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Authors: Wang Anyi

Song of Everlasting Sorrow (57 page)

BOOK: Song of Everlasting Sorrow
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Over time Zhang Yonghong came to prefer dragging Weiwei along when she went out on her dates. Weiwei was there to serve as a “light bulb”—the current slang for an unofficial chaperone—but she could also be the audience and turn the date into an exhibition, which was just what Zhang Yonghong wanted. Other girls wouldn’t have agreed to serve as the “light bulb” so readily, but Weiwei didn’t mind. She enjoyed having a good time and even repeatedly thanked Zhang Yonghong for bringing her along. She was also at the age when she was beginning to notice boys. Boys and girls at her school didn’t speak to one another. They put up a front of being reserved while secretly hoping for interactions with the opposite sex. Weiwei could hardly contain her excitement whenever Zhang Yonghong brought her along on her dates, and, often forgetting her role as the “light bulb,” would get into the conversation, but Zhang Yonghong never got upset with her; in fact, she seemed pleased. At first the boy thought Weiwei was too pushy and calling too much attention to herself; Zhang Yonghong seemed to be deliberately pushing her toward him, and he felt frustrated that his solicitude was being wasted on the wrong girl. Gradually, however, he came to realize that he was getting nowhere with Zhang Yonghong. Facing the pain of rejection, and prompted by Weiwei’s bubbling enthusiasm, he unconsciously began to shift his interest onto her. He was aware that he was settling for second best—but then young people are adept at finding things to be cheerful about. This did, however, lead to a subtle change in the ranking of the girls in his estimation. How could Zhang Yonghong fail to notice? As soon as she became conscious of what was happening, she immediately dumped him. It is always best to be the first to act. That way she could console herself with the thought that Weiwei’s boyfriend was one of her rejects.
Weiwei was surprised and delighted whenever she was asked to go out on a date alone with the boy, although she feigned reluctance. That wasn’t because she was worried about selling herself short by picking up one of Zhang Yonghong’s rejects; this was simply the way a girl was supposed to respond when a boy asked her out, or so she thought. This much she had learned from Zhang Yonghong. She also learned from her about switching boyfriends, but all of her boyfriends came only after Zhang Yonghong culled them out of her herd. Still Weiwei continued to admire Zhang Yonghong deeply, following her every move and observing her dating strategies, and could not wait to put them into practice. But no matter how hard she tried, what she learned from Zhang Yonghong was all very superficial, and she could not change who she was deep down inside. First, unlike Zhang Yonghong, she had trouble resisting the kindness of others; moreover, she herself was naturally inclined to treat people with courtesy and warmth. She didn’t have the heart to chew men up and spit them out the way her friend did, and she was never good at putting on airs. Being in the position of the observer, moreover, she was able to judge whom she really liked with detachment. And so, after a succession of dates, she found herself a steady boyfriend. He may not have been a raging bull of passion, but he appeared stable and there seemed to be a future between them. They saw each other once or twice a week, going window shopping or out to the movies. Their good-byes were never drawn out, but neither of them ever blew off a date. It was the kind of love that could preserve its purity all the way up until their wedding night. You say it sounds boring; well, perhaps it was. But that is how countless happy and harmonious marriages begin. By this time Weiwei was already interning at a local city hospital, where she was a surgical nurse.
Weiwei’s Boyfriend
 
Weiwei’s boyfriend was named Lin, and he was three years older than she. His father, an engineer at the gas company, wasn’t that old, but he had suffered greatly during the Cultural Revolution and had taken early retirement because of his poor health, letting his son, working under him as a repair technician, take his slot. Xiao Lin worked during the day and studied on his own at night. He had applied to college but unfortunately didn’t make the cut. He was now preparing to reapply the following year. Because he had failed in his pursuit of both higher education and his first love, Zhang Yonghong, he tended to look gloomy and subdued—a perfect complement to Weiwei. Her lively and uncomplicated nature was without doubt exactly what he needed, while his silence toned down Weiwei’s impetuousness, making her more sedate. They were a perfect couple and couldn’t have gotten along better.
Girls like Weiwei may not be the most sophisticated thinkers, but they know how to follow that voice inside them. This instinct never deceived her and seldom let her down, leading her to reap unforeseen benefits. Instincts do not work for girls with the intelligence and sensitivity of Zhang Yonghong, yet their intelligence and sensitivity are insufficient to prevent them from making mistakes. The truly wise know how to transform instinct into its own breed of logic; that way they can still follow their inner voice. The way this works is like a double negative coming out as a positive. Maybe Weiwei was better off not having to go around in circles.
The first time Wang Qiyao saw Xiao Lin, she couldn’t help thinking:
Now this is what you call,
“
a fool ends up with a fool
’
s luck!
” Weiwei did not need to tell Wang Qiyao that Xiao Lin had been one of Zhang Yonghong’s boyfriends. She didn’t think there was anything necessarily wrong with that, and actually felt sorry for Zhang Yonghong, wondering how she could have been so unperceptive as to spurn such suitable husband material.
Xiao Lin lived in an apartment on New Happiness Road, a quiet, shady street, one of the rare places in the city where you could hear the sound of birds, chirping in a nearby garden that had belonged to a tycoon back in Shanghai’s glory days. This endowed Xiao Lin with a serenity and clarity of mind lacking in his peers, who were stamped by the agitation and restlessness of the noisy city. It was plain from his face that he came from a good family. Just by looking at the copper street number sign hanging outside their apartment, Wang Qiyao could guess the kind of lives that were lived behind that door. Life in such a place should have been solid as a rock, but even a place like that could not withstand the passage of time and was showing a tendency to disintegrate. Some of the pressures came from without, such as the forced accommodation of additional families into the building during the Cultural Revolution. Others were internal, such as dissension between brothers leading to the establishment of separate households. If it had been spared those two kinds of catastrophes, life there probably could have continued for at least one more generation—and it would have been a good life, filled with happy, healthy, and peaceful days without harassment, the kind of life so many people struggle for and never achieve.
On this day Wang Qiyao sent a solemn invitation asking Zhang Yonghong to come over so that she could learn more about Xiao Lin. In reality, this wasn’t exactly her intention; she had already heard most of what she wanted to know from Weiwei’s own loose lips. What Wang Qiyao really wanted to do was to give notice to Zhang Yonghong that Xiao Lin was now Weiwei’s boyfriend. She was wary that Zhang Yonghong might change her mind and interfere with the new relationship. Wang Qiyao understood that Weiwei was no match for Zhang Yonghong, especially given how easily the embers of love could flare up again among young people. Partly too, she wanted to offer Zhang Yonghong a bit of consolation. Zhang Yonghong had sensed the nature of the invitation and, as soon as the subject was broached, she immediately declared her enthusiastic support for the new couple, even taking credit for introducing them. Wang Qiyao couldn’t help but marvel at the girl’s intelligence and arrogance. But she was still a child after all, and lacked an adult’s suavity. Her performance was far too exaggerated and seemed unnatural. Wang Qiyao could see her disappointment and her heart went out to this girl who had no adults looking out for her and had now to contend with an adult adversary. Out of guilt, she changed the subject and asked her if she had found a steady boyfriend. Zhang Yonghong was surprised by the question, but didn’t say anything.
“Don’t tell me that, out of all those boys,” said Wang Qiyao, “none of them suits your fancy?”
Zhang Yonghong remained silent, but her eyes started to turn red. Wang Qiyao’s comments seemed to have touched off something inside her.
Wang Qiyao heaved a sigh. “I’ll say what I’ve said before: they may all be clamoring for you today, but in the blink of an eye they’ll be running like startled animals. Women have only so much time to settle down. Those who miss the boat are mostly smart, beautiful girls like you.”
Zhang Yonghong lowered her head and remained silent for a long time before replying, “Which one of them did you think was good for me?”
Wang Qiyao laughed at her childish mannerisms. “Why does what I think matter? It’s what
you
think that is important!”
Zhang Yonghong also laughed. “Please . . .” she implored with a touch of childish beseeching, “I want to hear your opinion.”
“Well, I don’t have an opinion,” responded Wang Qiyao.
“You gave Weiwei your opinion about her boyfriend. How come you can’t help me?” Zhang Yonghong pleaded.
Although she didn’t mean anything in particular by this question, it made Wang Qiyao uncomfortable. After a brief pause, she replied, “If you want to know the truth, I never told Weiwei half the things I shared with you. You are much sharper than her, but sometimes I’m afraid that you are too smart for your own good.”
Zhang Yonghong didn’t say anything more. The two of them sat facing each other in silence for a while before Zhang Yonghong took her leave.
In the meantime, Weiwei’s boyfriend Xiao Lin was at a critical phase in his preparation for the college entrance exams, which naturally meant that he had less time to spend with her. Wang Qiyao noticed how bored and lonely Weiwei was and couldn’t help worrying that all this talk of “preparing for the exam” was merely an excuse. But then again, she realized that her daughter was not in immediate danger of becoming an old maid; even if it didn’t work out with Xiao Lin, she would still have plenty of opportunities to find a proper man. But she was still worried. At ten o’clock that night, after Weiwei had already showered and gone to bed, Xiao Lin unexpectedly called out to her from the
longtang
below. Weiwei went down in her nightgown and didn’t come back up. Wang Qiyao figured that she wouldn’t go far in her nightgown, but went to check up on her under the pretext of going to buy mosquito-repellent incense. At the end of the
longtang
she saw two figures standing at the intersection under the streetlight. There was a bicycle between them and they were talking. Weiwei was, as was her wont, acting silly, bearing her fangs and brandishing her claws to show how tough she was; the sound of her laughter carried deep into the night. Wang Qiyao sneaked back home. As she opened the door and stepped inside she felt calm, but was also struck with a feeling of emptiness. The feeling was set off by the empty room, where the only other presence was her shadow. The mirror on her nightstand was even more unbearable; standing outside the mirror and reflected within it was the same lonely soul. She should not have looked. Just as she was standing there, she heard Weiwei come flapping up the stairs in her slippers.
“Why did Xiao Lin come by so late?” asked Wang Qiyao.
“He got sick of studying and needed a break. He thought seeing me would help him relax.”
“Next time invite him up for some watermelon,” suggested Wang Qiyao.
“Who cares about watermelon?”
The next time Xiao Lin came over, he called Weiwei outside again for another evening chat under the streetlight. This time, however, Wang Qiyao walked over to them and told Weiwei that she had to pick up a few things at the store. She said she had left the door open and asked if Weiwei and her friend could go back and keep an eye on the place. Weiwei felt she had no choice but to drag Xiao Lin home, grumbling the whole time about how senseless her mother was to have forgotten to lock the door. The two of them went upstairs and talked about all kinds of things, and in the absence of Wang Qiyao they both felt much more at ease. Xiao Lin walked around the apartment; pointing at the walnut chest, he commented, “This is an antique.”
He went over to the mirror on the nightstand. “This is too, and it’s still in good shape.”
“Since when do mirrors go out of shape?” Weiwei replied.
Xiao Lin laughed but didn’t argue with her. Examining a pearly bed curtain he concluded that this too was an antique.
“So, to you,” Weiwei retorted, “our house is a second-hand store?” Xiao Lin knew she had misunderstood him, but didn’t try to explain. It was at that moment that Wang Qiyao came upstairs carrying several blocks of ice cream; she went into the kitchen for plates and spoons to serve them. The two young people were a bit edgy after their last exchange and neither spoke. Wang Qiyao asked Xiao Lin a series of questions, such as how his preparation for the exam was going and where the exam was to be held. Weiwei took the liberty of answering most of the questions for him. Xiao Lin couldn’t seem to get a word in edgewise and resorted to staring down at the floral patterns and gold rims on the plates; he was thinking to himself how rare it was to see such fine china these days. Xiao Lin may have been young, but he had a deep nostalgia for the past and was fond of everything old, not because he had ever enjoyed those things, but precisely because he had never had the opportunity. Everything he knew of the old days he learned from stories his parents told him; it was inevitable that they should have a few good memories, living in that old apartment of theirs. Xiao Lin saw in the things at Wang Qiyao’s apartment the remains of the old days; though they were just odds and ends, he could perceive that they were real.
BOOK: Song of Everlasting Sorrow
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