Can Xue - Five Spice Street

The young coal worker got up his nerve to reveal his private life. The first assumption was apparently unfounded, so he talked of the second. He confessed his unrequited love over a long period of muddle-headedness-the dirty images in his mind in which he was always the master, as naked as the day he was born, incomparably ugly, while Madam X was seen only in shadow from the rear. He described every move he might possibly make, confusing his fantasies about Madam X with his carnal experiences with Old Woman Jin. Not blinking an eye, she urged him to continue. She stroked his lower abdomen and lightly kissed his cheek as if comforting a baby. Whenever he dozed off, the widow mercilessly woke him. “You’re still a long way from your new life!’’ she would say. And so he summoned energy and went on talking, and then dozed off again. Hard as nails, the widow woke him up again. His face gradually started tingling, his eyes bulged out in a scary way, and he started to drool. When he finally closed his eyes and fell sound asleep, the widow went to the kitchen, ladled out some water, and splashed it over him. ‘‘This is good. This is effective. Don’t relax. Go on talking. It’s your only way out!’’ she chided.

In the work shed facing the street, these two had become the vanguard of Five Spice Street. They weren’t at all isolated from the outside world. One piece of information after another leaked out from the work shed, causing tidal waves among the people. They dreamed in their rundown homes, and a world of dreams hung over all of the ordinary people. It was the world in which they lived their daily lives. A little forgetful, a little absent-minded, they always shoved ‘‘the matter’’ to the back of their minds. But now their enthusiasm for life was greatly elevated by these two vanguardists. Something that had happened not long before also substantiated this. Not long ago, Madam X’s husband’s good friend announced that Madam X’s new lover, P, known only through hearsay, had already made contact with the lady! With this news, the people who had begun to relax were aroused again, and they felt they couldn’t survive without these two vanguardists, never mind that they lived in the work shed and slept on stones. Finding other such selfless civil servants would not be easy.

Approaching fifty, the widow now had an even more transcendent demeanor. After acting as the young coal worker’s mentor in the work shed for five days and five nights, she donned her oversized black robe to cover her generous curves. Walking soberly ahead on the main road like a mass of black clouds, she commanded the respect and admiration of the people on Five Spice Street. The people no longer referred to the widow’s past ‘‘sex appeal.’’ Or if they did, it had nothing to do with her present state; rather, they spoke of the seductive person she used to be, like the ‘‘pretty girls under the camellia trees.’’ Wrapped in the black robe, she was even more charming, in a way that excluded sexual desire, like the ocean, the rainbow, the primeval forest, the distant stars all over the sky. It was mysterious and serene, as pleasant as fresh air-healthy, solemn, and graceful: it drew people from the ground to the clouds; it was as magical as a meeting in paradise. Just one glance at her would turn even a lusty, wild young guy into someone earnest and noble. Your lust would turn into fuel for work, or the inspiration for art, or the pursuit of ideals.

Third, the widow’s penetrating vision (this manifested itself in discussing sexual problems, in vindicating traditional standards of taste, in sizing up our male compatriots, and so forth) precisely represented our Five Spice Street’s people’s extraordinary talent. Every one of us has eyes like a structurally complex microscope and telescope. (Who needs the stuff Madam X played with?) We maintained our composure because we were so excellent. Otherwise, X’s puzzling sorcery and her preposterous behavior would have disturbed our social system. Instead, we advanced. Outsiders thought it inconceivable! Madam X talked a lot of nonsense, such as ‘‘no one here paid attention to his or her eyes,’’ they ‘‘didn’t look in mirrors,’’ and so forth. Her superficial mind could not possibly comprehend our self-knowledge and ability to take the initiative. We were born with this ability, this vision. We had long since observed our physiological structure and its function. What good would come of racking our brains or playing with mirrors and other such things? Madam X’s ‘‘narrow views’’ weren’t worth refuting. The facts contradict her remarks: Madam X didn’t discover something in the mirror (even though, time after time, she announced her discoveries); rather, our innate vision penetrated her and revealed her plain as day. Her deceit didn’t help. We sat down quietly and solemnly under the eaves, and all our problems were ‘‘automatically solved.’’

The best demonstration of our vision was that we knew what happened in the granary. Did anyone investigate this mystery? Did anyone collect information about it? No. We seemed indifferent to it. Each of us was drowsy from our own worries, but when this case was discussed, we all seized hold of it as if it were our own experience. We couldn’t tell you how, but we just knew we had ‘‘seen’’ everything, although each of us might have seen it differently. If necessary, we could have seen all the details before it even began! Only people with penetrating vision could so focus their thought. It also made us superior at analysis and logic. Outsiders would have been puzzled and confused by the granary incident. They might think about it for the better part of a day and still come up with nothing and then leave in disappointment. They would have seen nothing. Their heads would be empty of any image, of even a hypothesis. The people of Five Spice Street had only to assemble once in the dark room to solve this knotty problem. Without even moving their lips everyone understood.

So we can posit that the widow’s vision wasn’t hers alone: it wasn’t any better than that of ordinary people. We appreciated her and admired her, not because of something special about her (for example, like X), but precisely because she represented the interests of the ordinary people. It was only because of this that we planned to consider her a genius in the future (this commitment would be cashed in only at the point of death, so she experienced the same kind of trials as the writer; before that, only the writer could identify her as a genius). Thinking of her is always associated with thinking of ourselves, and a tender feeling of attachment is born. The more we look at her beautiful eyes, the more familiar and warm we feel. Such eye contact always stimulates sublime ideas.

Madam X’s gaze is different. It is the gaze of a stranger, blank and unnatural. It frightens you. You get goose bumps. It’s difficult to make eye contact with her for more than five seconds. Even a quick glance will confuse and disorient you. Her gaze doesn’t belong to any category known to us. Perhaps we can say that it doesn’t fit into any category at all. It is simply her foolishness and represents only her abominable inclinations. Everyone abhors it. Even if she stares at your back, you stamp your feet in fury as if it were attempted murder (like murder with a soft knife-referred to above). Hadn’t she already killed Q with ‘‘saffron light waves’’? Who could guarantee the safety of P or Y, who would appear later? And who could guarantee that she wouldn’t pass this power down to her son, Little Bao, so that this evil would continue? No one could guarantee any of this. Therefore, we could only adopt the strategy of using our own gaze to ‘‘exclude’’ her. She had no way to deal with this strategy. After we came up with this strategy, we decided that except for doing business with her, no one should linger in front of her shop, and if we had to buy things from her, we should also avoid eye contact. We were particularly tense. As soon as we entered the snack shop, we squatted and wished we could make ourselves small (everyone knew that either X’s glance was level or else she looked up. She never looked down. That’s why we chose this special posture). Or we would stand outside the door and reach inside to pay, take the purchase, and run off. Someone wore a long red gown and red spectacles when buying things at the snack shop because X particularly abhorred red and would ward off the red rays with her hand. How then could she see the person?