Jia Pingwa - Ruined City

Zhuang fell silent, his head down.

“Here’s what I think,” he said after a moment. “I’m not worried about the magazine with you in charge. I could go see someone in the Provincial Office. Zhou Min, I’ll write a letter for you to the secretary-general of the Municipal Party Committee. He and the deputy governor are in-laws. Go see him and ask him to speak to the deputy governor. We don’t expect them to be on our side. All we want is for them to remain neutral and not favor one side over the other.”

Zhou Min was so elated he stopped eating the apple he was holding.

“I didn’t know that Zhuang Laoshi had such a connection. Would that woman have been so arrogant if we’d exploited it?”

“Good steel must be used only for a sword. Important connections like this should never be exploited except when absolutely necessary.”

Zhuang remained silent as he lit a new cigarette from the one he was smoking, sending smoke spreading along his cheeks into his hair and making it look as if it was on fire.

After he finished the second cigarette, he asked Niu Yueqing to talk with Mr. Zhong while he went into the study to write the letter. Tang Wan’er and Liu Yue were still in there, chattering away, but when he came in, Wan’er turned to ask how he had injured his foot. She said she had had the same dream every night, one about him riding down the street on his scooter; he didn’t stop when she called to him, and she wondered how he could go so fast. The dream turned out to be the opposite of reality, since Zhuang actually had injured his foot.

“I did go too fast,” he said. “I twisted my ankle when I ran out of my room to take care of the mayor’s requests. Isn’t that something? I’d agreed to meet with someone that night to talk about art, but the person ended up making the trip in vain. I wonder if that person is mad at me.” He looked at Wan’er, who cast a glance at Liu Yue before saying, “You’re a celebrity, so it’s no big deal if you can’t keep your word. That person was obviously not lucky enough to have that conversation with you. No need to worry that the person might have gotten bloodshot eyes from waiting.”

“I wouldn’t mind if the person cursed me,” he said with a smile. “We know each other well enough that cursing is a sign of affection and slaps mean love. The next time we see each other, I’ll let the person bite off a piece of me.”

The veiled talk had Liu Yue in a fog. “Why are you spending so much time talking about some other person?”

“I’ll stop,” he said. “Wan’er, I heard you’ve been under the weather.”

“Achy heart,” she said, her eyes bright.

“Ah, does it still ache?”

“Not anymore.”

“But be careful.” Then he turned to Liu Yue. “Go into the old mistress’s room and get a bottle of vitamin E from her drawer.”

“So you’re worried about Wan’er, but no one so much as made a noise when I had a headache last night.”

“What nonsense is that?” Zhuang said. “You snored all night long, so how could you be sick? Are you jealous of someone’s ill health? Be careful or you might fall seriously ill.”

“You heard her snoring all night?” Wan’er asked. Liu Yue flashed a charming smile before walking out. She was barely out the door when Zhuang and Wan’er turned toward each other and stuck out their tongues, snake-like. She rushed over to hold him tightly as tears ran down her cheeks. She sucked on his lips. Zhuang tried to put his tongue in but was too nervous to manage it, so instead he pinched her arms to disentangle her before Liu Yue returned with the vitamins. Sitting in a chair, shaded by the lamp and complaining about a pebble in her shoe, Wan’er wiped her tears away and bent over to remove her shoe. She took the bottle. “So all I get is medicine, Zhuang Laoshi.”

“You ingrate,” Liu Yue said. “This is not bitter medicine.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s not bitter; it’s still medicine, and all medicine is toxic.”

“Zhuang Laoshi has to write something, so let’s leave him alone,” Liu Yue said as she dragged Tang out of the study.

When the note was finished, Zhuang thought about Wan’er; they hadn’t seen each other for some time, and now that she had finally come, there were so many people around that they could not find a private moment to talk. He had wanted to arrange a time to meet, which was why he had sent Liu Yue away, but Wan’er had used the opportunity to kiss him, rendering his mouth useless for talking. He quickly scribbled a note, which he would try to sneak to her before emerging with the letter for Zhong Weixian to read and hand to Zhou. They had more tea, and when the water boiled on the stove, Liu Yue shouted from the kitchen that she was cooking the noodles. Zhuang asked the guests to stay for dinner, but Zhong declined with thanks, saying he had to be going. With his bad eyes, he would have trouble riding his bike home at night. He got up to leave, followed by Zhou Min and Tang Wan’er, who told Zhuang to take good care of himself. Niu Yueqing stopped her, saying she had some mung beans for Wan’er to take home to make porridge, since the young couple probably did not have much at home. She begged off, but Niu Yueqing insisted and forced the sack into her hand, adding that mung beans’ cooling effect was especially good on hot summer days. They went back and forth with obvious affection. After walking Zhong Weixian and Zhou Min to the gate, Zhuang turned to look at Wan’er, who was still chattering with Niu Yueqing and Liu Yue; he was sure the two women would walk her out, and he would not be able to pass her the note. Then he saw Zhong and Zhou Min unlocking their bikes, and that gave him the idea to roll up the note and insert it into the keyhole on the lock of Tang Wan’er’s red bike.

As she walked with Niu Yueqing and Liu Yue, Zhuang, who was talking to Zhong Weixian at the gate, called Niu Yueqing over to say good-bye to the old man. Niu Yueqing walked to the gate, while Wan’er went to her bike and discovered the note inside the keyhole. Immediately realizing what it was, she took it out, smoothed it in her pocket, and read it as she bent over to unlock the bike. It said, “Come by at noon the day after tomorrow.” Hiding it in her palm, she was overjoyed as she pushed the bike to the gate, where the visitors shook hands with Zhuang and his wife. When it was her turn, in addition to making sure he could feel the note in her hand, she scraped his palm with a finger. They exchanged smiles.

Niu Yueqing was oblivious to what went on, but not Liu Yue, who saw everything.

. . .

Zhao Jingwu and Hong Jiang were busy making preparations for the expansion of the bookstore; they worked on Young Knaves Number Two and Number Four in the city to buy the next-door storefront and obtain an operation license. As everything was coming together, they spent several days making connections and forging friendships with relevant personnel at the Industrial and Commercial Bureau, the Tax Bureau, the Utility Bureau, the Environmental Sanitation Bureau, the Public Security Bureau, and the Subdistrict Office. After a roasted duck dinner at the Xijing Restaurant, they hosted another banquet at the Delaishun Restaurant, where they all enjoyed a soup made of cow, donkey, and dog penises, followed by all-night mahjong games. The two made sure to lose more than they won. All these activities helped to reduce the distance between them, to the point that they were calling each other brother. Hong Jiang was in charge of the funds for the expansion. The martial arts novels by Jing Yong had brought in a hundred and twenty thousand yuan, so he took eighty thousand to Niu Yueqing, along with the receipts for her to repay the debt to Wang Ximian’s wife. Niu Yueqing returned forty thousand to him, telling him to talk to Zhao Jingwu about the gallery. Hong Jiang then told her there was still fourteen thousand yuan outstanding, all owed by retailers outside Xijing. The amounts owed by each were not large enough to warrant a personal visit, since the expenses for travel and room and board would cost pretty much the same. All he could do was write to them, but it was likely the money would be lost. Without going into detail, Niu Yueqing could only curse the debtors, complaining about how times had changed, and that people were no longer trustworthy. She took out several hundred yuan for his monthly salary. Saying it was too much, he insisted on returning fifty. In fact, he had already collected the outstanding debts, because the retailers had not been allowed to cart away the books without paying up front. He had given the money to a distant relative to open a junk station in Wangjia Lane by the east gate.