Jia Pingwa - Ruined City

“The greatest peace comes with true Zen, when your mind is calm. What matters most is a transcendental state of mind, but when did you ever put aside everything in the mundane world? And you have the nerve to talk about Zen? I think you’re getting unhappy with your latest wife. If you don’t change, you could marry ten times, and every one of them would nag you.”

“Impossible,” Meng said with a laugh. “I’m no celebrity, so where am I going to meet that many women?”

“You’re in a league of your own.”

“You’re too career-oriented to have a carefree life.” Meng said with a snigger. “I’ve thought a lot on your behalf. You’ve accomplished so much more than the average writer, but can you guarantee that your work will enjoy long-lasting fame, like that of Cao Xueqing and Pu Songling? If not, even a minor section head can enjoy a happier life than a writer. Buddhism focuses on dharma, of which there are thousands of different kinds. Different professions experience dharma in their own way, whether it’s a general, a farmer, a thief, or a prostitute. When you look at it that way, being a general doesn’t make you noble, nor does being a prostitute make you humble, since everyone is equal.”

“I know all this, of course,” Zhuang replied. “I said long ago that being a writer is only one way to earn a living. But personally speaking, writing is all I know, so all I can do is write the best work I’m capable of.”

“If that’s the case, there’s no need for you to live such an austere life. Nowadays in this chaotic society, if you don’t use the power you have, it will soon become useless, and if you don’t exploit your fame, your hard-earned reputation will have been achieved in vain. You don’t need me to tell you how those in power use their authority for personal gain. You’ve seen enough yourself. But let me tell you about our next-door neighbor, an old man who made a killing in business. Like an old cow that prefers tender clover, he married a young woman, with the view that a rich man needs to have his way with women before he becomes incapable of enjoying the good things in life. On my way over here, I walked by his house. He’s been bedridden for three days. Through the window I heard his young wife ask him, ‘What would you like to eat?’ The old man said, ‘Nothing.’ ‘What would you like to drink?’ she asked. Again he said, ‘Nothing.’ So then she asked, ‘So do you still want to do it?’ The old man said, ‘You’ll have to help me up.’ You see, he’s not too sick to know how to enjoy himself.”

“Enough of that,” Zhuang said. “Have you seen Zhou Min and the others lately? Why hasn’t he come to see me? I feel like there’s a cloud looming over me. Yunfang, I’ve felt it since the beginning of the year. I get jumpy easily.”

“Do you think it’s some sort of premonition?”

“Nothing bad is about to happen, is it?”

“Well, now that you mention it, there is something. You didn’t say anything about it, but Zhou Min did, and I’ve been waiting for you to bring it up with me. Since you trust me, I will tell you what I think. It’s a minor incident, but it has far-reaching consequences. You’re so well known that your every move can have serious repercussions. Zhou Min has been in a bad way, and you have to help him out.”

“Do you think I haven’t? Don’t listen to him,” Zhuang said. “How about his wife?”

With a wily smile, Meng lowered his voice and said, “I knew you’d ask about her.”

“You and your smutty mouth. Stop the nonsense,” Zhuang said with a stern look.

“I wouldn’t dare. I’ve been to their place, but I didn’t see her. Zhou Min says she isn’t well. That little fox is as happy as a flag in the wind and a fish in the waves. There’s nothing that could lay her up. But I do wonder why the heartless woman hasn’t come to see you. Zhuang Zhidie does not easily fall for someone, but now that he has his eyes on this woman, why doesn’t she, someone without a city residence card, grab hold of him? Why stay away?”

Picking up a piece of soft candy, Zhuang stuffed it into Meng’s mouth to shut him up.

. . .

After lunch, Zhuang went in to take a nap, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what Meng had said. He had been unhappy with Tang Wan’er for not coming or calling over the past few days, and now it turned out she was ill. What was ailing her? Could she have fallen ill from thinking too much after he had failed to show up at the hotel and her calls could not get through? People’s thoughts tend to run wild when they are not feeling well. He wondered what such a hot-blooded woman might be thinking about him as she lay in bed. As his thoughts drifted to events at the hotel, he became so aroused he found his crotch was wet. He took off his underwear and went back to sleep naked. When he got up later, he handed his underpants to Liu Yue to wash.

Liu Yue knew what the crusty white spots were and was thrown into a state of confusion. Zhuang’s wife had not been home at lunchtime, so who had he been thinking about that had caused him to make those stains? Or had he dreamed about someone? That day she sang “Holding Hands,” he had put his arms around her, and she might have become a woman if she had loosened up a bit. She was being shrewd, unsure if he was truly fond of her or was merely using her to satisfy a passing desire. As a celebrity, he’s met plenty of people and seen a great deal. If he really cares for me, I’m young enough to become the mistress of the house, and he’ll treat me well if that doesn’t work out. He’ll give me a positive reference if I seek a good job, maybe even a husband, in Xijing. But if he is so spoiled by his fame that he thinks he can have any woman he wants, I’ll mean nothing to him and will be the big loser . Now, looking at his underwear, she did not know if she was the cause of it, but it helped her see through a famous man she had idolized, to the point that she was no longer in awe or afraid. Instead she felt closer to him.

When the washing was done, she hung it up to dry in the yard before returning to her room, where she sized herself up in the mirror. Surprised to find herself prettier than before, she was pleased. She tugged at the front of her blouse to send her unbound breasts jiggling, and was reminded of her visit to the public bathhouse with Niu Yueqing a few days before; Niu’s breasts sagged like persimmons on a winter branch, which had thrilled Liu Yue. She flashed a fetching smile, then heard a knock at the door, a light tap that she initially mistook for the wind. The sound was repeated, so she went to the door and put on the chain before opening it. Zhao Jingwu was standing there. He winked and tried to enter, but had to pull his foot back when he could not get through the narrow opening with the latch on.

“What’s your hurry?” Liu Yue said. “You knocked like a civilized man, but you’re acting like a thug trying to rush in like that.”

“Is Laoshi home?”

“He’s taking a nap. Want to sit down and wait?”

“You’ve gotten prettier in the past few days, Liu Yue,” he whispered. “And look at those pretty clothes.”

“Dajie gave me my first month’s pay on my second day, so I went out and bought these. With the visitors they entertain, I’d embarrass Zhuang Laoshi if I wore shabby things.”

“Why, you’re even wearing a chrysanthemum-patterned bracelet!”

“Don’t touch it.”

“Are you ignoring me now that you’ve flown up to a higher branch?”

“Of course I’ll have to thank you for making the introduction.”

“How will you do that? With what?”

The girl giggled and slapped Zhao’s frisky hand.

Zhuang asked who the visitor was. Zhao identified himself as he smoothed his hair at a mirror.