by Xinran
Six was surprised by how effective the books were: as soon as the old ladies saw the names of the artists, they cried out in pleasure.
‘Aiya! Who’d have thought our leaders would be so good with a brush? What wonderful calligraphy!’
‘Girl, what are you actually selling, tea, books or art?’ Grey Waistcoat asked, gesturing to the bookshelves and the scrolls and paintings on the walls.
‘Only the tea is for sale,’ Six answered. ‘The customers can read these books while they are drinking their tea. My boss says that the more people read, the less social unrest there’ll be. And look, we have a book over here that contains writing from our foreign customers!’
Six brought over the notebook from the writing desk and laid it out in front of the visitors.
‘Aiya! Comrades from friendly nations also visit you?!’ asked the woman in blue in amazement.
Grey Waistcoat seemed more at ease with the idea. ‘These foreigners read Chinese books then?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ said Six enthusiastically, ‘they’ve come from all over the world to study Chinese culture. They all speak very good Chinese but, if you’re willing, you might care to give them some advice about their pronunciation.’
‘Really?’ said the woman in blue, who was clearly very interested. ‘I’ve seen a few foreigners at the Sun Yatsen Mausoleum, but they were all jabbering away to each other in their own language. I’ve never heard any foreigners speaking Chinese.’
‘Well, I’ve seen quite a few in Shanghai, where my son and daughter-in-law live,’ said Grey Waistcoat. ‘The shops there even have signs in foreign letters. In fact, you could almost say that foreign words are taking over: even the Chinese signs don’t sound Chinese! Nai-kee – what does that mean? There are so many shops with strange signs and window displays. You’ve got no idea what’s in them. Designer labels – that’s what my son says they sell. He and his wife won’t wear anything else. I mean to say, wearing clothes is all about being comfortable and looking presentable, wouldn’t you say? What use is a brand name? Who’s going to put their hand into your collar to look at the label?’
‘Aren’t these brand names to show social status?’ asked the woman in blue. ‘That’s what my son says.’
‘Come off it!’ scoffed Grey Waistcoat. ‘Do you think you can become a celebrity just by wearing expensive clothes? That’s like saying we old things can become young again by wearing clothes for girls.’
‘Perhaps brand names do reveal social status,’ said Six, thinking that someone should stand up for the woman in blue. ‘After all, poor people can’t afford them, and people who aren’t aware of fashion don’t buy them. Isn’t fashion now a kind of culture?’
‘Culture? Nonsense! I can’t be doing with people who use Modernisation and Culture as excuses for bad behaviour,’ Grey Waistcoat said, her face stern.
Six cowered, but this time the woman in blue leapt to her defence.
‘But things aren’t the way they used to be. Back then we all wore blue to show we were good Communists, but, if we’re honest about it, we didn’t have enough to eat. These days, everyone wears different clothes and, if you have the money, you can eat delicacies from all over China without leaving Nanjing. Take that cake you’re eating. In the old days you could only eat Rolling Donkey cakes in Beijing, but now you find them everywhere. It’s like the TV. Just by having one in your living room, you can say you’ve seen the world.’ And with this, she stuffed a Rolling Donkey into her mouth, whole.
‘Don’t get me started on television! Just look at the films they show these days … They don’t seem to inspect or cut them at all. You even see people in the bedroom, naked as the day they were born. And look at the result: today’s children have no idea how men and women should behave. Go to Shanghai in summer and you’ll see what I mean. Women run about the streets wearing less than men, their bare feet shoved into a pair of slippers without any socks! I think they’re picking up bad ways from the West. They don’t eat our good spring greens, they go for fast food cooked in oil that hasn’t been changed for ten days; they don’t drink our nice tea, they go for that fizzy muck Westerners call beer so that men grow such bellies they spill out over the tops of their trousers. Talk about fashion! When my daughter came to see me for Spring Festival she was wearing jeans cut so low her bottom was almost showing. She said this style was fashionable all over the world! I gave her a proper talking to. I mean, a nice girl like that, doing herself up half like a prostitute, half like a lunatic …’
Six could see that Grey Waistcoat was getting more and more angry so she tried to calm her down.
‘Madam, you’re right. This is exactly why my bosses opened this teahouse: so that more people can drink our Chinese tea, look at our Chinese paintings and calligraphy, and discuss our Chinese books. You see, if foreigners start to be influenced by us, the people who try to copy foreigners will appreciate our Chinese culture too. Don’t you agree, Madam?’
The two women looked at each other, then nodded. ‘Of course,’ said the woman in blue, stuffing a sesame rice-ball into her mouth. ‘We agree with you entirely.’
After that, the two old women spent some minutes walking around the teahouse munching on their cakes and looking at the displays of books, paintings and calligraphy. Eventually they came back to their table.
‘It’s good that you’ve opened this teahouse,’ said Grey Waistcoat, savouring a mouthful of tea and admiring the teapots in the cabinet. ‘We in the Neighbourhood Committee will give it our full support. We just need the formalities to be complete. After all, your boss seems to be a learned man.’
‘Madam, you are too kind!’
At some point Thick Glasses had slipped back in. Now he came over with a pot of fresh tea in his hands, and exchanged the teacups for a good set from the display cabinet.
‘So you’re Boss Shu?’ exclaimed Grey Waistcoat, looking suddenly cross again. ‘Every time that old Xiali of yours goes past my front door the whole family starts coughing from the smoke. Now tell us, why didn’t you have an opening before starting to do business?’
‘Well, it’s like this,’ said Thick Glasses, catching Six’s eye. ‘These days there’s far too much serious extravagance and waste about the place. Although everyone is always talking about fighting corruption, they don’t give officials an opportunity to be honest and upright. I thought it was about time that cultured people took a stand and did something to show people what real Chinese traditions are all about. That’s why I started a teahouse where people could learn more about Chinese culture. I also wanted to show that, when our local officials gave us their support, it was because we did good things, not because we held a party. That’s why we sent a printed announcement to all the local government offices when we opened. Perhaps there’s been a mistake at the post office, and they haven’t been delivered yet? I’ll send you another to make up for it.’
‘Was it in a big red envelope with foreign writing on it?’ the woman in blue asked, realisation dawning on her face.
‘Yes, yes,’ said Thick Glasses enthusiastically. ‘We decided to send English cards to show that our teahouse was a place of learning. In order to demonstrate our support for Chinese industry over foreign imports, we made the cards ourselves by hand.’
‘The paper looked very cheap and the printing was uneven, so I threw it away!’ said the woman in blue. Grey Waistcoat looked faintly embarrassed that she hadn’t been able to read the English words on the announcement.
‘Well that doesn’t matter,’ said Thick Glasses with a big smile. ‘We don’t expect your Neighbourhood Committee to act as an archive! It’s enough that we know you received our announcement, so that you are aware of our respect and obedience. The promotion of Chinese culture is a matter for everyone, high and low alike. As you can see, our leaders take it very seriously!’ Thick Glasses leafed through the book of calligraphy on the table with a meaningfully casual air.
At this the two old ladies nodded furiously.
&
nbsp; ‘Very true, very true! We must all unite in cultural pursuits. From now on, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. The Neighbourhood Committee has a finger in every pie round here, we’re right behind you. Goodbye.’
The two ladies strode towards the door.
‘Mind how you go now! A good day to you!’ said Thick Glasses as he ushered them out. Then, as soon as they were out of earshot, he turned to Six to congratulate her.
‘Six, I never knew you were so wise! You had those two old ladies set up to swallow the bait all by themselves …’
Six’s legs were so wobbly that she too sat down. She was astonished by the performance that Thick Glasses had just put on. Surely this wasn’t the same man who couldn’t express himself clearly and got all his affairs in a muddle! Not only had he coaxed the old ladies into good humour, they had left full of heroic pride.
After that, the teahouse was never again bothered by the Neighbourhood Committee, but there were still a few unwanted visitors. Six could not abide the people from the Business Administration or the Tax Bureau, who came in without so much as a greeting, never said ‘thank you’ when they left, and expected to eat and drink for free. Moreover, they always came just before lunch, with the unspoken expectation that Thick Glasses would invite them to go to a local restaurant to eat. If no invitation was forthcoming, they would whip out leather folders from under their arms, and subject Thick Glasses and Meng to an interrogation.
Once Kang dropped in when this was going on.
‘Dad, Mum, what’s up?’ he called out. ‘Have you broken the law?’
Meng looked embarrassed to be talked to like this in front of two officials from the Bureau of Commerce, and scolded her son. ‘What kind of talk is that? We’ve got permits, we pay our taxes on time, how can you ask your own mother and father such a question?’
‘In that case, has Dad been caught for speeding?’ Kang asked, looking at Thick Glasses.
‘Hardly! My car can’t even get up to the normal speed, let alone break the speed limit.’
Meng and Thick Glasses watched helplessly as their son walked over to the officials.
‘Comrades, my parents are clearly embarrassed to tell the truth in front of their son. Since you are such fair and impartial messengers of the law, please tell me what they’ve done wrong, so that I can draw lessons from this matter, or help them to mend their ways.’
‘They haven’t done anything …’ stammered the men in confusion.
‘That’s very odd,’ said Kang, turning to his parents but continuing to look completely deadpan. ‘If you’ve done nothing wrong, why do you both have such hangdog expressions? We’re all citizens under the red flag: you’re legitimate taxpayers, they are upright officials, nobody is anybody else’s prisoner. Why then are you behaving like the terrified masses quaking before their feudal masters? You will damage the reputation of our officials by behaving in this way. Wouldn’t you agree, Comrades?’
‘This is grown-up business, you stay out of it!’ snapped Meng.
‘Mother, that is very wrong of you. Everyone has responsibility to uphold the law and support a fair society. I’m a PhD student in Sociology, studying ways to improve the system of social management. You know that standing idly by can lead to great harm. Besides, treating a PhD student like a child is stripping me of citizenship rights which have been mine since the age of eighteen. Am I right? What do you say, Comrades?’
‘Young people certainly know what’s what these days,’ said one of the officials.
‘Indeed,’ said the other. ‘PhD students really are a mine of knowledge and information. Well, we won’t disturb you any further, it’s been a pleasure …’
As soon as the two officials were out of the door, Kang started grinning, but Meng was cross.
‘What’s got into you this morning, young man?’ she said, sinking into a chair. ‘Don’t you get enough of a kick out of your normal mickey-taking? Well, you’ve done it now! You’ve put on a good show of being upright and unafraid, but you’ve no idea how much your father and I are going to suffer! We’ve managed to get away with not having a splashy opening, we’ve weathered the annoyance of the local officials for not paying sufficient tribute to them and now, when the new head of the regional Bureau of Commerce comes to inspect our teahouse, you over-reach yourself and read them a lecture! Looks like this shop isn’t long for this world, PhD son of mine!’
‘Not necessarily,’ said Thick Glasses, giving his spectacles a polish. ‘Who’s to say the new man running the Bureau of Commerce isn’t completely straight, unlike the rest of our corrupt officials? And even if he’s not, we’ll weather it. The ancients used to say that “the wise man shows no fear in the face of the unexpected, and no anger in the face of wrongful accusations”. If the Bureau of Commerce closes us down, then we’ll just sell off the books and paintings to recoup our investment, flog the calligraphy and furniture to pay the rent and give the tea sets as New Year presents.’
Kang sat down beside his mother and began rubbing her shoulders.
‘That’s right, Mum! Have you forgotten the words you made me recite every day from the moment I started primary school?Be upright in your dealings with others, and pure and honest in your actions. You’re doing well if you can be upright in your dealings and run a pure and honest shop in these times! If they do shut us down, I’ll get all those foreigners to write an open letter condemning them. That’ll show ’em. They’re scared of foreigners. Still, I really don’t believe it’ll come to that. No one can close down a shop these days just because he’s heard things he didn’t want to hear. China’s not like it was ten years ago!’
‘Kang, you’re still young,’ said Shu Tian. ‘You haven’t seen enough of life to know how quickly things can change. In China, how many heads have rolled over a careless word? OK, we’ve lived through twenty years of the Open Policy, but has the definition of the Party been reformed? Have they introduced freedom of the press? China isn’t like the West. Western societies have had Religion to tell them what’s right and wrong.’
‘I don’t see it, Dad,’ Kang objected. ‘Lots of Westerners haven’t believed in God for a very long time …’
‘There may be people who don’t believe in God, but they have grown up with festivals such as Christmas and Easter, living in a cultural tradition that has remained the same despite all the changes. What’s the law in China? In ancient times, the emperor was the law. Then, when feudalism ended in 1912, China couldn’t find a master. The warlords scrambled for power, each seeking to be a king in his own domain. And then came Mao, who stopped all their fighting. Do you remember singing The East is Red? In our time, everybody worshipped Mao Zedong as a god. You’re supposed to be studying society – hasn’t it occurred to you that Mao’s power came, not from a cult of personality, but a desperate hunger for belief? An uneducated population, eking out a living from the soil, needed a god to bring order to the universe. They needed a god whose words everyone would obey, so they could be steady and secure in their poor lives. Despotism was the only way this could happen: everyone was either an enemy or a comrade. Now the Chinese want democracy, but how many people really understand what democracy is? Is there true democracy in the West, with its criminal gangs, wars of religion and governments who take certain actions in opposition to the will of the people? Did the students at Tian’anmen really know what they were calling for? There are some Chinese who don’t see any difference between the student uprising at Tian’anmen and the Cultural Revolution: both were driven by young people, both wished to sweep away the old order in the name of “Democracy”. But democracy isn’t something that comes just by waving a flag …’
Little by little, Six’s understanding of the conversations she heard around her grew. Thick Glasses and his family could sit for hours discussing modern Chinese society. Sometimes they even forgot to eat proper meals and it was almost closing time before they realised they had nibbled their way through more than half of the next day’s stock of foo
d. Six found it very difficult to follow political discussions and instinctively shied away from them. She preferred it when the conversation moved on to history or culture. Whenever Thick Glasses or Meng had a spare moment, she would ask them to tell her stories about China’s past. This was how she learned the story behind the words on the teahouse sign: ‘In Memory of Lu and Lu’.
‘In the Tang dynasty,’ said Thick Glasses, ‘there were two great tea-tasting masters: one called Lu Yu and one called Lu Tong. Lu Yu had loved tea since the moment he was born. He loved it as much as his own life. For years he travelled through China, carrying with him nothing but a bamboo basket containing his tea set. Over mountain passes and along great rivers he went, tasting many famous teas, until one day he came to the gates of a mansion from which issued a wonderful aroma of tea.
‘“What do you want?” the doorkeeper asked coldly.
‘“Tea,” said Lu Yu with a smile.
‘The doorkeeper thought he had misheard. “Food?” he asked.
‘Lu Yu corrected him with great courtsey. “I request that you grant me the gift of tea.”
‘The doorkeeper felt there was something very odd about this man with his bamboo basket. He’d never heard of a beggar asking for tea. He took a look at his face, and saw that his delicate features were not those of a poor man, so he gave him a bowl of tea. As soon as Lu Yu raised the fragrant bowl to his lips, he knew that he had never tried this particular tea before. “Good tea,” he thought to himself. And then he thought: if the gatekeeper’s tea is of such high quality, the owner’s tea must be better still. And so, given an inch he took a mile: he addressed the gatekeeper once more.
‘“I’m sorry to bother you again, but I would like to beg an audience with the master of the house.”
‘The gatekeeper could see that this man was out of the common run, so he went in to find his master. Lu Tong was reading in his study. He too was someone who had loved tea all his life.