Wang Anyi - The Song of Everlasting Sorrow

Hearing that Wang Qiyao had given birth, she was moved to sympathy; being a woman, she could relate to how difficult things must have been for Wang Qiyao, and decided to go over to see how she was. Mrs. Wang, sensing that Madame Yan was a cut above the others, felt favored by the visit and tried to make herself pleasant. She even brewed some tea and sat down with Madame Yan.

With Mr. Cheng away at work, these three women of different generations compared notes about the hardships of childbirth. Wang Qiyao mostly just sat and listened, as if the shady circumstances surrounding the father of her child prevented her from claiming her share of the glory. Her mother and Madame Yan, on the other hand, vividly recalled every detail from earlier decades. When Mrs. Wang started to speak about how hard it was giving birth to Wang Qiyao, the irony of the present situation was not lost on her and her eyes reddened. She quickly found an excuse to scurry off into the kitchen, leaving the other two in an awkward silence. The baby had just been fed and was deep in sleep, her outline barely visible in the candle light. Wang Qiyao had been looking down as she picked her fingernails, but she abruptly raised her head and laughed. It was a tragic laugh that affected even Madame Yan.

“Madame Yan, I really appreciate you coming to see me. . especially after all that’s happened. I was worried you would look down on me,” Wang Qiyao said.

“Oh, cut it out, Wang Qiyao!” replied Madame Yan. “Nobody is looking down on you! I’m calling on Kang Mingxun in a few days and I’m going to see to it that he comes to see you.”

At the mention of his name, Wang Qiyao turned away. It was only after a long silence that she replied, “That’s right, it’s been ages since I’ve seen him.”

Madame Yan grew suspicious, but was forced to keep her thoughts to herself; instead she casually suggested that they all get together again. “It’s a pity that Sasha’s no longer around. He must be off in Siberia eating his Russian bread! But that’s okay, you can bring along that new friend of yours and we’ll have a foursome for our mahjong games.”

She took the opportunity to ask Wang Qiyao the gentleman’s name, his age, where he was from, and where he worked, all of which Wang Qiyao responded to matter-of-factly.

At that point Madame Yan asked bluntly, “He is so loyal to you, and neither of you is getting any younger…. Why don’t you just get married?”

Wang Qiyao responded with another laugh. Raising her head, she looked Madame Yan straight in the eye. “A woman like me. . How could I talk of marriage?”

The next day, Kang Mingxun indeed came by to call on Wang Qiyao. Although she had expected him to show up after Madame Yan’s visit, she was still caught by surprise. Standing there face to face, neither knew what to say. Mrs. Wang sized up the situation and decided it was best to give them some privacy, but slammed the door shut on her way out to register her disapproval. But Wang Qiyao and Kang Mingxun didn’t even notice. This was the first time they had been together since their parting. It felt like thousands of years since they had last seen each other. They had appeared in each other’s dreams, but the images in their dreams were so far from the real person that they would have been better off not even dreaming. They had, in truth, resolved not to think of each other — and succeeded. But, face to face once again, they discovered that letting go was not as easy as they had thought. They stood there for a moment before Kang Mingxun walked around to the other side of the bed to take a look at the baby. Wang Qiyao stopped him. When he asked why he shouldn’t see the baby, she said, “Because I said so. . ”

Kang Mingxun pressed for an explanation. Wang Qiyao said that it wasn’t his baby. They fell silent for a while before he said, “Well, whose is it then, if it isn’t mine?”

“Sasha’s.”

At that, the two of them broke down in tears. All the sorrow they had suppressed back when they had to make that difficult decision suddenly came rushing back; they wondered how they had ever got through everything that had brought them to this point.

“I’m so sorry. . I’m so sorry. . ” Kang Mingxun kept apologizing, knowing it would do no good even if he said it a thousand times over.

Wang Qiyao kept shaking her head, aware that if she did not accept the apology, she would have nothing at all. They were both in tears, but it was Wang Qiyao who stopped crying first.

Wiping away her tears, she insisted, “She really is Sasha’s child.”

Hearing her say this, Kang Mingxun also pulled back his tears and sat himself down. There was no more mention of the baby; it was as if she had ceased to exist. Wang Qiyao had Kang Mingxun make himself some tea and, as he busied himself, she asked him what he had been doing of late — did he still play bridge? Was there any news on the job front?

“For the past few months, it feels like I have been doing only one thing — waiting in line. I get in line at nine thirty every morning to get into the Chinese restaurant. Then I line up again around four at a Western restaurant. Sometimes I have to line up just to get a cup of coffee or a quick bite, like a bowl of rice with salted pork.”

He explained that he was the one who usually got stuck holding a place in line for the rest of the family; once it got to close to his turn, everyone else would show up.

“Everyone talks about there not being enough to eat, but I feel like all I do all day long is eat!”

Wang Qiyao took a closer look at him and jokingly observed, “You’ve been eating so much that you’re starting to grow gray.”

“I don’t think that’s from eating too much — it’s from missing someone too much….”

Wang Qiyao rolled her eyes. “Oh no, I’m not singing Rendezvous at the Pavilion with you again!”

They seemed to have slipped back into their old ways — except that there was this new addition asleep on the bed. Sparrows were pecking at crumbs on the windowsill and they could hear someone forcefully shaking out a comforter on a nearby balcony.

Kang Mingxun was just on his way out as Mr. Cheng came back from work. Passing on the stairs, they exchanged a quick glance but neither left much of an impression on the other. It wasn’t until he got inside that Wang Qiyao explained that the man was her neighbor Madame Yan’s cousin, the one she used to spend time with.

“It’s almost dinner time. How come you didn’t ask him to stay for dinner?” Mr. Cheng asked.

“We really don’t have anything special to entertain a guest… so I thought it would be rude to invite him,” she explained.

Mrs. Wang kept quiet but had a disgusted look on her face. She went out of her way to be nice to Mr. Cheng, who wondered who had crossed her — he knew it wasn’t him. As usual, he spent some time playing with the baby after dinner. Seeing the baby fed and contentedly asleep with her tiny fist in her mouth, he took his leave. It was around eight o’clock. People and cars passed back and forth under the bright city lights. Instead of taking the trolley, Mr. Cheng draped his fall coat over his arm and walked home. He took in the familiar scents of the city and soaked up the evening scene. Now that the burden weighing on him for so long had been finally lifted, he felt relaxed: mother and child were safe and sound and the baby didn’t bother him as he had originally feared. In fact, Mr. Cheng was struck with a peculiar happiness; it was as if he, and not the child, had been given a new lease on life.

The late show was about to begin at the cinemas, which added a feeling of excitement to the night air. The city still had the spirit of a night owl, and the same energy of years ago was still there. The tricolor revolving pole outside the barbershop was the emblem of this unsleeping city. The strong aroma of Brazilian coffee wafting out of Old Chang’s gives the impression that time is flowing backward. How exciting the night is! Desire and contentment abound and, despite the compromises that have to be made, everyone gives their all, living life to the fullest. Mr. Cheng’s eyes grew moist and a strange excitement welled up in his heart, the like of which he had not experienced in a long time.