This Love Could Not Be Delivered

by Lu Min

  Fortunately, Xiaoqing was somehow calm and focused, and right when she got the news, like a little adult, she busied herself with all that was around her. When communicating with the doctors, inquiring about the effects and side effects of the medicine, and even finding a place for Lu Zhongsheng to rest, ordering food, finding an appropriate nurse, going to the university accounting office to borrow money, going back home to retrieve Lan Ying's daily items…Lu Zhongsheng could only follow her around from behind like a child and do nothing to help.

  When the ordeal wrapped up, it was already approaching midnight, and only then did Xiaoqing take a rest. Her little face had, in a sudden moment, turned mature, calm and focused. She started asking about what caused mom's heart attack, but Lu Zhongsheng shook his head and said nothing…It was as if he'd completely forgotten about the condom that Lan Ying saw before she choked and fainted. He only weakly held Xiaoqing's hand, his muddled eyes shedding profuse tears over the murky look on his face…

  It went that way for a while before Lu Zhongsheng finally quieted down, curling up into a wool blanket that Xiaoqing had given him, trying to take a nap…On that day, it consoled and assuaged him to see his daughter's naturally-expressed familial love with a semblance of some seriousness. At the same time, he started sentimentally worrying about it, thinking about how lovable and precious she was. Would anybody care what happens to her in a world like this? Who'd stand up to protect her with everything they've got like he and Lan Ying do? Her simple, purely naive and utterly un-self-conscious heart-where would it float off to? She'll be completely orphaned…

  As Lu Zhongsheng's mind drifted off into confusion and empty space, his obstinacy reared its head again…He saw Lan Ying's heart attack as a clue and a signal that related to Xiaoqing's safety. He could feel it in every pore of his body that it they'd already reached the most critical moment, and he couldn't just sit there and wait to be executed. The images of all kinds of frightful and emerging possibilities fell straight down upon him like a flurry of hailstones, and the unseen threat hung over his home like a dark cloud. Xiaoqing's virginity was on the cusp of destruction. His mind tried with all its might to calculate what would happen in the future, getting ever-more anxious and fearing danger for Xiaoqing after his death.

  Thinking about things the way he was, Lu Zhongsheng couldn't stay put for the life of him. His emotions stewed with restless impatience, finding it nearly impossible to maintain composure until daylight. He actually left Lan Ying entirely to Xiaoqing, walking out onto the street as he was filled with a nameless, irate confusion. Who was he looking for? He was walking and looking around as he staggered. Down under the high sky, the generous ground was teeming with activity, yet no one was around who could help him.

  As if it were divinely planned, Lu Zhongsheng kept seeing signs that read, "Call the police if in need of help" all along the road. As he was walking he actually found himself at the front door of the police bureau. There it was, that old, familiar place. A great impulse welled up inside, and suddenly and impetuously he stormed straight in like a young chap, as if he was going to spill his worried and angry guts to his heart's desire.

  However, right when he'd opened the door, he discovered he didn't know where to begin. What would he say to those policemen? In the final analysis, wasn't the issue just an unused condom discovered in his daughter's wastebasket and nothing else? Wasn't it just that they'd gotten old as a married couple and they weren't assured of their daughter's security? What department of the police bureau would govern something like that? They'd just have laughed till their bellies hurt and considered him to be a lunatic when they heard it, he guessed.

  Lu Zhongsheng stuttered, his waist getting weak again, his feet unable to advance or retreat. Someone saw he was an old, white-haired man and came up to Lu Zhongsheng to offer assistance. Lu Zhongsheng stood there stunned for a moment, suddenly remembering Officer He. It was like he'd remembered a confidant of his. He could inquire about Officer He's home address, and that way wouldn't have wasted his time going there.

  [5]

  Officer He was somewhat younger than Lu Zhongsheng and had lost a lot of hearing, too, but his memory was still quite good. He was sitting at home with nothing to do, and suddenly seeing that Lu Zhongsheng had come for a visit, he was surprised and happy, loudly saluting him and announcing bluntly from the heart, Professor Lu, I'd have never thought we'd see each other again in this life…Aye, at our age, each meeting is part of the divine plan, so we should cherish every opportunity. You came at the right time. We should be keeping in touch…

  Lu Zhongsheng wasn't in the mood for small talk. He was highly anxious and looking for a confidant to whom he could pour out all the pain and worry in his gut. Officer He's hearing wasn't good, but Lu Zhongsheng was patient enough not to care. It didn't matter-Lu Zhongsheng just needed a pair of ears and to see the form of someone listening to him-even a deaf man would have been fine.

  Officer He, I'm sincerely begging you-give us another round of strict punishment.

  Officer He, forgive me-I was truly naive. My mind was in the gutter, and I was short-sighted. I was so wrong-headed I had no idea who my own damn family was. If only they could have kept going with strict punishment from '84 to today, how wonderful that'd be!

  This was Lu Zhongsheng's opening monologue, and after saying it, it was like lifting the lid off a boiler and letting all the white, flowering plumes of steam climb out…

  Let's have some strict punishment!

  Let the storm rage again! Start with all the complimentary condom dispensers on the street and all the all-night bars with private rooms; start with all the Internet bars that indulge students in overnight specials and all the low-priced hotel rooms by the hour that don't ask for any kind of ID. Start with massage parlors that don't offer massages and the hair-washing salons that don't wash hair! 42 Give them all the stiffest sentences, and don't let a single one get away. Do it with speed and severity, and kill them off one by one!

  Execute nine out of ten them all over again! Start with the domestic and foreign erectile medicines sold everywhere in the streets and the sexual potency boosters; start with the plastic surgery clinics and penis enlargement operations. Start with the breast enlargement ads and painless abortions; start with hymen restoration surgeries! Give them all the stiffest sentences, and don't let a single one get away. Do it with speed and severity, and kill them off one by one!

  Let's have some knife stabbing and seeing red! Start with all the pornographic websites and DVD's; start with filthy videos and short films. Start with the obscene headlines pornographic society news and titillating photos in jumbo advertising billboards that fill the streets! Give them all the stiffest sentences, and don't let a single one get away. Do it with speed and severity, and kill them off one by one!

  Let's have some mistrials and false allegations again! Start with the dissemination of off-color humor and dirty jokes; start one-night stands and several-night stands. Start with the third, fourth and fifth-party lovers and with male and female cheaters-the dogs, who have extra-marital affairs and multiple lovers. Start with the myriad rule-bending artist societies and vanity fairs! Give them all the stiffest sentences, and don't let a single one get away. Do it with speed and severity, and kill them off one by one!

  What? What did you say? Officer He couldn't hear him clearly-or maybe he couldn't hear him clearly on purpose. He loudly asked Lu Zhongsheng time and time again, and he spoke as if he were truly excited, with almost a smile and his eyes shining brightly…This professor is amusing. He's finally figured it out and admits that strict punishment is a good thing.

  Then Lu Zhongsheng even more impudently raised the decibel level, repeating himself over and over, never getting sick of it, making stops yet keeping rhythm like a superb melodic oration, like an earth-shattering speech, and like a lawyer's well-articulated closing argument. Every word was like a tear or drop of blood that transformed into a white butterfly that was swept up from the paper ashe
s on a tomb; every sound was like the mournful moaning of a cuckoo. He spoke until his tongue and mouth were dry, until his fortune was reversed, and until the morning light had arrived. When he was finally exhausted, his exhaled breaths were stretched into thin threads, and his body turned into a soft, paralyzed, mud-like mass.

  [6]

  Danqing, my son. I really lost it today. I carelessly left your ailing mother behind, and I somehow lost myself and went to Officer He's apartment to make a fool of myself. You know that I've been zealous to protect my honor all my life, persisting in nice language that makes me look good. I've never lost control of myself or indulged myself like that before. It was like rolling around on the ground, and it was quite fun. From now on, I'll just let it all go.

  If you knew about it, you'd surely be laughing at me. Before I was cursing strict punishment and feeling injustice for you; now, the one begging for strict punishment-thirsting for and embracing strict punishment-is me. Twenty-two years on, could this be the transmigration of my soul or karmic punishment?

  Actually, I really shouldn't get so excited or so crazy. In this world, anyone has the right to put their two cents in about social morals (or accuse a mulberry tree to an ash tree behind its back) -anyone but me. It's like piercing your shield with your own spear. (You're my sharp spear, and Xiaoqing is my paper shield.) When I rely on the sharp spear, I turn my audience's attention to the brilliant things in society, to humanity and freedom. When seeing men and women indulging their passions and the whole world in a carnival of love, I praise the world as being open and enlightened, regretting your body was used as a stepping stone and sacrifice; however now, when starting to love and protect my paper shield and staring at that gloom and danger, seeing nothing but the unchecked spread of sexuality and the loss of morality, everything normal becomes abnormal, and everything, whether it should or shouldn't be, amounts to a dire threat against the paper shield…

  What am I? A typical moralist, an opportunistic egoist. If you and Xiaoqing were born in the same era, how could I explain myself attacking my shield with my own spear? How could I make a decision? Ha! Whoever asked me to be such an attentive guest at these grand occasions? Losing a son in the eighties, yet raising a daughter in the new century. I'm a father doing nothing but making a farce of things.

  But honestly-I don't know if you'll agree, and I'm not making this up. From the perspective seventy-plus years of age, how wonderful it would be if they could just do another wave of "strict punishment" and executions! Even if it were what Officer He said, that more than half of everyone on the street would be "strictly punished", they should still do it. Otherwise, it would be anarchy-anarchy between superiors and subordinates, anarchy between men and women, anarchy from left to right, from inside out, from front to back-everything, total anarchy. Love would cease to be love, passion would cease to be passion, and family would cease to be family. It's frightening to imagine it. Everything good in life would be wrecked.

  Sure, I know I'm old now, my brain is rotten, and nothing comes out of my ignorant mouth but talk of upholding morals. I'm like an old solider brandishing a long spear in a great battle against the oncoming vehicles of modern tendencies. His helmet is shattered, his chainmail in tatters, his physical body ailing…But no matter what, I'm the father of a teenage girl, and this burning worry not only belongs not only to me, but to this whole generation of ours. Fortunately, soon when the brains of us out-of-date, old guys bust open and pass away from this world, there won't be anyone left to make a fuss. All of the men and women with modern-era notions will form great, commonly-directed mass, single-mindedly snaring themselves into "desire", I guess.

  The Greatest Second

  [1]

  The "mental block" between Si Jia and "Violent Aesthetics" was like an enormous, freezing iceberg hidden beneath the surface of their relationship. No one dared to speak of it, and they conspired to conceal the truth. It seems as if it were another mystery of the world that they chose to leave unsolved.

  Indeed, it was intimacy.

  It was difficult to explain, and it was shameful. Si Jia hated herself. Look, she accepted "Violent Aesthetics" completely. She trusted her and depended on her. All aspects of their deep, emotional world and way of life pointed toward lesbian love. For example, jealousy and longing, tending and waiting, trivial material things and entertainment for the soul…So it could have been said that generally whatever a two-person family ought to have had, they should have had together. Besides, when playing their respective roles, they acted in a perfectly appropriate manner, "Violent Aesthetics" being active and Si Jia being passive. "Violent Aesthetics" gave and Si Jia received, "Violent Aesthetics" was liberal and Si Jia reserved. But the truth was, that between these two women, there was no chance for intimacy.

  For the longest time, "Violent Aesthetics" believed that she'd been a good judge of character, no matter if it concerned the mind or the body. The most that Si Jia could have been to her was a good comrade…Only after getting Si Jia to adjust herself to a normal schedule did "Violent Aesthetics" begin exploring the idea of intimacy. She had robust patience, and whether she was giving hints or being direct, she always used a method that was scientific and a synthesis of theory and practice, like dissolving salt into water. They had a perfectly normal existence. There were myriad homosexual couples that could enjoy each other with a smile, so why couldn't they, too, fly off into the heavens together?

  Yes, you're right. …Si Jia understood everything, captured the meaning of every phrase, and accepted it. But when it really came down to it, she was somehow unable to put her knowledge into concrete practice. Any physical body that wasn't hers or any degree of intimacy incited a violent rejection instinct which wasn't mitigated by volition or love. Intimacy was pollen, and she was allergic. Intimacy was gourmet food, and she was anorexic. Intimacy was electricity, and she was electrical insulation. In a word, whether it was with men or women, she was already impotent in the face of the physical body.

  But "Violent Aesthetics" remained confident as she braved a new, indirect pathway to save herself and focus on their common aspects. She imparted a concept to Si Jia: between lovers and in a family, no matter what nice feelings one naturally comes to have and what little considerate things one does for another (like two fish moistening each other with their exhalation), physical exercise will forever be a luxurious lubricant. Otherwise, a family isn't a family, and love isn't love. Thus, when calculating for human instinct and the long-term, they should use another method to experience, exchange, and feel intimacy.

  This way, every night in the stage before going to sleep which was commonly the time for intimate pleasures-as "Violent Aesthetics" recommended-they could exchange physical descriptions and memories, and as such, talk instead of doing.

  "Violent Aesthetics" mentioned herself as an example, not binging up her unpleasant past experiences anymore. From childhood to adulthood, even in the process of getting hurt, there were still sporadic examples of gentle and beautiful moments of sexual interest-weren't there? In the sixth grade, a female teacher found that "Violent Aesthetics" was hurt and lightly pet the wound with her hand, and when "Violent Aesthetics" lifted her tearful face, the teacher's bosom were right at her eye level. Between the clasp in front of her teacher's dress, "Violent Aesthetics" saw an aromatic line that undulated like a hill. When shopping and trying on clothes, the store employee dutifully helped "Violent Aesthetics" clasp her belt buckle from behind, creating an embrace from behind, and making "Violent Aesthetics" feel a sudden and agreeable touch on her back. For this reason, she always liked trying on complex dresses that needed help to try on. In the cabin of a public bus, a lady wearing a miniskirt kept giving, giving way to avoid a construction worker covered in mud, until finally she'd snuggled up into the arms of "Violent Aesthetics", almost leaning on her shoulders with her hair emanating a pleasant, chemically fabricated aroma. Her senses damaged by experiences of being insulted and bullied somehow increased the sensitivity of "V
iolent Aesthetics". She generally liked bathing herself in beauty and frail softness, like burying her face in a thicket of wildflowers…Indeed, like mud emblazoned with beauty in full bloom, she'd discovered from an early age that feminine softness and frailty gave her a sense of security and peace…

  Your turn to tell. There must be some good things about intimacy that get you madly excited.

  Si Jia was grateful for the consideration that "Violent Aesthetics" gave her. Si Jia wanted to give her a response, smiling coyly in the dark. Uh huh…I tend to like only the instances where nothing happened, like with me and my stepfather…When she was doing her homework, he'd be doing the cooking and laundry, pacing with accurate and heavy steps, smashing garlic, hacking pork ribs, and raising his hands up high to delve them into a colander filled with vegetables soaking in water. His thick, wide, and slightly hunched back would swim like a big fish in the thick aroma of meat soup. This would always give her a fit of ecstasy, and impart the sweetness and desolation of interdependence. She'd want to run into his arms, holding and clinging to him tight with her feet lifted off the ground. In the morning when sleeping in, he'd rush in to call her with the aroma from chopped onion in egg-fried rice, with the residual smell of shaving cream after he'd showered. She'd stretch her arm out from under the covers and the stepfather would pull her out. He'd pull, and she'd lay there. Just before she fell of the bed, she'd turn around and grab his arm, continue laying there…How much this memory was like flowers brightly blooming in her heart; how it made one tear at the eyes!…