This Love Could Not Be Delivered

by Lu Min

  Si Jia couldn't stand it anymore. Enough. I'd be better off renting a place somewhere else. Coincidentally, moving out of your family's place was popular then. A countless number of single sons and daughters were moving out to live on their own, searching out freedom, enjoying their own private space and so on. It was as if Si Jia got a good mood to match with the apartment she rented, and she took on an even more capricious way of life. Dancing aerobics with the TV, calling into a radio hotline show, volunteering out on the street for the first Olympics in Beijing, signing up for a night school to learn programming, going to the night flea market to buy pirated Hollywood movies, reading and rereading Gu Cheng's poems on the anniversary of murdering his wife out of passionate love and shocking the nation…She wouldn't let a single youthful fad slip out of her fingers-and don't you know, she was only thirty years old.

  Thus in this phase Si Jia was busy as a spinning, colored top, and it was her body, not her mind, that was spinning. No one could tell what she was trying to break free of or what goal she had in mind. Anyway, in those years fresh news was abundant as mosquitoes and house flies. With robust energy, she could play the game in hundreds of diverse ways…Her finely askance, snobbish facial expression no longer looked up into space, but was lowered, rather, and it was paying close attention to her current life and survival. She concentrated her energy and strength to make multi-faceted changes, though ultimately her smugness and willful attitude would never really change. It was just that she no longer wanted to invest in the unwinnable games of love and lust, but was instead determined to change her direction…

  But in what direction should I be moving? This was the question that Si Jia was always pondering.

  What, after all, would become the single most important thing to her? What goal, after all, would she strive for in the days that were to follow? Si Jia used a method often recommended by "Duzhe" to help in her decision, i.e., write out a long list of items-family, money, intimacy, love, health, friendship, reason, profession, romance…Then she started crossing items out with a red pen.

  "Intimacy", like a typo, stood out like a sore thumb and was the first to get crossed out. She did it like choking on hot peppers or having wasted taste buds and deleting hot peppers from the menu…and she crossed it out without the slightest hesitation. It was somehow more suspicious that way, like a form of self-congratulation. Si Jia smiled for a moment, thought for a moment, and then added a tiny "△" over "intimacy", not completely deleting it, but leaving half. One's tastes can change, and maybe one day I'll be able to eat hot foods again! The proverbial "fearing cords a decade after snakebite" 24 -that has a time limit. All must come to an end and reveal a new variable.

  Further down the list was family. Aye, that part was malnourished since she was little. At home with the stepfather, food was over-emphasized, and its flavor was too rich, sweet, and overpowering-it was, quite simply, venomous. When the mother occasionally joined them there was distance and boredom, like pouring oil into clear water…In reality Si Jia yearned for a genuine family like the ones in TV commercials, where all family conflicts get solved with appropriate compromises…But it was impossible then. Her relationship with the translator was a mistake from the beginning, and after finding her own place to live alone, she was getting further and further away from that way of thinking. How could she make a home? Forget it. I was never cut out for it. "X" it out. Meanly "X" it out.

  After that there was art. Art was surely Si Jia's forte. Before she married, it was like her best cosmetic, as it would elevate her charm and charisma. But it'd changed then. No matter how she forced herself and exerted herself to awkwardly get into conversations about art, it would never keep her young, but rather trample all over her youth. Furthermore, art was connected to love. Only when it was like a cocktail with every man and woman mixed together, i.e., more haranguing, could it be called fun. However, no matter how well-mixed the drink, after drinking for two or three years continuously, the taste buds get completely paralyzed. Even if she could get drunk, it was also getting piss drunk and somnolently buzzed, with only a head-splitting hangover to expect in the morning. And thus she thought, I'm not playing that game anymore. "X". Both "art" and "love" were crossed out.

  And ideals? Ha! That's an item from the eighties, a pre-'84 antique. Goodbye forever-"X".

  Romance? Go die! Who'd believe in it? "X".

  …Looking over the paper for the last time, there were just three items left: money, health, passion and "intimacy" that was crossed out and had a "△" on top. How realistic-and how essential! In any case Si Jia wasn't willing to "X" out any of those items, including passion-because without that, what would be the difference between her and a zombie?

  Ultimately it was a good result. It was impressive and satisfying, just as it seemed to be firmly established and rational. It was what would become the focus of her life.

  Premature Aging

  [1]

  Danqing, today I went with your little sister to enroll in elementary school. It's an important day. Your mother went through the trouble to take her picture. Xiaoqing was facing the camera making a "V" gesture. I have no idea where she got that from.

  She's going to the same elementary school you went to. This morning we took the old way there, walking down the same street we used to take. Right when we turned the familiar corner, there was a ray of sunlight beaming down from a treetop, passing through layer after layer of leaves. It turned into a few groups of tall, thin columns of light standing on the ground, dust churning and dancing within, and thus another a day from the past was realized before my eyes…it was right in that group of light columns with churning and dancing dust that I somehow saw you again. You'd come back to life, were the same age as Xiaoqing, and were carrying a tiny backpack, too. You were running forward in the resplendence of the light columns with your slender, small and durable body, and the new white jacket you were wearing turned side to side like little doves. You offered your hand to Xiaoqing, and you started running together, laughing, and running all the way into sunlight yet further away…Tears were streaming down my face, but tried as hard as I could to widen my eyes.

  Son, turn back and let me have a good look at you. Danqing, be careful when you run, running with your little sister. We're old now. We can't run; we can't catch you. We're relying on you and entrusting you to accompany her. Protect her from even the slightest injustice or harm…

  When the leaves swung in a gust of wind, the light columns disappeared. It was like someone had lifted me up and cruelly slammed me to the ground, almost shattering me to bits. Right in that moment of bone-piercing pain, I suddenly decided that I'd formally tell Xiaoqing about your existence. I want to tell her she has an older brother-it's just that we don't live together. He lives somewhere else, but he knows about us and even keeps watch on everything about us-like what we eat every day, who has a cold, if anyone had a nightmare last night-he knows it all, crystal clear…Don't tell me this is me dressing myself up like God, playing the devil, or telling tall tales. I just want Xiaoqing to be a little happier. Her days are not as gloomy like today. Although her parents are seniors, she has a young, older brother. There's a friendly, familiar layer to the picture…

  Son, I'm not making this absurd decision without reason. You really don't know how difficult these years have been for me and your mother raising Xiaoqing. You know we made the promise that we'll cherish Xiaoqing and give her the best childhood…

  I've even gone into early retirement for her. You're aware that we're 59 and 57 years old. With the way we're raising a child all over again, it's like trying to learn wind instruments at 80 years old. What can we do? We can only weave our way into the social circle of young thirty somethings and try our very hardest to stay glued to developments in these rough and bumpy times. I pay nervously close attention to daily news on all topics, fearing that if I don't I'll be ignorant, backward and making Xiaoqing's entire life stagnate-choosing a school or extra-curriculars like, mental abacus, ro
ller skating, step-ladder English, Kingsoft Paint, piano competence tests, digital painting…We wouldn't dare let anything slip through our fingers-we're unyielding. We're tripping over ourselves behind the young parents; for a time we're busy raising her one way, then later one we change our mind and wear ourselves out doing it another way. This exhaustion wouldn't be limited to the physical kind nor limited to the mind…Sure, in general, Xiaoqing is like a juicy carrot just dripping with color, tempting me and your mother to keep trudging forward like two struggling, old goats. We're braving it through step after step, pushing forward against the wind. We're pretending there'll be more colorful surprises and good prospects ahead. But what, after all, are those prospects?

  In the teachers' apartment building, husbands and wives (who are about our age) have all gotten pets and started their middle-age health maintenance. I often see them in the morning calling out invitations to their friends to go practice Taiji 25 in the park, and then in the afternoon they go to Mr. Zhang or Mr. Lee's apartment to play cards for a while. In the evening all of them go out with their cute little dogs and cats, slowly promenading around the sports field, and on the weekends their sons and daughters play outside, then come bustling in, and three different generations of relatives eat together at the same table…Such a common life they have! But it still makes you jealous, doesn't it? Think about it-what are we doing at that age? We have to make Xiaoqing breakfast, take her to school, take her to music class, take her to the inoculation station, finish all the trivial tasks her teachers give her…

  Furthermore, we can't mention this stress to anyone else, nor would we be willing to. Even for you, I can only scratch the surface. I've already gone over this with your mother: now that we've decided to have Xiaoqing, we can under no circumstances complain about it to others. We need to be headstrong and unwavering. Just like mourning your death, we had to keep it squeezed flat as a condensed cracker, letting it slowly expand in the stomach. Now it's the same. This contradictory mentality of embarrassment and struggle, hope and desperation has to be clenched in the jaws, not letting out a single peep. We have to be especially careful to be cheerful in front of Xiaoqing and do it as if it were effortless. We want to give her the happiest childhood possible, and we can't let her fall behind the others…

  [2]

  Are you crazy? You want to tell Xiaoqing about Danqing? Lan Ying was clumsily trying to make a hacky sack for Xiaoqing as the PE instructor ordered. Her hand was shaking from fright, and the rice in the hacky sack fell all over the floor. She bent over uneasily to pick it up. Her heart condition had gotten even worse in those days, and exerting herself like that only further reddened her face, and a small tuft of white hair fell out.

  Lu Zhongsheng put out his hand to help her brush the hair away, and he led her over in front of the wall mirror. You see? You see how old we've gotten? How many more years can we stay with Xiaoqing? Believe me, it would be to her advantage to know where Big Brother Danqing is; it would make her happy again.

  Lu Zhongsheng's reasoning in this one simple sentence made a direct hit to Lan Ying's Achilles's heel. Indeed, it seemed that for the last couple years Xiaoqing was having some minor difficulty. She actually behaved a bit better when she was younger. Before going to elementary school, she was (for a time) accustomed to her parents' slow, geriatric walk. All she had to do was open her eyes and see those tired, worn-out faces. But she probably figured it out in elementary school, as she began to figure out how to compare things and think (and horror of horrors, all things harmful come from thinking) . Then she started suspiciously asking questions like: Why are you older than my classmates' parents? Why do the other kids always say you're my grandparents? Do I have parents somewhere else? Where are they?

  Lu Zhongsheng was a teacher his whole life, but such questions truly confounded him. His ideas would chaotically rush into his head, and he'd stutter out an answer. He and Lan Ying discussed it back and forth, yet they could never just spit something out. It wasn't that they didn't want to, they just thought they'd say it wrong. How, after all, should they put it? Lu Zhongsheng was not only obliged to respect the almost indiscernible facts of their situation, but he also had to respect their own feelings and viewpoints (plus Xiaoqing's level of comprehension as a child) …Who could ever help him with explaining things? Why did they have to strain themselves to raise an ignorant and confused child at such an old age? Did they lack self-respect and invite disgrace upon themselves? Who, after all, should be responsible for all of this? Who would take the rap for past mistakes? Should they resurrect the dead?

  And then they wouldn't talk. They wouldn't say anything.

  Whenever Xiaoqing would ask something, they'd ignore it or give a vague explanation. To prevent certain people in the know from giving away their secret, Lu Zhongsheng and Lan Ying consciously kept Xiaoqing from outside contact, especially keeping her from seeing their old acquaintances. Those were the ones who'd always size up Xiaoqing with their peering eyes, suddenly thinking "aha", exclaiming, Oh! This…this is your daughter? How old is she?…A long string of memories and silent sighs would emerge one after the other in Lu Zhongsheng's mind whenever he experienced it. Then Lu Zhongsheng would always forget his manners and resolutely interrupt his old acquaintance, hurriedly grabbing Xiaoqing and walking off in the opposite direction…As husband and wife they had an extremely naive attitude, and they were determined to isolate Xiaoqing, as if putting her in a glass greenhouse or turn her into a sealed can. They simply refused to bring up the past, and if they could keep it all under wraps another day, they did so.

  However how could Xiaoqing ever be like canned fruit? Neighbors, familiar faces, family were like a paper bag with juice seeping out. As sporadic and evasive as all this was, it was somehow a cover-up, causing Xiaoqing's suspicious to increase: could it be that her dearest parents were always hiding the truth from her? The more they behaved that way, the more she wanted to know (and use her juvenile persistence and cunning to find out) . She knew there was no way to anger her parents, and that in any case, they'd never refuse her requests, considering she was just a child…So she kept asking and asking: Why do you look like you could be my grandparents? Do I have parents somewhere else? Where are they?

  And that wasn't the end of it. When she was in third grade kindergarten, an arrogant and willful idea sprung up in Xiaoqing's head. She'd often get naughty ideas concerning things like the ride section of the park, those bright, neat and beautiful three-person families, the lucky child holding hands with his young parents (who was surely her target of choice) . She'd pretend to lose control of her ice cream and plop it on his head, she'd suddenly stick out her foot and trip him, she'd hide behind the slide where the parents couldn't see her and meanly tug on the child's hair, and so on. If someone could have seen Xiaoqing in those moments, the look of enmity in her eyes would surely shock them. It seemed that every child of young parents was her enemy, for it was they who had stolen away the parents she should have had…

  Lu Zhongsheng could see Xiaoqing's unscrupulous behavior coming, and how it was going to spring up. It was the necessary result of cherishing (or spoiling) her. Lu Zhongsheng couldn't help but to be annoyed and angry, thinking of those years he and Lan Ying slaved away for Xiaoqing. That the child could deny reality like that and not have a conscience made Lu Zhongsheng get rude and impatient, losing his temper. It was like his hand came under the control of someone else, and he lay in wait for that meddling idea of Xiaoqing's to spring up again, looking for the perfect opportunity…and slap!-a good, strong smack.

  Heavens! He wasn't hitting just anyone, but his own precious pearl-his own flesh and blood…she's Xiaoqing, whom Lan Ying gave birth to when narrowly escaping the jaws of death. This first time hitting and being hit scared their whole family stiff. This was especially true for Xiaoqing, who didn't feel a hint of pain, much less any need to cry. She gazed with wide eyes at the white-haired Lu Zhongsheng, exuding a joy that comes after a definitive confirmation: the puzzle th
at confounded her had changed its nature, being promoted to a higher, subtler pitch. See? Daddy's getting violent. It must be a very complex and truly frightening situation…

  Xiaoqing somehow decided to stay quiet this time. She had learned well how to stay silent and avoid problems. It's true that such circuitous tricks are a necessary part of life, but she had no choice but to learn them too early. She acknowledged it as if she finally accepting destiny's careful plan. Her eyes turned black and cool right then, like a small star in the sky, harboring a faint and distant deliberation.

  …Often when Lan Ying saw these eyes she'd have a fit of chaotic heart beats, as if hundreds of sorrowful days toiling nonstop were spent in vain. Could it be that Xiaoqing had started to hate them?

  Really? Could it be true that if we tell her about Danqing, she'll be happy again? Lan Ying covered her heart with her hand, and she was so nervous, her two cheeks flushed red like azaleas.

  Yes, certainly. Lu Zhongsheng brushed off with a feigned confidence. But we have to have good teamwork as Xiaoqing is still young and impressionable. What about we reveal it to her in steps? First we can tell her that it's because there's a Big Brother Danqing that we had her so late. It's the only way we can resolve her psychological problem…Furthermore, you know that Xiaoqing needs a sibling of some kind. If she knew she had a big brother, Danqing, she'd like him a lot and take a keen interest in him. It's sure to make her feel a lot better…Everything else we can leave till later…