Sheng Keyi - Death Fugue

13

The canteen in the Wisdom Bureau wasn’t the normal noisy sort of cafeteria. The food didn’t look good, and the staff wore no expressions under their white caps. The ladle scooping the food was always precise — no matter how tasteless and bland the food was you couldn’t expect to get a generous portion from that ladle. As a result of eating the canteen’s food your appetite grew larger, and eating more left you feeling hungrier than ever. You grew hungrier, in fact, from eating there than from foregoing food altogether. Even the girls couldn’t be bothered with good manners. Only Shunyu thought the canteen’s food was all right. She especially loved the braised pork, saying it was even better there than in her father’s bar.

The queue moved slowly. The only sound was the banging of metal on metal, like ping-pong balls bouncing back and forth, as the staff knocked their ladles against the edge of each plate after asking loudly, ‘Do you want baozi or mantou ? ribs or braised pork?’ The faces of the white-clothed, white-capped workers shone with an oily sheen. There was even more grease on their faces than on the food. Wearing plastic gloves, they proudly ladled out the food, scratched their chins, and handled the meal tickets. Rats’ tails, dead cockroaches, wire, grass clippings and hair were found regularly in the food, but for the young diners it was just business as usual as they made their way through the long queue.

The food at lunch was better than at dinner, when it was mostly leftovers. Meals on the weekends were simpler, since many students travelled home and others went out to restaurants. Only a few remained for the canteen to deal with, most of them ‘country folk’ and some from a background of poverty. They insisted on eating mantou, or maybe pickled vegetables with rice. Putting all their efforts into their studies, they could often be found at the library, sitting until their legs were numb. They rarely went out.

The midday sun beat on the cherry trees, the flowers had already dropped from the branches, and the leaves were all new and shiny. Mengliu had just got his meal and was sitting by the window. The glass was covered with a layer of dust, forming a halo around the glaring sun. When he’d taken a couple of bites, he saw Shunyu walking toward him. She sat her tray down, took a seat, and said, ‘How come you’re having tofu and spring onions again? Here, take some of my braised pork.’

She was wearing a white long-sleeved silk shirt, and a low-collared black cashmere Chinese-style unlined jacket, secured by silk ribbons tied in a bow at her chest. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, and almost into her plate. She used a finger to slip a hair band off her wrist, and pulled her hair back into a bun, all in one neat movement.

‘Your braised pork? You shouldn’t try to bribe me. I don’t know anything about what Hei Chun has been up to.’ Mengliu laughed. ‘These past few days I’ve seen him in the square writing poetry. He looked a little deranged.’

Shunyu replied, ‘Don’t second guess my intentions. I saw you sitting here alone looking bored, so I came over to keep you company. Anyway, I’m also a part of the Dayang Poets’ Society, and share its joys and sorrows. If you feel you owe me, you can dedicate a poem to me some day.’

‘When it comes to writing poetry for pretty girls, Hei Chun is much better at it than I am.’

Shunyu gritted her teeth, and appeared ready to beat Mengliu over the head with her chopsticks.

‘The most beautiful thing about you is that pair of canines.’

‘Don’t talk nonsense. Do you think Hei Chun will get arrested? He would have to go back to sleep at the dorm, wouldn’t he?’

‘Even if he gets picked up, it’s nothing to worry about. You go and check on him tonight. I bet he will be in his bed snoring.’

‘I’m just asking. I don’t really care. It’s not my business. He’s so busy, he doesn’t have time to waste looking after anyone else.’

‘Well, look who’s showing her temper again! I’ll organise a little dinner party to create an opportunity for you. After that, it’ll all be up to you.’

Shunyu glared at Mengliu, then took the braised pork from her plate and plopped it onto his.

Just as Mengliu finished up and was scraping his plate, Qizi came into the cafeteria. He waved to her. Her pale face suddenly turned an angry scarlet. She marched over to him, scattering everything in her path.

‘Yuan Mengliu, please explain what’s going on!’

As she said his name, she raised a hand and dropped a piece of paper onto his tray. It had apparently been torn from the double-tracked wall, and the glue still stuck to it. There were tears in her eyes.

Mengliu’s mind was in a haze. He picked up the paper and looked it over. It was a list of activists in the Wisdom Bureau, the so-called Core Group Unit, and his name was included. He was stunned. Then, in some confusion, he stood up and said, ‘What is this? I really have no idea what is going on!’

Qizi retorted, ‘You’re lying! If you didn’t agree to join the rally, why would they add your name to the list?’

Mengliu couldn’t utter a word, but inside he was overwhelmed by a new sort of joy — as if his talent was being recognised — and also a little vanity. In no hurry to justify himself, he humoured Qizi. ‘It must be that those sons of bitches liked what I had to say, and so they thought they’d just act first and then consult me later. They’re a bunch of jokers. They play an autocratic hand, shouting about democracy all the while.’

‘You’re still lying to me. How long are you going to keep on with this deception?’ Qizi had raised her voice.

Shunyu tugged at her, signalling that perhaps the pair should move somewhere else and try to talk reasonably.

Qizi wore a brown hooded pullover that fell over her buttocks, brown canvas sneakers, and black tights, which made her legs look as scrawny as a little chick’s. She walked along the green belt, a lonely and lost figure with tears rolling down her cheeks.

‘If you really want to join the rally,’ she said, tears still falling, ‘at least you should discuss the matter with me.’

‘I never thought…I just gave them a few suggestions. I didn’t expect them to…’ Mengliu said softly.

‘You know my father will be the first to object, and my mother will certainly stand by him. It will be no use trying to explain it to them.’

‘I won’t join. I’ll do whatever you want me to.’ Mengliu went to embrace Qizi, but was pushed away.

‘You wanted to go. Early on, I could already tell.’

‘If I wanted to go, I’d be a son of a bitch.’

‘You are a son of a bitch, so you wanted to go.’

‘What is going on here? I really don’t know what I can say to you.’

‘…You lied to me. I can’t trust you anymore.’

‘How come you sound like a housewife? So unreasonable, and so demanding?’

‘Me? I’m just crude. Not good enough for an elegant poet like you…Let’s end it here.’ Qizi, really angry now, jerked her arm from him and walked away.

Mengliu caught up with her. ‘Qizi, listen…No matter what, you have to believe me…’

They walked noisily along the path, tugging and pulling at each other. As he continued to explain himself, Qizi’s anger faded a little. They reached a vine-covered walkway, but the long bench there was already taken by another couple, so they walked through to the lake. They sat on the grassy bank. A few young lotus leaves, not yet fully flourishing, hovered over the water, and the mandarin ducks swam between them.

‘Qizi, when you get angry, my foot hurts.’ He showed her where he had twisted his ankle while teaching her to skate. He took her hand and went to place it on the injured part. When he saw that his sock was dirty, he put her hand back where he had taken it from.