Wang Anyi - The Song of Everlasting Sorrow

Slowly, Long Legs lightened up and started talking about his adventures in Hong Kong. He was struck by a bolt of inspiration and Hong Kong suddenly appeared before his eyes — he could see it all so clearly! He told Zhang Yonghong all the amazing things he had done since he left. A brilliant prospect lay ahead of him — he even broached the subject of marriage. He said that they should get married in either Bangkok or San Francisco, where his father’s mansions would be the perfect place for a ceremony. Zhang Yonghong was infected by his excitement; tears of happiness glimmered in her eyes. Although they were both practical minded, they couldn’t fight the dreamlike atmosphere of the café. The candle on the table floated in a small dish of water, never sinking, and seemed to be burning for all eternity. The melted wax stuck firmly together, feeding the flame of their fantasies.

Who knows how much wine the newly reunited lovers consumed that night? After they paid the bill and were getting up to leave, Zhang Yonghong suddenly remembered the keys and took them out of her pocketbook.

“Isn’t it strange?” she said with a laugh. “Old Colour asked me to give these keys to Wang Qiyao — as if he couldn’t do it himself!”

Long Legs took the keys and examined them. Suddenly something lit up inside him and he sobered up instantly.

“I don’t want to go back to her apartment either,” said Zhang Yonghong. “Who’s to know how she’d react. . ”

She went on to tell Long Legs about what had happened that day at Nocturnal Shanghai. Long Legs wasn’t really paying attention to her story; his whole attention was focused on examining those keys.

“Why don’t you return them for me?” Zhang Yonghong suggested.

He consented and put the keys in his pocket as they left Café Dream. After seeing Zhang Yonghong home, he rode alone down the streets and somehow found himself heading in the direction of Wang Qiyao’s apartment. As he rode into the longtang , he seemed to see the shadow of Old Colour standing there in the darkness, slipping in through the back door. He rode over to the door and, putting one foot down on the ground to steady the bike, took out the keys and selected one to try in the lock. The lock turned easily. He rotated it back to its original position and pulled it back out. At this moment he noticed that there was still light, even on that starless, moonless night — it was bright enough for him to make out the cracks and the grain on the wooden door. The city was never completely dark: think how many lights burned throughout the night, and how many people stay awake even during its darkest hours! There you will find the sources of this light. Long Legs held the key in the palm of his hand and rode out of the longtang . The lights were out in Wang Qiyao’s apartment.

At three o’clock the next day Long Legs paid a visit to Wang Qiyao, bringing along a box of cosmetics for her. As soon as he got upstairs, the bitter smell of Chinese herbs assailed his nostrils; a pot of medicine was simmering on the stove. Wang Qiyao had been taking a nap and got up only when he arrived. Long Legs noticed her dry skin and yellow complexion and asked her what was wrong. Wang Qiyao said she had too much cold energy in her stomach and too much heat in her liver. She wanted to make him some tea, but Long Legs insisted on helping himself, and offered to bring her medicine over to her. Wang Qiyao said that it still needed ten more minutes, so Long Legs sat down. They chatted about how important it is to take care of one’s health, and Long Legs told her about his trip to Hong Kong; before they knew it, ten minutes had gone by. He went into the kitchen to turn off the stove and pour the medicine into a bowl for her, almost scalding himself in the process. He set the bowl of black bitter liquid beside her bed.

He waited until she had finished the medicine and was sucking on a piece of candy to get the bitter taste out of her mouth before he placed the two keys on the table. He told her that Old Colour had asked him to drop them off for him. The instant she laid eyes on the keys, Wang Qiyao spat out the candy and spit up a mouthful of her medicine into the bowl. Long Legs rushed over to pat her on the back; after the fit had passed, he helped her to lie back down.

“That’s life for you,” Wang Qiyao laughed. “I’m sorry for not being a good host today, but I’ll have you over some other time.”

Long Legs insisted that none of that was necessary — after all, they were old friends. He was only concerned that here she was, sick, with no one to take care of her. He decided to keep her company, and sitting down beside her, he regaled her with all kinds of stories. At dusk he went into the kitchen to cook dinner, but didn’t even know where to start and ended up just standing there in front of the gas stove. Finally Wang Qiyao staggered in and said that she would handle it. Long Legs wanted to help but, not knowing how, just stood beside her, lending a hand when needed. Before long, two bowls of noodles were ready; Wang Qiyao also steamed a bowl of salted fish patty especially for him. After she finished half her noodles, Wang Qiyao’s face seemed to regain its color. She appeared to be in better spirits and smiled wryly as she looked around the room. “Look at this room! The instant I fell ill, all the dust started to accumulate, as if it wants to bury me!”

“What’s the big deal about dust? You just wipe it away and it’s gone!”

With that, he actually picked up a rag and started wiping the furniture, which really did brighten up the place. He also turned on the television and the room finally began to feel alive with the music.

Long Legs came back first thing in the morning for the next two days, exhausting every ounce of his energy in taking care of Wang Qiyao. Watching him, Wang Qiyao couldn’t help wondering, Why is he bothering with all this? But then she figured, Why else? And then, mocking herself: Why should I care about his reasons anyway? Nevertheless, she deeply appreciated Long Legs being there for her at such a difficult time, and tried her best to share all kinds of gossip to keep him amused. Long Legs was spellbound by her stories and became even more solicitous in hopes of hearing more. When she grew tired from talking, it would be his turn to tell her stories. He finally got around to the price of gold, telling her that its value on the black market was several times what was quoted on the official exchange.

“But isn’t that illegal?” asked Wang Qiyao. “I remember people getting executed for doing that in the fifties!”

“There is the old saying, ‘The government can get away with arson, but the people aren’t allowed to light a lamp’!” joked Long Legs. “If you want to talk about illegal dealings, well, the state is the biggest crook out there! What we do on the black market is small time compared to them!”

Wang Qiyao smiled. “The way you put it makes sense.”

“Even so, everything comes down to timing. Right now things are fairly open, but who knows when the authorities might clamp down,” remarked Long Legs.

“So what do you suggest?” asked Wang Qiyao.

“Well, if you have gold, I’d say that now is the best time to exchange it.”

“That may be, but who has gold lying around in this day and age?”

“If I had to hazard a guess,” said Long Legs, “I’d say that at least one out of every hundred has some gold stashed away somewhere. When we were ransacking people’s homes during the Cultural Revolution, we even found two gold bars hidden in the home of a rickshaw coolie!”

Wang Qiyao laughed, “I wish I was that rickshaw coolie!”

Long Legs laughed too, and that marked the end of that conversation. Over the next few days, Wang Qiyao gradually regained her strength and started to feel better.