Sheng Keyi - Death Fugue

Juli took his damp clothes to dry, then casually went about making tea, her movements haphazard and her eyelashes sticking to her cheeks, her speech cool and courteous. Mengliu felt like they were looking at each other from opposite sides of a river. With the waters between them surging, he grew somewhat bored. The distance made him sad. It was as if they were being pushed apart by some unseen hand. He hoped Juli was hiding something, that she was in fact about to collapse, and would soon be throwing herself into his arms in tears. The porcelain teacups had three painted herrings swimming in them, with a muddy yellow line running around the sides of the cup. Juli knitted her brow, her eyelashes trembled, and her hands shook. She spilled the tea.

He felt that she was fatter than before, her face was like a Buddha’s, full of meaning. From time to time she would break into a crazy laugh, creating a tense atmosphere in the room. When she wasn’t speaking, she was like a mushroom growing in the crevice of a cliff, lying low, wet and preoccupied. He wanted to talk to her about something more than the weather, like artificial insemination, or a marriage ordered in red ink by forms from the state, or the present, or the future. But Juli’s unbreakable quiet elegance prevented him. He took a book from the table and flipped through it idly. He remembered a topic that interested her, grew animated, and decided to end his dilemma.

‘Let me tell you something interesting.’ He put the book on his knee, caressing the cover with his palm. He wanted to see a renewal of life in her eyes, and so he paused, waiting for her to ask him what it was.

But there was nothing urgent in Juli’s demeanour when she asked flatly, ‘Is it a funny story about the Three Musketeers? Or is it about the leaders? You shouldn’t rely on the same old material all the time. Come up with something fresh.’

‘This is something I’ve never talked to anyone about. It’s a secret about Hei Chun and Shunyu. Shunyu was always in love with Hei Chun, but his heart was just not inclined that way. Love is unfathomable, sometimes it is able to attack a long-standing fortress and topple it in an instant.’ Mengliu stalled again. The house grew dim, as the sun set behind the slight misty rain that fell on the trees. ‘At that time, the crowds on the streets had carried out a sit-in that lasted almost a month. One day, there was a conflict between the civilians and the military on West Beiping Street. A military vehicle was smashed up. Hei Chun took a brick and, in anger, threw it at the pile of scrap metal. Suddenly he saw a girl in a white dress digging out two bricks from the door frame of the public toilet and slamming them at another military vehicle. It was Shunyu. Hei Chun was very surprised. He thought her posture had perfect revolutionary style when she threw the bricks, and he was enchanted. He trotted over to her, grabbed her hand, and ran. Shunyu said, “What are you doing? Leave me alone. I’m not a party member. I quit the Plum Party.” Hei Chun said, “You better stay in the Plum Party. I want people to see how I do a Plum Party member.”’

Juli lowered her head, as if the story stimulated her and gave her the shivers. ‘That’s barbaric!’

‘Sometimes savagery is romantic. They ran into the nearest alley. Hei Chun pressed her against the wall, raised her skirt…that son of a bitch! You know, Shunyu loved him. Even if he tried to have her killed, she wouldn’t resist.’

Juli’s body retreated instinctively.

‘It’s all true. Nothing that happened was unusual at that time. That was Hei Chun’s revolution, and his romance. He said when the conflict ended he would marry Shunyu…’ A light fell on half of the living room as the rain stopped completely and the setting sun floated in. Mengliu squinted, paused for a moment, then said, ‘After Shunyu died, Hei Chun went missing, and the conflict ended.’

A person can close his eyes, but not his ears. The sound of flowers opening, night falling, birds singing, bones shattered by bullets, machine gun chatter, explosive missiles hitting glass, the pulsing moans and the fires punctuating the dark…these sounds were like a symphony that was both passionate and cruel as they blared in Mengliu’s mind.

Juli wiped water stains from the table with a towel. ‘You are still alive. It’s a pity you have run out of ideas.’

Mengliu didn’t speak. He felt blood on his tongue, and he tasted its salt. When he went out the door, the sun splashed over him. He heard Juli say, ‘the walking dead’, and his leg injury began to ache faintly. He walked alone, slowly, not knowing where he should go. Since moving out he had lost all sense of belonging. He still burned for Juli, but she didn’t display a trace of warmth. The ground was wet, the air cool. A curved rainbow hung over the hilltops in the mist. The golden forest stretched to the horizon. It was autumn, and there was a hint of a chill in the air. Mengliu sat under an acacia looking into the distance at a cluster of clouds on the mountains, watching the occasional fall of a yellow leaf. He looked at the wound on his leg. It had healed, now the pain was mostly in his mind. He was overcome with sadness, and had to breathe in deeply.

The appearance of Shanlai cheered him. He wore a dark-coloured lightweight jacket. It had been many days since they had met, and he had a new sense of maturity and calmness, as if he knew all the secrets. He met Mengliu with the warmth of an old friend. Mengliu had much he wanted to say, so when he saw Shanlai, it came pouring out of his mouth.

‘Shanlai, you once said the soul is a box. Where does this box go after we die?’

‘It turns into a star.’ Shanlai pointed to the sky. ‘When a meteor falls, a soul has disappeared.’

Mengliu looked at him. He turned into a fish, a mysterious black-and-white speckled furry fish. Its tail swung eerily, and its chocolate-coloured eyes flashed slyly, seeming to taunt the human inability to understand a fish’s world. Mengliu rose from his sadness, as if he’d suddenly remembered he had a meeting to attend. He was willing to go on sitting here, perhaps sitting forever. But he thought, You little shit. I’m treating you as a good friend, but you don’t understand the complexity of the world…

‘Head of a Thousand Households, the world is indeed complex, and always surprising.’ Shanlai seemed to read his mind. ‘They asked me to look for you and take you immediately to the hospital. I’ve heard that the machine data was mistaken, and that you and Rania are not the perfect couple…’

Upon hearing the machine had made an error, Mengliu was so happy he nearly laughed out loud.

The distant snow covered the mountain like a veil on a demure bride. The sky was so thin that a fingertip could poke through it. The moon floated out, transparent as a soap bubble, shiny as a coin. If one blew at it, a string of silvery whistles could be heard.

13

Mengliu had no interest at all in procreation. He considered his own life quite terrible, and always lived in confusion. To bring a child into this world would be irresponsible, even without considering the fact that the world was only getting worse, there was pandemonium and pollution everywhere. He had seen a lot and he was sick of it. He would rather be alone, free to come and go as he pleased, without care. It wouldn’t matter if he lived or died.

He was not anxious to go to the hospital, and dallied on the way there. He wondered what Rania being at the hospital had to do with him. She had Swan Valley, an omnipotent, meticulous and all-embracing government. It gave her the warmth of a husband, the dignity of a father, the omnipresence of God…

He seemed to see her lying on a white hospital bed, with a family of doctors and nurses for companionship, holding her hand, examining her body, stroking her forehead, their smiles calming and comforting her. So he was superfluous. His only value was that he had carried the genes and provided the sperm. He was special material. But someone like him would not be particularly favoured in Dayang for this reason. Dayang didn’t care for such things. They just wanted mediocrity, so long as you were servile enough, and stayed firmly fixed in your place until you were rusted on there. Even if you were versatile, useful, full of ideas, if you weren’t obedient you’d be ostracised until you were broken and then allowed to drift away.