Wang Anyi - The Song of Everlasting Sorrow

They had been wondering whether to call on Jiang Lili and had still not made up their minds, when she took them by surprise by unexpectedly turning up on Mr. Cheng’s doorstep. Since his reunion with Wang Qiyao, Mr. Cheng was hardly ever at his apartment, except when he went back late at night to go to sleep. There is no telling how many times she must have gone there looking for him before she finally caught him at the elevator. Failing to find him upstairs this time, she was waiting for the elevator to take her back down, when it arrived and out stepped Mr. Cheng. Standing there, face to face, they recognized one another, but there was something about each of them that the other did not recognize. It seemed only natural that they should feel as if their world had completely changed, even though at one level everything seemed just as it was before. Jiang Lili was in a Lenin suit; her khaki pants were a bit baggy around the knees and too short around the ankles. Her leather shoes were covered with dust. Her glasses, also dusty, seemed thicker than before, so that one had to peer through several concentric circles to find her small eyes, and look even deeper into her eyes to find a glimmer of recognition.

“What a coincidence!” Mr. Cheng exclaimed.

“What do you mean? You might think it’s a coincidence, but not me!”

Thus brusquely checked, Mr. Cheng did not know how to go on.

“You’re not home in the morning, not in the evening. . you don’t even come home in the afternoon for lunch!”

Mr. Cheng apologized as he opened the door for her, even though deep down he wanted to tell her, “Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?” It was a Sunday afternoon and, having helped Wang Qiyao settle down for her nap, he had decided to go home to take a shower and pick up some fresh clothes — he had never dreamed that he would run into Jiang Lili. Jiang Lili stepped inside; as she stood in the dust-laden sunlight, her face showed not even the hint of a smile. Her eyes were full of reproach. Mr. Cheng felt uncomfortable and his heart pounded. He was looking for something to say that might break up the tension, but what came out instead was, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

This infuriated Jiang Lili. “You think the only reason came by is because I have some official business with you?”

Mr. Cheng turned red. He contrived a smile and excused himself to make tea. But the hot water Thermos was empty, the glasses were dirty, and the lid of the tea can had rusted shut. Following him into the kitchen, where she watched as he boiled water and washed the glasses, she observed, “This place looks like a chicken coop!”

With that, she turned and went back into the living room. When Mr. Cheng emerged from the kitchen, she was standing there lost in thought. The heavy drapes in the photo studio had been pulled back and the room looked empty and abandoned, with the lamps, platform, and cardboard backdrops all pushed into the corner. Watching her from behind, he did not have the nerve to disturb her, so he withdrew to the kitchen and hovered around the stove, as the kettle whistled louder and louder until the hot steam popped open the lid.

When Mr. Cheng returned with the tea, Jiang Lili was pacing back and forth, with hands clasped behind her back like a man. He placed the tea on the shaky round table that normally served as a prop.

Sitting across from her, Mr. Cheng asked, “How’s your husband?”

Jiang Lili frowned. “Who do you mean? Old Zhang?”

This was how Mr. Cheng found out her husband’s surname. He deemed it unwise to pursue this line of inquiry and instead asked about her children.

She frowned again. “Always causing a ruckus, that’s all they know how to do! What else is there to ask about?”

He considered asking about her work but thought it was not his place to pry into official affairs, so he stifled his words. He truly had nothing else to say, but Jiang Lili would not permit him to remain silent for long. “After all these years, isn’t there anything else you want to know?”

At that point Mr. Cheng finally realized that she was simply intent on being unreasonable; he decided to be a bit more brazen and put everything on the line.

“Well, since I keep asking the wrong questions, why don’t you go ahead and ask me something?”

“Who said you’re always asking the wrong questions?” Jiang Lili warmed up a bit; the cold look on her face had obviously been just a show.

This strengthened Mr. Cheng’s resolve to remain taciturn. They had come to an impasse. All Jiang Lili could do now was lower her head and sip her tea. The melodious sounds of a steamship whistling from afar contrasted with the stillness in the room, where a genial warmth was gradually emerging. They were both thinking of the past, which was still heartwarming, despite its unpleasant aspects. It may be true that life goes forward, but it can also be said that life is a series of retreats. As one gets older, one is more willing to make accommodations and less likely to mind things.

“I see not much has changed for you — still here in the same old apartment,” Jiang Lili observed.

Mr. Cheng lowered his head and responded sheepishly, “I am a man of few desires.”

Jiang Lili laughed disdainfully. “How could you make such a claim? You have very definite desires.”

Mr. Cheng didn’t have the courage to answer.

It was only after a long silence that Jiang Lili asked, “Where does Wang Qiyao live?”

Mr. Cheng was startled. “You’re looking for her?”

“If you don’t know, just say so,” she said impatiently.

“I know where you can find her,” Mr. Cheng hastened to reply.

“Where?” Jiang Lili sprang to her feet, as if about to rush out immediately to find Wang Qiyao.

Mr. Cheng also stood up. “I was just getting ready to go over there myself. I’ll take you to see her…. We were actually just talking about you the other day.”

Invigorated by this turn of events, he forgot the clothes he had come home to pick up and made straight for the door. In the doorway he turned around to discover she had not budged. She was standing there staring at him. Even at a distance he could see the sadness in her eyes. He had the sensation of having stepped back in time to when they were all young. The two stared at each other, each coming to terms with the other’s feelings, before walking out the door.

It turned out that Jiang Lili was completing the paperwork for admission to the Communist Party. One of the forms required someone to certify the high school listed on the applicant’s résumé—Jiang Lili immediately thought of Wang Qiyao. Wang Qiyao seemed so far away in her past, she almost doubted if the memories of her were real. For more than ten years now, Jiang Lili had been leading a radically different life. She had redirected her passion toward accepting everything that she had once found repugnant. Where she had been impulsive and self-indulgent, she was now self-critical and disciplined. Her ardor left everyone else straggling far behind. She took everything to the brink — and then some. To make up for her bad political background, she was determined always to go against what her heart truly desired — the more she abhorred something, the more she insisted on doing it. Marrying Old Zhang was one example, choosing to work at the cotton mill in Yangshupu another. As time went by, the old Jiang Lili grew increasingly distant; it was as if she was playacting, and her whole life was the play.

Her application for admission to the party was deemed problematic. The authorities conceded that she was a revolutionary — but not in the way they hoped. The reports she wrote nearly every six months overflowed with confessional passion — the feverish prose was a bit too melodramatic even for the party. In 1960 the disease of zealotry was spreading fast — most of those accused of it were petty bourgeoisie. In truth, it is difficult to pinpoint just where the disease originated; each class had its own disease, and most people couldn’t even figure out where they themselves stood.