Jia Pingwa - Ruined City

“I wouldn’t dare laugh at you, Wan’er. I can only thank you. You’ve had all of this on your mind, but do you know how unsettled I’ve been? When I first arrived in this city a decade ago and saw that wonderful clock tower, I vowed to make a name for myself. I worked hard to achieve a bit of fame, but at great cost. I often thought that Xijing, this big city, meant nothing to me. What here truly belonged to me? Nothing but my name, that was all. My name, and yet it was often used by others. When I went out, there were people who worshipped me and fawned over me, but I didn’t understand what I had done to deserve their attention. Were they mistaken? Was it simply because of the articles I’d written? What were they, anyway? I knew I had made a name for myself without achieving much. I wanted to write something I was happy with, but I couldn’t, not at the moment. That made me ashamed, something others mistook as a sign of modesty. What did I have to be modest about? I was tormented by a pain I couldn’t share with anyone, since no one would have understood. Meng Yunfang is my best friend, but I couldn’t talk to him about this because he said I complained too much. Niu Yueqing is a good wife, and in other people’s view I should thank my lucky stars to have found a wife like her. But she’s not someone I can share my thoughts with, either. I was often depressed, so naturally I didn’t talk much at home, which made her wonder what was wrong with me. As a result, she griped about trivial household matters. It was my fault that we quarreled. The more we fought, the less we communicated with each other. Just think, how was I supposed to write something good under those circumstances? With no inspiration, I felt anxious. I blamed others and I blamed my fate, so I wound up agitated and irritated. I wondered if I had used up all my talent and was finished. My health had suffered for a year or more. My nerves were shot, and my sex drive was nearly nonexistent. That was when I met you. I can honestly say that I’ve known a fair number of women, but they were all mere acquaintances. Some of the people around me take delight in talking about sexual indulgence, but it’s not something I condone, for I can’t imagine how anyone can do that without an emotional attachment. I would rather masturbate than have random sex and just walk away. I don’t know why my heart stirred when I met you, and I have no idea where I found the nerve to do what I did. I think you’re wonderful. You hold an attraction I can’t describe. It’s like cadence to sound or flame to fire. You’re a real woman. What I’m most grateful for is your acceptance of my love. You make me feel like a man again when we’re together. You stir up surging passions inside me, making me feel that I’m not finished yet, that I still have some good stories left to write. But I have to mourn the fact that we met too late. Why didn’t you come to Xijing earlier? And why didn’t I meet you back in Tongguan? I’ve also thought about marrying you, even about how our lives would be if we were a couple. But what about reality? I don’t like it when my fame becomes a burden, but I have to think of my reputation. A huge storm would erupt if I were to ask for a divorce now. What would people in leadership positions, or my friends and family, think of me? What would Niu Yueqing do? Unlike ordinary people, the trouble for me would not end in two weeks or even two months. Wan’er, I’m telling you this so you can understand how difficult this is for me. I’m not trying to sweet-talk you; I’m just telling you what’s on my mind. But I can tell that we will eventually succeed. I want you to remember this: Please wait for me. I will marry you sooner or later. You must trust me.”

She nodded. “I trust you, and I will wait for you.”

He kissed her. “Give me a smile.”

She did. They collapsed onto the bed again, and he climbed on top of her.

“Can you do it again?” she asked.

“I can, and I will.” ☐☐ ☐☐ ☐☐ [The author has deleted 517 words.] Then they heard someone calling out in the hallway, “Time for the meeting. It’s meeting time.”

He checked his watch; it was five past two. “We can’t,” he whispered. So they got up and quickly dressed.

“I’m the first speaker at the afternoon session.”

“Who would imagine that you’d be giving an important talk just moments after you’ve had sex? When you appear on TV tonight, many people will see you and say, ‘Look, that’s my idol, Zhuang Zhidie.’ But not me, for I’ll be saying to myself that I know how big that thing in his pants is.”

He bit her neck playfully. “I’ll leave first,” he said. “You wait till the hallway is empty.”

After he left, she brushed her hair, redrew her brows, and touched up her lipstick, then straightened up the bed. She waited until all was quiet outside before slipping out like a leaf on the wind.

. . .

Over the next three days, while the meeting was in session, Tang Wan’er came twice, with the promise to come again. Zhuang was overjoyed and in high spirits, no longer bothered by worries over his writing. He ran into Huang Defu at the dinner table on the third night, and was shocked to see how thin he had become. Huang’s face, which had once been so fair, had turned sallow and as parched as wax, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Zhuang asked him if he was ill.

“Exhaustion.”

Zhuang mentioned the request to convert the unit at the nunnery into a literary salon and his need of Huang’s help to talk to the mayor. Huang did not turn him down, but insisted that he not be in too much of a hurry to get it done because the mayor had a million things to tend to at the moment, all important matters that meant he had no time for minor requests like Zhuang’s.

“How much time could it take the mayor? Does it require a written report and a study group? A word from you will take care of it. Doesn’t this meeting give the mayor a perfect opportunity to rest?”

“What can I say about you writers? Do you think the mayor can rest during the meeting?” Huang took Zhuang aside and continued in a low voice, “This meeting makes everyone more tense than a battle. Every night when the meeting is in session, he and his chief of staff drive out to the countryside and to all the districts in the city to get a sense of what’s going on and to talk to the people in charge. He’s been giving clear instructions when he can and hints when he can’t. He hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in five days. Things get complicated during the sessions. The original plan was to replace the chairman of the People’s Congress, but some people have secretly gotten together to reelect him. It might work, and that would not be good. The mayor very likely will get a second term, but it would look terrible for him if he got only a simple majority of the votes. Are you aware of all this?”

“How could I be? The meeting appears to me to be very much aboveboard. Who knew there could be so many complexities?”

“It’s all right that you writers know nothing about politics, but think about this. You want me to talk to the mayor about the nunnery unit right now. Well, that’s no problem if he’s in a good mood. But what if he’s not? He could simply find a reason to turn you down, and you could never bring it up again. I’ll wait for the right moment to bring it up, so don’t worry. I won’t forget it.”

The man sounded sincere, but Zhuang decided to drop the matter. When he saw the mayor smiling and shaking hands with some of the representatives in the hall, instead of going up to greet him, he went up to his room to read.

On that afternoon, the chairing committee told the representatives to hold small discussion groups. The staff delivered the three newspapers that had been ordered specifically for the meeting. The speakers continued to talk while the representatives read the news. Zhuang opened the provincial paper to the arts and culture section before moving on to the municipal paper, in which the first two pages were taken up by reports on the meeting. Nothing interesting there, so he moved on to the third paper, Weekend , where a headline grabbed his attention: “Tardiness at City Hall; Only half show up for work in the first half-hour.” A reporter had conducted a surprise survey by standing at the entrance to City Hall and determining how many employees arrived within the first ten minutes, how many twenty minutes later, and how many half an hour later. Several bureau chiefs and deputy mayors did not arrive on time. There were whispered discussions in the room, where the topic shifted from the mayor’s report on city government performance to debates over the newspaper report. Zhuang listened for a while but was bored by all the complaints, so he went to his room to call home and see if anything urgent had come up. Liu Yue picked up the phone. “Who’s calling?” she asked — twice. Zhuang was about to tell her when he heard the sound of laughter in the background; he remained silent so he could hear who was there with her. “Idiot,” Liu Yue complained, and hung up. Zhuang dialed again, only to have her say, without waiting for him to identify himself, “Wrong number. This is the crematorium.” She hung up again. He was so angry he dialed again and shouted into the phone the moment it was picked up.