Su Tong - Madwoman On the Bridge and Other Stories

Shaohong responded, ‘And yet you’re modest about it. Not too shabby: still as modest now as when you were a kid.’ Some memory had occurred to Shaohong as she spoke, and now, covering her mouth, she made a tittering noise. Bao Qing was embarrassed, for he inferred that she was laughing about his past, although he couldn’t know which particular incident she was remembering. He turned away and watched as his sister and her husband walked up the bridge, apology written all over their faces. Bao Qing said, ‘I have to go now, my family’s here to fetch me.’

He felt Shaohong give him another light slap, this time on the back. Then he heard her say, ‘Fatcat says he wants to invite you for a drink, but you’ve been all hoity-toity with us lately. The last two times he let you decline, but there’s no running away this time.’

It rained on the second day of the new year. An unbroken cloud cover hung over the town, and the roads, where underground optical cables were being installed, became an expanse of mud. Underneath his umbrella, Bao Qing rushed between his relatives’ houses, bearing gifts and New Year greetings. At his uncle’s he heard once again that Fatcat wished to invite him for a drink, and his uncle even encouraged him: ‘If Fatcat asks you to dinner, see if he won’t give your cousin a job at the eiderdown plant or as a ticket-taker on the long-distance buses. You have a lot of prestige, maybe he’ll do you a favour.’

The subject annoyed Bao Qing as soon as it was brought up, but he couldn’t very well lose his temper. Instead, he told his uncle, ‘I don’t have time to eat with him; I’ve even declined the mayor’s dinner, and I’m leaving tomorrow. Besides, I still have to go to the banquet the Education Committee Director Liu’s giving.’

By the time Bao Qing left his uncle’s home, the rain had become very heavy, so he took a short cut through the little alleys. As he passed Maqiao’s second Primary School, which he had attended long ago, he automatically glanced through the school gates. What he saw, however, was not the familiar sight of the school, but rather Fatcat’s eiderdown plant. Four red lanterns hung from the factory gates, making up the words, ‘Happy New Year Wishes!’ On both sides, the walls of the factory grounds were pasted with the conspicuous slogan ‘Demand Quality From Management, Reap Profit From Quality’. Bao Qing stood beneath his umbrella and listened to the sound of the raindrops as they struck the red-brick building’s gutters and the plastic awning over the propaganda board. The sound was so desolate that Bao Qing shuddered, and then he felt a strange sensation of resentment. ‘So he bought the school and made it into a factory. That’s new money for you! New money!’

Fatcat’s invitation hung like a shadow over Bao Qing as he paid his various family visits. Using the weather as an excuse, he had resolved to decline Fatcat’s invitation to dine at Prosperity Restaurant. His mother did not encourage him to go, for she could still remember the humiliating price her son had once paid for the privilege of Fatcat’s friendship. As Bao Qing was making excuses on the telephone, he heard his mother denouncing Fatcat: ‘Now he treats you like a human being, but back then he treated you like you were his servant; actually worse than any master would ever treat a servant. He used to ride on your shoulders and shit.’ Bao Qing did not want to hear his mother prattle on about the matter, so he motioned for her not to hover by the phone while he spoke. She moved a few paces away and sat down, remarking, ‘He’s rich. So what? There’ll be great food. So what? Leave it for the folks who like that sort of thing.’ His mother’s attitude reminded Bao Qing that he could safely shift all blame onto his mother. Into the receiver, he said, ‘Of course I don’t wish to offend, but I’m off to Beijing tomorrow and my mother says she simply won’t let me eat my last meal anywhere but home.’

Bao Qing presumed that, with this, he had successfully declined the invitation, but that evening, just as the whole family was sitting down to dinner, they heard the sharp squeal of motorcycle brakes outside, followed by the sound of knocking on the door. Bao Qing’s sister went to open it and came back to inform him that it was Renzheng. She reported furthermore that he refused to come in and was insisting that Bao Qing go out to speak to him. As soon as Bao Qing went outside, he saw Renzheng standing stiff and perfectly upright in the rain. He had removed his helmet and Bao Qing saw that he was now half bald. There were only a few tufts of hair closely pressed to his brow, dripping from the rain. He stood there in the rain with a mixed expression of terror and disquiet, seasoned with a pinch of mystery. ‘Well, Mr Professor, don’t you think your high horse is a little too high? Your old classmate is just asking you to have a drink with him, not to pass through fire and brimstone. So how come it’s so hard to get you to agree?’

Renzheng had been sent to pick Bao Qing up for Fatcat. Apparently, he had no delusions as to Bao Qing’s feelings about the matter, and so had prepared some ploys to make him to submit. ‘Bao Qing, if you don’t give in, I’ll just stand here and wait.’ Renzheng lifted his head and looked at the sky. ‘I don’t mind if I get wet. In any case, I’ve never heard of someone being rained to death.’

Bao Qing’s mother was the first to falter; pitying Renzheng, she sent Bao Qing’s sister out with an umbrella, saying, ‘When a man is that devoted, you’d be wrong not to go. People will talk. They’ll say my Bao Qing goes round with his nose in the air now that he’s made good — it’ll make a terrible impression when it gets round.’ Then, just as he was on the point of leaving, his mother picked up a piece of smoked fish with her chopsticks and stuck it in Bao Qing’s mouth. So it was that he left the house chewing fish.

Bao Qing held the umbrella with one hand and hugged Renzheng’s waist with the other as they passed through the streets of Maqiao in the freezing wind and bitter cold. It was the holidays, but night in this small town exuded an unseasonal gloom. Bao Qing could feel the little patch of warmth that was Renzheng’s waist: even through the poor-quality, rain-soaked leather he wore, Bao Qing could feel his body heat. The situation seemed both strange and familiar. Suddenly, the memory of a New Year’s night many years ago came back to him with great clarity: he, Fatcat and Renzheng had ridden two bicycles into the county capital to see the concert of some famous singer. On the way back, Renzheng’s bicycle tire had burst. Fatcat had then compelled him to change bikes with Renzheng, and they had left him behind like unloaded cargo. Bao Qing remembered that he had pushed the useless bike 15 kilometres alone.

Bao Qing had not realized that Shaohong would also be among Fatcat’s guests, but there she was, gorgeously decked out and the first thing he saw as they entered Prosperity Restaurant. She stood fixing her make-up in a mirror on the second floor, in the hallway leading to the private dining rooms. There was an excessive gravity about the way she made herself up, as if she were a folk singer preparing for the stage. Seeing Bao Qing, she tossed her lipstick hurriedly into her bag, and said loudly and sharply, ‘What, so you agreed to come? Even without a cortege of eighteen sedan chairs?’

Bao Qing could say nothing and instead forced a smile. Then he complimented Shaohong: ‘You look very nice tonight.’

She responded, ‘Like hell I do. I know what you’re thinking: you think I’m made up like an escort girl, don’t you? Well, that’s exactly what Fatcat intended: I’m to keep you company through dinner, drinks and then right on through the night. He told me it’s an honour for me to bask in the companionship of the great professor!’