Xiaobin Xu - Crystal Wedding

When Lian next went away on business, Niuniu’s grandfather came to collect him, and Tianyi heaved a sigh of relief. She was relying on sleeping pills at night but they made her feel weird the next day, not just dizzy but depressed too. Utter dejection overcame her, until she almost felt life was not worth living.

She made herself cheer up, tried to be practical, tried to pull herself together but felt unable to get anything done. Listlessly, she got out her address book and went through the names one by one, trying to imagine what it would be like to talk to this or that person on the phone. But it all felt so futile. This was an age of futility, an age when everything produced was fake. When she thought of the defences she would have to put up to talk to any of them, she was filled with disgust. She was still true to herself, was a child of nature, and there was nothing ‘civilized’ values could do to change that. It was only when she got to their driver Xiaoming that she paused.

She had quietly begun to take note of this young man. He was a handsome youth with an air of mystery about him, taciturn and apt to simply disappear after ¬work, so that no one could find him. With her, however, he was different. Occasionally, when he was driving her and they were alone, he would open up and talk. One Mid-Autumn Festival, she and Lian had gone out to admire the harvest moon, but had had an argument. He had not hesitated to take her side and when she got her wish and was able to stand by the Beihai Lake to look at the moon, he suddenly made a comment: ‘Mrs Yang, you appreciate beautiful things in a very deep way.’ She had been startled. This was certainly a compliment, though not the sort of compliment you would expect from a driver. Her finger pressed his number.

He arrived less than a quarter of an hour later. ‘Where would you like to go?’ he asked with a smile. They drove around, with no particular destination in mind, until the sun was setting behind the mountains. ‘Let me treat you to dinner,’ she said. ‘You choose the place.’ He took her to Sun City Hotpot, a very popular place in the mid-nineties, but Tianyi could not summon up any interest in the food. On that early autumn evening, she was wearing a slim black wool skirt that showed off her figure nicely, although she was scarcely aware of it.

The diners served themselves to the ingredients, and she made Xiaoming sit where he was, while she went back and forth bringing tea and food to the table until Xiaoming began to be a little uneasy at such attentiveness from his boss. The pair ate slowly, and Xiaoming accompanied it with a drink or two. It was a very enjoyable evening. Tianyi felt completely relaxed. With Xiaoming, she did not need to put on a front of any kind. She had not felt so relaxed for a very long time.

There was another surprise to come. ‘There’s somewhere I’d like to take you,’ Xiaoming said, when they had finished eating. When they were alone together, he always called her ‘elder sister’. She agreed without a moment’s thought. How mysterious, she felt, what fun.

It certainly was mysterious. A thick mist was descending. He drove north, a long, long way, for perhaps two hours, until they arrived at a hotel. When they went in, Tianyi realized that Xiaoming knew the hotel staff well — two hostesses greeted him warmly, took them to the bar in the foyer and served them tea. Xiaoming’s mood was as upbeat as if he was back in his home town. After their first cup of tea, he became very talkative. He told her about his family: his father was deputy departmental head of some organization, his mother lectured in accounting at a university. He had skipped school a lot as a child and so did not get into university. He was married but he reckoned that had been a big mistake, he had slipped up just once and made a girl pregnant, and had had to make things right by marrying her.

‘So what will you do?’ Tianyi was genuinely concerned. She was surprised that he was talking about such a grave matter apparently so casually. As if it had nothing to do with him. ‘There’s nothing to be done,’ Xiaoming smiled. ‘Just get on with things, right? For the sake of the child.’

Tianyi said nothing. For the sake of the child, it was a phrase she had heard countless times, although she did not know whether the sentiment was uniquely Chinese or universal. Were human individuals really so acquiescent, so obedient to the diktats of fate? Why did Chinese men always put their mother and their child in first place, but treat their partners or lovers as if they were expendable? Did all Chinese men want to turn the women they loved into prostitutes, at their beck and call, without ever considering the woman’s feelings? Suddenly she wanted to cry.

Xiaoming must have sensed a change in Tianyi, because he asked anxiously: ‘What’s up?’ Tianyi made an effort to hide her distress. ‘Nothing.’

He gave her a cautious glance and said in a low voice: ‘I’ll tell you something. You see, this place is my base.’ ‘Yes, I can see that,’ she said vaguely. He dropped his voice even more. ‘Please don’t ever tell the boss. This is where my lover lives.’

She took a moment to react. ‘What?’

He repeated it, then went on: ‘I brought you here to meet her, but unfortunately she’s gone home this evening.’ Tianyi suddenly felt a wave of distress, which left her utterly drained.

Because of her fatigue, they started back late at night, driving slowly home through the fog. In all her forty years, she had never experienced fog this thick in Beijing. The car seemed to be floating in a cloud. Who knew where they were going? It was actually rather exciting.

Xiaoming was in good spirits. ‘Are you afraid?’ he asked her. ‘No. Not at all,’ she said. What’s to be afraid of, she thought to herself. Better to die in this godforsaken place than to struggle along as she had been doing. She had a sudden vision: early dawn, the mist still lingering; a car crash, the vehicle smashed to pieces, the still-warm corpses of a man and a woman. Reports circulating that the pair had been carrying on an illicit affair. Then Lian’s face, looking stunned. She found herself smiling a little.

The car nosed its lonely way through the mist. It was very, very late, two o’clock in the morning, when they finally arrived at her door. She had a sudden realization that this was not her home, it was a cage in which she was imprisoned. She had been delivered back to prison and she did not want to go in. He was puzzled at the dazed look on her face. Softly he leaned forward and planted a kiss in her cheek.

She was startled out of her dream. Instinctively, she knew she did not want to go back into that house, to that life that was like a living death, to that persistent smell of oestrogen. And her heart broke.

She suddenly flung her arms around him and burst into tears, clinging to him like a drowning person grips a lifebuoy. She was quite well aware that the lifebuoy would not save her because there were too many people drowning and the lifebuoy was destined to go to someone else, not to her. The tears scared him out of his wits. She wept and wept, a life-time of tears. He stammered some words, but she did not take them in.

Tianyi went into the house, her head spinning, too dazed to do anything. Then she gathered herself and sat down at the typewriter. It was 1994, and she did not have a computer yet, just a Sitong 2403 word-processor. She typed a title: Drowning. And so, that fog-laden night in the mid-nineties, Tianyi wrote the story of an ordinary Chinese woman. At the time, she just felt as if her heart was breaking. She had no idea that years later this story would get her into further trouble with the authorities.

Life did have its lighter moments, however. Tianyi took her material on trafficked women, called Fenhe Bay Adventures , to Tong. Tong, twice-married, twice-divorced, was now in charge of a TV production company. She got an answer a few days later. Tong had only two questions: ‘What’s this screen play about?’ Trafficked women, said Tianyi. ‘Who wrote it?’ Me, she told him. ‘In that case, I don’t need to read it. Come and sign the contract tomorrow,’ said Tong. It was as simple as that. Tianyi sold the screenplay, ten episodes, for 3,000 yuan per episode.