Wang Anyi - The Song of Everlasting Sorrow

For days afterward Director Li did not contact her. It was as if he had never existed, but there was no denying the reality of the jeweled ring. With the ring on her finger, Wang Qiyao could not help thinking about him. She was captivated. Whatever he said came to pass and whatever he forbade became an impossibility. During those days Wang Qiyao did not go out and she declined to see Mr. Cheng. She was not deliberately avoiding him; she just wanted to be alone. In her solitude Director Li’s face floated in her mind, hazy, a face that she saw from the corners of her eyes with her head down. Wang Qiyao did not really love him. He was not in the habit of accepting other people’s love: what he consented to accept was the responsibility for other people’s fate. He took other people’s fate and assumed responsibility for them in varying degrees. What Wang Qiyao wanted was for him to become responsible for her.

Wang Qiyao’s family tiptoed around her during those days. They were dying to ask what was going on, but they all held their tongues. Their neighbors had recognized Director Li’s license plate, which was widely known in Shanghai. The fact that the car had already made several trips to their longtang sent rumors flying. That was another reason Wang Qiyao stayed holed up at home. Parents in the Shanghai longtang were generally open-minded, especially when it came to daughters the likes of Wang Qiyao. They had no choice but let them do what they pleased. They treated their daughters almost like guests — even before marriage — serving them the best food and indulging their occasional tantrums. Every morning her mother would stand at the window looking out for the car with a mixture of hope and dread. Whenever the phone rang, spasms of alternating apprehension and relief shuddered through the household. And although no one said a word about it, everyone in the family was counting the days.

Several times Wang Qiyao wanted to vent her frustration by calling Mr. Cheng. She impulsively raised the receiver but put it down every time. How could she be so foolish as to toy with her own life? She could lose it all as a result of such childish antics. How could she possibly compare Mr. Cheng to Director Li? She came to terms with the fact that there was nothing she could do except to accept whatever fate had in store for her. She calmed down, albeit with a feeling of helplessness, but also with a resolve to remain steadfast in the face of new challenges. She would simply have to let things take their course, keeping faith meanwhile that when the boat reached the bridge, it would straighten out by itself. She needed patience. She had to wait in ignorance as to whether there was something worth waiting for. What else could she do but wait?

It was another month before Director Li reappeared. By that time Wang Qiyao was thoroughly discouraged and had given up hope. Director Li sent his chauffer to fetch her. As the chauffeur waited in the parlor, she hurriedly got dressed, having time only to change into a cheongsam . The cheongsam was brand new and a bit too large, but she had had no time to get it altered. A few days earlier, she had had her hair trimmed but not permed, so she quickly curled it with hot rollers. She had lost some weight and her eyes looked larger, a little sunken, betraying a touch of resentment. She was taken to a restaurant on Sichuan Road, to another private room, where she found Director Li sitting at the table waiting for her. As soon as he touched her hand, bitter tears rolled down her cheeks. He sat her down right next to him and held her in his arms. Neither of them said anything, but they understood each other. Director Li too seemed to have been through a lot. The hair around his temples had grown grayer. However, the ordeals they had undergone were different — hers had ground away at her heart, but he had undergone ordeals that crushed him like an unbearable weight and left him ready to give way at any moment. They had both come for solace. What Wang Qiyao wanted was comfort that could last her a lifetime, while Director Li just wanted a smidgen. The things they asked for were different, in quality as well as in quantity, but a smidgen to Director Li was the entire piece for Wang Qiyao — it made a perfect match.

As Wang Qiyao cuddled against Director Li, her heart settled down and she finally felt grounded. By this point Director Li’s iron-like will had also turned into mush. He thought to himself, Women are really the only clear notes amid the cacophony of strident noises in this tumultuous world . Wang Qiyao had ceased to think. Now that she had Director Li she did not need anything else. After they held each other for a while, Director Li lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. Her face seemed more childlike than ever, with the total trust and obstinacy of a child. Director Li had seen a lot of women, from all walks of life and in all kinds of circumstances. At this stage in his frenzied life a woman looking up at him with unquestioning trust evoked a poignant mixture of sweetness and bitterness. He was enthralled. He clasped her to him again and asked what she had been doing at home.

“Counting my fingers.”

When he asked why on earth she would do something like that, she answered, “I was counting the days until you came back.”

Director Li held her tighter, and thought, She may look like a child but she ’ s got all the guile of a woman . After a pause, Wang Qiyao asked what he had been up to since last they met.

“Signing documents, of course.”

At that they both laughed. Wang Qiyao thought, He even remembers that joke. He must have been thinking about me all this time.

The nights on Sichuan Road were reassuring in their ordinariness. The lights illuminated clearly all things in their respective orbits. The restaurants served food that one might have found at home, delicious even though a bit greasy. The window, fogged up by human breath, had a warm feeling, seeming to exude sympathy. Director Li released Wang Qiyao and let her return to her own seat. He said he had sent someone to rent an apartment for her. He would visit her regularly. If she felt lonely she could invite her mother to stay with her sometimes. Of course he would also hire a maid for her. If she wanted she could attend college, but only if she wanted — since, after all, she did not want to be a Ph.D.! They both smiled at this allusion to their first dinner alone together.

As Wang Qiyao listened to him, she thought it was a well thought out, almost flawless proposal, yet she did not want to accept immediately.

“I’ll go home and ask my parents. .”

This schoolgirl-like response made Director Li smile at her indulgently. He reached out to caress her head. “From now on you only have to ask me.”

Tears streamed out of Wang Qiyao’s eyes, and a profound sense of grievance welled up in her. Director Li was silent. He understood even better than Wang Qiyao the source of her grievance. He had seen tears of this kind many times. Even though they always proved to be fleeting, they left a residue, which tended to resurface during times of crisis. When he was young, he thought he could crush anything in his hands into dust. But he no longer had that boundless confidence. Experience had taught him that every person in the world — no matter how great — is always a puppet in the hands of another. Those are the hands of fate. He therefore felt that Wang Qiyao was shedding tears also for him, and he was moved. After Wang Qiyao stopped weeping, she patted her eyes; they were still red, but clear enough that one could see all the way down to their bottom. Director Li saw himself reflected in those eyes. After that she seemed much more relaxed, but at the same time resolute, as if she had finished performing a farewell ceremony. She had now entered a new stage in her life and was ready to go to battle.