Leonard Michaels - The Collected Stories

Years pass. Unable to find a way to live, Goo and Neiping fall in with a guerrilla triad. Neiping becomes its leader. Inspired by Neiping, who’d become expert in metals while living with Kang, the triad undertakes to study British war technology. Neiping says they can produce cannons, which could be used against opium merchants. The emperor will be pleased. In fact, he will someday have tons of opium seized and destroyed. But there is no way to approach the emperor until Neiping learns that Dulu, her dear friend in the brothel, is now the emperor’s consort. Neiping goes to Dulu.

“The recognition scene,” said Margaret, “is heartbreaking. Dulu has become an icy woman who moves slowly beneath layers of silk. But she remembers herself as the little girl who once cried in the arms of Neiping. She and Neiping are now about twenty-three.”

Through Dulu’s help, Neiping gains the emperor’s support. This enrages Jujuzi, the evil eunuch. Opium trade is in his interest, since he is an addict and a dealer. Everything is threatened by Neiping’s cannons, which are superior to the originals, but the triad’s military strategy is betrayed by Jujuzi. Neiping and Goo are captured by British sailors and jailed.

Margaret said, “Guess what happens next. Kang appears. He has vanished for three hundred pages, but he’s back in the action.”

The British allow Kang to speak to Neiping. He offers to buy her freedom. Neiping says he must also buy Goo’s freedom. Kang says she has no right to ask him to buy her lover’s freedom. Neiping accepts Kang’s offer, and she is freed from jail. She then goes to Dulu and appeals for the emperor’s help in freeing Goo. Jujuzi, frustrated by Neiping’s escape, demands justice for Goo. The British, who are in debt to Jujuzi, look the other way while he tortures Goo to death.

The emperor, who has heard Neiping’s appeal through Dulu, asks to see Neiping. The emperor knows Goo is dead. He was told by Jujuzi. But the emperor is moved by Neiping’s beauty and her poignant concern to save the already dead Goo. The emperor tells her that he will save him, but she must forget Goo. Then he says that Neiping, like Dulu, will be his consort. In the final chapter, Neiping is heavy with the emperor’s child. She and Dulu wander in the palace gardens. Jujuzi watches the lovely consorts passing amid flowers, and he remembers in slow, microscopic detail the execution of Neiping’s lover.

“What a story.”

“I left most of it out.”

“Is that so?”

“You think it’s boring.”

“No.”

“You do.”

“Don’t tell me what I think. That’s annoying.”

“Do you think it’s boring?”

“Yes, but how can I know unless I read the book?”

“Well, I liked it a lot. The last chapter is horribly dazzling and so beautiful. Jujuzi watches Neiping and Dulu stroll in the garden, and he remembers Goo in chains, bleeding from the hundred knives Jujuzi stuck in him. To Jujuzi, everything is aesthetic, knives, consorts, even feelings. He has no balls so he collects feelings. You see? Like jewels in a box.”

Lights went up in the midst of the applause. Margaret said, “Aren’t you glad you came?” Claude Rue bowed. Waves of praise poured onto his head. I applauded, too, a concession to the community. Besides, Margaret loved the lecture. She watched me from the corners of her eyes, suspicious of my enthusiasm. I nodded, as if to say yes, yes. Mainly, I needed to go to the toilet, but I didn’t want to do anything that might look like a negative comment on the lecture. I’d go when we arrived at the reception for Rue. This decision was fateful. At the reception, in the Faculty Club, I carried a glass of white wine from the bar to Margaret, then went to the men’s room. I stood beside a man who had leaned his cane against the urinal. He patted his straight blond hair with one hand, holding his cock with the other, shaking it. The man was, I suddenly realized, himself, Claude Rue. Surprised into speech, I said I loved his lecture. He said, “You work here?”

Things now seemed to be happening quickly, making thought impossible. I was unable to answer. Exactly what was Rue asking — was I a professor? a men’s room attendant? a toilet cruiser? Not waiting for my answer, he said he’d been promised a certain figure for the lecture. A check, made out to him from the regents of the university, had been delivered to his hotel room. The check shocked him. He’d almost canceled the lecture. He was still distressed, unable to contain himself. He’d hurried to the men’s room, after the lecture, to look at his check again. The figure was less than promised. I was the first to hear about it. Me. A stranger. He was hysterical, maybe, but I felt very privileged. Money talk is personal, especially in a toilet. “You follow me?” he said.

“Yes. You were promised a certain figure. They gave you a check. It was delivered to your hotel room.”

“Precisely. But the figure inscribed on the check is less than promised.”

“Somebody made a mistake.”

“No mistake. Taxes have been deducted. But I came from Paris with a certain understanding. I was to be paid a certain figure. I have the letter of agreement, and the contract.” His green stare, fraught with helpless reproach, held me as he zipped up. He felt that he’d been cheated. He dragged to a sink. His cane, lacquered mahogany, with a black iron ferrule, clacked the tile floor. He washed his hands. Water raged in the sink.

“It’s a mistake, and it can be easily corrected,” I said, speaking to his face in the mirror above the sink. “Don’t worry, Mr. Rue. You’ll get every penny they promised.”

“Will you speak to somebody?” he said, taking his cane. “I’m very upset.”

“Count on it, Mr. Rue.”

“But will you speak to somebody about this matter?”

“Before the evening is over, I’ll have their attention.”

“But will you speak to a person?”

“Definitely.”

I could see, standing close to him, that his teeth were heavily stained by cigarette smoke. They looked rotten. I asked if I might introduce him to a friend of mine. Margaret would get a kick out of meeting Claude Rue, I figured, but I mainly wanted her to see his teeth. He seemed thrown off balance, reluctant to meet someone described as a friend. “My time is heavily scheduled,” he muttered; but, since he’d just asked me for a favor, he shrugged, shouldering obligation. I led him to Margaret. Rue’s green eyes gained brightness. Margaret quickened within, but offered a mere “Hello,” no more, not even the wisp of a smile. She didn’t say she loved his lecture. Was she overwhelmed, having Claude Rue thrust at her like this? The silence was difficult for me, if not for them. Lacking anything else to say, I started to tell Margaret about Rue’s problem with the university check. “It wasn’t the promised amount.” Rue cut me off:

“Money is offal. Not to be discussed.”

His voice was unnaturally high, operatic and crowing at once. He told Margaret, speaking to her eyes — as if I’d ceased to exist — that he would spend the next three days in Berkeley. He was expected at lunches, cocktail parties, and dinner parties. He’d been invited to conduct a seminar, and to address a small gathering at the Asian Art Museum.

“But my lecture is over. I have fulfilled my contract. I owe nothing to anybody.”

Margaret said, “No point, then, cheapening yourself, is there?”

“I will cancel every engagement.”

“How convenient,” she said, hesitated, then gambled, “for us.”

Her voice was flat and black as an ice slick on asphalt, but I could hear, beneath the surface, a faint trembling. I prayed that she would look at Rue’s teeth, which were practically biting her face. She seemed not to notice.