Can Xue - Five Spice Street

‘‘I want to tell you now: Madam X couldn’t be the way she is in your imaginations. That is an inconceivable joke. In this perfectly mature society of ours, behavior is governed by iron discipline. This has become second nature. It guarantees peace and harmony. If now someone-who knows whether she’s come from outer space or has simply grown out of the earth-shows up who is not part of this society and manipulates our collective will and makes us into dolls for her to hold, how can people come to see this? Isn’t this the same as saying that our society is merely a plaything that can be manipulated and changed at will? Wouldn’t this embarrass our elite? Thinking of this makes me really indignant. Some of us have college degrees and strict social training; some have taken on important leadership roles in the meetings in the dark room. They’re imperturbable and capable of analyzing facts. For some years, I have trusted them almost unconditionally and supported their work. Now it seems I’ve been glaringly wrong! My simplicity and sincerity have brought me to an awkward pass. I’ve been tossed aside and ignored. Current fads have swept through the entire street. Everyone competes to trample traditional taste, boisterously congratulating themselves on the so-called ‘rebirth.’ They also say they’ve discovered a new continent: this new continent is Madam X. She’s an ingenious person, with an infinite number of sleights of hand. Everyone should pay attention to her! What happened to our earlier calm?

‘‘Looking back, I still remember clearly how correctly everyone treated a certain stenographer when he came here with his fantasies to undertake an investigation. Really, the people changed greatly. How did this get started? How could it have reached this point? Trying to get to the bottom of it, I have to denounce myself. I feel incredibly remorseful. During a meeting in the dark room last month, all kinds of clues already pointed to today’s crisis. Then, however, I sat behind the platform, looking on with a child’s gullible eyes. I didn’t suspect the dangerous trend in the crowd’s mood. I looked on calmly as everyone slid into the mud hole and wallowed. After the meeting, while the crowd was ready to act and was plotting activities, I was up to my elbows with something else and didn’t have time to warn and deter everyone. Thus, things went from bad to worse. How could I have been so careless? Was it merely because of objective conditions? Was it a chance mistake? Most people would avoid the blame this way, and would even depict themselves as suffering heroes. But this is not the way I operate. Not only must I accept responsibility for all the mistakes, but I must also examine the squalor in my soul and find out where the root of my mistake lies.

‘‘I remember clearly that I’ve been gullible since childhood. I used to glorify everyone who was around me, and looked only at the bright side of people. If someone stole something of mine, I not only wouldn’t ask for it back, but I would also give him some other things. Touched by this, he would become my friend for life. Later, as a young person, I married the right man and regarded my husband as my protector god. I trusted him completely and was docile and obedient. I turned away from all outside temptations. Maybe my husband wasn’t as perfect as I had thought, and maybe he had already fallen ill with an unmentionable disease and hushed it up when we got married, but none of this could keep me from feeling great ardor. Even now, I feel this ardor and don’t waste it on outsiders. I’m bringing this up not because I want to overthrow the past but because I want to explain where the weak part of my character came from. When my husband was alive, someone mentioned a certain instance of his being unfaithful. I was so outraged I let out a stream of abuse at that person! To outsiders I was a very sexy young woman as beautiful as flowers, tied down by a nearly disabled man who had actually duped me. What kind of lamentable joke was this? Why couldn’t I get a little happiness by finding someone else?

Couldn’t I accomplish this just by crooking my little finger? A person’s nature sets the course of her whole life. I was doomed to stick up for the traditional morality. Today, I’m still proud of this.

‘‘I don’t deny my weaknesses, nor do I deny that my weaknesses have affected the course of history. If I were a little stronger, a little more vigilant, not so innocent and gullible, lots of things would now be different. This is the fatal weakness of ‘being a good sort.’ I want to take responsibility for the losses that came because of my weakness, and I also want to locate the reason deep in my soul, because I’m the key to everyone’s mistakes. All of this could have been averted. I’m ashamed of myself when I face this depressing situation.’’

Preoccupied by the massive surveillance of Madam X and her family, we had ignored Mr. Q. His nerves showed signs of cracking. As time went on he became an invalid. A strong woman in our community who hadn’t participated in the tailing launched her own creative initiative. After days and nights of observing and reflecting, she told us: two snakes were scrambling for control of Mr. Q’s body, which resulted in his becoming two completely different persons-one by day, one by night.

One day, she hid in the bushes beside the road and saw Mr. Q leave his home. He was unimaginably cheerful, dribbling a ball and running like a child. Watching this, the woman (she was the lame one) became indignant! Unbelievably annoyed! Supporting herself with her canes, she dashed up, blocked Mr. Q’s way, and shouted, ‘‘Hey!’’ Then she began rolling around in the middle of the road, glaring at him through the mist. The surprising thing was that Mr. Q actually ‘‘broke through,’’ leaving her rolling on the ground alone. In the blink of an eye, he ‘‘disappeared.’’ A few hours later, she noticed him twice near a warehouse; both times, he was happily dribbling the ball. As soon as he saw her, he disappeared again without a trace.

The same day, she had gone to Mr. Q’s work place to make inquiries. Some people wrapped from head to toe in heavy blankets told her Mr. Q even brings the ball to the office and bounces it from time to time, as if he were addicted. Everyone knows he’s abnormal; and the ball doesn’t sound right, either. No one dares talk to him. As soon as they see him coming, they run off, leaving him alone in the office, dribbling the ball all day long.

They grumble, ‘‘This menace will affect our sex life. The dust might give us tuberculosis. Now we all feel cold.’’ They sigh in despair and weep.

Mr. Q’s behavior stimulated this woman’s imagination. She continued her work even more actively and bravely. One day near evening, leaning on her canes, she chiseled her way into Mr. Q’s den. With blue-veined hands, she grabbed Mr. Q’s collar, stared into his eyes, and ordered him ‘‘to come to her.’’ People suppose that what she yearned for didn’t occur. What on earth did she desire? What was gnawing at her? Afterwards, she told others, ‘‘I wanted to play ball with him. I yearned for this constantly. Now I’ve achieved my goal. We shut his wife outside and played all through the night.’’ This was a certain woman’s (she adamantly requested that her background and name not be divulged) investigation of Mr. Q’s daytime activity. The facts in this report need further validation.

Maybe the stories that Madam X’s sister spread can explain this even better. She reported that Mr. Q had told her that he’d added five more colors to his eyes and now has ten. This occurred because he ‘‘was addicted’’ to dribbling the ball, which let him ‘‘defy aging and become young again.’’ He immersed himself in all kinds of child’s play and ‘‘liked it too much to stop.’’ Indirectly, he also told the sister that Madam X was ‘‘too wonderful for words,’’ and he himself now had to look in mirrors ‘‘forty or fifty times a day.’’ He had already ‘‘quite unconsciously hidden a mirror in his pocket.’’ At this point, he asked the sister time after time, ‘‘Don’t you think I’m now a real stud?’’ After the sister reassured him, he happily ran off to dribble the ball.