Bi Feiyu - Three Sisters

Naturally Fenghua’s name did not appear that way in Yuyang’s diary; it was represented by the letter P. Pang Fenghua was now just P. As mysterious as P might be, she would not come to a good end. How could she? She simply couldn’t. Yuyang was not just keeping a record; she was also analyzing the data. Using impeccable logic, she compared the times listed in the diary and reached a definitive conclusion—Pang Fenghua was in love. When Saturday rolled around, she gave herself a thorough cleaning, including her teeth.

Except for going out to see someone, why else would she do that? That was point one.

Point two: Pang’s love interest was still unknown, but in Yuyang’s view, it could very likely be the homeroom teacher. Leaving other possible signs aside, Yuyang noticed that he had been ignoring Pang for a while. He never asked her a question during class, and sometimes he even avoided looking in her direction. That was a new wrinkle, one that could only invite suspicion. When someone tries too hard to hide something, they usually wind up drawing attention to it.

Point three: Except for Saturday, which clearly was their meeting day, they occasionally saw each other on Mondays or Wednesdays. Yuyang had yet to determine where they met, and that was something she needed to work on. She had to increase her surveillance, but she was confident that all the secrets would be exposed like sprouting seeds. All she had to do was follow and observe Fenghua a while longer. As time went by, it became easier to detect a routine in her movements, and routine meant regularity. That would help explain the situation. Regularity is the biggest and most powerful thumbtack that, with adequate pressure, can pin you to the pillar of shame and humiliation.

To be absolutely accurate, Yuyang began tailing Pang Fenghua and digging up dirt on her simply as part of her job; she had no particular motives of her own. After a while, though, she found to her surprise that she had developed a fondness for the job. It was a good job, which she became so powerfully addicted to that she didn’t think she could give it up. She was convinced that even if Pang Fenghua had not offended her, she’d still have enjoyed the work.

Nothing escaped her attention; she saw everything. This was a special gift, an extra reward from life that gave her an extraordinary sense of accomplishment. No wonder Wei Xiangdong wanted to cultivate “all-hearing ears” and “far-seeing eyes.” She found it easy to like whatever he liked. It was simply perfect; her life was filled with all sorts of activities, colors, trepidation, and stirring emotions when she hid in dark corners to ferret out others’ secrets. She was grateful to life and to her job.

And yet Yuyang was not happy, not really. Something still weighed on her; it was the money order, a zombie that had come back to life and opened its eyes to glare at her. She saw it, an eerie blue light: the light of death. It was during the afternoon extracurricular activities period when it reentered her life. Teacher Wei walked up and asked her to come with him to the duty office. She did not want to go, not now, not ever, for whenever she saw that building, she was reminded of how she’d bared her body for Teacher Wei. But she had no choice; she had to go, especially when Wei mentioned the money order, so she followed him without a word.

The money order lay on Wei’s desk. He said nothing, nor did she. But as she looked down at it, a sense of calmness came over her, and she sneered inwardly as she realized what he had in mind. He might be older and appear proper, but what he wanted was simple enough—to touch her.

How repulsive.

It was at that moment that Yuyang began to despise him. How she looked down on him now! Though her fear had not abated, she now knew that she had the psychological advantage, so she waited calmly, thinking to herself: Let’s see what you’ve got to say. Let’s hear how you conduct this transaction. Even if I’m willing to go along, I want to see the money order and verify its authenticity, then I want to see it turn to ashes before you can have what you want from me. I tell you, Wei, I’ve seen through you.

Without betraying his feelings, Wei took out a lighter. To light a cigarette?

No. Instead, he held the money order in one hand and the lighter in the other as he walked up to her. She examined the piece of paper and decided that it was indeed hers, with her handwriting. The lighter flicked on and the yellow flame licked the money order, which curled in the flame, turning first to smoke and then to ashes.

Yuyang stared blankly at it, trying to sort things out as the ashes settled to the floor. Wei put his foot down and erased everything, sending “ashes flying when the smoke dies down” in the words of Su Dongpo. That was not what she’d expected, so she stole a glance at Wei, who remained composed. Guilt feelings crept up inside her as she reproached herself for mistaking his good intentions as an evil scheme.

Tears of remorse wetted her face. Wei laid his right hand on her left shoulder and patted it twice, which served to increase her guilt. She covered her face, but a loud thump made her open her eyes. To her astonishment, Wei was kneeling in front of her, silent tears flowing from his upturned face. It was an ugly sight to behold; his mouth was open, his arms raised in the air. He inched forward on his knees and wrapped his arms around her legs. “Yuyang.”

Now she was truly frightened. No. Stunned.

“Yuyang, help me! Please help me, Yuyang.”

Her will softened, and so did her legs. She slumped to the floor and blurted out, “Please don’t be like that, Teacher Wei. I beg you. You can touch me wherever you like.”

Yuyang did not expect to bleed so much. She shouldn’t have; where had all that blood come from? It stained a towel, but in the end it stopped, though the pain remained. And she was not the only one who was shocked by the bleeding.

Wei cried again, his forehead drenched in sweat and his hand covered in blood. But he ignored her as if nothing interested him except the blood on his hand, as if the blood was Yuyang, for he kept saying tearfully to his fingers, “Yuyang, ah, Yuyang! Yuyang, ah, Yuyang!” The way he called out her name was touching. “Yuyang, ah, Yuyang! Yuyang, ah, Yuyang!”

All night long she was tormented by a terrible dream in which she was surrounded by a tangle of snakes. There were so many of them, like baskets of noodles, knotted, twisted, and snarled. They were sticky and slimy, writhing, roiling, surging, and slithering. Worse yet, she was naked and the snakes glided over her bare skin, cold and chilly. She wanted to run, but couldn’t. She could only move her hands. But finally she was running, with the teachers and students cheering her on, and the loudspeaker blaring, “Yuyang, ah, Yuyang! Yuyang, ah, Yuyang!”

She ran as if her life depended on it until she reached the finish line of the 10,000-meter race.

Why wasn’t she ashamed of her nakedness? How could she be so shameless?

Then the PA system crackled to life, and someone was talking. It was Wei, waving a red flag in one hand and holding a microphone in the other.

“Pay attention, everyone,” he shouted. “Look carefully. Yuyang is dressed. Let me repeat, Yuyang is wearing clothes. She did not steal the twenty yuan. It wasn’t her.” And that put her mind at ease. With Wei around, it didn’t matter whether she was naked or not, because with his announcement, she would be clothed one way or the other.

She woke up early the following morning, and as she lay in bed she was sure she was sick. But she moved around a bit and did not feel any discomfort; except for the dull pain down below, everything else felt fine. She got up and took a few steps; she was fine. As she sat on the edge of the bed, she realized that she had dreamed all night, but she was unable to recall her dreams.