Naked Earth (22 page)

Liu could picture the years Ko Shan spent touring the provinces and after that, when she had passed under the Party’s direct control. A lot of men must have fought over her. As if on a dare, she would have taken pride in giving herself away with no strings attached. The Party had tolerated, if not openly encouraged, this sort of thing, perhaps on the theory that the pleasure of love greatly mitigated the hardships which might be otherwise unendurable to middle-class recruits. And at no cost to the Party, it might be added. Those were the heydays of Cup of Water-ism. Now that the Party had gone respectable with success, the cup of water had become a glass of bootleg whiskey, outlawed but still easily obtainable, as Liu had just found out.

Ko Shan was a real product of the times, he felt, whatever else she was. He gloried in her hardness and never ceased to wonder how a figure of steel forged in the furnace of the Revolution could turn all soft and vulnerable when exposed to his potency. Because once he had got over his first awkwardness, she told him that she had never known anybody like him. She often gave him the feeling of being trapped in her own machinations and, after leading him on, ended up being brutally ravished every time. While knocking around the towns and country of the hinterland she had picked up the trick of
Chiao ch’uang
, bed calls—lilting groans and protests and appeasing endearments in thick, creamy, nasal tones and tremulous little cries, begging to be let off or begging to be hurt more. It always drove him wild and he could never quite get rid of the feeling that here was a stray bit of the Party, cornered and at his mercy and he was getting his own back. He knew it was silly but he could not help it. Often when he was elsewhere with other people, the warm flush of his secret satisfaction would steal all over him and he would have a sense of immense wealth and power, going about incognito, a modest or overcautious millionaire wearing a plain blue cloth gown lined with rare fur.

He felt ashamed whenever he thought of Su Nan. But there were so many contradictions in his mind, so many things he would rather not think about. As people say, “
Shih to, pu yang, chai to, pu ch’ou
. A lot of lice—no longer itchy; a lot of debts—no longer worried.”

One day he went into Ts’ui’s office with some papers for him to sign when he came back. He was surprised to find Comrade Ma there, the woman who had appropriated his desk. She had scarcely been on speaking terms with Ya-mei ever since the desk incident. But now she seemed to be visiting with Ya-mei and the two were talking and giggling like bosom friends.

“Never saw the likes,” Comrade Ma was saying. “And the way she went up there to recite Pushkin, wiggling her bottom—”

“That torn shoe!” Ya-mei said with conscious superiority. In the Old Area where she came from they called loose women “torn shoes.” Liu guessed that they must be talking about some woman they met at the “evening meeting” they had attended yesterday. Everybody at the office had heard a lot about the party.

On his way out the chatter started up again and he heard Comrade Ma say, “Really, she doesn’t want any face at all! You saw the way she was making a play for the Soviet specialist? Always after him to
kan-pei
!”

“The amount of vodka she put away!” Ya-Mei giggled.

“And you heard what Old Lin was going around telling everybody?—What if our Comrade Ko can’t speak Russian? Her eyes can speak Esperanto!”

“
T’a ma ti
!—sounds as if he’s quite proud of it!” Ya-mei swore, laughing.

Liu realized with a shock that Old Lin must be Lin I-ch’ün, the head of the
Liberation Daily News
. So it was Ko Shan they were talking about.

It was not as if he did not know what Ko Shan was like, though he did have reason to believe that there had not been anybody else ever since he went with her. He was very angry with the gossiping women, and with Ko Shan too, for giving them cause to talk like this about her, even if there was nothing in it. He could not get it off his mind all day. He managed to get off earlier than usual and went to her place.

The table-light was on beside her bed in the darkening room. She was sitting propped up in bed reading the papers.

“I was afraid you’d have left for the office,” Liu said.

“Maybe I won’t go today.” Then she added, “Since you’re here.”

Ignoring her last sentence which was clearly an afterthought, he sat down on a chair near the head of the bed and said carelessly, his hands rammed deep in his pockets, “Having a hangover?”

“No, but I shouldn’t have had anything to drink at all, with my cough,” she answered. “Why, how did you get to be so well-informed all of a sudden? Who told you?”

“Oh, I heard it from that what’s-his-name—can’t pronounce it—you know, that Soviet specialist.”

She looked at him and started to laugh. “Don’t talk nonsense!”

“Why?” he asked. “Is it so impossible that I might also know a Soviet specialist or two? So many of them around.”

Ko Shan glared at him from the corner of her eyes.

“But I don’t understand Esperanto, you know,” Liu said half laughing.

“What’s that?” she said.

“I’ve never learned Esperanto. So it’s no use your speaking to me with your eyes.”

She leaned over to hit him, over-reaching herself and pitching sideways over his lap. “You evil thing,” she giggled. “You’re getting worse and worse all the time.”

“Am I? I’m learning fast, eh?” he teased.

She spluttered with laughter. “Sure. You’re getting to be a real bad influence on me.” Lying with her head in his lap she looked up at him, stroking his cheek. When he took her fingers off his face she knew things were still worrying him, so she said pouting, “No, you’ve got to tell me where you heard such rubbish.”

“Didn’t I tell you? That Soviet specialist has been talking to me about you.”

“What Soviet specialist? I know—it must be those two women over at your place who’ve been making up things! Those two are genuine, authentic mud-pies. Scared to death when they see foreigners but jealous all the same when somebody else gets all the attention. And they make up all sorts of awful stories behind your back; they’ll stop at nothing.”

Liu had to admit to himself that there was something in that. It was quite likely that Ya-mei and Comrade Ma had felt that way about it, possibly without realizing it themselves.

He did not say anything but Ko Shan could see he was wavering. “I don’t blame them—women are like that,” she said indifferently. “Jealousy is about the strongest emotion they ever feel.”

“Really! Is that so?” Liu said politely.

“You needn’t be afraid to agree with me, thinking that I might take offense. Because I’m not like other women. I’m never jealous.”

“Is that so?” Liu said politely.

“Is that so? Is that so?—what’s the matter with you?” Again she put up her hand to feel his cheek and he returned her caresses. She was ticklish and wriggled till she slid her head off his knees. Seen upside down, her face looked unfamiliar and glowingly exciting. Looking at her he thought, perhaps inappropriately, of long ago when he had sat on the school lawn, leaning back, dropping his head over the back of the bench to see the golden sunset upside down. All the colors were so much brighter, fresher, it seemed like a different world.

He bent down to kiss her throat and she said, “Really, I’m never jealous. You can have all the girl friends you want. I’ll never interfere.”

“That’s fine,” he said absently. His kisses had strayed.

“You never tell me anything about your other girls.”

“There aren’t any, you know that.”

“Well, before you met me!” She harped on the same theme all the rest of the time he was there that day.

“I told you there’s nothing to tell. You want me to make up some conquest and then boast about it?” he said.

“
K’o-ch’i, k’o-ch’i!
Modest, modest!” she said smiling.

“And you never tell me anything yourself, when you could have told me a lot if you’d felt like it,” he said.

“If I tell you, you’ll be jealous. If you tell me I won’t be jealous.”

“That’s very good of you,” he said smiling. “As you said, it’s a rare virtue in a woman—not to be jealous. But I’m afraid I’m not the kind of man to bring out the best in you. I’m just not popular with girls.”

“Still won’t own up! I’m going to kill you—kill you—” Her arms snaked around his neck in a strangle hold. “Don’t think you can wriggle out of it this time! I want a full report about that girl friend of yours.”

Liu sighed. “What girl friend?”

“Hfm!” she snorted, half laughing. “You think I don’t know? I’ve got all the facts here. I’m just giving you a chance to confess, and you better not miss it if you know what’s good for you.”

“I happen to know this way to extort confessions,” Liu said laughing. “Can’t you think of some other way?”

She glared at him and poked a finger forcibly at his forehead, tilting his head back. “Don’t want you any more!” she said in the tone people use toward children. “I’m going to stick a stamp on your forehead and mail you to Chinan. See if I don’t.”

Liu paused perceptibly before he asked, smiling, “Why Chinan?”

She smiled at him. “You’ll be addressed to Comrade Su Nan, New Democracy Youth Corps, Chinan Branch, Chinan.”

He winced inside to hear the name and address mentioned under these circumstances. “How do you know there’s such a person?” he said, still smiling.

“I tell you, my intelligence net is more far-reaching than yours and what’s more, my information is always reliable, not like yours. Huh! I’ll never get over this—coming here to make a row just because of some malicious gossip, absolutely groundless.”

“I didn’t come here to make a row,” he said.

“No?” she said. “You should have seen the way you looked when you first came. Weren’t even going to look at me!”

He was content to let her have the last word, busy savoring the experience which all this painfully disturbing talk had only succeeded in localizing instead of spoiling.

Triumphantly she flicked her cigarette ashes over the edge of the bed without looking, right into one of his shoes. That night, back in his hostel, when he took off his shoes before going to bed, he saw the ashes smeared on the sole of his sock. He smiled, a mixture of tenderness and annoyance flooding over him.

Now how on earth did she find out about Su Nan? He thought of all the possibilities. He had never told a single soul about Su Nan. Although Chang had been with them during the Land Reform, he did not suspect anything. And there was nothing in their letters, even if they did correspond regularly. Had Ts’ui or Ya-mei been opening his letters and gossiping about him? His mind leaped to the old envelopes he used to carry about on him to keep small change in. Nowadays everybody was told to economize, to turn a used envelope inside out and use it again. So when Su Nan wrote to him she always made use of the envelopes of his letters to her. Her full name and address were plainly visible on the inside. And of course Ko Shan had had plenty of chances to search his pockets. That must be it. Probably her only clue too. But he knew that if he were to ask her next time he saw her, she would never admit it.

He had felt guilty every time he took money out of the envelope when he had first started going with Ko Shan. But somehow he had not stopped using it until some time later, shrinking from making the change because, he told himself, there was something theatrical in the gesture.

Her letters kept coming. It pained him to see each one. He was writing less often, always telling her he was busy, and she seemed to take him at his word. Anyhow, theirs were the most ordinary kind of friendly letters, so that he felt it involved no deception on his part to keep certain things from her. Besides, how did he know she hadn’t anything to hide from him? He would not be surprised if she had formed similar attachments, now that he knew that sex was not such a tabu as it was made out to be and need only be managed with discretion. Maybe with girls it was even more inevitable, whether they liked it or not. How long could an attractive girl hold out under the pressures from outside? He had noticed that she had spoken of her superior several times and then stopped mentioning him. It could be that something had happened. There might be others too. But he could not stand the thought and preferred to feel guilty himself.

He really ought to write and tell her the truth, tell her not to wait for him any more. This was no time for waiting and thinking and planning. He was through with all that. A girl is light and a woman is warmth. He was grateful to Ko Shan just for being close by and being a woman, though he had never thought of it like that. But he was grateful and he had come to think that she was good at heart and would be still better if she had someone who really cared for her.

He went to see her one steaming rainy afternoon. It was miserable weather. He knocked and tried her door but it was locked. She must have gone out. He took his pen and notebook out of his pocket, tore off a page and wrote her a note. “You were not in when I called. I might be able to come again tomorrow afternoon.” He did not sign his name because she would know. He folded the sheet of paper over and bending down, slid it under the door into the room.

It was pouring when he came downstairs. He stood on the stoop and waited in the hope that the worst would soon be over, and that if he waited a little longer she might come back. The stinging, idle slap-slap of slippers ran up and down the dim old corridor behind him. There was a forbidden game of mahjong going on; he could hear the stealthy pit-a-pat of the tiles through an open window. A baby was bawling and a voice was teaching Russian loudly over the radio.

He had to go now. Opening his umbrella on his way down the steps, he turned to look up at her window. The light green curtains had flown out and were waving at him when they were suddenly sucked back into the room, fleeing from big, hard raindrops pelting the half open window pane like dry beans. Liu wondered if the proofs of the pamphlet were still on the table by the window where she had left them yesterday. They were the latest in the series they had been working on. He remembered that she had brought back the proofs the other day. The thin flimsy paper would melt into paste if it got wet and they’d have to start on another set.