by Lu Min
Divorced parents, a forever-absent mother, resting under the same roof with her stepfather-it all sounded like the seed of Si Jia's fate (if one could imagine it were for a vegetable) would bear something like bitter cauliflower.
However they wouldn't. But if the seed of her fate didn't sprout bitter cauliflower, what would it sprout? It sounded a bit frightening, but from the branches and leaves-from its budding structure-it bore none other than a poppy plant. Naturally, that's not what Si Jia intended, but it was determined by the soil, water, climate and environment. Thereafter, it was immutable, and Si Jia was going to grow up to be a poppy.
[3]
Rationally speaking, the stepfather was no one worth noticing. He was nothing but the most common cadet, and just like a plain white shirt, he was (nevertheless) normal, withstood regular scrutiny, and dependable. During the day when walking around the military compound, he looked the same as other cadets with their starched and ironed uniforms, plain, robotic expressions, and lack of personality (no matter if confronted with a subordinate or a superior) . But when coming home in the evening, he'd take off his uniform and somehow morph into a chef, janitor, and gardener, truly giving the home a nice atmosphere. He especially liked putting on a bib and working busily in the kitchen, cooking up aromatic billows which flowed through all the rooms. Little Si Jia would then shuttle back and forth, helping, as she happily considered herself to be a miniature housewife, sweeping this and organizing that, putting the dishes in the cupboards, and dusting the tables. She shared the work with her stepfather as an equal partner, taking on different roles as a man and a woman in a common effort.
Such are human relations-as when making a house of matchsticks, the fewer the matchsticks, the more interdependent the parts become. Looking into their home, you'd see Si Jia and her stepfather as two matchsticks in balance. They had to be close, depend on each other, and develop a symbiosis. Other girls might have had one or two confidants supporting them, but it was impossible for Si Jia. Her individuality and family background determined her friendships to be uncommonly weak-her parents' divorce, her willful personality, her peacock's pride, her early puberty, her unusual height, her mediocre grades…So that's it. Considering these factors, could anyone possibly expect her to have any close friends? For this reason she used her words sparingly, having only her stepfather to back her up. Every judgment and appraisal in her studies and life, including her entire private life, needed her stepfather's input or help-for example changing hairstyles, getting love letters, using a small training bra, or her first period. Everything concerning her maturation-be it earth-shaking or just water under the bridge-the only participant, guide or audience was her stepfather.
That eight to eighteen year-old time frame was puberty for a maturing young woman; it was her physiological discovery and initiation into romantic emotion. Who could ever what the general tone of this couple's journey would be? Would it be flashy or flirtatious? Cozy or cold?
But ultimately their relationship wouldn't leave the beaten path, as its expressed form was only trivial and common. The stepfather never came close to being passionate or teasing romantically and only lived a commoner's life, having chosen for himself the regular and disciplined way. His love and his special goodness towards Si Jia could be put on display under blazing, broad daylight for all to see. When Si Jia's hair was a mess, he'd comb it. When Si Jia got up late, he'd lug up her slouching and lumbering body to wash her face. When Si Jia was in a bad mood and scolded him, he'd listen with a lowered head. Even if it was eleven o'clock in the depths of night, he'd proffer up a soup and something warm to eat to take the edge off of her hunger. He'd be the first at the school gates in the rain or snow. After Si Jia had fell and hurt her leg, he regularly carried her up and down the stairs and in and out of bed-taking such considerate care of her she wished she could go hurt herself again. There wasn't a neighbor that didn't admire him, and even Si Jia's mother was tacitly proud of her choice.
However it was an outsider's choice, as her mother indeed was an outsider. Si Jia was clear on that point, that no matter how nice he was, he could never equal nor exceed her real father. No, they were different-miles apart, even-like a lamp and a bed, or shoes and some clothes. They were completely different.
That being said, Si Jia saw her stepfather as a man and not a relative. From the most macroscopic and general perspective she looked up to him and respected him. But on the ground and at a whisper's distance, this respect and reverence was not only dubious but could even be called hatred. With a pinch of salt, a shake of sugar, an accidental teaspoon of pepper, its taste was complex and enticing, making her want to try a sip on occasion and adding some excitement to this bland, mindless life.
Si Jia often found an excuse to play with and tease her stepfather, making him squirm with awkwardness, get confused about what to do, and have no way to hit her or curse at her (and all this satisfied her somehow) . Other times she'd take the other tack and ban him from going into her room, washing her smaller clothes, or concerning himself with her trivial, private affairs, causing him to go grumbling away. When she saw he was truly disinterested in her, Si Jia would tangle herself around him, wanting him to carry her, lug her, and swing her over his back. In that tiny apartment home, the stepfather became a swaying tree as she became an outreaching vine. In conclusion, the most marvelous aspect of it all was that no matter the intimacy, distance, or emotional milieu, the stepfather would always stay with her in good spirits and to the very end.
When Si Jia was with her stepfather, one of her favorite games was "guess the muscle". Now what was that?
With Si Jia's mother absent all year-round, the stepfather was naturally rife with energy. Even after doing all the housework, his time and energy were still in ample supply. What could he do? After all, he wasn't a ruffian or scoundrel, so his only choice was to go to the gym and work out. In the army, weight lifting was the most presentable and up-to-standard avocation, and moreover there were plenty of machines and exercise partners to work with. On every sunrise and sunset he was with those childless, wifeless soldiers, plugging along like a pro, methodically working on every muscle group by the book. Then at night after returning home, the little family was at leisure and the stepfather would start showing off his muscles. It was understandable, like a little kid boasting his special toy. With pride on his face, he'd clasp his hands together, stretch out and twist his buttocks or pose a foot on tiptoe, identifying each muscle for Si Jia-trapezius, pectoralis major, pectoralis minor, diaphragm, external oblique abdominis…this body popping at the seams with muscles, glimmering in the light and also rolling back and forth was especially alluring. Si Jia very much delighted to see it. The hard skin shining through a layer of oil looked especially pleasing to caress, fondle, and tease. Once each muscle was more or less identified, it was time for a game, "guess the muscle".
The stepfather would relax himself from head to toe as if commanding an army troupe, having all his muscles calmly lying in wait. He'd then randomly calling out a muscle's name, like transverse abdominus, triceps, and quadriceps and have Si Jia search for it on his body. With the clues in mind Si Jia would search around and point her finger to a fixed spot. Are you sure? I'm sure! Only then would he tense up and in a "swoosh" like a bolt out of the blue, he'd pop up the corresponding muscle group and see if Si Jia picked the right spot. If she was right he'd reward her with an animal cracker, and if she was wrong he'd give her a knuckle punch on the head…
In this process both the stepfather and daughter played with all the seriousness of scientists engrossed in their research, meting out rewards and punishments in strict accordance to the rules. Later on Si Jia requested to change the rules: If she guessed the right muscle she could kiss it, and if she guessed wrong the muscle, it could "kiss" her. Wouldn't that be fun? It's just getting more and more fun to play! Si Jia learned everything she knew about male physiology from her stepfather's body. But the stepfather's body and muscles were shown to her with c
ertain restrictions, with off-limit zones both large and small. Si Jia's playing and teasing came to no avail-there were certain places that her stepfather would fight to the death to keep her from touching. This child, Si Jia, was clearly "acting up": I can liberate my restricted zones-what do you think? Then it would be fair! We could be unrestricted to each other…
What child's talk, and what a naive little stinker! When the stepfather heard it he would roar with laughter, laughing as he waited for the excitement in his body to pass, then adoring his own muscles as he posed for himself. No way he'd pay attention to Si Jia and let her continue down that road.
Once for some unknown reason Si Jia got angry and in the depths of the night huffed out from inside the flat and all the way out into the empty and silent streets. The stepfather had to chase her, but he was, after all, over forty years-old-how could he ever out-run Si Jia? She kept looking back, and whenever she saw he was too far behind, she'd slow down. She looked back with a sweet and challenging glance and waited for the stepfather to reach out and almost catch her, only to suddenly quickly run away again. It was as if she had to keep running to escape his clutches, in which she'd surely do something drastic. She did it over and over as if to stir up commotion and play a game, rife with intrigue and peppered with an intangible excitement. The two of them were soaked with sweat, painfully elated…And so Si Jia's adolescence rushed along, rich like the sweet scent of musk. For this energetic, prematurely-developed, emotionally starved young lady, she could only tease the sole man in her life as a cat fiddles with a mouse-and she was also teasing herself. She could vaguely and verily sense that something, a little something, was wrong. She wasn't content with her stepfather-not the slightest bit. A little something was missing.
But was it?
[4]
One of them didn't know, but the stepfather knew. Even if he were famously self-restrained, he wasn't born that way. It should be noted that for those with military education and concomitant strong will and political inclination, clear lines must be drawn between what is or is not acceptable.
He often showed her an example, an exceedingly simple, little example that he'd thought up in the kitchen. You can't just do whatever you want or eat whatever you will. It's like a plate of food on the table sitting there all nice and smelling good. You can't touch it, but if you get really hungry, you can walk around it and have a look. You could even touch it, but seriously, you're just not allowed to eat it. If you did and someone found out about it, you'd be in big trouble…
Surely Si Jia would never be something to eat. She wasn't a plate of food, nor a little kid, but a young woman. Even if the stepfather were dumber than he was, he'd still know that-and know it very well. At first he was a bit scared, a bit worried, but little by little he came to like it, and was even hooked on it. It was something like working out: every time you add weights to the bar, you want to quit before you're finished. You have to struggle in your mind before you can win the game of willpower. This experience of battling the body and spirit was really amazing and appealing to the stepfather. Just like acting out a miniature battle on a model battlefield, it gave him the thrill of attack and conquer, wanting to overcome all passions and evil thoughts to be, as Mao Zedong said, a noble, honest, and moral man whose tastes are a cut above the rest. Thus, he'd sometimes oblige Si Jia, guiding her through. He liked to push the boundaries of willpower, and escape with his whole body from the grasps of the greatest temptation-what impressive conduct!
It could be said that in general he liked this young woman Si Jia, a prematurely-developed, thriving-young doe, exuding a thick scent. It made him truly happy as a stepfather and gave him a strong sense of accomplishment. For all of Si Jia's affairs both physical and emotional, he was a willing participant, companion and confidant. He hoped he could love her more than a real father-much more. However concerning those dangerous and amazing aspects, he was staying cool and testing himself-collecting excitement and keeping himself under lock and key.
In the face of an eighteen year-old with neither a drop of blood relation nor a hint of reservation-a young woman, moreover, who was desirous and practically within spitting distance-was he really able to resist and hold his ground? Who could ever doubt it? Doubting would be like doubting our great People's Army! You remember what he was-a soldier. And what's that? A man forged in steel, yet malleable enough to wrap around your finger. An organized, disciplined man, who no matter what scuffle or conflict would arise could hold back that one step, reserving it as if it were the most critical high ground. If a kid got crazy or silly, that didn't mean he had to join in. But if something really happened between them, he'd take the fall with the dams crashing down the army surrendering the war. It couldn't happen-it just couldn't.
Be clear on this point: her stepfather was grounded as if he had tied his feet to a boulder-and no way he'd untie them easily. Sometimes when Si Jia would go too far with the game, her stepfather would say half-seriously and half-kidding, knowing the truth and dropping clues in drawing a small analogy, "That dish of food is inedible." He reminded Si Jia that between them, no matter how much their games could be kept secret, there were limits and barriers. She was mature enough, and everything should be done-or not done-by the rules…
Barriers? Barriers can all be overcome! Si Jia thought in disagreement in a sudden epiphany. Oh, he's worried about that? What's so hard about that? There'll always be an opportunity to do it in a respectable way. I'd get it over with, not just for me, but for him. Isn't it all so simple? Just like with the plate of food analogy. If someone else really picked up their chopsticks and started eating it, couldn't he eat it, too, without worrying?…This young woman lacking in any abstinence education had let lust overcome her good judgment, and she seemed to make the decision as if kicking a stone, swinging her leg out far and upward…
After that she got an invitation to a Christmas dance party. Si Jia didn't plan on taking action at the dance, but the time and place were just perfectly arranged like a divinely-composed masterpiece-so how could she pass up the chance? Just think about it. It would have all been perfect if it hadn't been those overstaying guests! With the help of Danqing's finger, how nicely the problem would have been solved!
[5]
Well, well. Look at Danqing-this child. What was he really? He was, to be blunt, a convenient tool and company to caprice. He thought Si Jia would take the sketch home and cry a river, confused in the face of unknown consequences and forced to bear the heavy burden such life-long repercussions…Where there's infatuation there must also be frigidity. Eighteen year-old Si Jia, no matter if she knew what she was getting into or not, no matter if she was careless, the crux of this phase of her life was, in conclusion, her stepfather (and completely unrelated to Danqing) . Just like a kid, excited and wanting to play hopscotch wrecks a blue-flowered porcelain vase, leaving only a shard off the corner. Does she even realize the value of that priceless antique? She had no idea whatsoever.
Danqing obsessed over the final destination of the unfinished sketch, which would unlike have any tender or warm-hearted fate. It was nowhere else but in Si Jia's laundry pile where her stepfather found it, surreptitiously picked it up and stowed it away…
Her stepfather found a few bloodstains, already changed to a vague brown, on Si Jia's underwear. Nothing more needed to be said.
He stood in the bathroom with a blank stare. It was unclear if he was pained or angry, celebrating or annoyed, but generally speaking, a bloody feeling gurgled up to his throat with a beautifully sweet culpability. It seemed that he had hazily foreseen everything, being the one who had instigated and directed the whole scene (as Si Jia was only a front stage actor in a play that was progressively moving off the stage) …In hindsight, it was as if he was feeding, accompanying, and spoiling a tiger all along. In a flash of heat and sweat, he took up the burden of this secret and abruptly realized he'd just started to treat Si Jia with a tinge of fear and caution.
Naturally he'd also discove
red the drawing of a nude, western female on the sketch paper. What's this? He thought and thought, and though he had no clue of what to think, he kept it anyway as if hiding away his barely existing relation to the whole affair.
Swan neck, slim waist, bunned hair, long nails, and the protruded chest and sucked in abdomen typically gained from constant training-her mother came home asking what's up, maintaining all her charming formalities. She surely wasn't the kind of conservative mother who'd slam her head on the floor because her daughter lost her virginity. She symbolically and with full artistic flair sat at Si Jia's bedside for the night and with unique ceremony gave her a very realistic-looking pearl necklace. It seemed like to her that all of mankind's mistakes could be made up for with similarly small gifts. Naturally it was consoling for her to see that Si Jia inherited her enlightenment and open-mindedness. She was a strong-willed child, so aside from remaining silent she didn't fall to pieces or get suicidal. It was the stepfather, however, who looked agitated, not knowing where to start, but wanting several times to confide in Si Jia's mother…
Si Jia's mother waved her hands in forgiveness and understanding: You're not to blame for it. What could you do? You can't follow her around every moment of the day. Only one at fault is little whippersnapper with his raging hormones-luckily they'll execute him! Humph! Raging hormones. Now look who's getting raged at. I think this time Si Jia, though she had nothing to gain, at least it was worth it and equitable.
Very after she had to leave. There was an important reception performance and a senior official sent orders for her to go on stage, and remember she's the starring role…Si Jia's mother was very pragmatic: what's done is done. What's the point of staying home? Her career had to continue…furthermore, is breaking the hymen all that scary? Look at her! She's burdened with a child, but isn't her second marriage as good as ever? Si Jia's good looks are still with her. There's nothing to worry about…