Wang Anyi - The Song of Everlasting Sorrow

They talked, softly and gently, and forgot instantly what they had just said. Words that vanish without a trace and yet are charged with feeling that lingers on — these alone voice what is in the heart. In truth, all they talked about was the sweetness of the chestnuts, the aroma of the melon seeds, the richness of the dumplings, the smoothness of the fermented rice, and the tenderness of the eggs; then conveniently neglected to mention the bitterness of the gingko nuts. The night was pitch dark, but the sky would soon turn bright again. At last their conversation had reached the point of deepest intimacy, where to speak further would only make them grow apart again. They talked about leaving, but their feet lingered. “See you tomorrow,” they all said, but none of them wanted that night to end. Tomorrow might be better, but that was unknowable, whereas they could still hold on to today. But even the present slips through one’s fingers like the sand in an hourglass.

Somehow they found a way to make it through the days while living for the nights. They gathered around the stove, exchanging riddles and telling stories. Many of their riddles went unsolved, just as their stories often seemed to have neither beginning nor end. Wang Qiyao said they lived as if every night was New Year’s Eve. Uncle Maomao said even though they were reversing their days and nights, no matter how hard they tried to go against the grain, some things cannot be changed. Madame Yan said they acted as if they were at a wake, but since the deceased were remote ancestors, they did not feel compelled to grieve. Sasha said it was like they were part of a Siberian hunting party, destined to return empty-handed.

They stuffed the crevices between the stones and the bricks of the world with crumbs from their food and their conversations. They played cat’s cradles with a shoestring, passing the string from hand to hand until it unraveled or got all tangled up; they took strands of hair, knotting them and then untying the knots, until the hair snapped or the knots became too tight to undo; they toyed with interlocking links, which ended up either in a jumbled heap or else scattered on the floor; they worked on an old “seven-piece” wooden puzzle and, much as they tried, failed to devise new combinations. They went to their wits’ end trying to come up with all kinds of little tricks and clever ideas, all of which came to nothing. However, the small always ends up nourishing the great; big things survive by consuming the carcasses of the little. But do not look down on even the most minute of things; for with the coming of daybreak, even the tiniest particles of dust in this world sing and dance in the sunlight.

DURING THOSE MUDDLED nights when anything seemed possible, people’s hearts appeared bright on the surface, but there was also a dark side lurking. Uncle Maomao, whose real name was Kang Mingxun, had a place in the dark side as well as the bright side of Wang Qiyao’s heart. She did not dare to think about him, yet could not get him out of her mind.

Once, when they were alone together, Wang Qiyao asked, “So. . when are you planning to get married?”

“What kind of girl would marry an unemployed bum like me?” Kang Mingxun replied with a wry smile.

It was Wang Qiyao’s turn to smile in disbelief. “Who are you kidding? A man of your impeccable character from such a well-heeled family. . you could have the hand of any girl.”

“Then would Miss Wang do me the honor of introducing one?”

“But I don’t know anyone in my circle worthy of you.”

Kang Mingxun took up her tone. “Now who’s kidding? It is plain to see that a woman of your elegance could only belong to the highest stratum of society. . How could someone of my lowly status impose such a request upon you?”

“You shouldn’t make fun of a girl from a modest background,” said Wang Qiyao.

“Just who is making fun of whom?” Kang Mingxun rejoined.

Thus they parried. However, even though Kang Mingxun was responsive to every one of her queries, the two of them were interrupted before Wang Qiyao had ample opportunity to squeeze all the information she was looking for out of him. The next time they were alone, it was Kang Mingxun who reopened the subject.

“When can we expect to hear of your wedding?”

Wang Qiyao took up the same jocular tone. “Who would be willing to marry someone like me…” but her voice trailed off before she could finish.

Kang Mingxun was poised to pick up the banter when he was startled to discover tears in her eyes. He said hastily, “Forgive me if I said something I shouldn’t. He who knows not what he does is innocent.”

Unable to speak, Wang Qiyao shook her head. It was a while before she repeated, “Who would marry someone like me?”

“Well, whatever could be wrong with someone like you?” he ventured.

“What do you think?” She threw the question back at him.

“You are so perfect a lady that anything I say would be like adding flowers to a piece of brocade.”

“You’re teasing me again.”

“Clearly, my dear, you are the one doing the teasing this time.”

This time Kang Mingxun had been the one to raise the issue, but because he stopped short of asking any pressing questions, Wang Qiyao never got the opportunity that she had been hoping for to give him a direct response.

The repartee between Wang Qiyao and Kang Mingxun was a game of hide-and-seek. The seeker is intent solely on catching his prey. The hider, in contrast, is of two minds, fearful of getting caught but also worried that the seeker might give up the game in exasperation. In concealing himself, he must at the same time keep the other party interested. When other people were present, the two often spoke a language that functioned on two levels. Theirs was a hide-and-seek game played out in the open, with a tacit understanding that left them both plenty of room for maneuvering. They developed a secret code whereby ordinary words took on meanings comprehensible only to the two of them while leaving the others in the dark. Yet, because neither sent any messages openly, these could, if necessary, be repudiated. Hence the alarm when Sasha jokingly announced that he had found a girlfriend for Kang Mingxun — Wang Qiyao was so upset she broke the porcelain ladle she was holding — or what Madame Yan later told her cousin — Kang Mingxun was so flustered he made many a slip in his reply. In both cases, however, they had overreacted; the issues were subsequently dropped. Later, it was Wang Qiyao who brought the subject up again, asking Kang Mingxun who the girl was that Sasha had wanted to introduce to him.

“How should I know?” was the retort. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“Sasha surely had someone in mind,” she insisted.

It was clear that Kang Mingxun knew who it was, but he only said, “If you really wanted to know, why did you shut him up the other day just when he was about to tell us?”

Mortified, Wang Qiyao argued that she had done nothing of the sort. Why would whatever Sasha said have had anything to do with her?

“If it has nothing to do with you, then why do you want to know so badly?” Kang Mingxun pressed on mercilessly.

His words reopened old wounds: Wang Qiyao felt deeply hurt. Her face turned red. It was only after several minutes that she managed to retort, “You are all in the same league, all black as crows.”

“Remember that Sasha is in the other camp,” Kang Mingxun joked. “He grew up eating Russian bread.”

Wang Qiyao smiled at this peace offering. In reality, they had gone in a circle and ended up where they had started; the feeling that they had actually gotten somewhere after all this running around was but an illusion.