Jia Pingwa - Ruined City

With this thought, the cow’s strength left her, so she lay down, foaming at the mouth, spittle dripping from her lolling tongue. Zhuang tugged at her but could not get her up, so he felt her here and there.

“The cow is definitely sick. Maybe you shouldn’t milk her today. You should take her over by the city wall to graze instead,” he said.

The woman looked at her cow and sighed.

“Go on with your errands, Mr. Zhuang. She’s sick. After she rests awhile, I’ll do that.”

Zhuang patted the cow on the rump and walked off.

. . .

But he did not know where to go. He had left home early because he didn’t want to hear Niu Yueqing and Liu Yue nag him about not going to court. His feet were soon sore from walking aimlessly. Then he recalled Niu Yueqing mentioning Wang Ximian’s wife, who would also be at court that day. He wondered if her boils had disappeared. What would she say when she realized he was not at court? He lit a cigarette and spotted a crowd across the street. Their appearance and attire told him they were from the countryside. Some were holding saws, some paintbrushes; some were squatting in front of painted wooden signs, smoking, spitting, and whispering, their heads tucked down between their shoulders, their backs bent. Wondering what they were doing so early in the morning, he was about to walk over when three of them ran up to him.

“Do you have any work for us, sir? We won’t charge you much.”

It was, he realized, a spontaneous labor market; he waved them off to show he had nothing for them.

“I’m on my way to see Ruan Zhifei,” he blurted out.

He spun around and hurried off, heading toward Ruan’s dance hall. After reaching a bus stop, he wondered why he had told them he was going to see Ruan. In his current state, he couldn’t possibly appreciate the song and dance and would end up ruining others’ pleasure. Maybe he should see how the bookstore was doing or how work was coming along at the gallery. But then he changed his mind again and thought about the House of Imperfection Seekers, where he could take a nap. So that’s where he went. When he passed the Clear Void Nunnery, he spotted a young nun sweeping the ground outside the gate.

“You’re not doing a very good job there, young abbess. It’s more like painting a beard on an old man’s portrait.”

She looked up, her face turning red.

“This surface makes the job hard,” she said, and turned to sweep a second time.

He found her modesty and candor endearing, despite her homely appearance.

“I was just joking. Is Abbess Huiming in?”

“Oh, so you’re here to see her. She’s meditating. You’re awfully early.”

Zhuang walked in with a smile without asking where Huiming was meditating. He skirted a pond and looked into the Main Hall, but saw no sign of her. He then went to the Holy Mother’s Hall, and she was not there, either, though he heard the faint sound of wooden fish being beaten. He stood still to listen carefully; it appeared to be coming from behind the pavilion with Ma Lingxu’s grave marker. He followed the sound to the rear of the pavilion, where he saw a sparse stand of bamboo through which ran a brick path lined with red leafless stalks, each with a single flower that resembled a chrysanthemum. Morning mist hung over the area, as if gossamer had drifted above the path, occasionally hiding the flowers from view. After a few light steps, he spotted a small room off to the side; through the bamboo curtain, he saw Huiming seated lotus-style on a mat with a lotus embroidery. She was beating a wooden fish rhythmically and reciting sutras. He saw the outlines of a table, a chair, a lamp, and a sacred book in the dark room. Transfixed, he stared for a while, immersed in the serenity of the place. If one day a rush mat were placed beside her for him, Zhuang, dressed in black and shorn of hair, could sit by her and talk about the arcane Tao. How wonderful it would be to find such a spiritual world in this bustling city. He was lost in his fantasy when he recalled the bloody scrap of paper in his pocket, which led him further into a sort of daze. Wild thoughts ran through his head, conjuring up all sorts of possibilities: If he were to do that, how surprised would Xijing’s writers and artists be? How about the politicians? Would they say the degenerate writer had finally turned repentant? Or would they say that sex-crazed Zhuang Zhidie wanted only to disturb the pretty Huiming? He did not want to make any noise as the gossamer mist rose up to his feet. With another look at Huiming, he walked away, secretly loathing his reputation. He had worked hard for more than a decade to gain fame, but in the end it had brought him nothing but trouble that was beyond his control. He had become a hypocrite, a contemptible person. He ended up back at the pavilion, where he rubbed the inscription on the tombstone and wept.

Instead of going to the House of Imperfection Seekers, he dragged himself back to his flat in the Literary Federation compound. Niu Yueqing and Liu were not back yet, so he had no way of knowing what had happened in court. With no news, he sat quietly by the phone and waited, until the clock on the wall struck twelve. The phone rang; it was Liu Yue.

“Is that you, Liu Yue?”

“How are you, Zhuang Laoshi?”

“I’m fine. How did it go today?”

“Everything went well. Jing Xueyin was the only one on their side who was articulate. That man talked so much nonsense that the judge had to interrupt him three times. Now I know why she was interested in you back then.”

“What else?” Zhuang persisted.

“The arguments wrapped up for the morning and will start again this afternoon. Meng Laoshi went to buy some tape, saying he wanted to tape up the left side of his mouth and argue with them with only the right half.”

“Tell him not to make jokes.”

“That’s none of my business. Why not let him humiliate the other side? Oh, you’re feeling sorry for her, is that it? I assumed she was a raving beauty whose looks could topple a city wall. She’s average looking. I have to question your taste. Really!”

“What do you know?”

“We’re not coming home right away,” she said after a pause. “We have to take the lawyer out to lunch. Are you listening? I knew you’d be waiting at home, and that’s why I called. There are some noodles in the refrigerator. Can you make your own lunch?”

He put down the phone, but instead of preparing the noodles, he sat down and started drinking.

That afternoon, he went to the gallery to see Zhao Jingwu and told him to go to Bai Yuzhu’s house and wait till the arguments were finished, then ask Bai to call Sima Gong to get his views on how it had gone. The judge’s attitude was critical, no matter how convincing each side sounded at the hearing. As expected, Zhao agreed to go, but said there was no need to hurry. The afternoon hearing wouldn’t be over for a while yet; it would likely be dark by the time court was adjourned. He could still make it if he went to Bai’s house after five. Instead, he showed Zhuang the potted flowers he was growing. The gallery’s interior was more than half-done by then. Zhao’s combined office and lounge was located in a room at the rear, where all kinds of plants filled the steps and windowsills. It was the blooming season for many of the plants, and the flowers dazzled. As he looked at them, Zhuang recalled the unusual flower he had grown years before.

“The flowers are all very nice, but I don’t see any rare ones.”

“I can’t match what you did. But you have your standards, and I have my ideas about flowers. I don’t want rare plants, because one, they’re too expensive, and two, they’re hard to cultivate. And they don’t instill pleasure; you feel like you’re doing it for show. All I want from my flowers is for them to be pretty. What are flowers, anyway? In my understanding, they’re the reproductive organs of plants. Humans’ reproductive organs are located in the darkest spots, which is why people sneak around. The plants, by contrast, have theirs on top, which means sexual activity is the purpose of their existence. They use their vitality to grow in order to display their reproductive organs to attract bees. Many plants beautify their reproductive organs to lure bees in pursuit of an enchanting love.”