Tie Ning - The Bathing Women

A cool breeze blew and Tiao smelled the faint odour of grease smoke in Youyou’s hair. She was not put off by the smell, because it was real, a reminder of the ordinary world.

As the wind stirred the leaves of the London plane tree, they both raised their heads simultaneously to look at it, perhaps thinking about the ring at the same time, too. Youyou said, “One year, Fei brought me here and asked me to help her get a ring that was in that tree. She said you threw the ring into the tree, and that it was a keepsake from Fang Jing. But she was short of money at the time and wanted to get the ring and sell it. She took me to the tree and we did see the ruby ring caught in a branch. She said, ‘Youyou, can you climb up and get the ring for me?’ I said I was too fat, and Fei said, ‘Maybe I can stand on your shoulders.’ I said I was afraid it would hurt. Fei said, ‘You don’t really want to help me.’ I asked, ‘Do you really need the money?’ Fei said, ‘It’s simple; if you feel you’re short of money, then you need it.’ In the end we didn’t touch the ring in the tree. Tiao, are you thinking it’s still there?”

“I’m thinking about something else.”

“What is it?”

“There is nothing more broken in the world than an intact ring.”

“Is that also from a book?”

“It’s from me.”

5

On Monday morning, Tiao walked into her office. The cleaner had done the cleaning, so the desk, the chair, and the floor all looked spotless, and so did the windowsill. The flowers had been watered, and the corn plant standing in the corner was growing vigorously. Tiao liked the corn plant very much, not because it was expensive — the plant might have been expensive when it first appeared in the north many years ago. Now it was commonplace, not expensive at all, which was precisely what Tiao liked about it. She saw the resemblance to a stalk of corn. When she felt tired of reading manuscripts and looked up from her desk to gaze at it across the room, she felt as if she were looking at a small piece of a cornfield, and that golden kernels were hidden under the fleshy leaves. Who said that the ripening corn was like little hands on the stalks? It must have been a poet. She didn’t remember. She liked this sort of metaphor. Crops were more human than flowers or other plants.

She sat in front of her desk and started to open a stack of letters on the desk. There was a letter from Fang Jing:

Tiao, how have you been?

You must be very surprised at receiving this letter. I hesitated several times before I decided to write. Next Monday, I’ll be at the premiere in Fuan of my new movie, Going Home Right Away . The distributor there invited me. Will you be in Fuan then? We haven’t seen each other for many many years, but I’ve never forgotten you. In Fuan, it’s you I want to see, nothing else. I think if I go to your publishing house, it might be inconvenient for you. Would you mind coming to my hotel? I’ll be staying at the Holiday Inn at Yunxiang Square, room 888. I pray to God that you receive this letter. I’ll call you when I arrive.

Tiao finished reading the letter and looked at the date and realized that the “next Monday” mentioned in the letter was actually that day.

Fang Jing’s letter didn’t cause too much emotional turbulence in Tiao. It just reminded her of the sixty-eight love letters that she had burned and drunk down. She didn’t plan to burn this one or throw it in the trash can. There was no need. It was not a love letter, and she was no longer the Tiao who clutched the sleeve of Fang Jing’s leather jacket and begged him to stay. She decided to go to Yunxiang Square to see him; she wanted him to see her as she was now, calm and confident.

She got Fang Jing’s phone call before her lunch break. Because of the letter, she was emotionally ready, so she was fairly relaxed on the phone. He said, “Tiao, how are you?”

She said, “Yes, Professor Fang, I’m very well.”

He paused briefly and then said, “Can we meet tonight? I’m fully scheduled for tomorrow.”

“Sure, we can meet.”

At eight p.m., she took a taxi to the Holiday Inn at Yunxiang Square, found room 888, and rang the bell. Fang Jing opened the door for her and there was gentle music in the room. She took the initiative to hold out her hand, as any polite guest who came to visit the host would do. But he didn’t take her hand; instead, he opened his arms and suddenly embraced her. She immediately smelled the cigarettes on his body. Disgusted with his gesture, she turned her head and said quietly, “Please don’t do this.”

Her seriousness made him release her immediately. She rushed to the window, stood with her back to Fang Jing, and said, “Let me repeat it one more time. Please don’t do this.” He then came at her from behind and again tried to embrace her. She cringed at his sudden attack. She drew in her neck and bent her body, and her tone was very serious, “Let me go. Please let me go!”

He let her go.

He said with some emotion, “I don’t know why I’d act like this as soon as I see you.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you would reject me. So, I see you still hate me.”

“Not at all, Professor Fang, I don’t hate you at all.”

“I mean you don’t love me anymore, right?”

“Yes, not at all.”

They seated themselves on two small sofas near the window. He lit his pipe and said, “Yeah, I should have known. Do you think I really look old?”

She glanced at his cheeks, which seemed to have sunken, and at the grey hair on his temples, and said, “Yes, you do look a little old.”

“Can you stop being so formal with me? Also, can you please not call me ‘professor’?”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

He fiddled with the silver lighter in his hand and said, “Compared to Westerners, I look pretty young. Western women like Asian men very much. But to be honest with you, I can’t stand them. Their skin is too rough. There’s no real pleasure in touching or even looking at it closely. But the hotels abroad are pretty comfortable. You know, once I went to Spain and stayed in their royal hotel at Madrid. In my room, the sheets, coverlet, pillowcases, bath towels, and even the washcloths were all embroidered with my name. Tiao, do you understand this was the standard? An extremely high standard. There is also this lighter in my hand. Do you know who sent it to me? The Queen of Denmark. Have you seen my movies in the last few years?”

She said, “I’m sorry, but I haven’t had much of a chance.”

“Yeah, I know that lately my movies in mainland China haven’t been as influential as those made by the fifth or the sixth generation of directors, but there are people abroad who recognize my worth. Not long ago, the University of Chicago invited me to give a lecture. Over there I met your younger sister, Fan.”

“I know. Fan told me about it on the phone.”

“Then I don’t need to go over anything, but I still want to explain. Whether you believe me or not, what happened with Fan in America was not just a fling. I seized her like I was trying to seize hope because there was some reflection of you in her.”

She interrupted him. “Would you please change the subject? You probably don’t know my current situation, do you?”

“I don’t know and I don’t need to know. Please don’t tell me.”

“All right, then let’s talk about your new movie.” She looked at Fang Jing smoking, and thought he was still a charming man who could attract women. But he was much less dashing than before. His bragging about how he was received abroad, and how the queen of Denmark sent him a lighter, actually suggested a comedown — not materially, but spiritually and psychologically. Apparently he wanted to pique her interest with this talk of “standard” and gifts; much further down that road and he’d be making a living as a prostitute. Unfortunately for him, these things no longer impressed Tiao; she merely felt some sympathy about his need to boast. Yes, she felt sympathy for him, this man with whom she used to imagine spending her entire life. She wondered what made him look old. Certainly not his sunken cheeks or the grey at his temples, nor his slight stoop or the belly that was starting to show. What made him seem old was his eagerness to boast, which exposed his insecurity and weakness. The more insecure he felt, the more he bragged; the more he bragged, the more insecure he seemed. Tiao knew the man before her could no longer attract her; all she could give him was polite sympathy. Even though she encouraged him to speak about his new movie, nothing could change her feelings. Over the years she had watched only two of his movies, the same old stories about suffering, and the lectures, plus a little formula romance, which she didn’t like. She didn’t know what this new movie, Going Home Right Away, was about, so she asked him to tell her.