Jia Pingwa - Ruined City

. . .

Back home, Zhuang unrolled the scrolls and saw that they were among Gong Jingyuan’s best. Unable to bear the thought of giving them all to Sima Gong, he took two out and handed them to Zhao Jingwu for the future gallery. Zhuang fretted over his visit to Sima, saying he had never asked for anyone’s help that way, and he felt debased somehow. Zhao told him he had to go, reminding him of the tale of Han Xin, who had burrowed into a man’s crotch when he was down and out. You have to lower your head when you’re under someone’s eaves. Zhuang preferred to go with Meng Yunfang, who was good at small talk and could help prevent an awkward silence. On the night before his visit, Zhao went to get Meng, but he wasn’t home. His wife said he had gone to Bai Yuzhu’s house, because of the lawsuit. Bai’s mother suffered from back pains, so Meng went with Mr. Song to examine her. When Zhao returned with the information, he and Zhuang went to Bai’s house, where they found Meng and Song. Having just massaged the old woman’s back, Song was writing a prescription under a lamp and asked Zhuang if his foot had recovered. Zhuang expressed his gratitude, stomping his foot and praising the efficacy of Song’s plasters. He told him he hadn’t experienced any pain over the past five days. Bai, who had been to the compound five times but had always missed Zhuang, was naturally happy to meet him, boasting that with his involvement, everything would be fine with the lawsuit. After a few words of gratitude, Zhuang took out the scroll by Gong and asked if that would work as a gift to Sima. What would they do if he refused?

“Why wouldn’t he accept it?” Meng said. “This isn’t something extravagant like a refrigerator or a TV, nor is it cash. It’s only natural for a literary person to give calligraphy as a gift. It’s actually an act of refinement. You won’t lose face by giving it, and he won’t be embarrassed to take it. He can even tell everyone who gave it to him. He’d never be accused of accepting a bribe and would in fact be honored. I’ll go with you if you’re not comfortable going by yourself.”

“I came here precisely to ask you to accompany me.”

“Why don’t you stick around here while I go to his house to check things out. If he has visitors, then of course you don’t want to go. If he’s alone, then I’ll chat him up to gauge his mood. It would be risky to go if he’s worried about something. Everything will be easier if he’s in a good mood.”

“Good idea,” Meng said. “We’ll wait for you.”

When Bai left, Zhuang asked Song if he had gotten his license and if he’d seen Director Wang.

“I’ve wanted to come see you, but I thought you might know already. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“What is it?’ Zhuang asked.

Song went to the kitchen to wash his hands and motioned to Zhuang to follow him. In the kitchen, Song shut the door and said, “Do you really know nothing about what happened to Wang? Remember the woman who drew up the designs?”

“I do. I haven’t seen her for a long time.”

“She had a nervous breakdown.”

Zhuang was so shocked, he nearly cried out. “How? How could she have a breakdown? Did someone tell you or did you see it yourself?”

“I didn’t see her, but I know it’s true. You see, I went to Director Wang’s office three times, but he was always busy. He told me to come back, and eventually we settled on a date. When I went that day, I had barely opened my mouth when a woman came in. She told Wang she was Ah-lan’s sister, and that Ah-lan had suffered a breakdown and said she had shamed herself, so her sister came to ask him what had caused Ah-lan’s illness. ‘She had a breakdown?’ Wang said. ‘What about the design?’ Ah-lan’s sister took out a piece of clothing and laid it on the desk to ask him what it was all about. I took a close look and saw that it was a pair of women’s underpants with the crotch clearly cut open with scissors. ‘You see, I’m busy today,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you go home and come back in three days.’” Song stuck his head under the faucet, drank some water, and gargled before spitting out the water. “When I went back three days later, Wang wasn’t there. His neighbors told me he was in the hospital. I thought I’d buy a gift and go see him, so I asked them what was wrong with him. They laughed. Then they told me the whole story. It turned out that Wang had used the design for the public toilet to keep Ah-lan coming to see him. The girl was too eager for the work to see through his evil scheme. One day she went there, and Wang told her the plan had been settled and they needed to celebrate. He got her drunk and then laid her down on the desk and took off her clothes; he was in such a hurry that he cut open her underpants. He took advantage of her, and she was frantic when she woke up. But he said he’d tell everyone it was consensual if she dared make a scene, because she had gone to his place on her own. Ah-lan had to swallow her anger, but the more she thought about it, the more outraged she got, so she told her sister. Her sister was enraged, cursing the girl’s naïveté and her single-minded focus on the design. Ah-lan suffered a nervous breakdown when she thought herself into a dead end. When I ran into her sister that day, she was there to see Wang, who knelt down to beg for her forgiveness. But she had a plan for revenge. She softened her tone and forgave him, even smiling as she said he should have gone to her, a married woman, instead. Why pick Ah-lan, a virgin, who would have trouble finding a husband? Emboldened by the sister’s words, Wang also noticed that she was prettier than Ah-lan, so he went up and put his arms around her, without meeting any resistance. He was so thrilled, he told her he’d get a divorce and marry her. Ah-lan’s sister went to his house the following day and said to his wife, “I love him and he loves me. We’ve been together three years, so please make it easy for us.” She sat on their bed when she finished, even pouring herself a cup of water. She was incredible. Her demeanor and imposing air so stunned Wang’s wife that she was speechless. Then she stood up and said, ‘Remember my name, Ah-can. Only Ah-can is qualified to be the mistress of this house.’ She strode out after that, leaving Wang’s wife to wail. The wife went to the office, where Wang was presiding over a meeting, and stormed in to drag him out by the ear. She yelled at him in the yard, calling him a scoundrel who kept a mistress and even let the mistress humiliate her in her own house. The couple got into a fight in the yard. When Wang went to see Ah-can that night, she smiled at him the whole time, asking him to kiss her. He did, and she bit off part of his tongue. Finally realizing that she had been planning revenge all along, he covered his mouth and ran off.

“Mr. Zhuang, what’s wrong? Is it your heart?” As he went on, Song looked up and saw that Zhuang’s face was drained of color. With his eyes shut, he was leaning against the wall; he slid to the floor. Panicking, Song called out to Zhao and Meng, who were startled by what they saw. They laid Zhuang down on the floor and massaged his chest until he opened his eyes. “I’m okay,” he said as he sat up. Zhao brought him some water, while Meng said, “What were you talking about, Dr. Song? He was fine a moment ago. What happened?”

“I was sharing some gossip and never expected this to happen.”

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when they saw color returning to Zhuang’s face after he had some water. Saying he might suffer from heart problems, they urged him to get a checkup at the hospital.

Bai returned a while later to say that the leader of their compound was at Sima’s house, and they should wait until the man left.

“Well, they might not be done chatting for a while, and it’s getting late. Old Bai, why don’t we come back to see Mr. Sima another day?” Zhuang said.