Wang Anyi - The Song of Everlasting Sorrow

“Our little game is coming to an end too, isn’t it?” she said.

He trembled slightly, struck by an ominous sensation.

“After all, life is like a game, right?” she continued.

He didn’t know whether to agree or disagree, but he saw her stand up and walk toward him through the smoke. She began to caress his hair, which took him off guard. She ran her hands through his hair several times and he heard her whisper, “You silly boy.”

He reached up to guide her hands but before he could touch her, she was gone. Wang Qiyao had already left the room, and as he watched her receding into the door he began to feel feverish. Upon her return she found him shivering, his teeth chattering loudly. She put down the bowl in her hand to feel his forehead, only to be caught up in his arms, like vines wrapping around a tree. When she asked him what was wrong, he didn’t say a word, but keeping his eyes closed, pulled himself against her body. She could feel that his whole body was burning and helped him over to the bed to lie down. Clamped down on her waist with both arms, he pulled her down on top of him. Wang Qiyao kept telling him to let go, but he just held on more tightly. In her panic, she slapped him in the face. But he just kept his eyes closed and held on tighter still. She continued hitting him until her hand ached. His face was coming out in red welts, and taking pity on him, she gently caressed his cheeks. To this he responded by pushing his face against hers. They lay like this for quite some time went by. As she leaned on his chest, Wang Qiyao let out a sigh, and he took advantage of her momentary passivity by turning over suddenly and pressing down on top of her.

As his fever subsided, he broke out in a cold sweat, but continued to shiver. Strange, incoherent mumblings spilled out of his mouth and Wang Qiyao had no idea what he was saying. She did all she could to sooth him, treating him like a child who needed to be comforted. She consented to whatever he wanted, doing all she could to please him. At certain moments he grew frustrated because he didn’t know how to do what he was yearning to do and ended up throwing a tantrum. In the end it was Wang Qiyao who guided him with her hand. He sobbed a few more times, desperately, as if his world had come to an end. So Wang Qiyao consoled him and did her best to encourage him. That was a long, distressful night, and many things occurred that should never have been. The lights went on and off all night as they tried to go to sleep but kept getting up. There was something odd about Peace Lane that night, it was so quiet, empty of all the usual sounds of things stirring about — the only noises were those they made. And even these sounds seemed to get swallowed up, so that the noisier they were, the lonelier it felt. They were both plagued by nightmares, emitting muffled cries. Their breath came heavily, and their eyes felt sore and dry. It was an exhausting night, and felt as if they were both being crushed under some enormous weight.

They prayed for the morning to arrive, but as the first rays of light shone on the curtain, they started to worry how they would get through this new day. He was utterly spent, so exhausted that he could barely move. But she forced herself to get up before sunrise. She couldn’t bear to look at herself in the mirror as she washed her face and brushed her hair. Quickly getting herself together, she tiptoed like a thief out of the apartment with a basket. It was still dark outside, the streetlights were still on, and there was virtually no one on the streets. Wang Qiyao walked briskly toward the market, where people were beginning to stir. By this time the sky was brightening and she felt that she had finally got past the previous night’s ordeal. The streetlights went off one by one, but a few stars were still faintly visible in the sky. She asked herself what time it was. When she got home, the bed was empty and Old Colour had gone.

Old Colour did not come back. Wang Qiyao thought it was probably just as well. With him gone, the first thing she did was to pull open the curtains to let the sunlight in, letting it dissolve the darkness from the night before. Her mind seemed to skip over that night; she kept thinking, Nothing happened. . nothing happened. The ensuing days were quite peaceful, as were the nights that followed. Her social life was calmer, as everyone was busy with different things. She started a new cashmere sweater that required some very complicated knitting work. She knitted from morning until night, stopping only to eat. She kept the television on constantly, all the way until “Good-bye” appeared on the screen. Only then would Wang Qiyao put her knitting away and go to bed. She tried not to think of him, erasing his name from her mind as if he had never existed. Sometimes she would wonder, What ’ s the difference? I still live my life exactly as I did before. But then one day Long Legs came by and casually asked, “When is Old Colour coming back to town?”

Wang Qiyao was taken aback. She didn’t even know he had left.

“He went to Wuxi, didn’t he?” said Long Legs.

Wang Qiyao didn’t say anything, but inside herself she couldn’t help laughing a cold, mocking laugh. She cooked several dishes for Long Legs, heating up some high-grade Shaoxing wine for him, and listened to him carry on with his tall tales. Long Legs had been doing well of late; several of his business deals had gone smoothly and he told Wang Qiyao about every one of them. She listened carefully, occasionally asking questions. Long Legs was quite touched to see someone paying so much attention to him — combined with the wine, this even made him a bit teary-eyed.

“Auntie Wang, if you or any of your friends ever need to change money, come to me. I guarantee I’ll give you a better rate than the Bank of China,” he said, and went on to quote the different rates and make the calculations for her.

“But I don’t have any foreign currency. . ” She hesitated for a moment before continuing, “Do you trade in the yellow stuff?”

“Of course!” declared Long Legs. He quoted her the price for gold on the black market as compared to the official price, rapidly calculated the difference, and cited some examples of recent transactions.

To his disappointment, Wang Qiyao said, “Well, I don’t have any gold either. . ”

“It’s actually a very good deal,” he added, and then moved on to another topic. By the time they finished lunch and Long Legs left, it was already three o’clock; the sun was still bright, but it was beginning to wane. Long Legs was a bit tipsy and couldn’t quite walk straight. He could barely keep his eyes open. Standing there on the bustling street, he wondered, Where should I go now?

That night Wang Qiyao sat on the sofa knitting and listening to the noisy television. Feeling utterly bored, she closed her eyes, and before she knew it she had fallen asleep. When she awoke there was white static on the screen and the room was filled with the empty buzz of the television. Opening her eyes wide, she found the room larger and emptier than usual; the lights seemed brighter too, bathing the room in a harsh white. She forced herself to get up and turn off the television and the light before crawling into bed; but as soon as the light was switched off, the moonlight shone down at the foot of her bed and she was suddenly wide awake. She gazed at the floral patterns on the curtains in the moonlight and wondered what day of the lunar month it could be for the moon to be so full. She blamed herself for dozing off earlier, because now she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep — how was she supposed to get through the night? When people wake up alone in the middle of a quiet night, it is only natural for their thoughts to stray. The strange thing was that she didn’t remember anything important, only an insignificant night from long ago.