Read Song of Everlasting Sorrow Online
Authors: Wang Anyi
Song of Everlasting Sorrow (10 page)
At eight o’clock she went out the door; the electric lamp in the alley projected no light, only the colors of night. The other streetlights were also too weak to drive away the darkness surging out of the
longtang
. Neon lights were clouds floating in the night sky and people were but lamplit shadows. Jiang Lili’s family lived on a broad
longtang
just off a quiet and secluded main street. The alley was lined on both sides with two-storey apartment buildings with gardens and garages. Here too it was dark and quiet, but darkness and quietude of another breed. The window curtains were all shut at Jiang Lili’s house, but the slivers of light that peeped through made it more alive than the neighboring buildings. Wang Qiyao thought that she would be the only one late, but as she approached the building a car drove past her, stopping outside Jiang Lili’s front door. The main entrance had been left open, as if to welcome the arriving guests.
longtang
. Neon lights were clouds floating in the night sky and people were but lamplit shadows. Jiang Lili’s family lived on a broad
longtang
just off a quiet and secluded main street. The alley was lined on both sides with two-storey apartment buildings with gardens and garages. Here too it was dark and quiet, but darkness and quietude of another breed. The window curtains were all shut at Jiang Lili’s house, but the slivers of light that peeped through made it more alive than the neighboring buildings. Wang Qiyao thought that she would be the only one late, but as she approached the building a car drove past her, stopping outside Jiang Lili’s front door. The main entrance had been left open, as if to welcome the arriving guests.
Wang Qiyao walked inside and hung her coat up on the coatrack in the foyer, holding on to her gloves and the present she had brought. There were not a lot of people in the living room and they all seemed to be wrapped up in their own conversations. Fresh fruit and appetizers were laid out on an elongated serving table. In the center of the table was an empty spot reserved for the cake, which hadn’t yet arrived. Jiang Lili sat alone in the corner playing the piano. She was wearing one of her usual outfits and had a look of indifference on her face—it might as well have been someone else’s birthday. But the moment she laid eyes on Wang Qiyao, her face lit up with a brilliant smile. She got up from the piano bench and walked over to Wang Qiyao, taking her by the hand. Wang Qiyao couldn’t help heaving a sigh of relief. Jiang Lili was the one person she knew at the party, the one bit of familiarity and closeness, and so she in turn extended her hand. Jiang Lili pulled Wang Qiyao out of the living room, up the stairs, and into her bedroom.
Everything in the room was pink—from the curtains and comforter to the satin drapes adorning the dressing table mirror—but this only succeeded in making Jiang Lili appear even more conservative and old-fashioned. She seemed set on making a mess of her room. The desk and bed were covered with books, their covers torn and spattered with ink; the cups were covered with brown tea stains; her phonograph records were cracked and scratched; and her wardrobe, all in black and gray, was strewn all over the room. Wang Qiyao had originally planned on complimenting Jiang Lili on her room, but seeing this, she couldn’t get the words out. The room looked as if it had suffered some terrible injustice and was holding in a bellyful of discontent. Jiang Lili led Wang Qiyao inside and sat down on the corner of her bed, staring into the latter’s eyes for the longest time without uttering a word. Wang Qiyao didn’t know how to react; the entire situation seemed so very strange and awkward.
Suddenly a hubbub broke out downstairs. They were probably about to bring out the cake. More people seemed to have arrived and waves of celebratory cries and laughter rang out. Wang Qiyao was about to suggest that they go back downstairs when she discovered that Jiang Lili was crying, the tears flowing past her glasses and down her cheeks.
“What’s wrong, Jiang Lili?” she asked. “Today’s your birthday, your big day! What’s there to be so upset about?”
At this Jiang Lili began to cry even more violently and her tears came streaming down. “You don’t understand.” she muttered as she shook her head. “Wang Qiyao, you just don’t understand.”
“Then tell me,” Wang Qiyao replied. “Just
what
don’t I understand?”
what
don’t I understand?”
But Jiang Lili wouldn’t explain—she simply went on weeping and shaking her head. She acted a bit like a little girl trying to win sympathy. Wang Qiyao was beginning to grow tired of this behavior, but she managed to put up with it and suggested that they go back downstairs to rejoin the party. Jiang Lili, however, refused even more stubbornly. Finally, Wang Qiyao got up to go down by herself. Halfway down the stairs, she heard footsteps behind her and turned to see a teary-eyed Jiang Lili following her down. In her heart, Wang Qiyao thought the whole thing ridiculous, even annoying; she was also a bit moved—but this last emotion was a bit forced.
She turned to Jiang Lili. “Maybe you won’t change into a new outfit or put on some makeup, but at least go wash your face!”
Her words had something in them of intimacy, but it was an unwilling intimacy. Jiang Lili did as she was told and went to the washroom, emerging with a slightly cleaner face.
She then proceeded to take the box containing the hair ornaments from Wang Qiyao’s hand, saying, “This is for me!”
She acted as though she wanted to press the ornaments directly against her heart. Instead of turning back, Wang Qiyao hastened into the parlor. Jiang Lili tried to follow, but was immediately surrounded by a group of relatives.
The rest of the evening, Jiang Lili tightly held Wang Qiyao’s hand, leading her around the party. A few people recognized her and went over to chat and say hello. Wang Qiyao gradually relaxed a bit and started to feel much more cheerful. But no matter what, she couldn’t pry her hand free—she felt as if she was handcuffed to Jiang Lili. Meanwhile, Jiang Lili would give Wang Qiyao’s hand a little squeeze from time to time, as if there were some secret that only the two of them shared. But such forced intimacy only made Wang Qiyao ill at ease. However, no trace of uneasiness showed on her face and she continued to act as if she and Jiang Lili were the best of friends. That this Jiang Lili seemed to be a completely different person from the Jiang Lili she knew from school was a matter of genuine astonishment to Wang Qiyao, but for the time being she couldn’t worry about it—she was too busy dealing with the people at the party. Everyone and everything around her seemed to float past her eyes without leaving any clear impression: all was vibrant and beautiful, an enchanting scene indeed. Guests took turns playing the piano in the corner and the intermittent rhythm of the dancing keys was bewitching. The parlor began to grow stuffy, so someone opened the French window leading out onto the tiled terrace; just a few steps down lay the garden. The terrace light was on and one could faintly make out the intertwined branches of the withering lilac out in the garden. Jiang Lili led Wang Qiyao out onto the terrace. She didn’t say a word, but simply gazed out in silence over the darkened garden. Annoyed by this odd behavior, Wang Qiyao turned to go back inside, saying she was chilly.
Back inside, the parlor presented a boisterous scene, as a group of kids surrounded a young couple, grabbing for the sweets they were distributing. What remained of the birthday cake lay under the branchlike lamp in scattered pieces like a dismembered carcass, the whipped filling strewn over the platter. Half-empty coffee cups littered the room. The party was coming to a close; as the evening approached its climax, everyone seemed to be forgetting their manners. A young man came up to Wang Qiyao in an aggressive and rather theatrical attempt at making a pass. Wang Qiyao blushed, not knowing how to react. Instantly pulling a long face, Jiang Lili drew Wang Qiyao away, telling the young man not to make a fool of himself. Not long after that, the first of the guests departed; others quickly followed suit and began to say their good-byes. The area around the coatrack became a confusing disarray of people searching for their coats. Jiang Lili paid no heed to any of the other well-wishers and only said a proper farewell to Wang Qiyao.
Before finally releasing Wang Qiyao’s hand, Jiang Lili told her that she considered this day their mutual birthday, a day to be shared together. She spoke these words with a heartbroken expression and, having let go of Wang Qiyao’s hand, rushed upstairs to her room. Feeling like a prisoner set free, Wang Qiyao couldn’t keep from heaving a sigh of relief. The crowd around the coatrack had mostly dispersed, and only two or three older guests stood in the foyer talking with Jiang Lili’s mother. As Wang Qiyao took her coat off the rack, Jiang Lili’s mother turned around to say goodbye and thank her for coming. She told Wang Qiyao how happy she had made her daughter and expressed the hope that she would come again. She saw Wang Qiyao all the way out, and even after Wang Qiyao had gone to the end of the street, she could still see the silhouette of Jiang Lili’s mother standing in the doorway.
That night marked the beginning of Wang Qiyao’s friendship with Jiang Lili. When they saw each other at school, they acted as before, keeping their relationship a secret. Their relationship was nothing like the friendship Wang Qiyao had enjoyed with Wu Peizhen, or the kind most schoolgirls have with their best friends—always inseparable, with endless secrets to share. Each had her own reasons for not wanting to flaunt their friendship. Wang Qiyao didn’t want to give people the impression that she was fickle when it came to friendship, taking up one and then another—but deep in her heart, even though she might not admit it, she actually kept her friendship with Jiang Lili a secret out of pity for Wu Peizhen. Jiang Lili, on the other hand, simply wanted to be different, because she always insisted on going against the crowd and doing things her own way. Her first rule in life was quite simple: everything was based on her formula of taking the road less traveled. Each had an idea about friendship different from that of most other schoolgirls—neither thought of herself as part of the mainstream. Wang Qiyao’s reason for wanting to be different came from experience, and Jiang Lili’s came from the novels she read. The former had a hint of maturity, while the latter was a kind of literary romanticism. Neither one was entirely on track, but, since they were both deceiving themselves, albeit in different ways, they ended up together.
They kept to themselves at school but were inseparable once outside the campus gate. Jiang Lili insisted on bringing Wang Qiyao along wherever she went and, since it was Lili’s mother who usually invited her, Wang Qiyao could never bring herself to refuse. Wang Qiyao virtually became a member of the Jiang family. She went everywhere with them. It wasn’t long before their friends and relatives all became very close with Wang Qiyao—she was indeed one of them. Owing to her proper manners and her status as something of a celebrity, people began to treat her better than they did Jiang Lili, so that, before long, the tables were turned and she ceased to be invited out as Jiang Lili’s friend, while Jiang Lili was invited out as
her
friend. Wang Qiyao had clearly become the one in favor—but she never forgot her place and took special care to treat Jiang Lili even better than before.
her
friend. Wang Qiyao had clearly become the one in favor—but she never forgot her place and took special care to treat Jiang Lili even better than before.
Jiang Lili’s birthday party was followed by an interminable series of other parties. Nearly all were hosted by friends and relatives of the Jiang family; one led to another and they seemed never to end. Everyone at the parties looked familiar, as if they were all one big family. Although the partygoers came in all shapes and sizes and engaged in different professions, after a first meeting they were just like old friends. The parties followed the same basic pattern, and it did not take long until Wang Qiyao figured out how things worked. She knew that she needed to maintain her composure in order to set herself apart from the noise and excitement at these parties. She knew that she needed to dress plain and neat in order to show herself off against the rainbow of colors and carnival of the night. And she even knew that she had to maintain a genuine persona in order to create a contrast with the overly effusive people who were always eager to shower one another with compliments and favors. She seemed innately to know that “the string is easily broken when strung too tight.” Understanding too that she was not one destined to climb to great heights, she kept to her philosophy of “less is more” and remained calm and composed. The result was not immediately apparent, but as time went by it had its effect and gradually Wang Qiyao began to win over their hearts.
She was the single white peony amid a sea of violet and crimson. Hers was the only unaccompanied vocal piece in a long program of orchestrated medleys. She was a haven of silence in the midst of bombastic debates and ramblings. Wang Qiyao brought something new to those parties—a creative something that carried with it the resolution to persevere—while at the same time she maintained enough perspective to see things as they were. At every party she attended she always felt as if she had to depend on herself for everything. Everyone else seemed to stand in the host’s position, coming and going as they pleased while, as the only guest, in her comings and goings she was always controlled by others. She also realized that Jiang Lili was her only true friend at these parties; wherever they went, they went hand in hand. Jiang Lili actually despised parties, but was willing to make this sacrifice in order to be with Wang Qiyao. The two became party regulars. The few times they didn’t show, everyone asked about them, so that their names wound up circulating all around the parlor. Being occasionally absent from the parties was also a part of Wang Qiyao’s philosophy of “less is more”—a rather extreme part at that.
The party—what the Shanghainese call
paitui
—is the very life of the Shanghai night. Neon lights and dance halls form the outer shell of this sleepless city, but its soul is the party. Parties lie at the innermost core of the city, behind quiet shady boulevards in the parlors of Western-style residences; the pleasure they impart is wrapped in people’s hearts. The lights at these parties are always dim, casting shadows that whisper the language of the heart. But this language of the heart speaks with a European accent, in classical and romantic styles. And the life of the Shanghai party is always the proper young lady; she is the center. Myriad passions play out in silence; romance lies deep under the skin. Forty years hence, no one will remember these passions and this romance; in fact, no one will be able even to imagine what it had been like. The passion and romance of that era was a dynasty; splendid and glorious, it was a heavenly kingdom. The Shanghai skies mourn; they bemoan the loss of that passion and romance. The Shanghai wind tantalizes, and the waters surrounding her are a washed-out carmine.
paitui
—is the very life of the Shanghai night. Neon lights and dance halls form the outer shell of this sleepless city, but its soul is the party. Parties lie at the innermost core of the city, behind quiet shady boulevards in the parlors of Western-style residences; the pleasure they impart is wrapped in people’s hearts. The lights at these parties are always dim, casting shadows that whisper the language of the heart. But this language of the heart speaks with a European accent, in classical and romantic styles. And the life of the Shanghai party is always the proper young lady; she is the center. Myriad passions play out in silence; romance lies deep under the skin. Forty years hence, no one will remember these passions and this romance; in fact, no one will be able even to imagine what it had been like. The passion and romance of that era was a dynasty; splendid and glorious, it was a heavenly kingdom. The Shanghai skies mourn; they bemoan the loss of that passion and romance. The Shanghai wind tantalizes, and the waters surrounding her are a washed-out carmine.
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