Braised Pork
Page 16
As the evening passed, it gradually became clear to Jia Jia what the world of water had left behind. There was something incredibly light inside her, like a cloud on a clear night, a dandelion seed in the air, a ballet dancer, Ravel’s Jeux d’eau. If the world of water had taken something away from her, it must have been something heavy.
She thought about Ren Qi, about the village, the smell of goat’s butter and incense, about what he was doing amid the field of white tulips, his face peachy from that bottle of qingke wine. She would respond to his text messages tomorrow, and tell him about the fish-man and the world of water.
Jia Jia lifted her glass a little, toasting those who were far away.
When she set the glass down, her thoughts wended their way back home. Tomorrow, she decided, she would be painting the sea.