Read Song of Everlasting Sorrow Online
Authors: Wang Anyi
Song of Everlasting Sorrow (47 page)
“It’s not that I was trying to hide it.... I just never get the chance to show it off!”
Their jovial banter was interrupted by the guests, who had come bearing gifts. Madame Yan brought a pound of cashmere yarn, and Kang Mingxun a pair of gold ingots. Wang Qiyao wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t have given such an expensive gift, but was worried that Madame Yan would take that as a sign that her gift wasn’t lavish enough, so she decided to accept them both and save her misgivings for another day. Everyone went inside to see the baby before dinner and they all commented on how precious she looked. Since there were four of them, it worked out perfectly when they sat down at the table, one person on each side.
This was the first time that Mr. Cheng had met the evening’s guests. Madame Yan had taken note of him, but he had never noticed her, and he had only passed Kang Mingxun on the staircase, when neither could get a good look at the other. Wang Qiyao made the introductions and they proceeded with dinner as if they were all acquainted. Madame Yan already had a good impression of Mr. Cheng and was especially friendly toward him; it wasn’t long before she felt like they were old friends. Although Mr. Cheng was a bit overwhelmed by her warmth, he realized she had nothing but the best intentions. Kang Mingxun, on the other hand, was stiff and subdued. He said little, focusing on the warm rice wine. They finished off the first bottle rather quickly and started on a second. Mr. Cheng excused himself so he could go to the kitchen to prepare another dish, but seeing he was a bit tipsy, Wang Qiyao put her hand on his shoulder, motioning him to sit back down, and insisted that she take care of it. He gently caressed the hand on his shoulder, but she instinctively pulled it away. Kang Mingxun, in spite of himself, flashed Mr. Cheng a rather sharp glance. The effect on Mr. Cheng was instantaneously sobering.
Wang Qiyao returned to the table with the new dish she had just whipped up. By then even Madame Yan, whose cheeks were red, was getting a bit tipsy. She proposed a toast to Mr. Cheng, declaring him a rare gentleman and even quoting the old adage, “It’s easier to find ten thousand ounces of gold than a true friend who can really understand you.” Her words were inappropriate to the occasion; obviously, alcohol was bringing out some hidden truths. Not content to propose a toast on her own, she insisted that Kang Mingxun also drink to Mr. Cheng. Kang Mingxun raised his cup but didn’t know quite what to say. As the rest of the party waited anxiously, he finally came out with something that sounded even more inappropriate.
“Here’s to Mr. Cheng soon finding matrimonial bliss!”
Mr. Cheng accepted their toast with equanimity and a “thank you.” Then, turning to Wang Qiyao, he asked if she had anything to say. Wang Qiyao was a bit disconcerted by the unfamiliar glint in his eyes—she wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or something else—so she put on a placating smile.
“Naturally, I should have been the first one to toast Mr. Cheng. Just as Madame Yan said, it is easier to find ten thousand ounces of gold than a true friend. No one else here understands me the way Mr. Cheng does. He has always been there for me during my most difficult times. And for all the mistakes I have made, he has always forgiven me. I owe him a debt of gratitude that I will never be able to repay.”
Conscious that it was the alcohol that had emboldened her to open up, Mr. Cheng couldn’t help being at once deeply disappointed and hurt by her words; all she spoke of was gratitude, with not a word about love. On the brink of tears, he lowered his head. Only after a long pause did he manage to force a smile and say, “Hey, we’re not here to celebrate
my
one-month birthday! Why is everyone toasting me? Drinking to Wang Qiyao would be more like it!”
my
one-month birthday! Why is everyone toasting me? Drinking to Wang Qiyao would be more like it!”
And so, with Madame Yan leading the way, they all toasted Wang Qiyao. But, perhaps because they had all talked too much already, no one had much left to say. So they just drank, one cup after another. Mr. Cheng’s eyes met Kang Mingxun’s once again. They stared mutely at each other, neither fully understanding the circumstances. But the seeds of suspicion had been planted.
Everyone drank more than they should have that evening. Mr. Cheng couldn’t remember how he had seen the guests out or whether he had washed the dishes after they left. He woke up to discover himself on Wang Qiyao’s sofa, a thin blanket draped over him. Leftover food was still on the table, and the room was filled with the sweet and sour fragrance of rice wine. The moon shining through the curtains on his face was cool as water. He felt utterly at peace as he watched the moonlight dancing on the curtain; he decided to let his mind go blank and not worry about anything that had happened that night.
Suddenly he heard a gentle voice ask, “Would you care for some tea?”
He followed the voice and saw Wang Qiyao lying in bed across the room. She had also woken up, but her face was obscured by the shadows and Mr. Cheng could only make out her silhouette. Mr. Cheng did not feel awkward; on the contrary, he was filled with a sense of serenity.
“I’m so embarrassed!” he said.
Wang Qiyao responded with a silent laugh. “You fell asleep with your head on the table. It took the three of us to get you onto the sofa.”
“I drank too much,” he said. “But that was only because I was happy.”
After a silence, Wang Qiyao responded, “Actually . . . you drank so much because you were upset. . . .”
Mr. Cheng laughed. “What’s there for me to be upset about? I was really happy.”
Neither of them spoke and gradually the moonlight shifted a bit closer. Bathed in the moonlight, Mr. Cheng had the sensation that he was lying in water. Quite some time passed, and he was certain that Wang Qiyao must have long fallen asleep, when she suddenly called out his name. He was surprised to hear her call him.
“What is it?”
Wang Qiyao hesitated before asking, “Can’t you get to sleep?”
“I think I got all the sleep I needed when I passed out earlier!”
“That’s not what I meant. . . .”
“I think I know quite well what you meant,” insisted Mr. Cheng.
“I don’t think so. . . .”
Mr. Cheng laughed, “Of course I do.”
“If you understand what I meant, then why don’t you tell me...?”
“If that’s what you want, I will then,” replied Mr. Cheng. “You meant that all this time we have been but just one step away from taking our relationship somewhere else. And if I were to take that step, you would not refuse me.”
Wang Qiyao marveled at Mr. Cheng’s perceptiveness, especially since he usually came off so stiff and bookish. Embarrassed, she tried to find an excuse to explain things away. “I know I don’t deserve you . . . and that’s why I wanted to wait for you to make the first move.”
Mr. Cheng laughed again. He felt extremely relaxed, as if floating on air. When he spoke, it felt almost as if someone else was doing the talking, but the words that came out were indeed his deepest and most honest inner thoughts.
“We talked about taking that one last step. . . . Well, I have been waiting practically half my life to take that step. But it’s not as easy as it sounds. Have you ever heard the saying, ‘People can be a short distance away, yet poles apart’? There are a lot of things in life that simply can’t be forced.”
Wang Qiyao remained silent and Mr. Cheng, unconcerned as to whether she was really listening, continued to pour out the feelings he had accumulated inside himself all those years. He explained how he had long ago come to understand this principle. So long as they could be close friends, confidants, he thought, his life would not have been in vain. But once people are together, it is as the saying goes: “A boat sailing against the current must forge ahead or else be driven back.”
“I would be lying if I said that I didn’t have the desire to forge ahead . . . but when the boat won’t go forward anymore . . . all I can do is turn back.”
After a long silence, he suddenly asked, “Kang Mingxun is the father, isn’t he?”
Wang Qiyao laughed, “What does it matter whether he is or not?”
Mr. Cheng grew a bit self-conscious. “I was only asking.”
The two of them turned over, away from each other, and before long they were both fast asleep, snoring lightly.
The following day Mr. Cheng did not show up at Wang Qiyao’s after work—he went to see Jiang Lili instead. He had called her at her office, and they agreed to meet on Tilan Bridge. By the time Mr. Cheng arrived, Jiang Lili was already standing there waiting, constantly looking at her watch. She had clearly arrived too early but insisted on blaming Mr. Cheng for being late. Mr. Cheng refused to argue with her. They found a small restaurant nearby, went in, and ordered a few dishes. As soon as the waiter turned away, Mr. Cheng bent over the table and started to cry, a stream of tears falling steadily on the bleached table cloth. Jiang Lili could pretty much figure out what had happened, but made no effort to comfort him. All she offered was silence as she silently fixed her gaze on the ashen wall, which had recently been stained a pale white. At that moment, all Mr. Cheng was focused on was his own pain, and he made no effort to understand what Jiang Lili might be feeling. Even people as good-natured and generous as Mr. Cheng can become extremely selfish and unfair in love. They tiptoe around their loved ones, fearful of giving offense; but with the people who love them they are thoroughly inconsiderate and arrogant, behaving like spoiled brats. This was what had motivated him to seek out Jiang Lili.
Jiang Lili did not speak for a long time. Then, seeing that he was still crying, she sneered, “What’s wrong? Went out and got your heart broken, did you?”
Mr. Cheng gradually stopped crying and sat in silence. Jiang Lili had the urge to taunt him further, but, taking pity on him, softened up. “You know, it seems like the harder we try to get something, the more elusive it becomes. But when we don’t want something, it ends up falling into our lap.”
Mr. Cheng asked softly, “And what if one gives up on something but it still remains elusive?”
Jiang Lili was livid. She raised her voice, “What, are all the women in the world dead? Don’t tell me that I’m the only one left? Sent here to listen to you ramble on about your grievances over her?”
Mr. Cheng lowered his head contritely and was silent. Jiang Lili also gave up speaking to him, and the two of them sat for some time in an awkward silence.
In the end, it was Mr. Cheng who continued. “Actually, I came here to ask a favor of you. . . . I’m not sure what made me break down like that. I’m so sorry.”
Somewhat mollified, Jiang Lili told him to go ahead and say what he had to say.
“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and you are the only one I can go to for help. I know it’s not right, but there is no one else I can turn to.”
“Whatever it is, let’s hear it!”
Mr. Cheng explained that he would never again visit Wang Qiyao. He wanted to ask Jiang Lili to look out for her. Jiang Lili did not know whether to be angry or bitter.
It took a long time before she managed to say, “Well I guess all the women in the world
are
dead . . . even me.”
are
dead . . . even me.”
Mr. Cheng took her ridicule in stride and Jiang Lili stopped herself from saying more.
Wang Qiyao waited for Mr. Cheng’s return. She waited several days, but in the end it was Jiang Lili who came to visit. She had come straight from work in Yangshupu and had had to transfer several times on the bus. By the time she got there, her hair was disheveled, her shoes were covered with dust, and she was quite hoarse. She carried a netted bag stuffed with fruits, crackers, milk powder, and a barely used bed sheet. She emptied everything out onto the table before Wang Qiyao could stop her, and with several forceful motions, ripped the bed sheet into several small pieces to be used as diapers.
An Old Friend Flew Off on a Yellow CraneEventually, Wang Qiyao also paid a visit to Jiang Lili. By that time Jiang Lili had moved from the model village on the outskirts of town to the Huaihai district, where she was only two bus stops away from Wang Qiyao’s place. It was a Sunday and Wang Qiyao went out to pay the water and electric bills after putting her daughter down for her afternoon nap. The day was fine and, with time to kill after her errands, she decided to do some window shopping on her way home. Suddenly, she heard someone calling her—it was Jiang Lili. She was holding a roll of dark blue material; she was on her way to the tailor to have a pair of pants made, she said. Wang Qiyao took a closer look at the fabric and, seeing that it was common polyester, volunteered to make the pants for her.
“Are you sure?” Jiang Lili asked. “Well, in that case, let’s go to your place so that you can measure me.”
After a few steps, she suddenly stopped. “On second thought, why don’t you come to my place instead? You have never been there.”
So they turned around and headed in the direction of the Huaihai district. Jiang Lili’s apartment was on the ground floor, with a pair of large south-facing rooms and one smaller room facing north. She also had a small garden in the front courtyard, but instead of plants there were only a few bamboo poles for hanging out the laundry.
The walls of the apartment had been whitewashed unevenly, and looked as though they were not dry. The floor, waxed on a regular basis by arrangement with the property management office, was marred here and there by uneven water stains that made it too look wet. With the doors of the apartment left wide open and all the rooms connected, the constant traffic up and down the staircase, situated right outside the front door, made the apartment feel like a busy alley.
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