This Love Could Not Be Delivered

by Lu Min

  Xiaoqing thought and thought but couldn't figure it out. Her heart was sometimes filled with frigidity though sometimes filled with warmth, being confused and perturbed toward Lu Zhongsheng and Lan Ying…Enough guessing. Just see it this way for now, and one day there'll be a critical moment when the truth comes out.

  "The truth coming out", "reality coming to light", "true intentions being revealed in the end"-these were the idioms Xiaoqing liked memorizing the most, as she could anticipate a bright future in them.

  Concerning that crucial moment, Xiaoqing's mind had a limited capacity for imagination and thinking, she was soon to ascertain (very immaturely and yet with incomparable certainty), Surely it'll happen at the turn of the century-in the last day, last hour and last second of this century. A sign will appear in that moment…

  Xiaoqing followed them through the crowd as everyone was huddled together, and the two seniors had somehow failed to notice that their daughter's little face was frozen and pale, as if she were expecting to welcome the most important moment of her life. She strenuously searched through the onslaught of strange faces all night long. She thought perhaps one of them would smile at her, lean over and whisper to her, or leave her with a note on paper…But no-there never was. Everyone was pushing and shoving. Xiaoqing was disappointed, but at the same time, she had an even stronger hope: In the next moment…right in the very next moment, destiny will show her a sign…

  In this way, all the way up to the last minute, Xiaoqing's hope was already searing red like a branding iron, terrifyingly hot. When the snow flakes fell and Lan Ying shed tears with quasi-hiccups and Lu Zhongsheng held Xiaoqing as he mumbled a prayer, Xiaoqing's body started swinging in the embrace. She continued to look up as before, unblinkingly staring at the fluttering artificial snowflakes. But it wasn't there. Of course it wasn't there. There wasn't any metaphorical meaning, hint or divine sign, and the snowflakes were nothing but snowflakes.

  Her tiny heart was like a branding iron suddenly tossed in a bucket of water, and with a "psss", all hope was lost. It served her right to keep getting "fooled", and she had no choice but to keep on living while depending on these con artists.

  [3]

  From the time when Lu Zhongsheng was in the plaza amid the festive crowd while remembering his son Danqing, like a shattered bottle of sauce or jar of pickles, a thick smell emanated from it, and he could never again step around it. No matter where he went or what he was looking at, Lu Zhongsheng was just like before-taking notice. The only difference was that his mood was no longer miserable but angry, sturdily angry. He was truly angry like a high mountain, pressurized till his face turned red and his heart trembled.

  Why would he be angry? There were too many reasons. Anything about everything could make him flip the table.

  Look around. In whatever street or alley he stood in, he'd take a quick gander around all directions. Where are the windows overgrown with wisteria and courtyards with baby rose bushes stretching out of them from before? What about the boiled water stores, the steamed bread vendors, the sesame shops, the watch repair shops, these cozy spots-where are they now? Most of the apartments on the first floor have been smashed up into every kind of storefront: hair-washing and massage parlors lit with pink neon lights 28, apothecaries with "Viagra now available" posted on placards, compact disk shops renting sexually-explicit thrillers, the all-night arcades, newspaper stands selling papers and magazines filled with women, hotel rooms by the hour with prices advertised on billboards, painless abortion and hymen restoration advertising fliers all over the street floor, breast augmentation ads swooshing by outside the bus windows…Such things were everywhere in those days-all one had to do was look around.

  Furthermore, one could see youths having their one-night (or several night) stands, the middle age men and women competing in and stirring up extra-marital affairs, the people tirelessly entertained by telling dirty jokes to anyone and everyone, and the scantily-clad prostitutes in the night popping up here and there…Ah, such a wonderful new century it was: advancing in loud song, the keywords were sexy, johns, sex scandals, sexual statistics, tricks…

  Lu Zhongsheng made a self inquiry. He guessed he wasn't completely an artifact. He'd received a modern education and knew the proper role of the body. In the decades before, people were overly repressed and things went to extremes, so sure, future trends could only take the opposite tack. After being pent up to the point of frustration and disgust, society suddenly liberalized and there were no rational limitations to it. Even the most basic bodily covering can be thrown aside. Now they're taking everything off, and they're totally nude. It's just like a starving man, who when someone abruptly tells him, okay, you can eat whatever you want now, suddenly pounces on food and eats until he explodes.

  Aha, he thought to himself. He'd understood all this and could in essence accept it as normal. He'd even sometimes see it all as progress of the times and the freedom and pride of future generations. However, once he'd seen the artificial snow and remembered his son, remembering why Danqing died and what killed him, how could he just sit there and casually watch it happen? How couldn't he be a grieving and indignant father, wanting desperately to slam his head against the wall?

  What would Danqing's teenage years have been like today? What if my son had a Christmas dance party now? If he started to get along with a girl at the dance party-what would happen then? I guess too many roads lead to the same conclusion and even become wonderful memories…Poor son-why did teenage years have to bloom in 1983?

  Thinking of these things, Lu Zhongsheng sincerely felt he could take the blame for Danqing's crime, get executed for him or die crying for him. Why did his son become an exploited stepping stone, a bookmark in historical mistakes, a sacrifice on the altar of morality, and finally a dead soul never to return? Why did he and Lan Ying, these parents, have to live with an incurable pain for the rest of their lives? Including Xiaoqing-what did she ever do wrong? But she had no choice but to be born into this listless, aging family. Furthermore, because of this fatal age disparity, when Xiaoqing goes to make a home and establish a career, both her parents would already be passed away. Who could take on the responsibility for such a crippled life?…

  [4]

  Oh, I get it now. By comparing the past with now, I can see how got worked up, dad. But what can you do? You'd be better off learning from me, and starting to think positively…

  You should know that I'm in a lot better position to observe than you are. I admit that for a while I, too, was agonized from time to time…But very soon I got over it, and my frustration was replaced by excitement. Now that I'm over it, better times are sure to come.

  It's great that people can get rowdy, sleep around, and have casual relations nowadays. What an open-minded, liberal age we're in! It's like millions of people found happiness at the meager price of my one death, so I didn't die in vain…All their enjoyments are veritable symbols of me. Even if I just watched them vicariously for a moment I'd be elated…

  Really I'd never be like a fox who thinks that whatever it can't eat must be sour. Speaking from the heart, I'm enamored with these modern folk. Their lifestyles are fully prodigious and at ease. They've given physical needs and enjoyments a central position in their lives. Having male-female relations is just one their everyday meals. Nobles have their noble ways, and plebians have their plebian ways. Each maximizes their own unique talents and ability to satisfy their needs…The desires of the flesh have become the guiding principle of behavior. Every day at dusk I see the streets filled with men and women hurrying to get to their dates. I see women's silk dresses thin as locust wings, and I see men with blue pills in their inner coat pockets. I see flag masts of their desire slightly outstretched in their crotches, and I see their adrenaline and hormones vibrantly and impulsively gearing up for exercise…I'd even say that just anyone with the time could stand on the street and focus their attentions on women’s thighs and women’s chests, striking up conversations with pretty wo
men and relating to them. What an intriguing little scene there is here in this bustling city!…

  Really dad-I'm truly moved. I want to celebrate for them, pray for them and wish them well. It's an enlightened era. These happy people should enjoy themselves as much as possible in this great feast of the flesh.

  For instance you can see that even Si Jia's adventure has begun.

  Recaptured in a Web

  [1]

  Si Jia, after all of life's ups and downs up to the year two thousand, in spite of all the debauchery and various temptations of the times, male-female relations and love were still foreign to her. Maybe it would be too much to describe it as having a "heart dried up like a well", or "opining, desperately lonely", but generally speaking, she'd become a person who handled life with a lot of unnecessary frigidity. She didn't talk to people much, and she went around by herself. Compared to ten years before, she'd become very aloof.

  However, in spite of all that, she was apparently satisfied with her current life. It didn't make much of a difference in the public's perception of her or in her living conditions if she'd been abroad or not. She didn't understand then how her issues still persisted. There were countless examples of brave people around her who had a yet more lively, exertive history in performing arts. Even if Si Jia could have been more pioneering than before-ha! It would even be wildly entertaining to kids. I guess I'm just an unmarried auntie. Soon I'll be a middle-aged woman-isn't that obvious enough?…However, I guess I do have my own, unique look.

  And she was right. The winds of change blew in, and though her circumstances stayed substantially the same, she'd changed. The only thing that vaguely resembled Si Jia's old outline was her appearance, and like a city blown by winds, her general form, no matter what, would never be buried under. It was just that her style was a bit outmoded. Indeed the way Si Jia dressed up then was grand yet modest, with an acute sense of how to pick and choose, and how less is sometimes more. She also knew how to reign victorious from her charm and unusual past. Her makeup was made to look like no makeup at all, and her matched outfits looked like no one matched them. When she walked down the street, though obviously not a young lady, experienced and sophisticated men could guess all the same-this was a woman with a story.

  Being a woman in her prime, Si Jia was still ripe for romantic relations. Thus it was veritably predestined by fate that in the year two thousand, thirty-four year-old Si Jia had again fallen into a web of intimate emotion. When she'd long ago decided to quit these escapades, what was supposed to come, came.

  How many times had she fallen into this web? Maybe her stepfather was her first, as fatal and perverted as it was. After that, would Danqing count? Poor man-a hug, a finger, and a half-sketch-that didn't count. And the French translator? Ha! That was a heap of mistakes (on other mistakes) . The newspaper office editor and "Hong Kong bastard" were yet further off-topic. Could it be just the second time? How did it seem so few? With her personality and experience, new developments and changes should have been commonplace. But reality with all of her catastrophic forays into the flesh, Si Jia's love life was indeed a short story. So good for her, cheers and congratulations! At thirty-four years of age, she could finally welcome her second romance.

  Si Jia thought to herself, Good things come to those who wait. She believed that. Furthermore, what profoundly consoled her was that her one love experience was completely unrelated to her appearance. This time she was far behind the trends, taking an already badly-beaten path, beaten to dregs-the path of Internet romance.

  [2]

  First it'll be necessary to know what Si Jia's relationship was to the Internet.

  Actually, two years after Si Jia's failed attempt in going abroad, when she still hadn't woken up out of the nightmare of destiny's torment, the Internet was already an integral part of Chinese life. The influence it had on the whole of society, its depth and breadth, was just a given, and it was apparent for all to see.

  But specifically for the personage of Si Jia, the Internet's penetrating and covering process was somehow lonely, starting out cool, getting warm, then gradually working up to hotly enthusiastic. Her intensification was an intentionally dulled reaction. Si Jia was especially wary of popular trends in worldly affairs in previous months, and her mental defenses were like redoubled lines of picket fences. She felt that being conservative and a bit backward was probably the most fitting method of survival. Thus when the Internet had already gained total victory with crowds of netizens filling up establishments large and small, Si Jia was only using her computer for word processing, drafting, email and reference, i.e., for strictly limited professional use.

  Concerning work, well naturally there were many changes since the night shift editing job. She continued requesting night hours, avoiding human contact as much as possible. In the end she settled on doing part-time desktop publishing for two different ad agencies. Her contracts would come in, and she'd do them herself at home-something a bit like freelancing. Although Si Jia was unwilling to admit joining in the trendiest lifestyle of the times, freelancing, she'd have confessed that the nature of her work determined her dependence on the Internet, being glued to it yet more than your average Joe.

  Thus Si Jia cultivated a positive attitude toward the Internet as a practical tool. Then, in her free time with so many days and so many long nights, she was like someone cozying up to a bonfire for warmth-she melded with its ethos in steps, dragging herself into the Internet's domain.

  It was the same Internet that was for others just a way to make additions to their homes-a room here, an open window there-that's it and nothing else. They had full and interesting lives with several hobbies to while away the time, like playing cards, taking trips, nursing difficult relationships, or educating their children. It was only when they were bored, had nothing to do or were trying to make trouble that they'd go online to throw a few bricks or launch a few satellites for everyone's entertainment. But Si Jia's encounter with the Internet made a big noise, and it established a far different relationship. Like opening a door to the gloomy apartment of a hermit, and with the proverbial "just having a peek" from the doorway (but only temporarily), she'd be permanently holed up after her initial venture inside. Not only did she stay there, but she became addicted and dependent. The Internet had become the only port of entry into Si Jia's life-and it was also the only exit. Her previously cautious nerves quickly succumbed, and she was furthermore convinced that on this try she was sure to strike it rich. The Internet was nothing but her final, saving grace, and her safest partner free of any negative side-effects. And what of it? Could the Internet force her into marriage, sales, or going to bed with someone?

  And thus, one thing led to the other, and Si Jia had become an Internet freak. No one could match her for free time or loneliness. Besides, after all those years, how many scars had she amassed on her psyche?…Si Jia's ten fingers donned virtual red dance shoes as they tapped spastically over computer keys, spilling out a continuous stream of words bottled up more than ten years, copiously and prodigiously flowing forth like a summer flood or a newly-tapped oil well, spraying out with a "pshhh" and drowning out all the villages spread out over the prairie…At first, there were even several spigots, all set to the same spray pressure. But bit by bit, they collected together, inundating the characters of several men. In the end, the good had seemingly won out over the bad who were culled away, and she'd sifted the gold out of sand. Only one man was the object of her sincere interest-the one and only great conversation partner whose pseudonym was "Violent Aesthetics".

  In any case he's invisible to me, and I don't recognize him. In the end it's only harmless conversation in a virtual space…It seemed like her entire past was drug up, leaving nothing behind. Like a long handled spoon taking little scoops from a jar, it was scraped out bit by bit while making an ear-scraping scratching sound…Si Jia told the man every detail-her mother's travel-worn luggage, her stepfather's warm hands combing her hair and putting on her clothe
s, the sketch hidden in her bra, the finger tinged with blood, Danqing's publicly-announced death, the farcical wedding, how she worked everyone into a frenzy in big sales conventions, the multi-faceted videotapes of the Hong Kong man, the mother's second divorce, forceful vomiting induced by "sex"…

  It all sounded so much like a fairy tale, as there isn't much else other than lies and cheaters on the Internet. He was truly the only one in the world who could nicely lend his ear at any time or place and at her beck and call. He offered his opinions and guidance on cue, profoundly and rapidly coming to a tacit understanding, sometimes dealing in trivialities, sometimes making a fuss out of nothing, sometimes creating chaos, sometimes crying out for mercy…

  What beautiful feelings she had! Isn't the Internet (the intimate medium it is) a timely, helpful gift for people in trouble? It was necessary to be satisfied with her lot and concentrate on her work. The Internet, which wasn't anything serious to anyone else, was somehow a focal point for Si Jia (who'd been lonely for many years) . She treasured it, and she couldn't go without it for a single day nor a single minute.

  [3]

  But Si Jia's introduction into Internet dating was actually a road paved and a bridge built by "Violent Aesthetics". The guy had indeed a bevy of tricks up his sleeve. He wasn't exactly just playing cool for the catch or holding back with stage fright. In a word, this process was somehow a complex game, and Si Jia had lost even more control in playing.