Miss Chopsticks (11 page)

A pedestrian suddenly stepped into the middle of the road, and Thick Glasses braked sharply. Six could not suppress a cry of terror, and for the first time her driver noticed that she had both eyes screwed shut and beads of sweat dripping down her forehead. Out of consideration, he decided to turn into a small side lane, but he had barely twisted the steering wheel when someone in the car behind shouted, ‘Hey, you in front, don't you know how to use your indicator? Go home and walk, if you don't know how to drive!' Shu Tian braked for a moment in confusion, which only encouraged the man in the car behind to lean out of his window and continue his harangue. ‘This road isn't your private property, you know! There are rules … Look at that heap you're in. No one's driving Xialis these days. I suppose you want to have an accident so you can collect the insurance money and buy yourself a decent car …'

Six could vaguely hear the voice shouting, but she had no idea what it was saying. She was barely even aware that they were now going down a quieter road. It was not until Thick Glasses had tapped her on the shoulder several times that she opened her eyes. She saw that he was now driving
much more slowly, breathed a sigh of relief, and felt a wave of exhaustion sweep over her.

But her trials were not over. Before long, they got stuck behind an old lady who was tottering down the middle of the road with her walking stick, an empty basket on her arm. The old lady glanced behind her at the car, then continued as she was, ambling unhurriedly down the lane. Thick Glasses gave a quick toot of his horn, at which the old lady jumped, turned round and, eyes full of rage, jabbed at the bonnet of the car with her walking stick.

‘Impatient, are we? Think this old lady's too slow? Go and drive on the main road if you're such a big shot. I've seen your sort before. Running around with young girls and siphoning off public money for your dirty practices like you're above the law of the land. Do you have no shame – flaunting your filthy behaviour like that?!'

The more the old lady cursed the angrier she got, and the more confused Six became. Thick Glasses's face went from pale to red and back again. The little lane, which had been almost deserted, was suddenly filled with a crowd of people, who clustered around the car and peered in through the windows. It was just the same in the village: whenever there was a family argument, people flocked to watch. But it had never occurred to Six that, on her first day in the big city, she'd be cursed in public. Not knowing how big Nanjing was, Six was thrown into despair by the idea that, from now on, she would be recognised and gossiped about wherever she went. She shot a look at Thick Glasses. Why wasn't he defending her? But he merely gave a helpless gesture.

‘There's nothing I can do, Six. A good man doesn't fight women. And, anyway, a bookish intellectual is no match for a toothless old lady. We'll just have to wait until she gets it out of her system.'

Just then, a man walked from out of the crowd.

‘All right, old woman. That's enough. I saw the whole
thing and this guy hasn't done anything wrong. You were wandering right down the middle of the road. What was he supposed to do? Crawl along behind you? Besides, not everybody who drives a car is necessarily a bent official. Look at his thick glasses. Does he seem like a wicked man? And how many officials drive knackered old Xialis? You should think carefully before you accuse an honest person falsely. Come on now, be off with you. They say, “Good health underlies Revolution”. Save your good health and righteous indignation for someone who's really corrupt.'

‘Thank you, kind sir!' shouted Thick Glasses, raising his bottom from the seat to bow in a way that made Six smile, even though she was still shaking with fear. Their saviour led the old lady away and Thick Glasses set off down the lane again, sighing with relief.

They drove along back lanes for another twenty minutes before returning to the main street and pulling up in front of a small row of shops, of which one was a beautiful old building in the traditional Nanjing style, with white walls, grey roof tiles and flying eaves. Six looked at the shopfront with awe, admiring the large black-and-gold sign under the eaves that read ‘The Book Taster's Teahouse', and beneath, in smaller letters, ‘In Memory of Lu and Lu'. Walking towards the entrance to the shop, she noticed that the door was decorated with an intricately carved panel of two men playing chess.

But if Six had been taken with the front of the shop, she was even more delighted when she saw the interior. It was just like the pictures of ancient teahouses she had seen in her teachers' books, with about a dozen circular mahogany tables dotted around the room, and benches in the same wood along the side walls. But it also had the air of an old library, with low bookshelves dividing the room into four to give the tables a feeling of intimacy. To the right of the doorway stood a lovely tall table for the preparation of tea that looked like the ones in old paintings
where beautiful women held their sleeves out of the way as they warmed cups with hot water and poured tea from delicate porcelain pots. Behind this table hung a blue batik curtain on which the Chinese character for ‘Tea' stood out in white. To the left of the entrance there was a a square old-fashioned writing desk, with a full set of calligraphy brushes, slabs of ink (with a stone for grinding it), paper and, beneath it, a big china urn to hold scrolls of paper and larger calligraphy brushes. Along the back wall was a classical zither, a display cabinet of tea sets and, between them, a beautiful wall-hanging painted with the character for ‘peace'. The ceiling was hung with calligraphy brushes for wall painting, so large they almost looked as if they could be used to sweep the floor.

Six was struck dumb by the beauty of the room. She felt she had not enough eyes to take it all in.

‘Do you like it?' Thick Glasses asked her.

‘I love it!' Six murmured. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she would set foot in such a lovely place.

Thick Glasses began turning on lamps.

‘These are replicas of ancient table lamps,' he said. ‘The ones on the bookcases are imitation Ming palace lamps in eggshell porcelain. They both provide the right kind of light for reading and appreciating paintings. These days plenty of people know about buying art and putting it on display, but they've failed to grasp that you need soft lighting to appreciate it. Ah well, that's what it's like today … People are interested in money, not art. Such a pity …'

‘Why is there nobody here?' Six asked. Surely a teahouse like this should be the most popular place in Nanjing, she thought to herself.

‘We're not opening until next week,' Thick Glasses explained. ‘We decorated the place just before Spring Festival and then, over the holiday, we invited some of our bookworm friends to come for tea and snacks so they could give us ideas. I need all the help I can get. I've spent
my whole life working in a publishing company editing a youth magazine and doing a bit of English translation on the side, so running a business is new to me. My wife and I have put everything we own into this teahouse, with some help from our son. If it succeeds we'll set up more like it; if it falls through we'll just have to shut up shop and find freelance work where we can. If I can't be a chicken's head and run my own business, I'll just have to settle for being a phoenix's tail and working for someone else …'

As Thick Glasses spoke, he stroked the books on the shelves.

‘I picked up all these books myself from markets and bookstalls. I've just about read them all, or at least had a quick flick through. Once we open, I'll get more. And I hope a few like-minded people will donate books. Then we'll be pretty well set up. This is the teahouse of my dreams, I just want to …'

‘Bookworm, you're back! How many hours have you taken to collect her? If you think that you can run a business as slowly as you drink tea, we'll soon have to sell all those books of yours just to break even. Quickly now, why aren't you giving me a hand? I thought it would be easy to pop over to the supermarket to get some snacks, but on the way back the food seemed to get heavier with every step. My fingers are nearly bent right off!'

A middle-aged woman dressed in bright red had burst in through the door, her hands full of plastic bags.

‘Ow, gosh – take them. That's right, there's one on each finger. Kang's coming along in a moment with some heavier stuff. Hello, hello, new friend. Sorry, I can't shake your hand, I've got my arms full. My name's Meng as in “Dream”. What's yours?'

‘Liu'er as in “Six”,' Six replied brightly.

‘Six? That's quite a coincidence. Last week we had someone in the teahouse called Nine. At first I thought her name was “Wine” so I asked her if she came from a family
of wine-lovers. Take me, for instance, my mother used to say my father was a dreamer whose daydreams never came to anything until he produced a daughter. What do you think of that? Pull back that curtain for me, will you please, so that I can put these bags into our storeroom? Thanks! Look at this, they've dug big creases into my hands … Anyway, the woman told me her name was Nine, not Wine. I've got a small brain, you see. Still, it's wonderful to have a girl with a lucky number for a name working for us. We'll all reap the benefits. Now, have you and the Bookworm had anything to eat? No? Gracious, it's nearly five. You silly old bookworm, it's one thing for you not to eat, but how could you let her go hungry? You really are the limit. Oh, never mind, forget it, I've just bought some little pastries for the opening. You two can have some to keep you going and then we'll have a proper family meal later. You'll have to take care of yourself Six, when you're working with him. My husband's a decent chap, with a good heart and a solid brain, but his eyesight and memory are useless. If he sees a little black dog by the side of the road, he thinks someone's hat has blown off. He tries to “eliminate the four pests”, as our great leaders once told us to, by swatting nails on the wall mistaking them for flies, but then he'll go and think a ladybird is a nail and try to hang a bag of eggs on it …'

Six burst out laughing.

‘Don't think I'm just poking fun for the hell of it,' continued Meng with a smile. ‘Everything I say is true. We've been married twenty-six years, and I've got enough jokes about him to fill a book! If you don't believe me, you'll find out soon enough. And as for his memory … Ever since I met him, I've watched him bump around the room looking for his glasses when he's holding them in his hand. If I phone him to ask if he's eaten, he tells me he'll have to go into the kitchen to see if there are any unwashed dishes. I never believe that stuff of his about traffic jams.
He just doesn't know where he's going … Go on, eat, you must be starving! Here Bookworm, you have these. I'm sorry, but I have to warn Six about your lunacy (or should I say genius) so that you don't scare her to death.'

While she was speaking, Meng had laid out some egg biscuits in front of Six. They were rather like the deep-fried dough chips they ate during Spring Festival in the countryside, but a lot nicer. Six ate too quickly, and then felt very thirsty. She saw Meng reach for a bottle of water so pointed to the sink in the storeroom behind the curtain to say that she was very happy to drink tap water. Meng did not stop her, so Six put her mouth to the tap, drank a big mouthful and felt much better. Then she looked around the storeroom. It was a small, cramped space just big enough to hold two people with shelves reaching from floor to ceiling. The top shelves held lots of different-sized boxes, the middle shelves were used for the tea sets and the bottom shelves had a number of plastic buckets on them for storage, cleaning and emptying tea leaves into. To the left of the tap was a little table which Meng was using to unpack the shopping.

While Six was gazing about her, Meng took out a piece of white kitchen paper, and discreetly wiped the biscuit crumbs off the tap.

‘I'm back!'

A strong male voice resounded through the teahouse and, before long, a young man dressed in white corduroy trousers and a black corduroy jacket squeezed into the storeroom carrying two big cardboard boxes.

‘That looks good,' he said to Meng. ‘Have you saved any for me? You've only been a capitalist for a few days but you're already exploiting your workers: I didn't even have time for lunch!'

The man put down his boxes, wiped his hands on the curtain, and held out his hand to Six: ‘Hi, welcome to the Book Taster's Teahouse.'

Six had never shaken hands with a young, unmarried man before but she remembered reading in magazines that men and women were very casual around each other in the big city, so with a great effort she put out her hand. The warmth of the man's strong grip made her feel quite odd; she could feel the blood pulsing through his fingers.

‘Have my parents had time to oppress you yet, child worker?' he asked, laughing.

‘Kang!' said Meng crossly, untying a beautiful red scarf from around her neck. ‘Don't make such thoughtless jokes. Six has only just finished middle school and it's her first time in the city, so it's hard for her to know whether you're serious or not. She might think you're being disrespectful. Six, don't listen to his nonsense. Young people these days think it's fashionable to make fun of their parents. That's because they've never been sent to the countryside to learn what's what. You'll have to tell him about what life is like in your village so he knows what good fortune really is.'

‘There you go finding fault again Mother. I know, I know, when you were younger you all had to attend those Recollect Bitterness meetings where people talked about what life had been like before Communism made it much better, but do we have to have them now? If so, please could you invite us to a Recollect Bitterness Meal. We're starving. Put some food in front of us and you can lecture us all you want about how the country's going to the dogs.'