Leave Me Alone

by Murong Xuecun

  In half an hour I made four approaches, experienced four rejections, and got called ‘mental’ once. At last one girl didn’t reject me outright, but said she had something else on, so it would have to be another night. All the while the kebab vendor stared at me knowingly.

  Feeling increasingly frustrated, I was deliberating whether to stick it out or go to a karaoke bar and pick a professional. Just then, Li Liang called.

  ‘Can you talk now?’ he said in a solemn tone.

  ‘Go ahead, what’s up?’

  ‘Help me to find a prostitute,’ he ordered.

  ‘You loser, you’ve must have eaten something bad,’ I said. ‘You never use prostitutes. And what if Ye Mei finds out? She’ll kill me too.’

  ‘Are you coming or not?’ he cut in. ‘If not, I’ll ask someone else.’

  I considered. ‘OK, OK, I’ll come. But if you’re doing this because you’re angry with Ye Mei, I advise you to think about it. What about loyalty?’

  He was silent a moment, then said in a pointed voice: ‘Who deserves my loyalty?’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Before Yei Mei, Li Liang hadn’t had a girlfriend since university. Sometimes in the early days he’d accompany me to a nightclub but he always sat there like a stiff; at most he might put an arm around the hostess’s shoulder. Back then he’d only just got his driving licence and he was obsessed with driving. As soon as the weekend came, we’d go for a spin. One day we drove together to Mianyang, and stopped at Jianmei Peace and Happiness City. This place was one of my occasional refuges: it was a real palace, and at its peak there could be more than a hundred girls sitting around in the large reception area.

  The central sofa spilled over with low-cut cleavages, short skirts and fragrant flesh — a delectable array of young bodies to cater for society’s omnipresent lust. I chose a tall and generously proportioned girl for Li Liang, then encouraged him to take her to a room. He was reluctant, and so I threatened him: If you act so priggish, I won’t take you out with me in future. With a pained look he entered the room.

  I deliberated for a long time before choosing a girl whose face reminded me a little of Zhou Yan’s. After some banter, we linked arms and went upstairs. My girl was extremely professional, never giving the impression that she was rushing things. From start to finish she was most obliging. Once we’d finished I left satisfied, then I noticed that Li Liang’s door was still closed. I thought admiringly that although the guy looked feeble he was actually a long-distance runner.

  After another half an hour, by which time I’d drunk a lot of beer, the two of them came downstairs. Something made me suspicious and when I got the chance I asked the girl, ‘Is my friend depraved?’

  She smirked and said that Li Liang hadn’t even taken off his shoes. Instead, his hands clasped behind his back, he’d lectured her sincerely: ‘You’re young, you could do anything. Do you really have to do this?’

  I laughed. Later though, I felt bad for Li Liang. He was just too uptight.

  Although I’d known Li Liang for ten years, I didn’t really understand him. What pain was there in Li Liang’s world? What joy? I hadn’t a clue.

  At our graduation dinner he drank seven bottles of beer and fell into a stupor. Bighead and I helped him back to the dormitory. Halfway there he suddenly struggled free, threw himself on to the ground, and then wrapping his arms round a street lamp, he cried a mixture of snot and tears. No matter how hard we pulled at him he wouldn’t let go of the lamp. Later, he told us that his mother had died young and that he’d gone to primary school dressed in ragged clothes. Li Liang always looked very uncomfortable whenever we asked him about the past. His face would flush and his veins bulge. Very scary. His father had visited Chengdu a few times, but Li Liang was always very cool towards him, his expression one of distant weariness.

  Chengdu at night looked gentle and soft: the colourful lanterns gave it a warm glow, and from all around came sounds of laughter and song. But I knew that for all its lustre the city was slowly rotting. A tide of lust and greed surged from every corner, bubbling away, giving off a hot odour, like a stream of piss corroding every tile and every soul. Just like that poet Li Liang said:

  God died last night

  Heaven is crawling with maggots and snakes

  At that moment, the poet was sat at my side smoking endless cigarettes; his face was as gloomy as an eggplant.

  I wondered again whether Li Liang had some sexual problem. During our university years our method of washing outselves was to empty a basin of cold water over our heads, even in the depths of winter; as the water flowed down our bodies we’d wail insanely. Girls going past the shower room during this scene would scream and jump. In our bored state we often evaluated each other’s dicks: whose was long? whose thick? whose foreskin the longest? But Li Liang always wore underpants. to protect his modesty. Once Wang Jian from the next-door dorm made a grab for them. Li Liang was incensed and wanted to get a knife to stab Wang Jian. Bighead and I thought he was making a fuss about nothing. Now, though, I reflected that the secret of Li Liang’s pain and joy in this life was perhaps concealed in that pair of wet pants.

  Just as I’d expected, as soon as Li Liang and his wife were out of our sight that day they’d resumed their crazy argument. Li Liang had driven the car straight ahead in a fury, his foot jammed on the accelerator. They nearly had a collision at Nine-Eyes Bridge, and at some point there must have been some kind of fisticuffs because he had a plaster on his right hand. According to Li Liang’s story, Ye Mei had got out of the car, called some guy and then jumped into a taxi. As she left, she’d spat out some words that made Li Liang furious: ‘Fuck you. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!’

  Li Liang said he’d never realised she was such a coarse woman; my long sigh expressed my thought that I’d discovered this early on.

  We were on our way to Guanghani Caesar Hotel, the Chengdu suburbs’ most famous high-class pleasure area. I took my richest clients there, and Li Liang was also — how should I put it — one of the moneyed classes. There was no way he’d ever eat at street stalls like I still did. After passing Green Dragon Square, I called Zhao Yue. I said that Li Liang had a problem and I needed to keep him company and so would be late home. Zhao Yue didn’t reply. I hung up and gave Li Liang a look. Actually, life was pretty much the same for everyone, whether you were clean and honest or filthy and corrupt, I thought.

  The mamasan at the Kaisa Hotel was called Yao Ping, a woman in her thirties and a legend. Her appearance was more high class and beautiful than any young Hong Kong or European woman. Ten years ago, half the city’s young men were willing to fight for her. On seeing me, Yao Ping handed me a smile like a bunch of flowers.

  ‘I thought you’d forgotten about me, you haven’t been here for so long.’

  ‘That’s impossible,’ I said quite sincerely. ‘I’ll never forget you.’

  The last time that I’d come here with Zhao Dajiang and his gang, I’d looked at a lot of girls but there saw none to satisfy me. I sat there grumbling. Finally Yao Ping said, ‘I’ll go with you,’ and then led me to her room and gave a breathtaking display of her skills. Afterwards she wouldn’t accept any money. She said that she was old and didn’t merit payment and that I should think of this night as a gift of friendship. I understood that she was being modest because her words radiated a fierce self respect. I’d heard that a mayor from some city in Guangdong province had once asked for her and she refused him out of hand and wouldn’t give him face.

  I embraced her and deliberately kept my gaze averted from the forest of beautiful girls. ‘Today I’m not playing,’ I said. ‘Please give my younger brother a good time.’

  She gracefully extended her hand to Li Liang. ‘Apart from me, you are free to choose any of the girls,’ she said.

  Li Liang said, ‘I’m not interested in any of them, only you.’

  ‘I’m so old, I’d be embarrassed to go to bed with you. You should choose someone fresh and tender.’

>   Li Liang’s face set. ‘I’ll pay 2,000.’

  ‘It’s not about money,’ she said. ‘I don’t do that any more.’

  Li Liang continued to increase his bid: ‘Five thousand. No, ten.’

  She refused, still smilingly.

  ‘Fifteen thousand.’

  Now the girls gathered around and looked at Li Liang with deep respect. Yao Ping’s smile froze and she gave me an appalled glance. I grabbed Li Liang, but he struggled free and, as if in a trance, raised his offer one more time.

  ‘Twenty thousand.’

  Yao Ping’s face had turned white and it seemed like a whole minute went past before I heard her say, ‘Listen, I know you have money, but you don’t need to show it off in front of us poor working girls. I should throw you out, but today I’ll give Chen Zhong face. If you want to have a good time just choose one. If you don’t want to, then go.’

  ‘Sister Yao, don’t be angry,’ I said quickly. ‘He’s naive. Don’t take it to heart.’

  I’d barely finished when Li Liang sprang and threw a savage punch at my head.

  ‘Screw you!’ he shouted. ‘I suppose you thought I was naive that time you fucked my wife!’

  I was struck dumb. It was as if I’d been hit by lightning.

  Li Liang and I had known each other for ten years and in that time we’d only argued twice. Once was over a game of chess. I had thrashed him four or five games in a row and was gloatingly pleased with myself. Li Liang’s whole face was red and he asked if I had the guts to play another game. After only a few moves he was mugged again by my rook. I laughingly suggested: ‘I’ll give you a knight, how about it?’

  He swept the pieces off the board, stormed away, and didn’t speak to me for two or three days.

  The second fight was far more serious — it was that time when I climbed onto his bunk to get a cigarette and he pushed me off. Caught unawares, I’d fallen heavily to the ground, nearly breaking my leg. When I’d picked myself up, I said angrily, ‘What’s your problem? I was just after your cigarettes.’

  He was furious too. ‘Who do you think you are?’ he yelled. ‘Don’t you know the first thing about manners? How did I know whether you wanted to get a cigarette or to steal something?’

  My lungs felt they might explode and I grabbed a stool and went for him, but Bighead and Big Brother blocked me in time. Li Liang and I hardly spoke to each other for a month after that. When we returned after the summer holiday though, he gave me a box of Red Five cigarettes, which finally smoothed things over.

  I was trembling from head to foot. Yao Ping clearly thought I was angry and with a wave she summoned several young men. Indicating Li Liang, she said, ‘Him!’

  They made for Li Liang but I gulped and stood in front of him, saying, ‘Sister, please don’t beat him up. Today we’ve given you lots of trouble. I will come back another day to make an apology.’

  I tried to tug Li Liang away, but he was rooted there like a stake in the ground. His face was still dark with anger.

  ‘Don’t make a scene here,’ I said quietly. ‘We’ll only offend them. If you want to hit me let’s go outside.’

  He kicked me in the balls and then he left without saying anything, his eyes red. I dropped to the ground in agony, clutching my stomach. Yao Ping bent down and asked if I was OK. I was too embarrassed and in too much pain to do anything but groan.

  ‘Do you want us to punish him?’ she asked me.

  Emphatically I shook my head. ‘Let him go,’ I croaked. ‘Don’t hurt him.’

  I was wretched; tears welled in my eyes.

  Yao Ping took me into a room. ‘Get your trousers off,’ she said.

  My spirit had been crushed and like a drowning man clutching at straws, I burrowed my face into her soft belly. I thought that ten years of friendship with Li Liang was irreversibly over.

  Yao Ping massaged my head. ‘You rest here tonight. I’ll comfort you again later.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  June in Chengdu is always bursting with life. The flowers were out, the markets awash with watermelons, and a scent of jasmine pervaded the air. After nightfall you’d see people in the crowd laughing and others crying. Life was like a lavish banquet in a graveyard, with death fluttering smilingly around us. When the last traces of youth were lost, who remembered those vanished days of tenderness and pain?

  Zhao Yue had been suffering for several days with a bad cold. Each time I suggested she buy some medicine she said she was too busy. She paid for her negligence, because one night she had a fever of 39 degrees. I piled all the quilts in the house on top of her but she still said she felt cold. We passed an uncomfortable night and the next morning I carried her to the hospital. Zhao Yue moaned feebly the whole way. I felt sorry for her, but scolded her for not heeding my advice. ‘I told you to come earlier but you didn’t listen. Now you’re suffering, huh?’

  She lay across my arms at a crooked angle and her breath smelt as though she’d crawled out of a fish’s stomach.

  Once attached to a drip, Zhao Yue drifted into semi-unconsciousness, her nose quivering like a three-year-old kid’s. I adjusted the drip flow rate to the lowest level and wiped her face with a tissue. She held my arms tightly, and muttered that she had a headache.

  I hadn’t slept at all the night before and after sitting there for a while I just couldn’t keep my eyes open. Leaning against the hospital bed, I half drifted off. Suddenly in my befuddled state I heard a whisper: ‘Isn’t that Chen Zhong?’

  I opened one eye and saw a pale, buxom woman standing outside the door, making eyes at me.

  I slowly withdrew my hand from Zhao Yue’s chest. She was sleeping deeply with an innocent smile on her face. Walking towards the door, I waved at my visitor, who was the wife of the owner of the Emei Tofu Restaurant. I called her ‘Tofu Queen’.

  ‘Is that your wife?’ she asked.

  I pinched Tofu Queen’s waist and said, ‘Yes. She’s more beautiful than you, right?’

  She humphed, pretending to be jealous.

  ‘Come on. You fool around with eight hundred handsome guys every day,’ I said, ‘so don’t pretend to be innocent.’

  Emei Tofu Restaurant was just across the street from my office. The owner, Mr Xiao, was from Leshan. Although short, he had a head like a boulder and the piercing eyes of a kung fu master. I often entertained clients in his restaurant. His chicken cooked in tofu pudding was something I especially loved: fragrant chicken boiled inside a big bowl of fresh snow-white tofu pudding with crispy vegetables. It was indescribably delicious. After I’d been there a few times we got to know each other and soon it was ‘brother’ this and ‘sister-in-law’ that. I even flirted with Xiao’s wife, and she flirted back. Xiao didn’t seem bothered — he still proposed toasts and served dishes as usual. His hands were like big cattail leaf fans and his eyes like iron bells.

  One winter night, Li Liang and I had played mahjong one in the morning and Li Liang had lost 7,000 yuan and was despondent.

  ‘My luck’s bad today,’ he said. ‘Let’s quit and go out for some drinks.’

  I took him to Emei Tofu Restaurant, where we found the owner away and Tofu Queen about to shut up for the night. I rapped on the table and said, ‘Quickly, tofu chicken, tofu fish and four bottles of beer.’

  After the dishes and beer were served I asked her to join us. She sat beside me and played the finger guessing game, drank, and competed in telling dirty stories. When Li Liang went out to talk to someone on his phone, she nudged my leg with her knee and said, ‘My husband’s not coming back tonight.’

  I felt aroused. I waited impatiently until Li Liang finished his meal then told him, ‘You go home first. I have something to discuss with her.’

  He gaped at me. ‘Be careful that I don’t tell Zhao Yue.’

  At the head of their bed was a big wedding picture. Short Xiao looked earnest, glaring at me intently with his searchlight eyes.

  Tofu Queen asked me now if I was free that afternoon.

&nb
sp; ‘Why? You want to get fucked again?’ I said. I couldn’t help talking dirty when I saw her but actually she was the same. Once she called me and said outright: ‘Do you want it? If you do, then come over. He’s not at home.’

  The first few times I’d found this a novelty, but after a while the appeal faded. How was it that this woman could think about nothing but sex? She didn’t display any emotion at all: she’d take off her trousers and get straight on the bed, then after we’d finished she’d give a satisfied smack of her lips. What was more, she never even gave me a discount in the restaurant.

  Now she trod on my foot with her heel and said, ‘Your face is spotty. Perhaps you need to release some heat.’

  Sneaking a glance round the door I saw Zhao Yue turning over in her hospital bed, apparently oblivious to everything. I calculated: it would take about one hour to go and come back. Most likely Zhao Yue would still be asleep when I returned. Suddenly I was feverishly excited and I grabbed the woman’s hand and dragged her straight for the exit.

  ‘This time we’ll go to my place so I don’t have to see your husband’s ugly face,’ I said.

  I bought the apartment at the Youth Garden in Yulin compound last year and Zhao Yue and I had argued a lot about renovations. She was slightly unhinged the whole time the property was being done up, not combing her hair or washing her face, apparently because of her anxiety that the workers might do shoddy work or use inferior materials. She practically slept at the apartment.

  ‘Is it really worth all this fuss?’ I said. ‘As long as it’s OK for us to live in, that’s enough.’

  She seemed to go berserk and ripped some wallpaper from the wall, asking me repeatedly: ‘Who am I doing this for?’

  I apologised, while secretly cursing her for being insane. When the renovation was done, Zhao Yue spent several days cleaning the apartment; knelt on the floor, she wiped it tile by tile. When I finally got to see it, the whole place was completely spotless.