Li Ang - The Lost Garden

Obviously an old hand at this, Teddy picked the most inconspicuous hotel out of the many “rest and recreation” places in a residential area in Taipei. They arrived at different times and gave the reception desk false names. Everything was done in the dark, for they feared that the hotel might have installed a hidden camera or a peephole in the wall.

Even in the dark, she closed her eyes when she responded to his movements. He was clearly working hard to please her, and yet it was Lin’s image that she saw, and she had to bite down hard on her lip to stop herself from calling out his name. Eventually, Teddy’s persistent hard work paid off; the purely physical contact brought her enough pleasure that she responded accordingly, though it was not close to earth shattering.

Then, little by little, as they became more familiar with each other’s body, she began to fully enjoy the carnal pleasure. She kept her eyes shut and called out Lin’s name silently with lips tightly shut. When he brought her to orgasm time after time, she began to moan, and Lin’s name escaped from between her teeth in a raspy sound.

They met once a week; the man wanted more, but was not put off when she said no. Yinghong knew that she was only one of his many women, a comforting fact to both of them. But he complained about how, when they were finished, she would get up and get dressed, not even spending a few extra minutes by his side.

She managed to explain why she could not stay at the hotel for long.

In a city crowded with people and endless events, a large number of hotels rose to meet their needs, appearing on every main street, sometimes even reaching into residential alleyways. They were like exploding red torches, each hotel an erotic sea with burning desire, crackling and raging all over the city.

In a medium-size hotel with a hundred or more rooms, there would be five to six hundred couples copulating every day. At their busiest hours, the hotel staff had to rush in to change sheets between couples, piling dirty sheets in the basement like a stack of white mourning couplets still dripping wet from the ink. Quickly another pair of naked bodies lay down on the new sheet, pushing, touching, and grabbing at each other, with nonstop moaning and groaning.

Sexual intercourse that cannot be performed at home is naturally different from the formulaic sex among married couples. Couples paid for the place because they had an urgent need to satisfy their bodily hunger. The hotels were where raging desires converged, creating a sexual vitality that was alluring to anyone who came for the pleasure.

To be expected, these hotels anticipated their customers’ need by offering all sorts of stimulants: wall to ceiling mirrors on all sides, massage beds, as well as contraptions or exercise equipment to increase sexual pleasure. On the subtropical island of Taiwan, where summer lasts four months, with temperatures reaching 36 degrees Celsius, some hotels still offered Hawaiian tropical decor or Mediterranean furnishings, all to help arouse their customers.

To avoid the risk of recognition by hotel reception staff after frequenting the same hotel, the man took her to different places, and she went along with no qualms. In the dark, it did not matter if it was the Hawaiian or Mediterranean style; they came for sexual gratification and left after their needs were satisfied.

What she found unbearable was that the man, after getting off her, would want to cuddle. He was obviously a loyal reader of popular books on sex, for he wanted to hug and touch after they were finished. She abhorred such contact, just as she would never let him kiss her. For Yinghong, kissing, caressing, and hugging belonged to those with true love and real connections, while contacts of sexual organs were simply for the gratification of needs.

Of course she knew she couldn’t tell him how she felt; no man would like to be reduced to a penis, even if it was a potent one that could give a woman so much pleasure.

She could sense that weekly intense gratification was calming her down; the distress and disquieting mood slowly left her, replaced by a sense of leisure, a serene ease. She knew now she could begin her hunt.

Now that her anxiety was gone and her skin had regained its luster from sexual satisfaction, she looked beautiful and graceful again, the dark circles under her eyes gone. She even devoted time to skin care and makeup, all in order to showcase herself at meetings, where they sat far across from each other.

The development that her uncle and Lin worked on together was nearing the sale stage, which meant nonstop meetings with the sales firm. They needed to position their product, settle on the price per ping , calculate the total sale price for each unit, design a promotion strategy, and more.

Lin’s wild idea had been to construct a building with more than three hundred vacation homes on a hill outside the city. From his viewpoint, Taiwan’s economy had developed to the point where some people would want to invest in a vacation home, a place where they could spend weekends and holidays. He believed that most homeowners could not yet afford to buy a single-family vacation home, and that management and maintenance could pose problems. But businessmen who had made a a fortune in foreign reserves would be interested in buying a second home, since, with a firm understanding that island land is limited, they had the typical Taiwanese penchant for buying. Why couldn’t their second home be in a building in the outskirts of town? It would surely be cheaper than a single-family villa and a lot easier to maintain.

“I don’t just deal in real estate; I also want to help Taiwan raise the standard of living and change people’s views about housing,” Lin said with customary confidence. “I want to teach the Taiwanese how to live a high-class lifestyle.”

The meetings usually took place in Lin’s office. True to his boastful nature, the table was a dozen meters long in his company headquarters, which occupied an entire building in Taipei’s prized Eastern District. Yinghong’s presence unsettled him somewhat, and that intensified his efforts to display everything — his decisiveness, his wealth, and his power — like putting on a show. But when he had to make a critical decision tied to the outcome of billions of dollars in real estate investments, he turned reserved and pragmatic, devoting all his energy and concentration to work and planning. In such situations, he would look glum and inscrutable, ignoring her to the point that she virtually ceased to exist.

Sitting at a distance from him, her heart beat violently, blood raced through her veins. As someone born with the natural talent of a leader, he would listen quietly and then quickly and accurately identify the central issues; when it came to final decisions, he rarely wavered and could convince anyone with his powers of persuasion. She felt the dreamlike sensation returning. They may have been worlds apart, yet she sat there, waiting with grace and beauty.

Once they were back together, her feminine side resurfaced and she could not stop commenting on his domineering stance and the resolve with which he made decisions during meetings, to which he responded with a loud, hearty laugh.

“I’ve got you fooled. Most of the time, I’m scared witless when I make decisions.”

She looked up at him, incomprehension registering in her eyes.

“And I can’t let my apprehension show; if I did, everyone in the company would lose their calm.” Then his gaze turned cold. “Usually I feel like I’m a gambler, betting on data and analysis. I chalk up all my wins to mere luck.”

Profound compassion and love led her to rest his head against her bosom, as sorrow and sweetness welled up inside.