“Would you like me to come so you can have a rest?”
“I don’t need rest,” said Little Auntie. “The worker-help does much of the night shift.”
After a few more minutes of conversation, they hung up.
Mei went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, washed her face, and dried it with a towel. She rubbed on a generous dose of night cream, then crawled under the feathery down duvet. All she wanted to do was curl up like a cat and go to sleep.
The traffic noise from the ring road persisted. As usual, just when she was falling asleep, someone raced by on a motorbike.
She turned to lie on her side. The softness of the pillow embraced her and, after a while, pulled her into a deep sleep.
Then her telephone rang.
How could that be? She was sure she had switched it off.
She got up and walked into the living room, where the phone was lying on the table next to the sofa.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
“Hello? Hello?”
No one.
“Who’s there?” she shouted.
There was a click, followed by a long beep.
Something had happened to Mama! Mei panicked. She had to get to the hospital. Mei started to run but fell to her knees. Something had hit her over the head, a large bat. Then she heard a loud bang, and another and another. Mei opened her eyes. She was sweating and her heart was throbbing. The loud pounding did not stop. Someone was banging on her door.
Mei rolled over and turned on the light. The alarm clock read 11:55. She groaned, her feet searching for the plastic slippers she had kicked off two hours earlier. “Who is it?” she asked. She turned the lock and opened the door slightly.
It was Big Sister Hui, angry-eyed, her mouth wide open. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you for two days. Didn’t you get my messages?”
“The answering machine’s broken.”
“And what do you think you are doing?” Big Sister Hui stared at Mei’s pajamas.
“Sleeping.”
“But it’s Friday night!”
Big Sister Hui was heavily made up. Her eyebrows were drawn in with a pencil. She wore peach blush on her round cheeks, and red lipstick; the lipstick had smudged a little at the corners of her mouth. Her forehead glistened. She was wearing orange satin trousers and a mandarin-collared shirt with red embroidery at the cuffs. The scent of her perfume washed over Mei like a wave.
“You must come with me right away.” Big Sister Hui marched inside.
“Where?”
“Party.”
Mei closed the door and followed her friend into the living room. “But I don’t want to go to a party. I’m tired. I’ve had a tough couple of days.”
“Nonsense. You’re coming. I promised Yaping that I’d bring you.” Big Sister Hui deposited her maternal behind on the sofa.
Mei’s mind froze. “What are you talking about?”
“Yaping is in Beijing on a business trip. All our old classmates are having a get-together at his hotel. He’s divorced.”
Mei’s throat tightened. She couldn’t speak.
“Don’t just stand there. Go, get ready.” Big Sister Hui took out a makeup kit and opened it. The palette ignited like a small powder bomb. “Hurry up!” she barked.
Mei went into the bathroom. She felt dizzy. Thoughts swirled inside her head like a storm. “Yaping is in Beijing.” Even as she repeated these words to herself, she still couldn’t believe they were true. It sounded like a joke. Maybe someone was playing with her mind. She looked around. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Her makeup lay scattered in a little basket by the sink; a pink soap lay inside the white porcelain dish. In the mirror, she caught sight of her face, freckled as always, though paler.
She washed her face with cold water. He had been gone for nine years. She had burned all his letters. She had tried to forget. It had not been easy. From time to time, he still returned to her thoughts. She had imagined meeting him one day, someday in the far future, when they were both old and gray. She had imagined that when they met again, she would be calm and forgiving. But then, without warning, he was back, single again. What had happened? Had he changed? Would he recognize her? Would she recognize him? What would they say to each other? Was there anything to say?
An overwhelming mix of emotion rose up inside her, like water from a deep well. One minute she didn’t want to go. She felt hurt, humiliated. She didn’t want him to see that she was still single and think that she still loved him. But when the minute passed, she longed to see him again, to hear his voice, even if just for a night.
Mei shook her head. She did her makeup, dressed, and came out to the living room.
“What took you so long?” Big Sister Hui complained. “Let’s go. The car is waiting.”
They went downstairs. A black Mercedes-Benz was parked outside the building. The driver jumped out and opened the door for the ladies.
“Goodness gracious, what is this?” asked Mei, not believing her eyes. Big Sister Hui was a lecturer at Peking University. Her husband, an engineer, was no tycoon, either.
“It’s Yaping’s. He sent it for you.”
TWENTY FOUR
FROM THE BACKSEAT of the car, Mei watched the streets of Beijing passing. It was like a procession of the years. Streetlamps approached, bringing with them mushrooms of yellow light, and then they vanished, leaving only dark shadows and lost secrets.
Like any other city, Beijing seemed more romantic at night. Newly erected business towers illuminated the skyline with wondrous expectations. The windows of run-down match-boxes were lit up with the promise of love and affection. The last street vendors were shutting up, packing barrel stoves and wooden stools onto flatbed carts and pushing them with bent backs to the rat-infested tin rooms they shared with other migrant workers. Their faces lit up with the thoughts of warmth, beds, and hometowns. Half-empty buses hummed nostalgically down narrow lanes. Night was like a magic brush, blacking out all the ugliness so that the hour of love and longing could unfold.
“I tried to call you earlier, hoping you would come to dinner,” Big Sister Hui said to Mei. “Everyone asked whether you were coming. Well, everyone except Yaping.”
Mei watched the yellow lights come and go. They were gathering speed.
“After dinner, some people left. They had a long bus ride home or needed to pick up children from grandparents or whatever reason. At the end, only five of us left for the VIP room. I could see that Yaping was getting nervous, like an ant on a hot stove. So I told him that I’d bring you in myself. He said, ‘Take my driver.’ I tell you, he puts up with us, but the only person he’s interested in seeing is you.”
“You always exaggerate,” said Mei, unmoved. “He married someone else, remember?”
The car exited the ring road. At the bottom of the exit, they were joined by other cars and a few bicycles.
“I knew that you’d come,” said Big Sister Hui. “You just needed someone like me to give you a yank.”
Mei turned to look at her old friend, one moment a caked face with smudged lips, and another—with the streetlamps abandoned behind them like chopsticks—just a pair of glowing eyes.
Inside the Great Wall Sheraton Hotel, amber and white crystal lights cascaded down seven stories to an atrium. Between two giant columns, glass elevators were rising like bright lanterns toward the ceiling. On the marble floor cool as a mirror, a jazz band was playing. Casually dressed tourists and businessmen in dark suits sipped cocktails in lounge chairs.
Mei had the feeling that she was being stared at when Big Sister Hui led her into the hotel lobby. Despite having worn her best evening outfit, Mei felt out of place. Her purple round-necked cashmere tunic dress was not from the Lufthansa Center, nor was it imported from Hong Kong or Japan or South Korea. It was from the Wangfujing department store, where she knew she could get the best-quality cashmere for the price she could afford. Unfortunately, the store had stopped updating their styles
in 1982. She had never cared before, but suddenly, Mei was painfully conscious of it.
Big Sister Hui guided her into the Passion nightclub. They passed through a disco in full swing, the space crowded with pleasure seekers. Laser lights blitzed the dance floor, freezing forms and faces in weird attitudes and expressions.
They walked on, the music fading behind them, leaving only a pounding beat. They turned a corner to a narrow hallway. A long carpet stretched into the distance. They followed it to the end of the hall and the last door on the left.
The room reeked of tobacco and alcohol. Mei saw a group. Two people cuddled on a sofa in the corner. A girl in a blue qipao dress leaned over the karaoke machine, thigh-high side slits revealing her white legs. A man was singing into a microphone. Another man held a beer bottle in one hand and conducted with the other.
“Look who’s here!” shouted Big Sister Hui.
The conductor’s hand remained in the air. The couple in the corner divided. The singer stopped singing and turned around. Two strands of hair, wet with sweat, fell over his forehead. His white shirt, the top two buttons open, showed a toned body.
His eyes met Mei’s.
Yaping strode over, still holding the microphone. On the karaoke monitor, the words of a love song were traced in silence.
“Hello,” he said.
Mei recalled the gentle voice that once, long ago, had touched her heart.
“Come and sit down.” He extended his hand to her. “Good to see you.”
Mei did not take his hand. Instead, she walked over to the cream leather sofa, avoiding his gaze. She said hello to the conductor, who had sat down to drink beer and smoke. She also greeted, at length, the slender person in the corner and a spiky-haired teenager whom he introduced as his girlfriend. Mei had not seen Liang Yi for years. He was still devastatingly handsome and still a playboy.
“Big Sister, I owe you one.” Yaping turned to Big Sister Hui with a smile. “What would you like to drink? Would you like more food?” Before she could respond, he turned to the girl who had been operating the karaoke machine. “Miss, could we please have another fruit platter and some of your house-special duck tongue? And more beer and wine.”
The waitress wiggled her tiny heinie and left.
Suddenly, a side door swung open, and Guang’s thundering voice came from the restroom. “His mother’s! It won’t come off!” His chest was soaking wet. He was holding a white shirt that had turned pink. He glared at the room. “Why so quiet? Who’s not singing?” he hollered. His face and eyes were red.
“Oh, Guang, you’re a drunk!” screamed Big Sister Hui.
“No. I just smell like one.” He laughed, waving a finger at her. When he saw Mei, he stumbled over. “Mei, you don’t give my brother face. You don’t come after thousands and hundreds of calls. Still got your nose high in the air?”
Yaping put a hand on his shoulder. “Cool it,” he said quietly.
Guang waved at him as if to say “I know.” He stretched his long legs, sighing sadly.
“Hey, I’ve missed the fun here,” exclaimed Big Sister Hui. “Who wants to sing with me? Guang, you and me, a duet!”
At this suggestion, Guang cheered up. They went over to the machine to choose a song. Two waitresses brought in more food and drinks: bowls of nuts, melons, pineapples, strawberries, and plates of cold cuts. The waitresses wore identical royal blue qipao and identical broad smiles. One was tall, long-haired, and beautiful. The other was ordinary-looking, with short hair.
“Still don’t drink beer?” Yaping said with a smile, sitting down next to Mei. She could almost touch his warm breath. Though his face had changed very little, its expressions had matured.
“Still don’t,” said Mei, returning his smile.
The ice was broken.
Big Sister Hui and Guang were old singing partners who used to represent their department in competitions. Nine years on, they could still sing in harmony.
Yaping poured a glass of red wine for Mei. “Hope you like it. The wine selection here is rather poor.”
Mei took a sip and put down the glass. She wasn’t a wine drinker, either.
“I was surprised to hear that you are now a private detective.”
“Why? I can’t be a detective?” asked Mei defiantly.
“No, I don’t mean it as a criticism. In some ways, I’m sure you make a very good detective, clever and extremely rational. But I just don’t think of you as someone who is interested in other people’s lives. At school, you were never really part of the class or involved in what was going on around you. A lot of people thought you were arrogant. I thought of you as isolated but content to be so. Is that fair?”
Mei shrugged.
“What made you decide to become a private eye?” Yaping picked a few cold cuts for her plate.
“It seemed the natural thing to do. I had been involved with police work. When I left the Ministry, I thought I’d try doing it privately.”
“Why did you leave the Ministry?”
“It’s a long story, and I don’t feel like telling it, okay?”
“I understand,” said Yaping.
The tastes of red wine and the marinated duck tongues mingled, sharp and appetizing. Yaping moved closer. “Why don’t you tell me more about your work. What do you do? Wiretap people?”
Mei laughed. “No, wiretapping is illegal. But then so is having a detective agency. We get around that somehow. I do tail people sometimes. I also use camcorders and cameras.”
“Aha, photography, I remember. You liked to photograph nature. But your mother wasn’t happy about it. She’d rather you interacted more with people.”
The mention of her mother, like a stone tossed into calm water, disturbed Mei’s peace. She heard Guang. He had his arm around the waist of the plain-looking waitress and was singing his heart out. Left on the sofa, his beeper sounded, not for the first time. His wife must be getting annoyed. Big Sister Hui was having a passionate discussion with the conductor. Liang Yi and his girlfriend went back to kissing and pawing at each other.
Yaping didn’t notice the change in Mei’s mood. “Remember those trips we used to make to the mountains to photograph wildlife? You were so excited, you hardly noticed me. And those picnics we had. We filled our traveling aluminum cans with fizzy juice-drink. There was no juice in that stuff at all, was there? Pure toxic chemicals. But how I miss the taste of it. I have looked for it since I have been back, but they don’t seem to make it anymore.”
The tea arrived, but Mei had lost her appetite. “I’m sorry, I have to go home,” she said sadly. She felt loneliness weighing on her. “My mother’s in the hospital. I need to go see her in the morning.”
“What’s wrong?”
“She’s had a stroke. The doctor says she may not recover.”
“I am so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I’d love to stay and catch up, but…” She lowered her long eyelashes. Life was full of difficult choices.
“Let me take you home,” said Yaping, standing up.
“No. You can’t desert all these friends. They’ve come especially to see you.”
“Then take my car. My driver can drop you off.”
He gave her his hand, which she took. Looking into his eyes, she felt the strength ebbing from her body. The touch of his skin was warm and inviting.
“Are you leaving already?” Big Sister Hui and the conductor stood up.
“Mei’s mother is very ill. She needs to go to the hospital in the morning,” Yaping explained.
Liang Yi and his body extension paused in their embrace long enough to say goodbye. Guang was beyond redemption, clutching the waitress, singing and crying.
Yaping asked the long-haired waitress to tell his driver to bring the car around. Informing his friends that he would be back soon, he picked up Mei’s coat, and they walked out.
The disco had closed, the crowd was gone, and the hallway was empty. They walked side by side.
“I am going
back to America tomorrow evening. Can I see you again?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let me drive you to the hospital tomorrow.”
“I have a car.”
They walked quietly for a while, then reached the atrium. Mei’s heels clicked on the marble floor. The glass elevators were anchored at ground level. The empty space remained lit up like a crystal palace.
“I want to explain to you why I got married,” said Yaping at last. He was careful in saying it. It sounded like he had rehearsed the line many times before. Mei heard the words panting inside his throat.
“There’s nothing to explain,” she said.
“No, I want to. I’ve wanted to for a long time. I thought about writing to you.” Mei turned away and opened the car door. She didn’t want to listen.
The air had cooled. Morning was only a few hours away. The driver was waiting with his white gloves.
“It was nice to see you again,” said Yaping.
“Nice to see you, too.”
Mei climbed into the backseat of the car. The leather felt cold.
“Would you like some music, miss?” the driver asked. They were cruising past the villas of the diplomatic quarter. The flags were down. The lights were out, the guards off duty.
“Please.” Mei leaned back and closed her eyes.
The sensual sound of a jazz vocal floated from the car stereo. Outside, the dark streets ran by silently, leaving behind the darkened lamps. The night was blue. A glow had appeared at the edge of the sky. It beckoned in the distance, beyond her grasp.
TWENTY FIVE
MEI WOKE WITH A HEADACHE. She didn’t remember drinking much wine. She couldn’t have had even half a glass. Yet her head was heavy.
She walked over to the window and opened it. The sound of traffic gushed in as if it were passing through her living room. While she had been asleep, the world five stories below had burst into life. She stuck a hand outside and felt the warm sunshine. Such was the madness of a Beijing spring, she thought. One day was wintry, and the next day was the prelude to summer.
The Eye of Jade Page 13