This Love Could Not Be Delivered

by Lu Min

  As far as Danqing's death was concerned, Si Jia had been keeping it out of sight and out of mind up to that point, and only then did she realize that she was his actual executioner. That boy didn't hurt even a hair on her head, yet he lost everything. Meanwhile, she thought of his family and imagined what a complete disaster it must have been for them to lose their strapping, young son…What would ever make Si Jia the victim in this story? It's really she who was the aggressor. The blood that could be seen-the blood of her hymen-was on Danqing's hand, but a kind of invisible blood was on her hands. Look at how her eighteenth year of life turned out-for that non-existent "intimacy", she owes a man his life and destroyed a family…

  Si Jia was scared stiff. She looked around as if she could clearly see into a faraway, lonely, desolate corner with a married couple that was cruelly drowned by a lifetime of depression…True, no one would ever bother to dig deeper, as she was always to be seen as a victim. She could drag out her ignoble existence as long as she wanted-or even lead a decent life. She could own up to all her debts that way…Ha! Didn't I actually steal this ignoble life of mine from him-didn't he award me with it like a prize? Si Jia then silenced herself. She wanted to cry, but after thinking about it, she covered her mouth and started giggling. She'd rather be frightened into bravery than frightened to death.

  …I'll be impossible to do any better for the rest of this lifetime, no matter what I do. No matter how much more I indulge myself, I couldn't get into bigger trouble or a worse situation-could I? However base a situation I get myself into, I'm already at rock bottom. Whatever happens in the future, no matter what tricks are up my sleeve, I just couldn't get into a worse situation than this!

  She could willfully relax, and willfulness breeds indulgence.

  Indeed, Si Jia wasn't someone who could easily regret, and in the face of fate, awesome and imposing, she liked to take the initiative. Whatever happened, she could let it be. Needless to say, her complete penetration into society via four years of college life and even going to after-hours parties and gatherings made her all the more liberal-and the mirror image of "openness" 18.

  Si Jia constantly used this word, "open". English wasn't her forte, but she liked dropping it. Mixing a few English words into her daily conversation had just become the rage, and all the young adults around her were all doing it. They were always talking about foreign goods, using the English names of foreign brands with a professional and admiring look on their faces. They enjoyed watching "Greater Arts Review" the most, learning everything about foreign lands and furthermore having lively discussions on the unique customs from every continent…

  Concerning her fashion sense, she was different from other graduates who'd keep their former collegiate looks in their first years at work. Umph. Si Jia had nothing but contempt for that. Once she could afford it, she abandoned the purely emotional beauty of campus styles and imitated the Hong Kong and Taiwanese actors on her calendar instead, using eyeshadow so dark you could hardly see down to her eyes. After getting her first month's salary, she got her hair done with stylish vertical bangs and wore tight pants and white sneakers or a light poncho with holey, stone-washed jeans. Naturally she complimented it with tea-shade sunglasses whose branding was carefully preserved…Such was the most popular fashion of the 90's-exaggerated and blindly-imitated with a passion for beauty and a hasty over-accommodation for flaws. The beauty of the soul gave way to external beauty, and the final judgment of whether or not an outfit was fashionable was like the epitome of or determination of one's life…

  However Si Jia wasn't strictly limited to the superficial. It was clear that she was different from the girls on the street who were only in fashion. She surely was an authentic college grad. All of society looked up to female college grads, and this made them all the more full of themselves. But Si Jia was a prime example, which was easily understandable. Who had the experience she did? She was a victim, a woman with a past, and without a shred of doubt this bestowed her with the outstanding and special privilege to get indignant and satirize.

  When Si Jia opened her mouth, she always hit hard and sharp. Even if it were about something critically important, she'd never fake a smile to smooth things over socially. Anything with a sense of rebellion appealed to her. She'd shed passionate tears, immersed in singing and learning Cui Jian's rock songs or openly discussing AIDS and drugs with people of the opposite sex, and she could make an erudite critique of every sort of trademark in artistic trends like Haiku poetry, the Luxembourg modern arts exhibition denied by continental China, Xu Bing's cryptic novel, or last year's shooting incident at the Art Museum of China. Si Jia indeed had a talent for civil disobedience, things outside the mainstream, and the avant-garde. Maybe these things had a coincidentally ultra-realistic resonance with Si Jia's disposition…

  Among her specialties were using curse words referring to genitals, not getting mad no matter how inappropriate the joke, making comebacks more risqué than the original jab, proudly expounding on news about sexual affairs from abroad-and she could add an unexpected experience and understanding to the conversation to boot…

  In conclusion, considering she'd become none other than a trendy young woman with a strong personality, it's easy to forgive Danqing's confusion and his inability to keep up with Si Jia. The stage for 1990 looked just like the crack of dawn. People were dazzled by the riot of color and from the onslaught of foreign culture, with every profession scrambling to "introduce" it, to make "joint ventures". Westernization not only played a role in industrial production, but wandered over into the camp of philosophy and moral science. That small bit of history for Si Jia was truly the proverbial glass half filled (or half empty) . The gossip was no longer stigmatizing, but to the contrary (and from another perspective), it bolstered her personal capital and experience. It gave her the edge in consciousness and ideas, placing her in an advantageous inner lane and letting her get fast off the starting blocks. No topics were off limits to her, and she could grasp concepts and run away with them. Discerning the underlying principles behind a phenomenon, she seemed to think that life was a cakewalk and problems were easily surmountable…At the very least she succeeded in playing this free and fashionable role with a free-thinking leader's attitude, firmly setting in place what was to become her life's keystone.

  No one could understand how it was that a young lady, sexually victimized in her childhood, could be so bold and vigorous. It was as if she had eagle's eyes. How frightening and charming! In the face of shock and surprise, Si Jia would crack a sardonic smile, I'm a woman standing on a dead man. Why would I care what they think?

  [3]

  However, she was twenty-four years old and had never been on a date.

  Why was that?

  First, from the looks of things, Danqing was right in thinking the effects of the 1984 affair couldn't be ignored.

  Even saying it feels strange. But someone's history, especially if it's scandalous, doesn't just follow along like a shadow. One's history is indeed like a soldier in the front lines. In those years, no matter if Si Jia was studying in college or somewhere away from home-or if she was working a new job-no matter how far she went, the story of the incident would always rush ahead of her and arrive, bang on time, in the midst of her future social milieu. It would travel via the most primitive human methods, yet exceed the most advanced telecommunication's speed. Its mystery was akin to paranormal powers, or rumors with exponential distortions of truth, or a presentation of hard evidence…In a word, once people got the concrete idea, they could somehow keep silent on the outside. This person and name, Si Jia, was ever-cloaked in invisible parenthesis and footnotes-"used", "has psychological scars", "lives casually", "individualistic loner", etc. Every kind of creepy imagining or intimation, genuine or fake kindness or curiosity was always tugging and shoving in her shadow, stretching it longer and longer.

  Si Jia knew all about that. She'd been hearing these whispers since she was eighteen, and after she'd heard enough of th
em, she grew callouses on her eardrums. It was like having a severe illness or a destroyed countenance. After a long time one acclimates to the idea and gets used to it-and besides, she was never one to be concerned with gossip. She turned her nose up and walked through the crowd as if passing by a telephone pole or sandstorm-Who cares?

  Surely there were many men wanting to date her. Some blindly took a great interest in her and were charmed merely by her arrogance. Wanting to date her was like chasing the latest fashions and culture. How invigorating and incredible she was! Then there were others, uncannily familiar with the facts of her scandal, who found that the more they understood her, the more her mystery increased. They would take on the perspective of a righteously-indignant conqueror and announce to themselves, No matter-that was back in the 90's. Why would I care about it now?…Haha! Si Jia couldn't care less about their mentality: It doesn't matter to me. Everyone's welcome to try. In any case she loved no one. She happily ate, drank and joked around with all of the guys, chuckling, cursing, and even patting or slapping around a bit-but in reality she was a long way from love.

  Secondly, the way her love life flowered but didn't bear fruit still had something to do with her stepfather.

  Surely it would be inaccurate to say that a twenty-four year-old college graduate had some kind of a Freudian plot with her nearly half-century old stepfather. It's true that psychologically, just as physical momentum can only gradually slow down, uprooting or making a clean break with previous attachments is hard. After all, tracing back to the original circumstances, it was only Si Jia's crush on her stepfather that propelled her to go and make that silly mistake. In her mind, she'd have never given up without a fight, and that could have meant going into complete denial about the Christmas affair. But she wasn't like that at all. It would be more like her to go a step further with what she did that night-perhaps she could live up to herself and Danqing's death that way. There was nothing nor anyone that could help her make up for what she did to Danqing, but maybe if she had a real roll in the hay with her stepfather, wouldn't that begrudgingly count as a justification?

  For that reason, for some obstinate goal, Si Jia hadn't completely given up on her stepfather. She'd only changed her peevish ways from a few years back to a manner of being that was a bit more controlled. Furthermore, as the curve of an emotional function can be predicted, the more resistance applied, the stronger the reaction. Her stepfather's cold shoulder and refusal after the incident in '84 actually egged her on. It made her unable to stop herself and even elevated her former desire to the status of an ideal. She felt she had to break through the wall of public prejudice and boldly strive for a kind of well-being that was out of the bounds of normalcy…In order to encourage and stimulate herself, Si Jia would often sneak in the bathroom, flushing the toilet as she greedily sniffed his razor or worn shirt, smelling the stubble on the blade and the oily ring around the collar…

  And thus Si Jia's love life became nothing but a facade, a new weapon in her resistance against her stepfather. She flirted at will with a crowd of innocent, young soldiers who followed her around. She conspicuously broadcast romance through the air, and the family phone started ringing off the hook and deliveries of fresh flowers and gift boxes rolled in at midnight. Her stepfather was even accosted on the street by two hotheaded suitors, clueless concerning the inside story…

  It seemed that Si Jia wasn't dating for love, but promoting it-and even starting a movement, fighting a war for the people, and erecting an activist's battle that was to rage on forever. The stepfather was unwillingly dragged into it, and in an almost servile manner he sought out a compromise for a more noble purpose. His idea was to urge her, remind her, and sincerely plead her to "find an appropriate boyfriend and settle down". If she kept it up, others would "start talking"…But she just kept smiling and smiling, ignoring everything he said-and to the contrary, she upped the ante on her carefree socializing, further tormenting her stepfather (who'd already put up with her antics for six years) . The strictly-acted, underlying script had a kind of blaming tone to it-a tone that rejoiced in other's misfortune…

  What was she trying to get? Revenge? Was she raging out against injustice? Did she want to deconstruct the past, or treat it with a mix of negation and affirmation? No matter. She just wanted to go in that direction (which wasn't a direction at all), and just stay fast to that path…

  But the stepfather found it all too hot to handle. He liked the commoner's life, so how could he "do" something like that? Imagine all the chaos and complexity-there'd be all conflict and no accomplishment…like a big ball of knotted yarn. But the stepfather was after all, shallow. He could only sit there in frustration with his hands were tied and no way to truly understand Si Jia. On countless nights he'd wait until Si Jia, exhausted and depressed, went to sleep. Only then could he relax a little, light up a cigarette, and sit for hours in the family room.

  What tormented him then wasn't just sensual desire or moral questions, but also his need for tender affection, his belly full of worries and his own petty selfishness-all emotions that are difficult to express with words. To be honest, he really missed the years before 1984-the years before Si Jia was grown up, when the two of them with that intimate and profound relationship under the same roof. It was ambiguous yet natural, and it was a cause for hope and more importantly, self-restraint. Nothing could have been better than that.

  While mulling things over in his mind through the wee hours of the night, the stepfather worried that if he didn't get proactive and bring the situation under control, he'd surely get on a more deviant track and perhaps a nasty accident like Danqing's would come crashing in again.

  How much longer could this sticky situation continue? The stepfather had no idea, but he and Si Jia were already at a dead end and were stuck in a critical phase of the game. In reality it had nothing to do with love and such things. The crux of it was, they needed an external force to break off their shackles and the curse of incest psychology. They were young woman and her stepfather with more than ten years of companionship…

  [4]

  There were critical characters out of the loop, like Si Jia's mother for instance, whose life changes incidentally caused changes in others.

  This woman, whose figure took a downturn in 1990, started to be intentionally referred to by the cadres as someone "of the last generation", "an older generation dancer" etc., and as she rarely had a gig, she was going around with a greeting troupe to others' performances. This wasn't just because of her old age and sagging figure. Si Jia's mother was a dancer from the 70's and 80's, an era of dance which always strove for "big" and "straight". It'd become out of style and even disgusting by the 90's. The dance norm of the new era was already in vogue. Heavy technique was superfluous, and the clothes had to be skimpy, the dancers young, and their cheeks bright and tender. The sticking point of its charm was "small", "soft", "coquettish" and "sweet". In a word, Si Jia's mother's golden years were over, and that elegance of hers was entirely expired. Thus, the days between gigs turned to weeks, and weeks into months, and finally they were no more to be had. Each piece of her trusty luggage set that'd migrated with her everywhere came home in a long succession, giving up their former lives of prostitution for honest, useful work. Si Jia's mother was turning into a jade embedded at home, never going out or meeting up with friends.

  So what was she doing? Aside from two symbolic weekly meetings with the troupe and some teaching on the side, she was generally idle and sitting with her legs crossed at home. She was on a diet, but gaining weight; she was doing cosmetics, but aging and getting ever-more feeble.

  However she started in her own way to apologetically, positively (and belatedly) care for Si Jia. Sometimes she'd crawl into bed with Si Jia at night, teach her certain fashion "secrets", or show her how to find a good man. However, imagine. How could this relationship, bland as water, suddenly ferment into fine liquor overnight? When did Si Jia ever enjoy such fervent motherly love? To Si Jia, her mo
ther was forever an outsider, someone strange to their home. She'd even feel awkward if she stubbed her toe on her mother's bed, so how could her mother teach her about fashion or choosing men? Umph, umph. How could Si Jia ever stand being treated like that? The ethos was already reversed, and there was nothing they could say about it. So Si Jia chose to escape it all, traveling and amusing herself away from home for most the time.

  However, it could be clearly seen that the two-way staring match between Si Jia and her stepfather had successfully gone triangular and was a three-person family.

  As a three-person family, the form was established: the father was the father, and the daughter the daughter. Si Jia's mother had unintentionally moved a mountain with her little finger. She was a former starring role on the stage and was standing like a pillar holding up the sky. She'd surprisingly turned Yin to Yang, and put each of their former roles back to their original place.

  The mother accepted Si Jia's refusal of her as a confidant, so the mother started sleeping with the stepfather. It was a coincidence, but she'd never have imagined that her vigor for bedroom exercise would embolden with age. Undeniably as a dancer, her flexibility, rapport, responsiveness and imagination doubtlessly exceeded that of your average wife. The stepfather could convince himself that it was good exercise for the mind and body, helping him to detoxify and improving his knack for entertaining himself. He began to look surprisingly healthier than before, and all his malformed emotions, anxiety and even sinful guilt seemed to be fully and felicitously purged via his sweat glands and seminal duct. This invigorating lifestyle really appealed to him, and Si Jia-well wasn't she his flesh-and-blood daughter?

  You could say it was to root it up or to shovel it over, that it was coincidental or necessitated: Si Jia had seen her stepfather and mother in the act.