Jia Pingwa - Ruined City

“Why won’t the mayor see us?” they demanded. “If the officials refuse to help the people, they should go home and help their wives take care of the children. I’ll bang my head against this railing if you don’t let go of me.”

They let go of her. “Go ahead, make a scene. We’ll see what sort of storm you can kick up.” They walked off to the side to smoke.

As Wan’er looked on, more and more people crowded up. Many of the men had their eyes on her instead of the protestors, and she knew she looked more beautiful than ever in contrast to the three ugly women. Unburdened by shyness, she calmly slunk over to the side door. The guard did not stop her until she had stepped inside.

“Where’s your card, comrade?”

“I’m not one of the representatives. I’m here to see Zhuang Zhidie.”

“I’m sorry, but the rules of the meeting do not allow non-attendees in. I’ll get someone to bring him out to see you.” He relayed the information. Before many minutes had passed, Zhuang walked up.

“Ah, what a surprise!” he said happily.

“Take me inside. I need to talk to you.”

Zhuang said something to the guard and then led her into the yard. “You’re too conspicuous,” he said. “I’ll go up first. It’s room 703. Don’t go to the wrong room.” He spun around, and, without looking back, entered the building. She followed him to the room. He shut the door and lifted her up. Quickly realizing what he had in mind, she did not resist; instead, she wrapped her legs around him. With her arms around his neck, she appeared to be sitting on his hands.

“You were so cautious a while ago, but now you’re getting a little crazy.”

He just laughed. “I can’t get you out of my mind. I even dreamed about you last night. Guess what happened? I was climbing a mountain the whole night with you on my back.”

“You must be exhausted.”

He laid her on the bed and touched her all over, like kneading dough. She giggled.

“I can’t move. If I did, I’d drip all over the bed.”

Aroused, he swallowed hard and started undressing her. She stood up and did it for him, saying she wanted to wash off the sweaty smell from the walk. Zhuang went into the bathroom to fill the tub for her, while he calmly took off his clothes to wait by the bed. When his patience had worn thin, he opened the door and found her standing naked in the tub, her long hair falling over her shoulders, holding the showerhead in one hand and cupping her breast with the other. He rushed up to her, and she went limp as she dropped the showerhead. ☐☐ ☐☐ ☐☐ [The author has deleted 112 words.] With her head lying against the side of the tub, and her hair spread across the floor, she let him leave four bite marks on her neck.

“Don’t get my hair wet,” she cautioned.

He got up, turned off the water, carried her over to the bed, and laid her down. She took a long look into a large mirror on the wall above the head of the bed. “Look at you,” she said with a laugh. “Is that what a writer looks like?”

“What should a writer look like?”

“More refined.”

“Very well, then.” He lifted her legs to gaze at her down below, so embarrassing her that she tried to fight him off. “Don’t. Stop that.” But she was unable to say more as she felt something leak out. So he put a blanket under her head so she could see herself in the mirror and covered her mouth with his when she began to moan. They were both breathing hard. ☐☐ ☐☐ ☐☐ [The author has deleted 500 words.]

When she heard him say she had a mole down there, she looked for it in the mirror, while imagining how much he loved her. The worker in Tongguan had never noticed the mole, nor had Zhou Min. Nor even had she.

“Is it good to have a mole there?” she asked.

“Good, maybe. I have one there, too.” He showed her.

“That’s wonderful. We’ll be able to find each other no matter where we go,” she said. “Is the door locked? No one will come in, will they?”

“ Now you’re worrying about the door? I’m not sharing with anyone, so no one will come in.”

She remained in his arms.

“We had sex the moment we came in the room, as eager as a couple of teenagers. Actually, I came to the meeting to talk to you about something. Zhou Min’s article has caused you trouble, hasn’t it?”

“So you know about that? I told him not to tell you. I didn’t want you to worry, since there’s nothing you can do. Why did he have to tell you?”

Repeating what Zhou Min had told her, she asked if it was true. He nodded.

“I may live with him,” she said, “but I’m yours. You’d better watch out for him.”

“What about him? Does he know about us?”

He fell silent when she told him about Zhou’s plan B. A derisive laugh escaped from him.

“Are you upset with him? Are you going to punish him? I came to tell you this so you could be on guard, not for you to punish him. Zhou Min is smart, and sometimes he can be too smart for his own good, but he’s not a bad person.”

“I know that,” he said.

Her cheeks twitched as tears streamed down her face, prompting him to ask her what was wrong.

“Maybe we’re destined for each other, or maybe the karmic connection between Zhou Min and me is broken. But I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve never wanted someone so much in my life, not even as a teenager. I’m so preoccupied I can’t do anything. Now I know what’s meant by sleeping in the same bed but having different dreams.”

“It’s been like that for me, too,” Zhuang said. “Don’t cry. It’s bad for you at a time like this. Stop crying, won’t you?” He dried her eyes tenderly, as if she were a child.

“I’ll listen to you. I won’t cry. But I must tell you what’s on my mind or I’ll die from holding it in. The bolder I become in order to be with you, the more it frightens me. How can I keep going like this, always afraid? Zhuang-ge, I want to marry you. I mean it. I want to marry you.” She went on without waiting for his reaction. “I want to marry you; I want us to be husband and wife for the rest of our lives. I’m not good at anything in particular. I don’t have residency in Xijing, let alone social standing, and I probably wouldn’t be as good at taking care of you as Niu Yueqing is. But I can say that I’d make you a happy man, because I can sense that you’re different from most men. You’re a writer who needs to be on the lookout for creative inspiration, while most people, including your wife, can only tend to your physical needs; they lack the ability to constantly change themselves to bring you something new. I realized the moment I met you that you are the serious type. I could see that you were despondent, and I understood why you seemed dispirited even when you smiled. Why do you find me attractive? I guess there are many reasons, and one of them exposes the fact that you are sexually repressed. I don’t think I’m a bad woman who is intent upon seducing you and breaking up your family; nor do I have designs on your property and fame. What is it, then? Maybe people would say that you’re a man who prefers the new to the old and that I’m a wanton woman with loose morals. But that’s not true. All humans are born with a desire to pursue beauty. For a writer, it’s simply an expression of creativity to abandon the old for the new, something impossible for the average woman to understand. That’s why Niu Yueqing said she wouldn’t want to marry a writer in her next life. I’m confident that I’m better than other women in this respect. I know that I can constantly adjust myself to fit your need for new, fresh experiences. That doesn’t mean I would erase myself in the process; on the contrary, it would make my life more interesting and enjoyable. Conversely, you would never tire of new experiences while I’m enjoying life. The purpose of a woman’s existence is to contribute to beauty, and once that’s accomplished, you will have an even greater ability to display your talent. I get excited when I think about all this; I’m so keyed up, but I often wonder if it’s even possible. I wouldn’t be so confident if I hadn’t met you. You’re a ray of sunlight that has made me shine brightly. Am I getting fanciful? Am I overselling myself? Sometimes I remind myself that you’re married and that your wife is a pretty and a capable woman. Worse yet, you are so famous that you’re not Zhuang Zhidie for yourself any longer; you belong to all of society, and even a hint of something out of the ordinary can create trouble. Can you take that risk? Could you bear up under that sort of trouble? If it came, my love for you would be your downfall. So after that first day, I told myself that it was a one-time fling and that I mustn’t allow myself to get in any deeper, and I should just treat you as a friend when we met again. But I can’t control myself. Zhuang-ge, don’t laugh at me for saying this. Let me finish. How this will end, whether or not you want to marry me, is beyond my control. I just want to tell you to your face, because it will make me feel so much better.” She lay motionless, face down, when she finished. Her revelation had caught Zhuang by surprise, but it only made her more endearing. He took her in his arms and looked into her eyes. A sudden sadness sent his tears flowing.