Jia Pingwa - Ruined City

She was quiet for a while as Huang talked on about what had happened. “I don’t get it. The pesticide was harmless when it needed to be lethal, but now it was actually toxic when it shouldn’t have been.”

“Mr. Huang, it’s good she died, isn’t it?” Niu Yueqing said with a smile. “With all your money, you can have anything that strikes your fancy. Now all you need is a foreign wife. She died because she was no good for you, and now she’s moved aside to make room for an eighteen- or twenty-year-old, which I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding.”

“That was what she said before taking the pesticide. But why not ask for a divorce? I promised her a hundred thousand yuan, and yet she chose to kill herself. I know she didn’t mean it, that she just wanted to scare me. Who would have thought that the pesticide was lethal again? Now that she’s dead, her brothers got someone to write up a complaint and send it to the court, the District Government Office, and, I heard, even the mayor’s office. They’re all accusing me of selling fake 101 and 102 pesticides.”

“Ah — so you’re here to see Zhidie so he can write another article to promote your products or speak to the mayor to help you get off?”

“Right. He’s my only hope. He can’t refuse to help me.”

“Then you’ll need to wait for him at the compound entrance. I’m going out, and I’ll have to lock the door.”

“But — but—” Huang looked troubled. Niu Yueqing picked up the mirror and smashed it on the floor.

“Get your ass out of here! What do all you stinking men have, except money? You killed your wife, and instead of taking care of her funeral, you came here with that sad face for someone to find a way out for you? And you have the nerve to tell me about it? Who did you bring with you? Is your shameless slut here also? Is she waiting for you downstairs? Bring her up here so I can take a good look. I want to see what kind of woman would hurt another woman. Did it ever occur to you that after killing your wife, someone would be waiting to kill you next? Get out. Get the hell out!” She pushed him out and slammed door.

She turned around and saw the muddy prints from his shoes; disgusted, she got a mop and ran it over the floor before sitting back on the bed breathless.

Zhuang was still out that afternoon, so she sat down and wrote him a long letter about the dozen or so harmonious years they had shared since their wedding. She recalled how he had looked like a country bumpkin and how dirt-poor he had been; it was only after she married him and sacrificed everything to encourage him and devotedly care for him that he had been able to struggle to where he was today. Now that he was successful, with fame and wealth, naturally she was no longer good enough to be his wife, for she was old. She hadn’t been good-looking to begin with, but it was also because she had sacrificed herself over the years, to the point that she pretty much had never lived for herself. Their marriage had been dead for a long time, and they had different dreams even though they shared the same bed. It would be better to end it than to suffer together. Then she changed the subject: She didn’t understand what she had done wrong to have everything turn out this way. For him and for their family, she had made diligent efforts, but he had repeatedly hurt her. Did that mean that nothing was real? Was that any way to live? She scratched out the passage, for it was no longer important to bring that subject up. Instead she wrote that in order to protect his reputation and to ensure his future happiness, she refused to raise a stink at the end of their marriage and turn them into enemies, like so many other women. She hoped for a peaceful dissolution without going to court; they could take care of it at the community office. She added that she was moving back to Shuangren fu and asked him not to look her up there, except when the divorce agreement was drawn up and they were ready to file. After finishing the letter, she picked up her suitcase and walked out of the compound with a curious sense of liberation.

When Niu Yueqing got home, she spotted her mother sitting on a stone at the gate with a blank look. “Mother,” she called out, but there was no response. The elderly woman remained motionless except for a quick glance at Niu Yueqing, who squatted down in front of her and said, “Why are you ignoring me, Mother? What’s wrong?”

The old lady came to suddenly, but her eyes still looked glazed over. “Who are you?”

“It’s me, Yueqing. Don’t you recognize me?”

The old woman, her mouth hanging open and her lips quivering, began to cry. At the sight of her mother weeping, Niu Yueqing could not hold back her own tears. At first mother and daughter were crying over the same thing, but soon they were engrossed in their own sad thoughts, which only made them cry harder.

It took considerable effort for Niu Yueqing to get her mother inside so she could ask the old woman why she hadn’t recognized her own daughter. Her mother said she had not been able to sleep for three nights, and there had been a buzzing in her head. But when neither her daughter nor her son-in-law came to see her, she tied her daughter’s clothes in a bundle to hang in the dry well in the yard to summon Niu Yueqing home.

“You lost your soul, Yueqing, and I got it back for you.”

Niu Yueqing knew that her mother was losing touch with reality again, but this dazed look was something new. Mother and daughter had always been close, and she thought that her mother must have intuited something, which made Niu Yueqing start crying again.

“It’s all my fault, Mother. I should have come to see you sooner so you wouldn’t be like this. I will never leave you again. I’m going to live here, cook you three meals a day, sleep with you at night, and talk to you when we’re awake. Mother, what do you feel like eating?”

When she said she wanted some noodle soup, Niu Yueqing went into the kitchen to prepare it. She removed the lid from the pot and saw that it had not been washed thoroughly, and that too made her sad. For over a decade, she had devoted most of her care to Zhuang, with little concern for her mother; she had let her mother down, the person closest to her in the whole world.

With her daughter around, the old lady’s face regained signs of vitality, but she kept saying that the wall needed to be washed because the corners were crawling with centipedes and scorpions. When Niu Yueqing poured her some water, the woman complained about the knot of worms in her bowl; when her daughter drew water for her to wash her feet, the old lady said there was an even larger knot of worms in the basin. At bedtime, Niu Yueqing would not let her mother sleep in the coffin and made a bed large enough for both of them. Saying she couldn’t sleep, the elderly woman talked about how chubby and well behaved Yueqing had been at the ages of three and four, and then she waved a fan at Niu Yueqing’s feet because they were covered with flies. She must wash her feet the next day, the old lady added. Niu Yueqing turned to sleep facing the old lady and, with her mother’s arms around her, sobbed.

. . .

Zhuang Zhidie, Meng Yunfang, and Zhou Min looked all over the city for Tang Wan’er, but after searching nearly every one of the main streets and small lanes, they were still unable to find her. They then went to see Zhao Jingwu, who had been drinking alone for days. He still looked dejected, so Zhuang said, “Liu Yue was dead set on marrying Dazheng. I tried many times to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t listen. I said, ‘Liu Yue, if you put aside Jingwu’s good looks, his talent alone would likely bring him great success, and you would want for nothing.’ But she was too shortsighted. She even said, ‘Zhuang Laoshi, you’re like the man who draws a picture of a flatbread to stave off hunger.’ You see, that’s how she looked at it, and there was nothing I could do. I’m not her father, we’re not even related, so I couldn’t control her mind even if I could restrain her body. Since that’s what she wanted, we had to let her be.”