to have my eyes tested. He was so gentle and delicate, a doctor who really cared for his patients. I remember his wild look as we made love. I remember him holding my hand as we strolled along the Seine. How could this not be real love?

  From Mimi's office at the World Trade Center, I walk west along the Avenue of Heavenly Peace, past the Nikko Hotel, the Jianguo Hotel, and the Silk Market. When I reach the Diplomatic Apartments, I stop a middle-aged man getting off the number 9 bus and ask him for a cigarette.

  I don't smoke and didn't feel like it when Len left me, telling me that he didn't need love. But now, I suddenly, desperately, need something bitter in my mouth. At least the bitter flavor of tobacco could give me a kind of comfort. The cheap cigarette makes me start coughing violently. In the midst of a violent cough, I take a kind of delight in my self-abuse.

  Jianguomen Wai. Such a familiar place. My office is right ahead, that yellow-brick building, a symbol of China 's 1970s modernization. There are so many new glassy buildings towering over it. I awkwardly puff on the cheap cigarette and walk through the crowds waiting for buses, selling newspapers, and begging.

  I am a girl who collects stories.

  A girl who lives on reminiscences.

  The wind begins to blow.

  It begins to rain.

  One of Beijing 's unforgiving thunderstorms.

  I stand in the rain thinking about my past in the States, and all of the experiences of love, lust, and hatred that I have seen in this world. After such a long period of mourning for what I lost by loving Len, can I put an end to this? I decide to resign from my job. I don't want to run away from where I failed. I should go back to the United States and face my fears. Some things cannot be avoided, and only through confrontation can they be resolved.

  It is time for me to learn to love again, to be intimate again. When I first came back to China I used to think that real love was hopeless and I would be alone forever. But looking at my life in America through my new Chinese lenses has shown me otherwise. It is time for me to take a chance with my life again. Going back for a visit to the States was one of the best things I could have done for myself. The answers to the rest of my life lie somewhere in America. I still have unfinished business there. Even if I face defeat, I still have to go. Even if I have to search to the ends of the earth, I will never give up.

  Every great story should have its share of risk. It is time to find my own story.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would like to thank my former editor at the South China Morning Post, Susan Sams, who decided to publish my unconventional column "People's Republic of Desire" on page one of the "Life and City" section of the paper – which ran two years and ten months, and turned out to be more successful than we'd all expected. During the running period of the column, I received letters from readers of all nationalities, age groups, and professions. It amazed me that a Hong Kong – based paper could actually reach out to so many people around the globe. Thank you, Charlotte Harper, for showing the column samples to Susan Sams.

  My gratitude also goes to four diehard supporters of this book: my best friend, Antony Dapiran, an international lawyer whose Chinese is perfect, who gave me so much help in the early stages from language, translation, to reading my contract pro bono. Without his friendship and encouragement, this book would have been impossible. Michael Davis, who started as a reader of my column in Manhattan, but has become a good friend, who wrote me feedback on almost every column and continued our conversation on the characters of this book face-to-face in New York, Fredericksburg, San Francisco, Hong Kong, and Shanghai. Also, Michael Rice and Ben Paul, both of you are wonderful! Gracias!

  Finally, I thank my editor, Claire Wachtel, who has a great sense of humor; everyone at Harper, and my agent, Liza Daw-son, who has helped make this book possible.

  About the Author

  Annie Wang was born in 1972 and grew up in Beijing, China. Her first short story was published when she was fourteen years old. She studied at the University of California, Berkeley, and worked for the Washington Post Beijing Bureau before becoming a contract interpreter for the U.S. State Department. She has written eight books in Chinese. Her first novel written in English, Lili, was published internationally to extraordinary reviews. Her writing appears in numerous publications, including Fortune, Time, USAToday.com, Harper's (China), Elle (China), and on National Public Radio. Wang lives in the Bay Area and in Shanghai.

  www.anniewang.com

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