Li Ang - The Lost Garden

Love came swiftly over me, like waves in a stormy sea. At first I was simply attracted to the dreamy sensation I received and everything surrounding him. In the midst of Taiwan’s economic boom of the 1970s, I witnessed how this tall, handsome, arrogant middle-aged man forged ahead with full confidence, resolve, and hard work; it was how he took care of his business and dealt with love. In the 1970s, when anything and everything was possible, he was a model of innovation and vitality; it seemed as though everything he put his hand to was a success.

At that moment in time, I fell completely and hopelessly into a mystifying yet powerful love. I must admit that when I first met him, I was more attracted to his low-key attitude, so different from that of other Taipei businessmen. Drawn to his gloomy, enigmatic demeanor, I’d thought that an unstable, discontented self was hidden behind a facade of success.

Once we were together, I felt that he had completely conquered me, and that gave me a powerful sense of happiness. Years later, when I longed to return to the moment when we first met, I became dimly aware that he had always been the one talking, and usually about himself — Lin Xigeng, his past, his business empire, his innovations, and his dreams. And I had been happy to be his audience, cautiously following his topics of conversation.

At the time, I was submerged in a mysterious and powerful love. A mere shred of self-awareness told me that I was falling fast, little by little, inch by inch. On every night we saw each other to the following morning, he never ceased to induce nonstop, manic love in me.

I realized I was making fewer judgments and decisions of my own, as his imposing manner all but overpowered me. Now he became the center of my existence. My life revolved around him, as I thought about what he liked, self-consciously choosing what pleased him, and expressing myself in the way he preferred.

It was as if I were in a hazy dream, engulfed in a saccharine blur. My senses, all but the powerful feeling of love, were reduced to a bare minimum. A mist seemed to have shrouded everything external, creating a sense of distance that made it unreal yet omnipresent. I continued to work and go about my life, but nothing commanded my attention; now I was lethargic and languid. I lived for his phone calls and waited for him to come see me at night in his huge, dreamy, white Rolls Royce.

I’d been in love before, but never had there been a man like Lin, who seemed to take me back to my childhood, a girl who had everything arranged and decided for her. All that girl needed was to rely on others, to obey and follow orders, with few of her own ideas, as there was no need for her to have any. In fact, I was too lazy to make my own judgments and decisions.

Worse yet was the fact that I was happy, truly happy. I didn’t have to think or worry, because there was someone to face the world on my behalf. What a carefree, indulgent happiness it is to be able to submit to a man you love, particularly if this man is so competent, reliable, and deserving of your wholehearted devotion.

But then I began to feel frightened.

Fear propelled Zhu Yinghong to try to learn everything she could about Lin Xigeng. It was easy enough; her uncle told her he had been married and that there were other women with whom he’d had intimate relationships.

Like every woman in love, she asked Lin about them.

“They were all before you,” he said evasively.

“How do I know you’re not still seeing them?”

She persisted coquettishly but stubbornly, reassured by the sweet feeling of being in love and confident of his love of her.

He was silent.

Later, when they’d been together long enough to know each other well, she brought up the women again.

“Do you think I’d let a woman control my life?” He continued in his usual arbitrary manner. “They listen to me; I don’t listen to them.”

When she finally became his legally wedded wife, they reserved several floors of Taipei’s most luxurious hotel for a wedding that was viewed by socialites as “Taiwan’s wedding of the century,” and spent their first night as husband and wife in the presidential suite. As they exchanged rings, she thought back to the piercing heartache, despair, and fear she’d felt at the moment she’d learned that he had many women, and a wife.

He never made excuses in the face of her questions, nor even feeble attempts to defend himself, which naturally caused her concern and apprehension. But the sweet sensation of romantic love hung on, and she thought everything would stay as it was. Vaguely she sensed that, as long as she could be with him, in the end she would be willing to accept these other women in his life. She was so in love with him that she all but abandoned herself to him. She just knew she could come around to that; besides, it was too early to talk about such things.

He came to see her a few days after offering to buy the house. Contrary to his usual flair and directness, he was evasive:

“I’ll be your big brother. If any of your boyfriends dare mistreat you after this, I’ll settle scores with my fists.”

“Thank you for telling me that,” she replied softly.

It was too much like the dialogue in a third-rate novel or a sappy movie, formulaic and clichéd. But the foggy, dreamy feeling was still there. Absentmindedly she wondered if he had just watched another movie on an airplane trip.

When they reached her house, he stood at the door and asked abruptly, in the tone normally used on children, yet with total sincerity and the best of intentions:

“Want me to kiss you?”

They’d had many intimate moments in the past. She enjoyed leaning against his broad chest, her face close to his. On several occasions he’d made a move to kiss her, but she’d always managed to evade his advances, because romantic love meant too much to her. Delaying every stage in a relationship, she maintained the desired progress with great care, hoping to gain the ultimate experience at every stage so she could preserve all the perfect moments in her memory.

She never imagined that what she’d treasured for so long would turn out to be a sort of consolation from him when they parted. Though he was gentle and tender, he was clearly telling her that she would have less to regret if he kissed her.

With a shake of her head, she finally realized that they were saying good-bye for real.

She told him not to call her again so she could forget him.

“I can’t do that,” he replied calmly, showing a bit of hesitation for the first time that night. Then suddenly he moved closer, took her into his arms and continued in an even tone:

“I know it’ll be wonderful being with you. You’ll be small and tight. You’ll grip me hard and bring me great pleasure …”

Lin Xigeng’s tone of voice was unchanged and there was no hint of ambiguity in what he was saying. Nor was he trying to arouse her. They were saying good-bye, and this caught Yinghong completely by surprise; not until he’d had his say did some of the words get through, and she suddenly realized what he was talking about and exactly what those words referred to. Totally unprepared for what she was hearing, it dawned on her that the common, ordinary phrases he used were all about sex, and that, oddly enough, she was aroused.

Submissive as usual, she followed his signal and dutifully opened the gate; they went to the yard, where she let him lead her hand down to touch him. Without thinking about where her hand was going, she stroked him as he desired, her heart nearly breaking over the idea that he was about to leave her. But he had already deftly undone his trousers to expose himself and was standing there otherwise fully clothed. The skill with which he had accomplished this shocked her.