Wang Anyi - The Song of Everlasting Sorrow

Wang Qiyao and Mr. Cheng also discussed whether they should try to persuade Jiang Lili to move back to her mother’s house, where she could have some peace and quiet and would be able to eat better. They didn’t know that the day before their visit, Jiang Lili’s mother had visited her and was nearly driven out of the house by her daughter. By that time, Jiang Lili’s father was back in Shanghai and had divorced Jiang Lili’s mother, who got the house and a share of his assets. He and his mistress from Chongqing were renting a house on Yuyuan Road. Jiang Lili’s brother, who had never married and had no friends, still locked himself in his room every day after work listening to music. He was still at home, living like a stranger under the same roof with his mother; they often went for days without even seeing one another. The woman servant was Mrs. Jiang’s only company, but she too viewed Mrs. Jiang with contempt; with her own active social life, even she had little time to spend with her mistress.

Their little house came to feel like a huge lonely place. All of the flowers and plants in the courtyard had withered and died, leaving behind broken branches and rotten leaves. Eventually even those dead plants gave way to garbage and dirt, making the courtyard appear even more desolate. It was a good thing that Mrs. Jiang was not a sensitive person who took special notice of her surroundings, otherwise she would have suffered more. She only wondered why time hung so heavily on her hands. Her immediate reaction when she first heard about Jiang Lili’s illness was to shut herself up at home and cry her heart out. For simpleminded women like her, incapable of seeking understanding, crying was an effective way to relieve anxiety. Tears gave her a measure of consolation, and usually elicited a positive response. Once her tears had dried, she would find new hope and feel much better. Wiping her face, she changed into going-out clothes, but as soon as she got to the door she started to feel apprehensive about her outfit. She was afraid that her nice clothes might offend her daughter and son-in-law’s good Communist beliefs. She went back inside to change into a plainer outfit before setting out again.

All the way to her daughter’s house she was weighed down by heavy thoughts. She disliked visiting her daughter and had been there only a couple of times. During each visit her three grandsons had looked at her as if she was a monster. Her daughter never treated her with respect; she didn’t even bother to open the door for her when she arrived or to see her off when she left, and couldn’t seem to open her mouth without saying something hurtful. The only one who had some manners was her son-in-law, a genial man, but him she regarded with disdain. She had difficulty understanding his Shandong accent and could not abide the smell of onion and garlic always on his breath. She treated him with indifference; he, for his part, not being in the habit of ingratiating himself, had simply put up with her giving him the cold shoulder.

Mrs. Jiang saw her daughter’s illness as the perfect opportunity to assert her own rights. Strutting into the apartment with an authoritative mien, she went straight into Jiang Lili’s bedroom, completely ignoring the rustic crowd outside. Within less than five minutes, she had already listed more than a dozen things that she thought were wrong about the household and voiced an equal number of suggestions. Her criticisms negated virtually everything as it presently was, and even she knew that her suggestions were impossible to carry out. Initially, Jiang Lili tried her best to put up with her, but her mother kept on pushing. Taking her daughter’s silence as acquiescence, Mrs. Jiang became even more animated; she flailed her arms about, declaring that she was going to change the bedding and give her daughter a proper bath. She looked as if she was getting ready to revamp their entire living situation. Jiang Lili had no patience to argue with her: she simply flung the bedside lamp across the room. Emboldened by the commotion, Jiang Lili’s Shandong mother-in-law rushed inside to find the room in total chaos. The glass thermos had been shattered, the medicine spilled all over the floor; Mrs. Jiang, her face ghostly pale, was still trying to reason with the patient as if she were a normal person, but Jiang Lili kept throwing everything within her reach, including her blanket and pillows. The mother-in-law grabbed the blanket and, throwing it around Jiang Lili, tried to restrain her that way, while Jiang Lili struggled in her arms like a threshing flail. She had no recourse but to urge Mrs. Zhang to go home and come back after Jiang Lili had calmed down. Jiang Lili collapsed the moment her mother was out the door. After that incident, her mother-in-law made a point of clearing all visitors with Jiang Lili before letting them in.

When Mr. Cheng and Wang Qiyao went to see Jiang Lili, they were turned away at the door. Mrs. Zhang came outside to explain that Jiang Lili was not receiving visitors because she was weak and needed her sleep. The old lady felt so badly about turning them away that she could barely bring herself to look them in the eyes, as if this was somehow her fault. Although neither of them dared say so out loud, each had an idea about why Jiang Lili refused to see them, and both were vexed. Jiang Lili’s decision not to let them in was a form of reproach — an eternal condemnation from which they would never be free. Neither dared to look into the old lady’s eyes — they even avoided one another’s eyes as they parted hastily and went back to their respective apartments.

On two separate occasions after that Mr. Cheng and Wang Qiyao paid visits individually to Jiang Lili’s house. Mr. Cheng was rebuffed a second time. After leaving in disappointment, he walked east on Huaihai Road until he came upon a bustling wineshop, with common laborers sitting around square softwood tables. Outside the entrance was a pot of “stinky tofu” simmering in a pot of boiling oil. Unable to resist the aroma of food and wine, he took a seat at one of the tables and ordered a small bottle of rice wine and a plate of shredded tripe. The others sitting at his table were strangers, and each ordered basically the same thing — one or two dishes and a bottle of wine. As they ate, the conversation of the party at the next table grew louder and louder. Once the rice wine had got into his system, Mr. Cheng felt warm and his eyes began to sting; before he knew it, tears were trickling down his face. No one around him seemed to notice. The smoke from the steaming wok enveloped everyone at the table in a hot, oily mist; no one could see clearly, and Mr. Cheng was free to wallow in his misery.

At this very moment, Wang Qiyao was sitting on the side of Jiang Lili’s bed. Wang Qiyao had arrived at the mouth of the longtang leading to Jiang Lili’s just as Mr. Cheng left it, and Jiang Lili had asked her in.

Wang Qiyao’s first impression when she entered the bedroom and saw Jiang Lili was how much better she looked compared to the last time. Jiang Lili’s hair had been carefully combed back behind her ears, she was wearing a freshly laundered white shirt, her cheeks were a rosy red, and she was sitting up in bed, propped up on a pile of pillows. Instead of greeting Wang Qiyao, she turned her back to her. Wang Qiyao sat down on the edge of the bed, wondering what to say; Jiang Lili’s profile showed clearly that she was crying. The curtains were half-drawn and the westering sunlight crept in, gilding her hair, clothes, and the blankets, giving the room a melancholic air. After a long interval, Jiang Lili suddenly laughed, “Don’t you think the three of us are ridiculous?”

Wang Qiyao, at a loss for words, gave a little laugh in response.

Hearing this, Jiang Lili turned around and gazed at her. “He was here earlier, but I wouldn’t let him in.”