Madwoman On the Bridge and Other Stories (11 page)

Renzheng had been sent to pick Bao Qing up for Fatcat.
Apparently, he had no delusions as to Bao Qing’s feelings
about the matter, and so had prepared some ploys to
make him to submit. ‘Bao Qing, if you don’t give in, I’ll
just stand here and wait.’ Renzheng lifted his head and
looked at the sky. ‘I don’t mind if I get wet. In any case,
I’ve never heard of someone being rained to death.’

Bao Qing’s mother was the first to falter; pitying
Renzheng, she sent Bao Qing’s sister out with an
umbrella, saying, ‘When a man is that devoted, you’d
be wrong not to go. People will talk. They’ll say my Bao
Qing goes round with his nose in the air now that he’s
made good – it’ll make a terrible impression when it
gets round.’ Then, just as he was on the point of leaving,
his mother picked up a piece of smoked fish with her
chopsticks and stuck it in Bao Qing’s mouth. So it was
that he left the house chewing fish.

Bao Qing held the umbrella with one hand and hugged
Renzheng’s waist with the other as they passed through
the streets of Maqiao in the freezing wind and bitter cold.
It was the holidays, but night in this small town exuded
an unseasonal gloom. Bao Qing could feel the little patch
of warmth that was Renzheng’s waist: even through the
poor-quality, rain-soaked leather he wore, Bao Qing
could feel his body heat. The situation seemed both
strange and familiar. Suddenly, the memory of a New
Year’s night many years ago came back to him with great
clarity: he, Fatcat and Renzheng had ridden two bicycles
into the county capital to see the concert of some famous
singer. On the way back, Renzheng’s bicycle tire had
burst. Fatcat had then compelled him to change bikes
with Renzheng, and they had left him behind like unloaded
cargo. Bao Qing remembered that he had pushed
the useless bike 15 kilometres alone.

Bao Qing had not realized that Shaohong would also
be among Fatcat’s guests, but there she was, gorgeously
decked out and the first thing he saw as they entered
Prosperity Restaurant. She stood fixing her make-up in
a mirror on the second floor, in the hallway leading to
the private dining rooms. There was an excessive gravity
about the way she made herself up, as if she were a
folk singer preparing for the stage. Seeing Bao Qing, she
tossed her lipstick hurriedly into her bag, and said loudly
and sharply, ‘What, so you agreed to come? Even without
a cortege of eighteen sedan chairs?’

Bao Qing could say nothing and instead forced a smile.
Then he complimented Shaohong: ‘You look very nice
tonight.’

She responded, ‘Like hell I do. I know what you’re
thinking: you think I’m made up like an escort girl, don’t
you? Well, that’s exactly what Fatcat intended: I’m to keep
you company through dinner, drinks and then right on
through the night. He told me it’s an honour for me to
bask in the companionship of the great professor!’

The hostess, dressed in a red cheongsam and wearing
a golden ‘Welcome’ sash over her shoulder, greeted them
and led them to a private dining room called the Paris
Hall. Bao Qing entered and then watched as an obese
man in a suit rose slowly from his chair. This, apparently,
was Fatcat, although it didn’t look like him. Only when
Bao Qing noted the wine-coloured birthmark on his
forehead was he certain it was him. At first, Fatcat made
to embrace Bao Qing, but since the latter shrunk away
reflexively, the movement became a handshake. Fatcat’s
lukewarm hands held Bao Qing’s in a tight grip and
wouldn’t relax their hold.

‘Bao Qing, just feel my heart, feel how strongly it’s
beating,’ he said, tugging Bao Qing’s hand and pressing
it onto his suit over his chest. ‘Bao Qing,’ he said. ‘I was
less nervous about meeting the provincial governor, and
that’s the truth.’

Bao Qing laughed, and extricated his hand. Then he
remarked, ‘If I had run into you on the street, I certainly
wouldn’t have recognized you.’

Fatcat answered, ‘You might not have recognized me,
but I sure would have recognized you. You just flashed
on TV for a second and I knew it was you.’

A mixed group of guests was present and they immediately
chimed in, ‘That’s right. When the boss saw you on
television, he recognized you straight away.’

Fatcat pulled Bao Qing down to sit by his side. Except
for Renzheng and Shaohong, the others at the table
were all his employees. There was a bespectacled girl in
a pink sweater who kept looking at Bao Qing evasively
but glowingly. Bao Qing was too embarrassed to ask her
name, but Fatcat had the foresight to introduce her. She
was the daughter of Mr Zhong, a teacher at Maqiao Middle
School, and she was now employed as an accountant at
Fatcat’s factory. ‘And how is . . . ?’

Bao Qing hadn’t finished his sentence, because he
gathered what had come to pass from the general change
of expression as Ms Zhong bowed her head. Fatcat kicked
him under the table, and said softly, ‘He passed away two
years ago. Cancer.’

Bao Qing was silent, remembering how Mr Zhong, the
physics teacher, had been the only one of his teachers to
take to him, on account of his aptitude for the subject.
Bao Qing was at a loss what to say when Ms Zhong stood
and raised her glass to him. ‘Mr Bao, when I was a child
my father often told me how he had trained a future
professor. Now that I’m finally getting to meet you, I
want to offer you this toast.’

That was how Bao Qing happened to drink the first
cup of wine. On the way over, Bao Qing had prepared his
excuses: he had a bad stomach, he was allergic to alcohol,
he would be travelling tomorrow – anything so that he
might be allowed to abstain from the drinking. But Ms
Zhong’s peculiar identity, not to mention her peculiar
glances, robbed him of the courage to decline, and now
that he had made a start it was difficult to retract. He
was able to fend off Fatcat’s employees, but Renzheng’s
obstreperous exhortations were harder to decline.
Shaohong’s toasts were coercive to a degree, and also
contained a barrage of tactless sexual innuendoes, which
deeply embarrassed Bao Qing, who didn’t know how to
forestall them. Presently, she suggested they all drink
with interlocked arms and her audacity shocked him. His
face flushed scarlet and he said, ‘We can’t lock arms for
no reason.’ Shaohong replied, ‘Of course there’s a reason.
It’s a forfeit to punish me for having no judgement
back then – I underestimated you, I didn’t realize your
potential. Now I regret it, because I could have been Mrs
Bao, the professor’s wife, couldn’t I?’

Bao Qing didn’t know how to respond, so he joined
in her laughter. But then he leaned back on his chair
and refused her encircling arm. At this point, the others
started jeering, which embarrassed her and cooled her
ardour. Suddenly she could take it no longer, and she
spilled the cup out on the floor, saying, ‘Well, it’s not
gonna kill me if you won’t drink with me now you’re a
bigshot, but I’d like to know who stole my bra once upon
a time. Hm?’

Suddenly the room became quiet. Bao Qing had not
expected her to play this card and he began to get angry.
‘Are you insane? I can’t believe you would even think to
bring up childhood pranks now!’ He raised his voice,
‘Fatcat stole your bra and hid it in my bag. Fatcat’s here,
right beside me, and he can testify to my innocence.’

Beside him, Fatcat chuckled and gave Bao Qing a
shove. ‘Holy-moley, Bao Qing. There’s no need to take
things so seriously. It was a joke. Who can remember the
things they did when they were kids? I don’t remember
anything about a stolen bra.’

But Bao Qing did not use this opportunity to back
down, ‘Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but I haven’t,’ he said
sternly. ‘You hid it in my bag when her mother came after
you. If you don’t admit it now, then it is I who must live
with the blot on my reputation.’

Fatcat looked momentarily uncomfortable, but soon
regained his good humour. Laughing, he said, ‘All right
then. I remember now. I stuffed it in your bag; we used to
let you take the flak. I admit it, OK?’

Bao Qing saw Fatcat make a signal to Renzheng with
his eyes and he recalled how many years ago they had
also communicated with these signals. Each time he had
seen them, he felt a nameless fear grip him. Now he no
longer feared the exchange, it just disquieted him. He set
his glass down, bottom up, on the table and said, ‘I’ve
finished with drinking. I’ve never been able to drink very
much and now I’ve had more than enough.’

As he set down his glass, Bao Qing could feel everyone
staring at him, their eyes variously revealing displeasure
or nervousness. Deliberately ignoring them, he informed
Ms Zhong, ‘I have ulcers and hyperglaecemia.’

Ms Zhong nodded and said, ‘Drinking is bad for your
health – all the magazines say so.’ Besides passing on this
nugget of magazine wisdom, it seemed that the girl wanted
to say more, but didn’t dare. She held back for a moment,
but then she could curb herself no longer and rashly came
out with the following question, ‘Mr Bao, I’ve always
wondered about something. You were a good student
in those days, so why would you have been friends with
Manager Huang and Mr Li?’ The question stunned Bao
Qing, and his chopsticks froze over a vegetable platter.
Fatcat’s employees half-seriously criticized Ms Zhong for
having said something untoward, but in the end it was
Fatcat who, in a generous and self-deprecating tone, said,
‘So you’re saying I was a bad student? Well, maybe I was
– I can’t pull the wool over her eyes. It’s not my fault she’s
so smart; she’s Mr Zhong’s daughter, after all!’

But the girl had hit on a sore point with Bao Qing. She
had posed the same reproachful question that his mother
and sister had been in the habit of asking, and that he
had never been able to answer. The truth was he did not
have the courage to analyse his motivations for sticking
with Fatcat and Renzheng. He had no way of facing up to
his disgraceful choice, nor enough wit to evade the question.
His cheeks suddenly blushed a full, deep red, and
all he could produce were a few paltry lines: ‘I don’t know
either. You know how children are. No reason, really, to
speak of.’

Shaohong, who had been sulking, suddenly let off
a burst of cold laughter. She said, ‘I know why. It’s like
this: have you ever heard the story about the chick who
ingratiates himself with the weasel? And why does he do
it? He wants the weasel to eat the other little chickies and
spare his own life.’ Ms Zhong must have thought that
Shaohong had uttered a bon mot, because she clucked
with laughter. Then, when she saw no one else was
laughing, she realized her error and covered her mouth.

Fatcat looked at Bao Qing’s expression and turned
to glare at Shaohong. He was agitated and angry.
‘Motherf***! You always complain that other people
don’t know how to talk properly, but look at the kind
of s*** that comes out of your mouth!’ What surprised
Bao Qing was that Fatcat’s exceptionally crude way of
reprimanding Shaohong provoked no reaction from her
whatsoever. Fatcat’s language was both foul and rough:
‘You festering c***! You think you’re the only one around
smart enough to open your mouth. Would it kill you to
shut up sometimes?’

Shaohong said, ‘Fine, then I won’t say anything.
Naturally, I’m unworthy to speak to the professor and
anything I say is crap.’

Fatcat said, ‘Of course it’s crap. You’re here so that
everyone can have some fun. And look what happens,
just because you can’t talk like a normal person and keep
talking crap.’

Shaohong rose slightly. ‘Fine, then I won’t say anything
else. I’ve made everybody unhappy; I’m off.’

Fatcat gave an angry shout, and said, ‘You think it’s
that easy, huh? Off? You can go to hell, but you can
f***ing bet you’re not leaving this room. Renzheng! Pour
her more wine! The big cup! She has to drink a forfeit
– three big cups!’

Bao Qing would never in his wildest dreams have
thought that Fatcat could treat Shaohong in this way. His
common sense told him that their relationship was in all
likelihood no ordinary one. His relatives had kept him
posted about the extraordinarily self-indulgent private
life Fatcat had begun to lead following his sudden rise
to wealth, but Bao Qing had never imagined Shaohong
could act so submissively towards him. He was also taken
aback by Renzheng’s attitude – he had presumed that he
would try to calm Fatcat, but he said nothing, just picked
up the rice wine bottle to bring it over to Shaohong. Bao
Qing rose and almost instinctively rushed at Renzheng
to wrest the bottle from him. Renzheng smiled evasively
and said, ‘Don’t worry about it. You don’t know how
much she can drink.’

Bao Qing replied, ‘She’s a lady. There can be no
question of forcing her to drink.’ They were grappling
with one another when Shaohong suddenly grabbed the
bottle herself and banged it down heavily on the table.
She said, ‘If we’re going to drink, then let’s get on with
it, and if I die from it, then that’s not a problem. People’s
value depreciates, like everything else. If I go and sell
myself for a f*** I wouldn’t even get enough money for
the alcohol. So if the drink doesn’t kill me, I’ll be making
a profit!’

At this point, a waiter opened the door to the room
and, taking fright, poked his head in to have a look.
Fatcat screamed at the door, ‘Screw off! If you come in
again I’ll have your boss sauté you!’ In case this threat
alone was unconvincing, Fatcat grabbed a porcelain
spoon and threw it at the waiter, making everyone near
by jump. They heard a bang as the spoon shattered
against the wall like a miniature bomb and covered the
floor with its shards.

Dead silence prevailed in the room and three words
popped into Bao Qing’s mind: The Hongmen Banquet
⁷
.
On the one hand he realized that he was being overanxious,
but he was also sensitive enough to be certain
that the atmosphere of the banquet was growing
increasingly destructive. Unable to stay seated, he told
Fatcat, ‘Since I have to leave tomorrow, I’ll need to be
getting home a little early.’