Yu Hua - Boy in the Twilight - Stories of the Hidden China

So she put on a panty liner — with childish obstinacy he had insisted she do this. When she thought of this as fishing and how, in the eyes of her husband, her panty liner was fish bait, she couldn’t help but laugh. If it weren’t for his naive expression, there was no way she would have given in. Sometimes she would puzzle over the fact that in all these five years he had never shown such concern for the arrival of her old friend. After waking from his nap that day, he seemed to have become a different person. She didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about the implications of this change, being more conscious that the late arrival of her period was making her nervous too. In the past, she had never paid much attention to her periods, or at most she would grouse a bit when she had cramps in her belly, but now she had to take it seriously, for she was beginning to believe she maybe was pregnant.

What’s more, this is what he believed too, for he had lost hope that her period would take the bait.

“You’re pregnant, no doubt about it.” He smiled. “You’re going to have to bite the bullet.”

She knew what he was getting at. Letting those chilly instruments into her womb, that was what he meant. “I want this baby,” she said.

“Listen.” He sat back in the sofa, the personification of patience. “It’s too soon to have a child, we don’t have enough money. Your salary is only enough to pay for a nanny. The monthly expenses for a baby would burn up two months’ pay.”

“We won’t have a nanny,” she said.

“This is going to be the death of me.” He was getting hot under the collar.

“I won’t make you do the work. I’ll look after the baby.”

“You’re still a kid yourself. To have one kid is as much as I can manage. If there are two of you,” he said mournfully, “how am I going to survive?”

After a moment, he got to his feet and waved his hand in the air to indicate that the decision had been made. “Get rid of it,” he said.

“You’re not the one who has to do that,” she replied. “And if I have the baby you won’t have to share the pain either.”

“You’re just twenty-four, and I’m just one year older, think about it …”

Now, the two of them were heading toward the hospital. It was afternoon, and they were on their way to confirm she was pregnant. The street was quiet, and he lowered his voice as he walked. “Think about it, if we have a kid now, we’ll have a grandchild before we’re fifty. You’ll be a grandma at forty, when you’ve still got your looks and figure and whatnot. When you’re walking in the street, people will think you’re in your thirties, but you’ll be a grandma. What a pain!”

“I’ve got no problem with being a grandmother.” She threw him a glance.

“But I have a problem with being a grandfather!” he bellowed. Then he noticed people were looking at him. “Damn it,” he fumed, “these past few days you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said.”

She smiled thinly, but seeing his livid expression said simply, “Then just keep quiet.”

As they walked toward the hospital, he rattled on. It was a last-ditch struggle, his effort to crack open a stone with drops of rain. She began to feel uneasy: with her husband already so fearful of their child’s arrival, what would it be like when she actually gave birth? It was this thought that triggered her uneasiness. She stood still, and became aware of a cramp in her belly. It was as though she heard the sound of something moving, and a warm current slowly began to flow downward. She knew what this meant and breathed a sigh of relief: she would no longer feel uneasy and her husband would no longer quiver with rage. “Forget about the hospital,” she said.

He was still intent on persuading her, and hearing her say this he brusquely waved his hand, thinking she was angry. “All right,” he said, “I’ll stop.”

“My old friend has arrived.”

Having said this, she smiled, while he looked at her in disbelief. Then she walked off toward the public toilets on her right, and he waited for her by the steps of the theater. When she came out with a smile and a nod, he knew for sure that her old friend had appeared. He gave a chuckle, and he was in a fine mood all afternoon, turning somber only when they walked onto the bridge. It was then that he looked grave and lost in thought.

She stood by his side, watching the long line of barges receding into the distance, as the children moved away in a clamor of voices. It was quite some time since he last spoke. When he had said, “Let’s …,” she thought he wanted to go home, but he never made a move. She smiled sweetly, for she could imagine what he planned to say. “Let’s not have dinner at home,” he would say. “We’ll go out to a restaurant.” He would have a complacent smile on his face. “We should celebrate,” he’d say, “and have a really good time.” He would lick his lower lip. “I’m going to have a pint of draft beer,” he’d say. He could always find an excuse to party: even when there was no particular reason, he would tell her, “I’m in a good mood today, let’s celebrate.”

Now his glance, so evasive earlier, rested on her face, and he drew a deep breath. “Let’s …”

He paused, then carried on, his voice hoarse. “Let’s get a divorce.”

She looked at him blankly, as though she hadn’t understood what he had just said, and he wheeled away from her, saying with an awkward smile, “See you later.”

Her mouth slightly ajar, she watched as he put his hands in his pockets and walked away as if he hadn’t a care in the world. The breeze lifted his hair. His movements were so quick, even before she had time to respond he had already merged smoothly with the flow of people who had just got off work, concealing his own confusion. As he was leaving her, his whole body contracted, and when he took that step forward his legs felt as stiff as two bamboo poles, as though it had become impossible to bend at the knees. But in her eyes he was walking away as if nothing had happened.

The rapidity of his flight made her realize that what he said was not a joke, and she felt her breath come with a flapping sound, like wind blowing on a wall where a piece of paper has been posted.

Having a boyfriend offers many conveniences — for instance, when you want to see a movie, there’ll be someone to buy your ticket and supply you with prunes and olives — so many it will take you days to finish them. If it’s a question of going off sightseeing, then boyfriends come in even more handy, paying for food and accommodation, carrying this or that for you … Sponsors, that’s the word for them.”

As Wen Hong spoke, she scanned the faces within view.

It was a summer evening, and after her shower Li Ping was lying in her nightgown on a rattan couch that lay in the street outside her home. The street, which was not very wide in the first place, had become so crowded with people trying to cool off that it was now as narrow as a corridor. Bamboo beds, rattan chairs, and other furniture that really belonged indoors had been moved outside, and even mosquito nets were unfurled. The locals generated a constant buzz of noise, like a flock of bees attracted by rapeseed blossom, and the street was as packed tight as a strip of fresh green growth. As Li Ping lay on her couch, her long hair cascaded over the back of her pillow, where it was blown about by an electric fan she had laid on the ground. Wen Hong, sitting next to her, spoke up once more. “Hey, I see a sponsor now.”

“Who?” Li Ping put her hands behind her head and gave her hair a shake.

“Li Qigang,” Wen Hong said. “Shall I call him over?”