Xu Zechen: Running Through Beijing

“You mean The Bicycle Thief ? That’s it?”

“What else could it be? If I disappeared one day — no body, no nothing — what would you think?”

“An asshole like you, you’re sure to have run off with some girl!"

"Wouldn’t you be sad?”

“What fucking good would that do? Who knows why people disappear, what if it’s something good? Maybe the apartment wasn’t sealed because of her, but because of someone else. For instance, she could be the mistress of a corrupt official or a rich businessman’s concubine, and she got tired of the cushy life.”

“But what if she was depressed or agoraphobic, and something bad happened?”

“Whoa, ‘agoraphobic’—did you get a master’s degree behind my back? She’s probably depress-a-phobic because she can’t spend all her money!”

“Yeah, probably so.” Dunhuang stood and glanced up at the windows on the top floor. After a while he said, “‘Mistress’. . ‘concubine’. . can’t you be a little more positive?”

“What’s wrong with mistresses and concubines? Plenty of people would jump at the chance.”

It wasn’t an argument worth having, so Dunhuang ignored her — he thought she was the one being brainless now. Qibao saw he was giving her the cold shoulder so she did the same in return. They took a cab in silence back toward Weixiuyuan. As they were passing Zhongguancun, Qibao said she wanted to stop and get yogurt.

“Okay,” said Dunhuang, “let’s have the driver drop us off at the supermarket.” The fight was over.

That night, Dunhuang had another dream like the last one. Xiaorong shouting his name as she floated off the bridge. It was all perfectly clear in his dream, as though he were in a slow-motion scene in a film, too slow for him to grab her. Just before Xiaorong reached the ground, her face became that of the girl in Zhichunli. Dunhuang awoke scared. He’d never been superstitious, but something struck him as wrong about the sealing of the Zhichunli apartment. And that dream was strange. But what could he do? The next morning, as soon as he woke up, he called Xiaorong. She was distant at first, but she soon sounded normal. “What’s up,” she asked, throwing the ball immediately in his court.

He hemmed and hawed, then said, “I just wanted to tell you, I found Qibao.”

“You found her, that’s great!” she said. “That’s great. Bring her over to meet me, let’s do it today.”

Dunhuang decided he’d spring for dinner at Ancients. Qibao didn’t want to go, saying meeting his “adopted sister” was like meeting the family, but he finally convinced her, as a favor to him.

It was the same table as last time. Xiaorong saw them the moment she walked in, and was quietly surprised by Qibao’s beauty. Kuang Shan came in after, and only noticed her as they approached the table. He stopped and pointed his finger at her, appearing to be deep in thought. “You. . We’ve met before.”

Qibao stood up and said, “Yes, we had dinner together once.”

“Right, that’s right, with a bunch of friends. What’s your name? I guess Beijing’s still way too small,” Kuang Shan said.

“So this is Qibao,” said Xiaorong. “She’s awfully pretty, and so young!”

“Hi Xiaorong,” said Qibao. “Dunhuang’s always saying nice things about you.”

“About me?” Xiaorong started laughing. “What’s there to say! I’m practically an old maid.”

“You are not!” said Dunhuang.

Qibao chimed in, “You have real elegance, just the kind of feminine maturity that men like. That’s not something that ages!”

“I’m afraid it does,” replied Xiaorong. “This one’s practically lost interest in me.”

Qibao pointed at Kuang Shan. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, thinking the grass is greener.”

Kuang Shan waved this off. “I certainly don’t! I’ve hardly even looked over the fence.”

“Waiter, we’re ready to order,” Dunhuang said. “A half-and-half spicy pot, two plates of winter melon, and two plates of mushrooms. You guys order the rest.”

The pot boiled, and roiling steam cut off Dunhuang from Xiaorong. Though neither of them felt any danger in staying silent, they still kept the conversation going, avoiding awkward pauses. Dunhuang talked to Kuang Shan about the DVD trade, while Xiaorong waxed solicitous about how Qibao was getting along in Beijing, then moved on to cosmetics and snack food — conversation was livelier than they’d feared. Halfway through the meal, however, Kuang Shan had to leave — business at the shop, they’d been doing inventory. Dunhuang urged him to stay, but Xiaorong said, “Let him go if he needs to go, they’re waiting for him at the shop.” The three of them continued eating, and she said, “Qibao, have some more, should we get some tofu strips?” Qibao’s youth was most evident in the way she ate: head down, chopsticks flying, picking out her favorites. As she was absorbed in the food her phone rang, she went out to take the call and didn’t come back for nearly ten minutes. When she did, she said a friend was having a birthday party, and had asked her to go right over.

“Can’t you wait a bit?” said Dunhuang. “At least finish eating.”

“I’ve got to go,” she said, rubbing her hand over the stubble on Dunhuang’s scalp. “Next time I’ll treat Xiaorong, how’s that? You can come along too.”

“Go on, Qibao,” said Xiaorong. “You ought to be there for the party. We’ll have plenty of chances to hang out.”

Then there were two. Dunhuang was a little annoyed; the wheels had completely fallen off the dinner. “Jesus, the whole world has something better to do, I’m the only one sitting on his thumbs. Let’s keep eating.”

“No big deal. Another couple beers? I’ve already forgotten what you’re like when you’re drunk.”

Dunhuang drank glass after glass in silence. At around eleven he took her back to her building. Xiaorong asked, “Do you want to come up for a glass of water? He’s been staying at the shop these days.” Dunhuang went up.

There were fewer DVDs in the room this time, and many of the baskets were empty and stacked. She said they’d all been taken to the store for inventory. Dunhuang nodded, feeling a little dizzy — not a surprise considering how much he’d drunk.

“Qibao’s pretty nice,” said Xiaorong.

“Thanks,” Dunhuang said, looking at her. Xiaorong turned her face away, toward the hot-water thermos. “Oh, I was going to get you some water.” She picked up the cup that Dunhuang had used while he was staying there, packed it with tea leaves and poured the water. “Strong tea clears the head.” She held out the cup, but Dunhuang took her hand. She said, “Dunhuang. . ” The cup fell to the ground and he pulled her into his arms. She said, “We can’t do this.”

“Do what?” Dunhuang said.

Dunhuang only held her, nothing else. “I dreamed you jumped off a bridge,” he said. “You drifted down like a piece of clothing. Scared me awake.” Xiaorong’s voice was low. “My life is just fine, why would I die?” She pulled Dunhuang’s head down to her chest. Dunhuang felt even dizzier and his ears buzzed. They collapsed sideways onto the bed. The place was too damn small. Xiaorong said, “We can’t, Dunhuang, I’ve got. . ”

“So do I!” Dunhuang said.

He put his mouth and tongue between Xiaorong’s chin and neck. It was the softest part of her. Her only protest was deep in her throat, she sounded like she might cry. Slowly, her arms and legs opened to him, then she contracted and began to shudder. Dunhuang was already inside her, but she was silent. She only ever flowed on the ground, she never raged in the sky, like Qibao did.