‘Even though we don’t get on as well as I’d like, I still admire your ability,’ he told me.
I couldn’t help feeling slightly flattered, although I didn’t know whether he was lying.
It would be heaven if I did get to be General Manager. At our current volume of sales, the position would come with a salary of around 300,000 a year. Then there was a car, and expenses for just about anything. The company also offered interest-free loans to help with buying a house; Fatty Dong had borrowed 150,000 yuan, saying it was for a house but actually using it to invest in stocks. Apart from the twice-yearly review, Head Office didn’t interfere in branch office operations. If you added together the official salary and the hidden rewards, in three years the branch General Manager could easily clear more than 1 million yuan. It was a cushy number. What’s more, lots of our competitors were ex-senior executives from our company. After getting turfed out, Boss Sun had started a company in Tianjin and, apparently, business was sweet.
My biggest problem was that sometimes I was rash in both words and deeds. My mouth had no gate — it let anything out — and sometimes I even showed anger to my superiors. All this gave Head Office the impression that I was immature and a loose cannon. But after Fatty Dong’s comments, I wondered whether I should take the initiative and put myself forward for the General Manager’s position. Perhaps I should even write Head Office a report on my work.
I thought I’d ask for my father’s advice. After reflecting on his many years at the same work unit, he offered the following insight. To be a top official didn’t require outstanding achievements, but just three things: glibness, an effective pen and the ability to boast. Once you reached a certain level you didn’t even need all these skills yourself — you had assistants and secretaries to help you. At least I had the advantage of being able to write skilful reports full of incisive words and enthusiasm. My pen could turn a broken temple into an imperial palace.
When I got home and mentioned the possible promotion to Zhao Yue, she seemed excited. She said that if it happened then she would finally ‘eat’ me with her mouth. I wondered though who she would be eating; me or a General Manager?
My comment the other day about her lover had left Zhao Yue speechless; it had taken her ages to collect herself. Then she’d coughed and said I was crazy.
‘Who saw me make a phone call at three in the morning?’ she demanded.
I said the telephone number and she looked blank and said that she’d never dialled that number. She had no memory of it.
‘You’re lying,’ I said bitterly.’
Jumping to her feet, she said that I was deliberately trying to spoil things between us.
Furious, I produced the pile of telephone bills from my bag. Smacking them down on the sofa, I said, ‘Look for yourself.’
Zhao Yue looked through the bills and her face reddened.
‘I remember now,’ she said falteringly. ‘That’s one of our department’s external supervisors. He was writing a report at that time so he often called for my input.’
I stared at her, feeling pained at her lies, thinking how we’d grown apart. There was really nothing more to say.
In the film Ashes of Time, the actress Lin Qingxia had the following line: If there comes a day when I can’t bear to ask you, you must have cheated on me. This had long been one of Zhao Yue’s favourite phrases. When passions were high, she often quoted it to me. Before, when she’d said it, I’d hugged her, believing her to be loving and honest. Once the toilet has been flushed, it looks clean and fresh enough to wash your feet in, and it seemed Zhao Yue wasn’t as pure as I’d thought.
Zhao Yue and I hadn’t bothered with a big wedding; we’d just treated a few close friends to a meal. Bighead, Li Liang and Chen Chao, who’d made a special trip to take part in our wedding, all had fun joining in the traditional antics outside our bridal chamber. After our guests left, Zhao Yue waved her arms around as if she was scattering happiness. ‘Fom now on, you are mine!’ she declared.
I smiled and took her in my arms, but I couldn’t help thinking of that stirring piece of Communist party oratory: ‘On this battlefield we have thrown off our bridle and gained a whole world’. My version: ‘On this battlefield I’ve lost my world and gained a bride’.
Zhao Yue was good to me for the first few years of our marriage, but I felt that her main passion was controlling me. She often seemed to care more about my fidelity than my health. It only needed me to come home slightly late and, with a poker face, she’d ask me over and again: ‘Where were you? What were you doing? Who were you with?’
At first I’d try to explain, but eventually I got fed up and started to treat her coldly. Zhao Yue’s anxiety had an impact on our crockery: every month she smashed a few bowls.
For the following few days after my mention of the General Manager position, Zhao Yue was extra loving. She even bought me a few expensive ties. One night, on our way home after visiting my elder sister and husband, we passed the KaKa Bar and she suggested going in. ‘It’s been ages since we had a dance,’ she said.
Zhao Yue was a good dancer. One time our university organised a fraternity dance competition, and Zhao Yue and a boy from her class won second prize, which made me jealous for days. When it came to dancing I only had a few basic moves. Zhao Yue said that I often looked like I had a bad case of piles. As a result, I rarely set foot in discos. But I didn’t have any problem with going to bars: drinking was the best way for people to forget their worries.
Under the dim lights, Zhao Yue was a lithe and graceful dancing queen: her long hair flew and her eyes glowed like precious stones. Two young guys nearby couldn’t take their eyes off her. When the disco really got pumped up, Zhao Yue’s moves became even more alluring. She danced alone, pulsating to the music. Onlookers applauded her, fanning my vanity so that I couldn’t resist blowing her a kiss. Zhao Yue flashed me a glance as she twisted and turned.
At that moment, I heard that her cellphone was ringing, and setting down my glass, I groped through the many pockets of her handbag before finding the phone. The music reached a crescendo in the bar which was sparkling with disco lights. I held the phone up to the lights, but I already knew which number it would display.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
If cities were people, Chengdu would be a happy drifter with a fatal lack of ambition. Chengdu’s soft dialect melts your ear: it’s said that it can make a person’s anger dissolve instantly. Chengdu people are famous idlers. Feet stretched out in a rattan chair with a glass of tea, or at the mahjong table, their lives are like a fleeting dusk. When you visit the city’s famous historical spots such as Qing Yang Palace, Wu Hou Temple or Du Fu’s cottage, you get the sense that throughout history there have been too many people happy to spend 5 yuan to sit around all day with a glass of tea; their lives were as weak and flavourless as tea leaves that have been reused several times.
That weekend, our gang gathered at Du Fu’s cottage to play mahjong — Bighead Wang, Li Liang and the rest. Li Liang and Ye Mei fought over some tiles. Ye Mei’s pale face went red, Li Liang’s goblin face was white: both were puffed up with rage.
Bighead and I tried to smooth things over.
‘You are still on your honeymoon,’ I said. ‘Is there anything that can’t be solved by talking about it?’
Bighead Wang said solemnly, ‘If you like, we’ll get out of the way so you two can make love to release some heat.’
I exploded with laughter and Zhao Yue snorted.
Ye Mei glowered at Bighead and said, ‘You are so petty. What kind of man are you?’
Li Liang’s eyes bulged as if he had been possessed by a toad spirit. I restrained him and told Ye Mei to wrap it up. Ye Mei gave me a hostile look but kept silent.
After that we abandoned mahjong and quietly drank tea. Secretly I was thinking it was bad luck that the game had been called off just when Li Liang owed me 200 yuan. We stuck it out until dinner time, and then Li Liang drove us to the China Hotel where the boss
presented us with a wreath of smiles.
‘Master Li, we haven’t seen you for a long time,’ he said. ‘The five-grain wine you saved here last time will soon be going bad.’
Bighead said, ‘Rich people really are different. They wear expensive clothes, and everywhere they go people kiss their arses.’
The boss clapped his hands.
During the meal, Bighead told a few dirty stories. These restored my appetite and, lowering my head, I launched an assault on the salmon. Bighead was talking up a storm but then suddenly I realised he’d stopped. Reluctantly lifting my head, I saw that Li Liang and Ye Mei were once again eyeballing each other like two cocks in a fight. If they weren’t sitting on opposite sides of the table they’d already have started snapping at each other. I theatrically held my hand in front of Li Liang’s eyes to block their glares and sighed inwardly, ‘Aiya, the saying is true: all lovers are enemies from a past life’.
After eating we all went our separate ways. Bighead and his wife said they had to look at a house; this corrupt couple now found their own place too small. Li Liang took Ye Mei home, where I presumed their war was about to resume. I had no idea who would come off worst. Zhao Yue hinted that she wanted me to go shopping with her, but I refused, telling her I had to go the office to write a report.
There were days when we didn’t argue, but even then it felt as if we’d become like strangers. To judge by appearances though, we were more in love than ever. When we left home, we looked at each other and smiled. Returning at night, we smiled and looked at each other. Whenever we were going to be late home for some reason or other, we’d call the other to check that was OK.
Zhou Weidong found this strange behaviour. ‘Brother Chen, when did you become a new man?’ he asked me.
I smiled mirthlessly. I’d never mentioned to Zhao Yue about the call to her phone that night at the disco. When we got home, I’d gone into the bathroom to cool down and then heard her speaking softly outside. I pressed my ear against the door and listened for ages but was unable to hear exactly what she was saying. When I came out, Zhao Yue beamed a fake smile. From that point on, I started to take note of her whereabouts. Secretly I went through her handbag, even sniffed her discarded panties. I didn’t know what I thought I’d find, or what I’d do if I did find anything. Because of that I hated myself a little; I wasn’t a real man.
I didn’t know if it was because of my bad detective work or because Zhao Yue was good at deception, but I didn’t discover anything suspicious. Of course, just because I didn’t find anything didn’t mean that nothing had happened. I detected a significance in the look of slight resistance on Zhao Yue’s face as we made love, and her lost expression afterwards. Three months before, when Zhao Yue had told me she had a lover, I’d been sure that she was lying. Since she was now denying everything, that told me she’d gone over to the dark side. Li Liang said I was addicted to perverse logic, but perverse logic was really my weapon, I thought with a cold smile.
My report quickly reached seven or eight thousand words. First I told the story of how a rank-and-file salesman became a sales manager. This was taking a leaf out of Bighead Wang’s book. Last year at the security bureau’s public speaking competition he’d won first prize with his address, ‘From plain cop to station chief’. After his win he’d been unbearably smug, boasting incessantly to me and Li Liang. Only after we taunted him by changing ‘plain cop’ to ‘plain cock’ did he desist.
Once I’d set the scene, I went on to list all my hard work that year. The report was a thorough blend of direct description and subtlety: it had a summary, it had action points, it had emotion. It even had lyrical passages. Reading it over, I felt sure it would hit the spot for that stolid bunch at Head Office. After faxing it through, I leaned back in my chair and fantasised about Chengdu branch General Manager Chen Zhong: driving a Honda with a babe at my side, wallet stuffed full of notes.
Thinking about girls, I suddenly remembered one I’d met once when I was drinking tea in Yulin South Road internet café. She was called Niu something or other and she was tall and slender with substantial firm breasts, a round face and an attractive smile. That day she’d acted hot for me, giving me plenty of flirtatious glances. Finally she’d left me her telephone number, saying, ‘If you have time, let’s do something.’
After searching my desk drawers for ages, I actually found her number. For a moment my heart was savage with joy. I dialled and through a racket on the other end of the line heard some man asking me who I was looking for. I said I wanted to find little Niu. He said I’d got a wrong number.
I refused to abandon hope and simply dialled the number again. This time as soon as the guy heard my voice he started to curse. ‘Screw you, didn’t I say you’ve dialled the wrong number!’ He slammed down the receiver.
My fury knew no bounds. I dialled the number once again, and as soon as the other person picked up I unleashed a volley of curses. ‘Screw your mother, screw your sister. Screw your wife!’
I left the building still glaring at people in the street as though they owed me money. I went into the car park and looked all around but couldn’t find the Santana. Of course it had to be that idiot Liu Three who’d taken it. I dialled his cell phone. This was the first time we’d had any kind of private contact in more than a month.
‘What’s up?’ Liu Three answered.
‘I need the car. Please return it immediately.’
He said that his sister was moving house and they were using the car to transport a few things.
‘There’s nothing I can do about that,’ I said. ‘I need to take a client to the repair centre.’
Very resentfully, Liu Three returned the car. I just stood there impassively as he shut the car door, then he turned and left without a word. I glared at his back, thinking, You cheeky sod. How dare you show your bad temper in front of your superior?
Liu Three’s salary was hardly any less than mine; each month he got more than 4,000 basic and then commissions on top. In a good month it could exceed 10,000. But the guy was incredibly tight. Whenever we went out to eat, he never offered to pay. Zhou Weidong called him ‘iron wallet’. Those two had a relationship which was reminiscent of mine and Fatty Dong’s in the early days. They were secretly at war, and whenever they had an opportunity they attacked each other. I often had to calm them down, blaming both sides equally so they didn’t dare to take their quarrel too far. Zhou Weidong’s temperament was rather like mine: he was always spending money and couldn’t resist a pretty girl. If it wasn’t for his unfortunate compulsion to dwell on my flaws, he’d probably have risen faster than Liu Three.
A couple of days before, I’d successfully annoyed Liu Three by finding a pretext to deduct 600 yuan from his salary. Fatty Dong had tried to intervene to no avail. From what I’d heard, Liu Three was beside himself.
As I thought about company matters, I found myself missing Zhou Yan a little. After the May holidays she’d asked for a few days’ sick leave and not long after that, she’d resigned. I spent ages trying to persuade her that she would have a bright future with the company, constructing an argument that roamed from China’s opening up, to the WTO, to the Iraq War — a panoramic sweep of national and international affairs. Although I tried my best, I still couldn’t get her to stay but she sat in my office for a while, her big eyes red. By the look of things she felt sad about leaving. As for me, my heart was pounding as we chatted about a lot of things. She explained about her and Donkey’s relationship, leading me to understand that they’d slept together many times. I burned with jealousy. Finally Zhou Yan warned me that I should beware.
‘I can’t say that you’re a good person but you’re not a completely terrible person either,’ she said. ‘You’ve still got a bit of confused goodness in you, and I’m afraid that you’ll be the one to suffer in the end.’
I drove along the road by the university. A few smoking kebab stands were pitched either side, and groups of grungy students with clean, fresh faces wande
red up and down. Today’s university students were more modern than my generation: it was said that computer illiterates and virgins were both endangered species. After midnight, porn films were shown in a screening room outside the campus gates and this immature but formidable generation of young people watched and aspired to emulate. When Bighead was transferred to that beat, he’d once made a surprise inspection of the screening room and caught a couple ‘on the job’. When he shone his torch on them, the guy blasted him: ‘What’s your problem? I’ve got a ticket!’
Today I was in the mood for love. After all, at that moment I couldn’t say whose arms Zhao Yue was lying in. Boss Sun had a saying: ‘Human life is all about two things, food and sex.’ This, at least, he had seen clearly. I lit up a cigarette and thought that you shouldn’t torture yourself by trying to go against life’s grain. The dissolute will take advantage of the young. If you could be happy for a while, then settle for that.
There was a female student just ahead of me: average height with a slender waist and full buttocks. From behind she was really something, and so I drove slowly past, stuck my head out and asked, ‘Beauty, do you want to come to a bar?’
Her look was contemptful. ‘Dickhead!’
Despite driving a full circuit, I couldn’t see any other single girls to my liking. The hot ones were all with boyfriends. I got out of the car and bought a bottle of Blue Sword beer and a few beef kebabs. While eating I continued to look up and down the street, having decided to kill a bit of time. When I saw a girl I liked, I’d go for the direct approach, asking her to go for a drink. My basic advantage in chasing girls was that I had a thick skin. I wasn’t ugly, I wore smart clothes and shoes, and drove a car, so I seemed glamorous to these green college students. As long as I wasn’t afraid of failure then eventually I was sure to enjoy success.
Leave Me Alone Page 9