Li Ang - The Lost Garden

Noticing the familiar way the man spoke to and about Lin Xigeng, Yinghong leaned toward her uncle and signaled with her eyes. Understanding what she was asking about, her uncle answered with a smile, “Masao.”

“You have sharp eyes,” her uncle whispered. “He’s Lin’s right-hand man.”

“The presale system was something completely new,” Masao continued his explanation with a proud look. “In the past when you wanted to buy a house, you had to wait until the construction was completed before you made the purchase. The construction companies had to first buy a plot of land and the building materials, which in turn meant they needed a tremendous sum of cash before they could do anything. Now with the presale system, the houses are available for purchase even before the construction begins, and that is like taking the money from the home buyers to build their houses.”

The man took a sip of his drink. “So what’s the advantage of the system?” he asked.

“Yes, what is it?” the girl wanted to know.

“First of all, it reduces the buyer’s financial burden. In the past you needed to save up all the money before you could buy a house. Now it takes about a year and a half to finish a new development and your payment is pegged to the construction schedule. The monthly payment is five or ten thousand, which is affordable for just about everyone. And the construction company doesn’t need to put all its money into one site; instead, it can begin work on several sites at the same time. All this improves people’s buying power and stimulates the economy.”

Obviously wanting to ingratiate herself with Lin, the girl who asked the question was the only one who showed any interest in what the tall man was saying. It was very late, and all the other languid people around the table were too exhausted to pay attention, creating a lull in the conversation. Finally her uncle asked hoarsely:

“How come everyone credits Zhang Qidong for inventing the system?”

“That’s because Chairman Lin did not want to take the credit,” Masao said spiritedly. “After the partners at Taipei Construction split up, Zhang Qidong was left without money, and the presale system was his only capital. When Taiwan left the United Nations and all those who could manage moved away, Chairman Lin had the foresight to buy up land, which served as the foundation of his future success.”

It was a night like so many others, and a long one at that. Everything proceeded as dictated by convention: a banquet, then visits to drinking establishments, followed by taking the girls out for “business.” Since no one wanted to do that on an empty stomach, the custom of midnight snacking was formed. After the snacks, the men could go their separate ways, with their own girls.

Now that the eating was finished, everyone was waiting for the moment to do “business.” Hence the lackluster conversation eventually lapsed into silence, which raised an alarm in Yinghong. She did not want everyone to leave too early, hoping they would stay a bit longer so she would have enough time to get reacquainted with Lin. But someone must have said “Let’s go,” because everyone at the table began to gather their things, while covering their mouths to stifle a yawn or stretch lazily.

She had to stand up with everyone else. Her uncle was saying something to Lin, who then walked up and said without looking at her:

“I invited you, so I should take you home.”

In the drizzly late night, his Rolls Royce was an unwieldy mass of cold whiteness. As usual, he opened the door and slid in, followed by Yinghong, who struggled to close the heavy door, prompting him to lean over and shut it for her. But he immediately sat back and moved away from her.

She never realized that the back seat of a Rolls Royce could be so spacious. Even with her long skirt spread across the seat, there was still plenty of space between them.

This marked the first time she’d been unhappy with a spacious car. If they had been an ordinary couple, they’d have taken a local taxi, which would have forced him to sit close enough to touch the hem of her skirt, no matter how much he wanted to keep space between them.

He talked casually about how good business was, as if that was all he wanted to say to her. Gazing out at the passing scenery, he occasionally glanced at her, but quickly looked away. She responded in a calm voice that revealed nothing. The car soon arrived at her house; she didn’t tell the driver to stop, wishing she lived farther away, like Tianmu or, better yet, Tamsui.

He was the one who noticed that the car had passed her place, and told the driver to turn around. Upset that he would not take the opportunity to stay awhile, she bid him a cold farewell and got out.

To his credit, he got out and waited until she had opened the gate and crossed the yard to reach the door. He was closing the gate for her when, separated by the overgrown wildness of the yard, he blurted out:

“There have been lots of ghosts recently, wandering, lonely ghosts.”

Frightened by the sudden announcement, she instinctively moved closer to him, but the yard was so big, with dark-green, gloomy weeds, almost like an abyss on a dark, rainy night. A breeze brushed the tips of the grass, emitting a rustling noise that sounded like a strange object drifting by. She had goose bumps and felt a tingling on her spine.

“Isn’t this the lunar seventh month?” he said.

She was well aware how he often had such flights of fancy; he was a fount of new ideas, a new zoning system for land use, or new sales techniques. At that moment he was standing in the gateway and must have been reminded that she was afraid of ghosts, which led to him to recall that it was the seventh lunar month, the ghost month.

When he finally said good night and left, I turned to shut the door behind me. I couldn’t help wondering if he had been trying to frighten me so I would move closer to him. With the pride of a typical Taiwanese man, he would never try to make up with me after initiating the breakup.

As a woman, I could have taken advantage of that opportunity to lean on him; by showing how timid and frightened I was, I could erase the distance that had kept us apart all night. I wasn’t totally inexperienced in regard to men and women, and I knew that with this contact, something that could not be accomplished by words might be started anew.

Besides, I wasn’t entirely unafraid. His mention of ghosts had frightened me, and I’d felt like rushing into his arms. For all intents and purposes, that would have looked perfectly legitimate, and I wouldn’t have appeared to be using feminine frailty as an excuse.

But I didn’t do that.

My upbringing had taught me that girls should not display their emotions; I was told to pretend to be unfazed by events. So even at a moment like that, I deftly suppressed all my urges and desire, which gave rise to self-loathing.

Several months later, Yinghong was finally able to struggle out of the boundless sadness and hurt that had interfered with her ability to think clearly; now she realized that not only had Lin Xigeng not sent a car for her that night, but that he hadn’t made the call. Her uncle had called her for him, so that Lin could not be accused of being the first to attempt reconciliation.

Many more days passed. Once she’d made up her mind to ensnare him and had devised the means to do so, she knew it would require tremendous effort to feign weakness, using a woman’s frailty to get him back. It was not something she could have accomplished soon after they split up, since at the time she had been in great pain.