Tie Ning - The Bathing Women

Fei grabbed Tiao’s shoulder and said, “What are you doing? It’s platinum and ruby and it must have cost him quite a few francs.”

Tiao turned to look in the direction in which the ring flew and said, “I know it’s platinum and ruby. But don’t you know that, in this world, things that can be bought with money are all cheap?”

While they spoke, neither’s eyes left the ring in the air — arcing through the blue; spattering a trail like drops of dazzling blood and falling into the tree, it trembled there.

The ring was caught in the tree.

They’d clearly seen its flight and fall; the way it descended, dropping toward a young London plane tree to dangle finally on one of the branches. From now on, the tree would wear a ring. What else could a tree with a ring be if not a woman? A ring belongs on a tree. Maybe none of us observe the trees in the garden or on the streets carefully enough. Their simple, aloof presence hides many secrets of their own. Serenely, trees wave their arms above, and for them to wear platinum and ruby is completely alien to them. We don’t know how many such rings are caught on the branches of trees, and maybe trees are hands. If the earth is a woman, then all the trees of mountain and plain are her arms and hands. Let the ring remain on the branch, much better there than chafing flesh.

From where they stood on the ground, it seemed that the ring’s flying into the branches of the tree could only have been an accident; to the ring in the air, it had been an invitation, an invitation extended to it in midflight, when it was alone, abandoned, and without a destination.

They looked at the branch from which a tiny light shone. Still holding Tiao’s shoulder, Fei said, “What did you just say?”

“I said in this world, anything that can be bought with money is cheap.”

Fei said, “That’s me. Don’t you know that I’m cheap? If someone pays, I give myself to him. That’s why I felt sorry about that ring, the ruby ring in the tree.”

“But you won’t climb up the tree to get the ring,” Tiao said.

“It would be lousy if someone else got it — you see how calculating I am.”

“It’s unlikely that someone else will find it,” Tiao said. “Nowadays, no one stares at a tree for long.”

“I would,” Fei said. “And when I need money, I’ll definitely come to this tree.”

6

London plane trees seem to grow very well in the city of Fuan. The water and soil here don’t particularly favour them, but as long as the tree takes root, it will grow vigorously, with single-mindedness, and ask for no attention. The young London plane tree with the ring in the Design Academy’s garden soon grew into an adult tree, with a palm-sized leaf covering the ring. The ring must be there still.

Fei did come to the tree, by herself, on several occasions. She thought, a little obsessed with money, that, although she wouldn’t climb up to get the ring, if the branch happened to break and the ring dropped to the ground, she wouldn’t hesitate to pick it up. Often she thought of the tree as having a piece of matter stuck in it called ruby. The oddness of her refusal to consider a tree itself as matter — even the trees growing in the city, lining the pavements and rustling in the wind — struck her. Matter would be those buildings hidden behind the trees, and the electricity poles, vehicles, neon lights, and stainless steel rubbish bins. But trees aren’t matter. She recognized that architecture was matter because of the way all the buildings in the world appeared to resist loneliness, saturated with human will and moulded by human hands, according to artificial design — altogether entangled with the human. Trees, on the other hand, are natural and independent, and grow while quietly connected to the land, inhaling the sunshine. Trees are spirits that are hard to approach; they have compassion for human beings but don’t want to get too involved. Trees are thoughts that are beyond the power of human comprehension.

Fei looked helplessly at the London plane tree in front of her and told herself, You’d better give up on the ring. Do you have nothing to cook in your wok or are you at the point of selling all your possessions to pay for your debts? You’re no longer the old you, the one who tried to bribe the vice director of the foundry with a Shanghai Coral Jewel watch to get a better job.

Master Qi had helped Fei fulfil her dream of working in a state-run factory, but her job was unsatisfactory. Given her background, she was grateful at first for just being able to become a worker. But never had she imagined that the foundry work would be so dirty and exhausting! Naturally, she worried about her face, hands, and skin, which were the only capital she possessed and which she would have to use over and over again. She must tend the meagre advantage she had, which was why she especially dreaded the dirty, heavy work. So she went to see Master Qi again.

On several occasions she’d asked to meet with Master Qi at the riverbank after dinner, but was turned down every time. He was avoiding her, trying to play down what had happened that evening at the riverbank. He had never displayed any signs of that subtle complacency that some men have after possessing women in need, nor did he try to make further advances. He genuinely felt guilty about what had happened. Once he even told Fei seriously, “You can’t behave this way anymore. You should work hard. You’ll have to grow up and live a good life.” Master Qi’s words didn’t seem to strike a chord with Fei. Maybe she wasn’t aware there were decent men like Master Qi in the world. She could only interpret it as Master Qi’s reluctance to help her further, which just strengthened her resolve. She went to the political department to talk to him.

It was in the afternoon, when people were about to leave work. Fei rose from a long nap after her night shift, washed her hair, intentionally leaving it wet, and came to the political department. Her wet hair gave her an excuse not to braid it, and she looked particularly charming with her hair falling down about her shoulders, useful in piquing the male imagination. She entered the political department with her wet hair down, but Master Qi was not there. The only person in the room whom Fei knew was the vice director of the plant, Yu Dasheng. Sometimes he gave speeches when the factory held an all-employee meeting.

Yu Dasheng didn’t recognize Fei. In a state-run factory with more than a thousand employees, it was impossible for a director to know everyone. But Fei certainly caught his eye. She looked like a worker, and she must be one, as she wore the factory uniform, the canvas shirt with the stand-up collar, a clean blue. It wasn’t the uniform that attracted his attention, but probably because she was a female worker arriving at the office during working hours with her hair down. He glanced particularly at her hair, shoulder-length, with water still dripping, and two wet spots on her shoulders like epaulets. He addressed her as if he were the host of the room. “Whom are you looking for?”

She tossed her hair as if in an unconscious gesture and a faint scent of lemon wafted out. She said, “I … I want to talk to you, Director Yu. Is this your office?”

Perhaps she decided to say this the very moment she pushed open the door and saw Yu Dasheng. She had a gift for weighing up a situation in an instant and seizing an opportunity. She acted as if the office she was entering were Yu Dasheng’s and introduced herself. “I’m a worker in the foundry department. I would like to report a situation to you.”

Yu Dasheng said, “This is not my office. I came here to look for someone. You — why don’t you talk to your department director, if you have something to report?”

“You’re the one in whom I have the most confidence. In the whole factory, or even the entire city of Fuan, the person in whom I have the most confidence is you,” Fei said smoothly.