Wang Anyi - The Song of Everlasting Sorrow

The list of contenders who made it into the semifinals was printed in all the newspapers. Although the final victor had yet to be chosen, Wang Qiyao was already basking in the attention. Everyone knew that she was staying with Jiang Lili, and their house was a revolving door for visitors. Even their most distant acquaintances suddenly felt compelled to stop by and ask endless questions. Wang Qiyao became a source of glory for the Jiang family. Jiang Lili and her mother spent all their time greeting the never-ending stream of visitors and serving them tea and snacks. Busy as they were, they couldn’t have been happier — except for Jiang Lili’s little brother, who locked himself in his room, listening to whatever ramblings or songs came in over the radio. Every day the three women would get up, first thing in the morning, dress, make themselves up, and sit in the parlor, waiting for the doorbell to ring. Sitting there, waiting to welcome their guests, they were like soldiers ready for battle. Things were coming to a head, they realized, and there was no room to overlook even the minutest detail. On one occasion Wang Qiyao was interviewed by a reporter for the evening edition of a local newspaper. His article described Wang Qiyao and Jiang Lili as being as close as sisters, and thanks to the Jiang family’s notoriety in the business world this helped to inflate Wang Qiyao’s reputation.

Jiang Lili’s mother had long since come to think of Wang Qiyao as dearer than her own daughter. Her daughter was always rebelling against her, whereas Wang Qiyao was the complete opposite and heeded her every whim. She even went so far as to write to her husband in Chongqing to pressure him to donate money to the Disaster Relief Committee so as to throw some additional support in Wang Qiyao’s corner. Normally, Jiang Lili and her mother had nothing to occupy them; now they were not only busy but had a common objective. United by this common goal, they suddenly found themselves getting along quite well.

Although there were still a few days until the pageant, they all had their own secret hunches about the outcome. Some of the candidates were clearly going to end up at the bottom, while for others making it into the final round was a mere formality. Then there was the group of girls who fell somewhere in the middle — they weren’t at the bottom, but neither were they assured of making it into the final round. These girls still had a fighting chance — Wang Qiyao was one of them. Actually, they were the ones who carried the burden of the competition, and throughout the pageant were the ones to stand fast amid the rushing currents — it was they who were the true Miss Shanghais. Throughout the drama of the pageant, these were the divas who met all the challenges. It was a question of survival of the fittest. In the end, whoever was able to break out in front deserved to be the true Miss Shanghai.

Among the visitors who came to the Jiang house at this time was one person Wang Qiyao had not expected to see — Wu Peizhen. Wang Qiyao opened the door and, seeing who it was, instantly lost her composure. Wu Peizhen was also flustered; she looked away and didn’t know what to do with her hands. At a loss what to say, the two stood awkwardly facing each other, until Wu Peizhen removed an envelope from her pocket and handed it to Wang Qiyao. Wang Qiyao looked over it but didn’t seem to take it in, except that it was some kind of invitation from the director over at the film studio. Wu Peizhen said that she needed to know whether Wang Qiyao would be able to make it. Wang Qiyao didn’t have a chance to think it over properly but agreed nonetheless. Without so much as a goodbye, Wu Peizhen turned and took her leave. Wang Qiyao followed her outside. Wu Peizhen gradually slowed down so that Wang Qiyao could catch up with her, and they walked side by side down the longtang .

After walking for a few minutes, Wu Peizhen paused in front of a mailbox and said, “Go on back. You don’t need to see me off.”

Wang Qiyao insisted on walking her a bit further, saying that she didn’t have any other errands to do anyway. The two of them stood there, neither one daring to face the other.

“I was originally going to drop the invitation right here in this mailbox,” Wu Peizhen finally said after a long pause. “In the end, however, I decided to deliver it myself.”

Wang Qiyao stared at the mailbox without uttering a word. After a long silence, they both began to cry. They didn’t know what they were crying for, or what there was that was even worth crying about, but deep down both were overcome by a sadness for what they had once had and what was now irretrievably lost.

It was ten o’clock and the early morning sun beamed down on them through the leaves of the parasol tree, like shards of crystal or slivers of quicksilver, as dry leaves brushed against their legs while those on the ground crinkled beneath their feet. With their handkerchiefs soaked in tears, they still couldn’t say what was wrong, all they knew was that they were profoundly sad. It was as if their girlhood, so carefree and pure, were gone forever, and from that point on their lives would become much more complicated. A sedan drove silently past. The sunlight reflected in the side of the shiny car was also like a ray of quicksilver. They went on crying a while longer before Wu Peizhen slowly turned and, with lowered head, wiped her tears and walked away. Wang Qiyao gazed at her retreating silhouette. Her tears gradually dried, but the blinding sun shone in her eyes, so that she could hardly keep them open. She knew her eyes were swollen and her face felt numb. Eventually, she turned around and began making her way back to the house.

The director had invited Wang Qiyao for dinner at the New Asia Restaurant. Figuring that Wu Peizhen would be there, Wang Qiyao intentionally did not tell Jiang Lili about the dinner, saying instead that she was going home to visit and pick up some odds and ends. But Wu Peizhen wasn’t there — only the director. When she arrived, the director greeted her as Yao Yao, which immediately made her think back to what had happened at the film studio — it all seemed like another world.

“Yao Yao is a big girl now! All grown up!”

His tone seemed to hint at the affection a big brother feels for a little sister, almost enough to bring tears to one’s eye. Wang Qiyao, however, fought them back and responded with a smile.

“Well, I may be all grown up, but you just keep getting younger.”

The director had never expected Wang Qiyao to respond in such a manner and was visibly taken aback.

After a long silence, Wang Qiyao continued, “And so, to what may I owe the pleasure of this meeting?”

The director denied having any special motive for arranging the dinner, but his lips betrayed his heart, and deep down he was uncertain how to proceed. He began to regret not thinking things through beforehand; Wang Qiyao was no longer the girl he used to know. At that moment, the waiter came with the menu. The director asked Wang Qiyao to order, she tried politely to refuse before finally ordering two dishes. Duck feet marinated in wine and Yangzhou shredded tofu were both mid-priced dishes that would neither break the host’s bank or make him lose face. Their table faced the window and the glass pane looked as if it was dyed by the color of the neon lights outside — it was like their own private fireworks display. Only a handful of the lights along the wall were lit, while the tables themselves were illuminated by candlelight. The shadows on their faces danced with the flickering of the candle as the two of them wondered just who it was sitting across the table — and what they were doing together. Since the director had already denied having any special reason for wanting to see her, he couldn’t very well change his story now. He had to settle for some small talk instead. Wang Qiyao didn’t believe that he had invited her for no reason. There must have been something — she just didn’t know what. Both were growing impatient as they chatted about all kinds of things. They talked about the past and the present, but when they finally got to “Miss Shanghai,” the conversation suddenly stopped.