by Keyi Sheng
I glanced at Yu. I said I was rereading Love in the Time of Cholera.
‘Tang always boasts about your chief Yu. You haven’t given that a try?’
‘Love in the Time of Cholera is really better than One Hundred Years of Solitude.’
‘I’m especially eager to find out if an idealistic youth is lustful.’
‘The title One Hundred Years of Solitude is too long.’
‘Is it inconvenient for you to talk now?’
‘Right, I’ll be happy to let you know my views on it when I’ve finished reading.’
*
After three consecutive days of interviews at the hospital, I started coughing on the fourth day, and I had a slight headache. When I was working late that night, I suddenly got a high fever. Something roared inside me, and my walls collapsed.
SARS has found me, I thought. I’m going to die. I’m not married, I have no children, and I’ve never experienced a real romance. The little ghosts will taunt me if I go to the grave like this.
I was so frightened, I wanted to cry. But I forced myself to stay calm. I had just made a name for myself at the news agency in these past few days. It would be a terrible loss of face to fall apart now. On the way to the hospital, I joked with my colleagues, saying, ‘If I die, I want everyone to burn spicy crawfish often as an offering to me. They surely won’t have the real thing in hell.’
I thought about how Yu looked when he was so anxious his comb turned dark, and about the obvious difference in the frequency and magnitude of the heaving of his chest. He did not really look bad in thin-striped T-shirts. Each of his dimples was valued at a million dollars – and if I’d had any money at all, I would gladly have paid that price for him.
I thought my symptoms were not those of SARS. Most illnesses had similar clinical responses, but had different causes. It was lovesickness that gave me a high fever, depression and suppression that caused the illness. If Yu would just embrace and kiss me passionately, my fever would subside. Just one night of passion would make me a new person.
The fever made my mind more active. All sorts of legends were floating through my mind, and Yu was always the protagonist. I did not want to die. I was afraid being lovesick in hell would be like being grilled over a fire. Inwardly, I was extremely anxious, but in order to keep from making a fool of myself, I fell asleep on my way to the hospital. When I woke up, I saw a huge floral arrangement with a couplet hanging from it, like at a funeral. I thought I really had died. A few people in space-suits, and carrying oxygen tanks and wearing masks, surrounded me. I thought paradise was on the moon. Only when they spoke to me did I realise I was in a hospital ward on Earth. I had felt faint, and when I was admitted, I was shivering all over and my skin was so hot you could fry an egg on it.
Then Yu arrived. As he looked at me through the glass that enclosed the intensive care ward, I watched him discuss matters with the doctor. He rejected wearing the astronaut suit, refusing even to wear a mask. The doctor called a colleague over. They continued talking. The doctor lowered his head to think, looking very solemn. One of the doctors lifted a bottle and sprayed Yu all over, as if he were a pest. I envisioned an insect becoming dizzy amid the insecticide, then falling over and dying. I wanted to laugh, but a tear fell down my face.
The giant insect was not knocked over by the insecticide. He did not say anything, but just sat and looked at me.
‘What do you feel like eating?’ he asked.
You, is what I didn’t say, at least not aloud. I just wiped the corners of my eyes and smiled.
‘You’re very popular now. The doctor said you won’t be accepting any interviews.’
‘I’m leaving them for myself.’ I looked optimistic.
‘Yes, there’s no reporter better than Li Xiaohan. I’ll give you a whole page. You can let go and write,’ he said.
‘Are you abusing your power for personal gains?’ Yu’s words made me guess how serious my situation was, and how few days I had left. My self-interview would be my posthumous work.
‘I’ve been thinking about what I could do for you, but you do everything yourself.’
‘I can’t get what I really want.’ I imagined my confession on my deathbed, pushing against my tear-ducts and flooding the twelve pipes. If I were a poet, I would also recite a love poem and leave it in his ear to be held for the rest of his life. He could hold onto this secret, deep, tragic love while he lived his mundane life, and his wife need never know.
Yu did not ask any further, which was sufficient evidence that he knew the meaning behind my words. Sick people and drunk people are the same, they say what they really mean. When you’re going to die, you pour out all the rubbish you held inside all your life. That way, the burden of the spirit is unloaded and one is free to become a ghost.
‘Some things that you attain at all cost may not be what you really want anyway.’ He was an experienced person, after all.
‘There’s another possibility. You can make things clear,’ I said.
‘OK. You’re the Ministry of Truth,’ he said, not arguing with me.
‘The Ministry of Truth specialised in manufacturing false news,’ I said, not letting him off.
‘George Orwells’s Ministry of Truth collapsed.’
We laughed silently, and as gloomily as the ward. Everything was all white around us.
‘I’ve got good news and bad news. Which do you want first?’ he asked.
‘Bad.’
‘They’re trying to get the courts to clean up the Today Newspaper.’
‘The defendant’s stand has an outstanding offender. Greatness can withstand judgement,’ I said.
‘The knife won’t fall on stone. They know where to strike a blow.’
‘Do we have financial problems?’ I asked.
‘He who has a mind to beat his dog will easily find a stick.’
‘The whole world is watching. They can’t do anything underhanded,’ I said. ‘What’s the good news?’
‘The good news is that our colleagues at the News Department are waiting to meet their new director, Li Xiaohan.’
Getting the appointment at that moment was like adding on to a martyr. It increased the ominous feeling inside me. I was going to die.
The five- or six-square-metre single room had been converted from a warehouse. There was no toilet and no kitchen, and only a small window allowed in the slightest shimmer of light. Rent was 100 yuan a month. My sister had pasted a layer of newspaper on the walls. Down the centre of the room, she had run a rope on which she could dry clothes. Zhima and Chuntian had acquired some pots and pans, and an induction cooker. Their little room was like a tiny sparrow equipped with all the necessary components. When she cooked, the sound of her spatula hitting the wok was loud. When she fried peppers, she could hear the neighbours coughing over and over, but anyway, everyone needed to eat.
Occasionally there was laughter, like a bird bursting from its cage and settling on a tree. The neighbours came and went, asking this or that. All of them were villagers, so they naturally felt quite close. As they mixed with their neighbours, they soon knew what cost least, what was most profitable, and where the risks lay. Zhima had shed blood. He had received his wages and, now that his body was recovering, he was actively planning for his new life. He decided to sell kebabs. He would first work as an apprentice, so he could learn the ropes.
Chuntian continued working at the teahouse for a while. Sun did not take other women there anymore and, in fact, seldom went there himself. Chuntian guarded the teahouse like it was her turf. She had won, but the victory was a little boring. The city was so big, so there was no lack of places for Sun Xiangxi to fool around. Before long, Zhima mastered the barbecuing process and got his stove and charcoal ready. My sister would quit working at the teahouse, and when he was ready to venture out, she would start working with him, selling kebabs.
On the day she meant to resign, Sun showed up at the teahouse, looking for Chuntian. He wanted to take her to the river
side to eat live fish. He did not mention where he had been all this time, nor what the hell he had been doing. She said, ‘You didn’t reply to my texts and didn’t answer my calls. I assumed you were dead.’
Sun asked, ‘When did you call?’ He quickly pulled out his phone, and then spread his hands. ‘Oh, my phone fell into the toilet a few days ago. I just had it repaired, so a lot of the information was lost. Also, I had to go to Beijing.’
Chuntian said, ‘You can find someone else to take care of your last minute “crotch time” now. Don’t come looking for me anymore. My husband beats people up blindly.’
Sun pretended to be furious, ‘He hit you again?’
She laughed silently, then said, ‘You are so pale and delicate. I’m afraid if he raised a fist at you, you’d be reduced to tofu residue.’
It was beginning to dawn on him what she meant. For a moment, he could not believe she would leave him. He always thought she was dead set on him and would allow him to fool around with her.
‘Chuntian, if you start to regret your choice, you can always come back to me. I’ll be here for you.’
She had seen such performances many times before. She was no longer impressed.
Fortunately, she had Zhima as an excuse. If not, it would have been difficult to get rid of Sun. It wasn’t that he loved her, but that he felt it was a real loss of face to be ditched by a woman from the village.
On the way home, Chuntian let out a huge sigh. She almost cried several times, but she managed to force back her tears.
Zhima was preparing bamboo skewers and placing them all around basins and baskets. He was working alone, and working quite hard.
‘Are you going to open your stall so soon?’ she asked.
‘There’s a blockbuster being released at the cinema today. There will be a lot of people. Let’s give it a try and see how it goes.’
Zhima had even given careful consideration to the location. He was worthy to be called someone with experience in the world.
Chuntian found a stool to sit on and started skewering leeks, mushrooms, chicken gizzards, tendon slabs, lamb, and bread.
‘A lot of people use rat meat or the meat from dead cats sprinkled with cow urine to pass off as mutton. We have to have the real deal. We might earn less, but we’ll let word-of-mouth advertising do the trick.’
Zhima had even done market research. Apparently, he was quite a genius.
Chuntian said, ‘We need to have peace of mind as we earn money, then we can sleep easily at night.’
‘Yeah. And once the word gets around, we can save a bit of capital. We can get a small shop front then. You’ll be the boss.’ He had a long-term plan.
‘You really think big, don’t you? Let’s not start daydreaming just yet. If we do enough to get by, that will be good.’
Chuntian was afraid Zhima was getting overly eager. She thought it best she pours a bit of cold water over him.
‘What do you mean? We can get a bunch of leeks for one yuan, enough for at least twenty skewers. If we sell each skewer for half a yuan, you do the math. How much will we earn?’
‘I’m just afraid no one will want it.’
‘How could that be? There are bamboo sticks on the ground everywhere. People have obviously been eating grilled food, or they wouldn’t have discarded the sticks here.’
Chuntian thought about it. She gained confidence and her hands worked harder.
At dusk, she and Zhima pulled their wooden handcart to a spot across from the cinema and started their charcoal fire. Smoke danced above the flames. A group of primary school students came over, their first batch of customers.
Liuzi’s case was settled quickly, and the main perpetrator, Qiao Feiyan, was shot. Many others were sentenced, and a bunch was given their dismissal notices. Yihua did not come to see me any more. She had good looks, but did not know how to use a computer or how to speak English, and she had no skills. Was there any more suitable place for her than a nightclub? I imagined her lending her lustre to the assembly line at some factory. Apart from sexual harassment from her boss, factory manager and the like, generally I felt it would be a waste of her youth. She would be worn down in a matter of years, and that would truly be a regret. The good fortune to attain the right path seemed to elude innocent girls like her who had nothing besides their looks. They were born to be property.
I did not interfere in Yihua’s affairs. After all, every plant must grow in its own way.
When it comes to repaying a favour owed, a noble person will always keep her promises. Yihua’s path was not destined to be anything ordinary. She took the initiative to contact Hu Lilai to settle her debt with him. No lion will let a deer just pass by in his line of sight – Lilai only hesitated for a few seconds before pouncing.
Early on, Yihua had figured that if she gave her first time to Lilai, that would be worth more than ten times in compensation, and Lilai would not be able to give her change, so she thought she would have to find someone else to be her first. The fellow she found was a white man, around thirty years old. He could not speak Chinese, but was very gentlemanly, not like the Chinese men who touched and pinched the girls all over as they laughed wretchedly. His name was Mike, and he kind of looked like the character Michael in The Godfather. It was rather a novel idea to allow a foreigner to take her chastity overseas to distant lands all over the world, like carrying off some small daughter she never had a chance to meet. Yihua chose him. In bed, he treated her gently, as if she really was his lover. They did not speak – did not make any noises – even remaining silent as they climaxed. It was like struggling with a disease, bearing it patiently, though it was unbearably painful.
When they had finished, Mike poured two glasses of red wine. Yihua could not move. She felt her body had been torn into a ragged cloth, fluttering in the wind. She lay in bed for half an hour, looking at the banknotes on the pillow beside her. She mustered her strength, got dressed, smoothed her hair, and felt like she had been reborn. There, with Mike, was her first time. She was at peace. She left the money, and even said ‘thank you’ as she walked out.
She did not have small change for a taxi, so she went to a small shop, bought a bottle of water, and got some change. She felt both liberated and relieved.
Lilai took Yihua straight to his house. He lived in a two-story home, and there was a plot of land full of banana trees in front of the door. She could hear his mother coughing inside. His room was upstairs. Clothes were strewn everywhere, and it smelled like someone had spent all his time jerking off in there.
As she took off her clothes, she asked, ‘Do you want to do ten times separately, or finish it all today?’
Lilai said, ‘Depends on the situation.’
Yihua lay down, then said, ‘Let’s do it all today. Your house is far away. Let’s save on travel costs.’
Lilai was in a rush, crying out almost as soon as they had started. After ten minutes, he started again. This time he showed more restraint, going slowly, and even trying to get Yihua to participate. When he had finished the second time, he decided to save the remaining times for a later date. If he gobbled up everything at once, he might later find himself hungry with nothing to consume. But in the end, he could not hold back, and before he knew it, he had used up five times.
Yihua actually climaxed. She was surprised, but also disdainful. Climaxing changed the quality of the relationship. She was no longer returning a favour. She should not do that. It was blaspheming Liuzi’s name.
But Yihua’s body felt good. After the tenth time, she continued to see Lilai. He told his mother Yihua was his girlfriend. The old woman was so happy, she kept having asthma attacks. Yihua sometimes brought small gifts for her. Lilai’s mother was quite satisfied and urged him to marry Yihua, giving his mother a chance to receive a cup of tea from her daughter-in-law’s hand at the wedding ceremony before she died. Lilai told Yihua, but she said did not want to get married and have kids. She had many things she still wanted to do.
Putting aside his mother’s wishes, Lilai said he would wait for her. His feelings for her ran deep, and he did not want to marry anyone but her.
This was a threat. Yihua knew she would have to be vigilant.
Zhima set up his stall. As he fanned the charcoal fire, sparks burst into the air. My sister acted as his assistant, taking out spices, propping up the foldable stool, hoping that the thin and deflated waist pouch would be inflated by the time they closed shop at midnight.
The couple chatted as they worked. Chuntian said, ‘Yicao was eighth in the placement test. Maybe our house will produce a female university student. This ball-breaker, she doesn’t even work hard at her studies . . . If she would just put forth a little more effort, she might even do as well as Xiaohan and study in Beijing.’
Zhima was more concerned about his kebabs. ‘We better cover these or ash will fall onto them.’
My sister put gauze over the kebabs. ‘What’s the big deal, even if a little ash gets on them? It’s like that’s more important than your offspring.’
Zhima said, ‘The ash will affect the taste. Yiyang is as small as balls, so its spawn doesn’t taste good. If it doesn't taste nice, people won’t come back to us, and they won’t bring others to come with them.’
Of course, my sister agreed, but she just wanted to talk a little about Yicao. The girl was dating young, and did not emulate good habits. Once, Chuntian even saw her smoking. If she would just test well enough to get into university, my sister would leave her to her vices.
Zhima was more accepting of the situation. ‘Don’t bother about things you can do nothing about. Even when she gets married and has kids, they won’t be in the Liu family. We may not even see them. What do they really have to do with us? Parents are like distant relatives, if even that.’
Chuntian thought about her own relationship with her own immediate family. Wasn’t it just as Zhima had described?
A couple of young fellows came to the stall and ordered a bunch of kebabs and some beer. Chuntian got up and went to the canteen to buy the beer. When she came back a couple of minutes later, the stall seemed to have been crashed by wild horses, with the charcoal and sparks spread all over the ground. The small foldable stool had been thrown far away, and the young people were helping to pick up the sticks.