Sheng Keyi - Death Fugue

Shunyu blushed.

After he had spoken a little longer Mengliu slid off the windowsill. When he said he was leaving, the room was suddenly engulfed in a bright glare. All eyes were trained on him, and the spots, blackheads, acne, pimples, disappointment, surprise, regret, and discontentment on his face could all be seen clearly.

Quanmu was the first to stand up, his shadow falling across the floor. ‘Mengliu, we’ve all put our personal matters aside. You can’t just go like this. The Party needs you.’

Some people blocked the door.

Mengliu’s eyes flew to Qizi and he said, ‘I came today to ask you to take my name off the list. I have never wanted to participate in any organisation, or anything other than literature. But this does not mean I don’t support you. If I have anything to offer, I will certainly tell you.’

Qizi stood up too. ‘We’re planning to go overseas. We don’t have time.’

Hearing this, Hei Chun’s face suddenly went cold. He turned to look out the dark window. His hair formed a messy canopy around his slumped shoulders.

‘Yuan, give it more thought. The Party needs your wisdom.’ Quanmu, with his high forehead and delicate handsome look, tried tactfully to persuade him.

‘Those who escape are cowards,’ Hei Chun suddenly spat out in a strong Southern accent. ‘Who doesn’t want to save his own skin? If the nation is rotten, how can individual lives flourish? And what is the point of feasting then? Of the young people now in Round Square, who does not have his own ideals and future?’

His words left no room for equivocation. Mengliu went off in a huff amidst the smell of gunpowder.

He vented his frustration as they walked. ‘The most annoying thing is to have a person acting with a mysterious authority, and telling me how to live my life and how to do things. Now that he has set up the Unity Party he thinks he’s quite a figure! He’s lost his sense of direction. Am I just saving my own skin? Well, what’s that got to do with Hei Chun? Who does he think he is? Why should he humiliate me in public like that?’ Mengliu did not quite know where all his anger had come from, but it seemed to have been long repressed. ‘I write my poems and I mind my own business. I don’t join organisations. I live my own life. Am I hurting anyone?’

Qizi felt his tirade was directed at her.

‘I’m not putting my own neck on the line. I’m not joining the party, and I’m not staying here any longer.’

He plopped down on the grass, legs splayed. The street lamp glimmered through the leaves, and a few fireflies chased one another.

Shunyu caught up to them. ‘It’s not worth getting so angry with Hei Chun. I don’t think he meant any harm. He just likes to talk in that sort of scathing, preachy tone. But you’re right to resign. Let me tell you, your speech that night at the double-tracked wall was recorded. I’ve heard that the tape has been sent to the Security Board.’ Shunyu spoke cautiously. ‘You’ve got to be extra careful. My father won’t let me leave the house. He gave me an ultimatum.’

Mengliu breathed out between his teeth. ‘You’re like your father, always thinking of how to take care of yourself.’

‘I’m doing this for your good. Why are you turning on me? It’s really biting the hand that feeds you…I’m tired of looking after you. You’re on your own.’ With that, Shunyu stomped off.

The night was black as water. Every now and then fish swam by quietly and the seaweed swayed.

Qizi was also unhappy. ‘Okay, you obviously want to join the party. Go ahead. You don’t need to compromise.’

‘I’ve told you, I’m a poet. I don’t want to be a stickler for any kind of form.’

‘Acting like this makes us seem boring. Everyone will look down on us.’

‘Everyone? You mean Hei Chun? You think I’ve embarrassed you. Well, isn’t this what you wanted?’ Mengliu was cynical. ‘Did you really read those books when you were a junior? You probably just saw the covers at Hei Chun’s place.’

In his jealousy, Mengliu could not make himself speak nicely to her. How could she flirt with Hei Chun right under his nose? Their familiarity with each other was beyond his understanding.

17

Mengliu had become used to the golden toilet, and his digestive system was now more regular than it had ever been. He toyed with the diamond marbles in his hand, his heart as forlorn as the baskets that were hanging on the wall, waiting for Juli’s care. What annoyed him was her ambiguous attitude. He couldn’t figure her out. She seemed like a wife of many years, placid and quiet, rarely meeting Mengliu’s eyes when she spoke. All he could do was look at her limitless face, the long eyelashes, the distant nose and eternal lips. She was cool, but not cold, like the low fence around the vegetable garden that was a sort of loose boundary and easy to step over. But Mengliu was acting contrary to his usual style, and was also reserved and considerate, like a rabbit sensitive to the signs of a trap. He found that the one sure way to catch Juli’s eye was to talk about his past. In order to win a glance from the beauty, he sometimes talked of Dayang’s shocking political scandals or its human tragedies. Afterwards he regretted it, and felt like a traitor. Even so, just for the sake of bringing tears to Juli’s chocolate-coloured eyes, even just for the shadow of a glance, he would spare no effort, working out a draft of his presentation in his mind first, so that he wouldn’t end up discrediting his own country while trying to win her favour.

Juli wanted to know specifically what made the machinery of a large nation turn. Was it flexible? Did the gears make a grinding noise, and what sort of lubricant was needed? Was wear and tear a big problem, and how did one go about replacing old parts? Or was it better just to scrap it all and start from scratch?

Mengliu kept leading the conversation back to medicine, saying that doctors had mastery over the machinery of the body. From ancient times until now, the body’s organs and tissues had not changed. The Yellow Emperor and The Compendium of Material Medicine would never be outdated, and medical skills were essential for keeping all the two-legged creatures of the world up and running.

Juli was more concerned about the body politic and the diseases it suffered from.

Mengliu had a premonition of danger. When a beautiful woman developed her intellect, it could only lead to disastrous consequences for him.

It was a good day. Juli brewed the dark, fermented tea and invited Mengliu to play a game of chess. Distracted, Mengliu lost two games.

Juli’s hair was arranged in two braids wrapped around her head and secured at the back with a shell clip. She wore clogs, and her toes were visible beneath the hem of her light blue skirt. The skirt was made of a soft, comfortable fabric that hugged her curves.

‘You’re playing too impatiently today. You are too distracted. You’ll scare away the spirit of the tea.’

She smiled serenely. It was a typical Swan Valley smile, temperate and lovely as porcelain. At that moment Mengliu felt the cherries had ripened, the coconuts were heavy, and the grapes on the trellis were surging forward.

‘You’re especially beautiful when you smile. Why don’t you smile more often? When you smile, even the plants and flowers take notice.’

Juli’s smile broadened, as if she were granting some special permit for Mengliu to make an even more daring comment. Of course, this was just a small test. He had stronger motives within him. He was just waiting for Juli to issue a more relaxed smile. But Juli’s smile came out like a bud in spring, showing signs of the flower, but not quite opening. Her liquid brown eyes solidified again and her thoughts took a leap.