by Ang Li
When she reached this point of her story, she raised her head and sneered, tossing the bun behind her head around. She said with great contempt:
“What a rube that soldier was. He had no idea that he’d need pipes before he could get tap water. He actually believed he could just drill a hole in the wall and fit the faucet on.”
Her audience naturally did not know how and where to bring the water over, so they peppered her with questions, which led to animated discussions.
Yinghong had heard plenty about tap water from Mudan ever since childhood and had asked her mother about details, but she still did not know how the water was brought over to turn into tap water. When she started middle school and gained a bit of basic knowledge, she finally understood, with an explanation from her mother, why Mudan had laughed at the soldier for fitting a faucet to the wall.
At the time, though Mother had been going out frequently, she never neglected Yinghong’s education. Yinghong could still recall, many years later, that no matter how busy Mother was, she would never raise her soft, gentle voice, nor would she look hurried. Over those years, she often wore Western-style dresses, usually a short jacket with a long A-line or pencil skirt, occasionally four- or six-panel ones. The jackets and skirts would be made of the same materials with the same patterns, some with lace-trimmed collars, others with thin piping on the jacket pocket, which was definitely not meant for hands; instead, sometimes there would be a Japanese handkerchief made with fine linen and decorated with multiple flowers whose pink tips peeked out of the pocket.
Unlike the schoolteachers, particularly those from the Mainland, mother never wore qipao, nor would she wear Taiwanese-style clothes. Only Western one-piece dresses or a jacket-and-skirt combination. There sometimes were hats made of the same material as the dresses; they were tiny round or boat-shaped hats trimmed with lace or veils, which she would wear a bit to one side.
Mother wore a hat of the same material as her dress occasionally when she went out, and it was when she was securing the hat to her hair with a bobby pin that she laughed brightly over the stories about tap water that Yinghong had heard from Mudan.
“The tap water at your maternal grandpa’s house wasn’t that wondrous. It was not like the houses in the West, where you have faucets in the kitchen and bathroom and get water whenever you turn the faucet.” Mother was still laughing as she continued: “Back at the house, the neighborhood families had to share a faucet. The water would come late in the afternoon, and each family had to fetch its water in a bucket and take it back to fill troughs and vats.”
Then she turned from her mirror to face Yinghong, before saying in a serious tone, though still in her soft, gentle Tokyo Japanese:
“Don’t mention this to Mudan or she will lose face.”
Yinghong nodded, like a good girl.
“And don’t bring it up with other servants either, all right? It doesn’t matter how tap water flows out of the faucet. It’s harmless. Never put everything out in the open, understand?”
Yinghong was not old enough to completely understand why Mother did not want her to explain things, but she was not too young to know that she should not give others the opportunity to laugh at Mudan. The strict rules she grew up with taught her to answer obediently in Japanese:
“I understand, Okasan.”
Soon after that, Mother planned a trip back to Dataocheng and wanted Mudan to go along, which was a rare occurrence. With that trip back home, Mudan returned with more stories, this time about rice kernels.
“Someone from Dataocheng went to the South Sea, a long way away. I heard that the rice kernels over there were several hundred times larger than ours. Only one kernel is needed to cook a bowl of rice, no gruel but a regular rice meal.”
Mudan gestured emphatically with her hands:
“Imagine how easy life would be. One kernel to make a bowl of rice. You’d only need several kernels each meal to make enough for the whole family.”
A tiny person, Mudan had large hands and feet. When she gestured with her big bony hands, it looked as if a kernel of rice could truly make a giant bowl of rice.
Some people were amazed by her stories while others doubted their reliability and began spreading gossip about her. When she got wind of that, naturally she was unhappy and convinced that they didn’t believe her because she wasn’t a local. Often she would be heard to complain:
“I’m not from here, so I’m a stranger. Those Lucheng people have terrible customs, so many rules, and they’re so hard to please. I never know what to do.”
One time Yinghong happened to walk by when Mudan was airing her usual complaint, so Mudan started on her:
“Like you,” she pointed at Yinghong, “you’re a Lucheng local.”
“So what if I’m a Lucheng local?” Yinghong retorted.
“You’re just a Lucheng local.” Mudan had not meant anything unpleasant by this comment, and did not know what to say next. Deflated, she could only repeat, “You’re a Lucheng local, from the Zhu family, First Young Miss Zhu, with great learning.”
The maids nearby all covered their mouths and giggled.
A month and seventeen days after Lin Xigeng left, the new construction project jointly developed by Yinghong’s uncle and Lin was about to move to the sales phase, and, as a result, she and Lin saw each other frequently; it was not until after the extreme pain over the separation and the waiting began to subside that was she finally able to think straight, that her mind had begun to work again.
Finally she was able to evaluate how, on the night he left, he found an unusual way to say good-bye by having her submit to him by crouching down to kiss his erect penis. How had he managed to get her to do his bidding?
She had special feelings for that night; even during her most painful moments, when she couldn’t think straight, she continued to cherish, and repeatedly savor, every minute of it. It was her way of establishing an intimate connection with him, one that had included bodily contact.
When he was about to leave, the pain in her heart forced her to refuse to let his hand under her clothes, even as she told herself that at a moment like this she would not be able to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. She avoided and resisted his touch.
But then she’d let him guide her into touching him, as she believed that this most precious, this final connection, would help reduce the regret she would feel later.
She’d thought that his desire for bodily contact on that night had also stemmed from a similar wish to cherish the moment for future memory. But a month and seventeen days later she was finally clearheaded enough to realize that his actions had likely not derived from the same longing and love; instead it was probably all to gratify his male desire for possession and basic sexual needs. Gradually it became clear to her that the man who’d come to say good-bye was motivated by his characteristic desire for conquest, and that he would not leave until he’d gotten what he wanted from her.
She was then startled by an awareness that, because she still treasured the love they’d had, she’d denied him the ultimate pleasure, which in turn might be the very reason why he still had feelings for her and that their relationship might not be over after all. At the very least, she had denied him the opportunity to dismiss her casually when her name came up:
“What’s the big deal with this woman? I already had my way with her.”
No, he had not gotten what he wanted, because she had not consented, so at the moment, she had not lost everything.
But then, as her mind slowly cleared, the desire, the unmistakable bodily hunger returned with a vengeance. In her cherished recollections, she isolated her sorrow over the separation and focused solely on the sensation of his erect penis filling up her mouth, the memory of which produced in her a strong, irrepressible desire.
She began to search among the men who had shown interest in her; she wanted only one man, a married man who had no intention of getting a divorce and, like her, had to be concerned about reputation and would not babble about t
he relationship. Best, he should come from a different social circle, someone who wanted to be with her but would not create problems or an obstacle between her and Xigeng.
As a woman, she knew from the bottom of her heart that she was still blindly, deeply in love with him, even though she was now able to see that he had wanted her purely out of desire and a need to possess. One month and seventeen days after he left, she finally realized that there would be a prolonged battle between them and that she must not be betrayed by physical needs that came with her recovery.
To be able to wait without rushing into action, she must be sexually gratified, particularly by another man. Only that way could she not be easily overcome by desire, for she knew fully well that, like many other women, the moment she and Lin got back together, she would offer herself to him with gratitude, as a way to seek his promise and gain assurance.
Yinghong was a pretty woman to begin with, and now her desperation made her even more bewitching, for frenzied passion added flames to her large, enchanting eyes. The man responded to her needs as soon as she initiated their second meeting.
It was a man she knew already, nicknamed Teddy Zhang, who was married to the daughter of a textile tycoon. Now in his forties, Teddy was homely and short, but a girlfriend of hers had intimated that he was not only highly competent at work, but virile to the point of being insatiable. She was convinced that he would want more than she to keep it between the two of them, for he was no different than most men in Taiwan who treasured family wealth more than anything else.
Obviously an old hand at this, Teddy picked the most inconspicuous hotel out of the many “rest and recreation” places in a residential area in Taipei. They arrived at different times and gave the reception desk false names. Everything was done in the dark, for they feared that the hotel might have installed a hidden camera or a peephole in the wall.
Even in the dark, she closed her eyes when she responded to his movements. He was clearly working hard to please her, and yet it was Lin’s image that she saw, and she had to bite down hard on her lip to stop herself from calling out his name. Eventually, Teddy’s persistent hard work paid off; the purely physical contact brought her enough pleasure that she responded accordingly, though it was not close to earth shattering.
Then, little by little, as they became more familiar with each other’s body, she began to fully enjoy the carnal pleasure. She kept her eyes shut and called out Lin’s name silently with lips tightly shut. When he brought her to orgasm time after time, she began to moan, and Lin’s name escaped from between her teeth in a raspy sound.
They met once a week; the man wanted more, but was not put off when she said no. Yinghong knew that she was only one of his many women, a comforting fact to both of them. But he complained about how, when they were finished, she would get up and get dressed, not even spending a few extra minutes by his side.
She managed to explain why she could not stay at the hotel for long.
In a city crowded with people and endless events, a large number of hotels rose to meet their needs, appearing on every main street, sometimes even reaching into residential alleyways. They were like exploding red torches, each hotel an erotic sea with burning desire, crackling and raging all over the city.
In a medium-size hotel with a hundred or more rooms, there would be five to six hundred couples copulating every day. At their busiest hours, the hotel staff had to rush in to change sheets between couples, piling dirty sheets in the basement like a stack of white mourning couplets still dripping wet from the ink. Quickly another pair of naked bodies lay down on the new sheet, pushing, touching, and grabbing at each other, with nonstop moaning and groaning.
Sexual intercourse that cannot be performed at home is naturally different from the formulaic sex among married couples. Couples paid for the place because they had an urgent need to satisfy their bodily hunger. The hotels were where raging desires converged, creating a sexual vitality that was alluring to anyone who came for the pleasure.
To be expected, these hotels anticipated their customers’ need by offering all sorts of stimulants: wall to ceiling mirrors on all sides, massage beds, as well as contraptions or exercise equipment to increase sexual pleasure. On the subtropical island of Taiwan, where summer lasts four months, with temperatures reaching 36 degrees Celsius, some hotels still offered Hawaiian tropical decor or Mediterranean furnishings, all to help arouse their customers.
To avoid the risk of recognition by hotel reception staff after frequenting the same hotel, the man took her to different places, and she went along with no qualms. In the dark, it did not matter if it was the Hawaiian or Mediterranean style; they came for sexual gratification and left after their needs were satisfied.
What she found unbearable was that the man, after getting off her, would want to cuddle. He was obviously a loyal reader of popular books on sex, for he wanted to hug and touch after they were finished. She abhorred such contact, just as she would never let him kiss her. For Yinghong, kissing, caressing, and hugging belonged to those with true love and real connections, while contacts of sexual organs were simply for the gratification of needs.
Of course she knew she couldn’t tell him how she felt; no man would like to be reduced to a penis, even if it was a potent one that could give a woman so much pleasure.
She could sense that weekly intense gratification was calming her down; the distress and disquieting mood slowly left her, replaced by a sense of leisure, a serene ease. She knew now she could begin her hunt.
Now that her anxiety was gone and her skin had regained its luster from sexual satisfaction, she looked beautiful and graceful again, the dark circles under her eyes gone. She even devoted time to skin care and makeup, all in order to showcase herself at meetings, where they sat far across from each other.
The development that her uncle and Lin worked on together was nearing the sale stage, which meant nonstop meetings with the sales firm. They needed to position their product, settle on the price per ping, calculate the total sale price for each unit, design a promotion strategy, and more.
Lin’s wild idea had been to construct a building with more than three hundred vacation homes on a hill outside the city. From his viewpoint, Taiwan’s economy had developed to the point where some people would want to invest in a vacation home, a place where they could spend weekends and holidays. He believed that most homeowners could not yet afford to buy a single-family vacation home, and that management and maintenance could pose problems. But businessmen who had made a a fortune in foreign reserves would be interested in buying a second home, since, with a firm understanding that island land is limited, they had the typical Taiwanese penchant for buying. Why couldn’t their second home be in a building in the outskirts of town? It would surely be cheaper than a single-family villa and a lot easier to maintain.
“I don’t just deal in real estate; I also want to help Taiwan raise the standard of living and change people’s views about housing,” Lin said with customary confidence. “I want to teach the Taiwanese how to live a high-class lifestyle.”
The meetings usually took place in Lin’s office. True to his boastful nature, the table was a dozen meters long in his company headquarters, which occupied an entire building in Taipei’s prized Eastern District. Yinghong’s presence unsettled him somewhat, and that intensified his efforts to display everything—his decisiveness, his wealth, and his power—like putting on a show. But when he had to make a critical decision tied to the outcome of billions of dollars in real estate investments, he turned reserved and pragmatic, devoting all his energy and concentration to work and planning. In such situations, he would look glum and inscrutable, ignoring her to the point that she virtually ceased to exist.
Sitting at a distance from him, her heart beat violently, blood raced through her veins. As someone born with the natural talent of a leader, he would listen quietly and then quickly and accurately identify the central issues; when it came to final decisions, he rarely wavered and co
uld convince anyone with his powers of persuasion. She felt the dreamlike sensation returning. They may have been worlds apart, yet she sat there, waiting with grace and beauty.
Once they were back together, her feminine side resurfaced and she could not stop commenting on his domineering stance and the resolve with which he made decisions during meetings, to which he responded with a loud, hearty laugh.
“I’ve got you fooled. Most of the time, I’m scared witless when I make decisions.”
She looked up at him, incomprehension registering in her eyes.
“And I can’t let my apprehension show; if I did, everyone in the company would lose their calm.” Then his gaze turned cold. “Usually I feel like I’m a gambler, betting on data and analysis. I chalk up all my wins to mere luck.”
Profound compassion and love led her to rest his head against her bosom, as sorrow and sweetness welled up inside.
Yinghong sat and waited at the long table that separated them as if they were worlds apart. When his gaze occasionally fell on her, she was poised, calmly flashing him a mysterious smile, though she knew she could not maintain that pose for long. He saw her frequently, easily, without having to make any special effort, so the torment of longing would be reduced, and when that happened, everything would become insignificant, pointless even.
She knew she could never be a rival to his career, and that she must wait till the vacation home project reached a certain stage before making her move.
Fifteen days and two months after they broke up, she drove back to Lotus Garden alone one late afternoon when the sky was painted with a brilliant sunset. She had told Mudan that she’d made last-minute plans to spend a few days in the south with a Mr. Huang; she left a stack of important documents about the building site, redesign certificates that would be needed the following day, with Mudan, telling her that if Mr. Lin, who had often phoned her in the past, called to ask about the certificates, she must remember to complain about how the young mistress had impulsively put everything aside and gone on a pleasure trip to the south with a Mr. Huang.