Women are not in the least bit political. Even when they plot one against another, it is more like child’s play, a form of entertainment. When women scheme, it is always for love; the deeper they are in love, the craftier they become. Their love is eternal and never dies. Women are not that important. They have no power over matters of life and death, glory and decline: they are there to put you in a relaxed mood, to serve as scenery. Women were Director Li’s true love, but love was not relevant to the grand scheme of Director Li’s life work. For him love was a bit like a luxury item, never something he couldn’t do without. But for a powerful man like Director Li, luxuries always lay within grasp.
Director Li’s first wife stayed at the old family residence. It was a marriage arranged by his parents through proper matchmakers. Besides her Director Li had two other wives, one in Peking and one in Shanghai. But all told there were countless other women he had played around with. Director Li was a man who appreciated feminine beauty, even to the point of being a judge at the “Miss Shanghai” beauty pageant. At his age, however, he no longer appraised women with his eyes; instead, he used his heart. In his younger days, he too had been enamored of the bright eyes and flashing smiles of conventional beauties—the “good enough to eat” variety that satisfied the senses. But as he got older, and as his senses came to be glutted, his tastes began to change. He began to crave intimacy. He had been to many places and had seen a great many women. Peking women had an endearingly down-to-earth beauty, but this was too fulsome and left no lingering taste to savor; Shanghai women, on the other hand, stayed intriguingly on the palate, but in the end this quality was as nebulous as clouds and mist. You couldn’t become intimate with either type. Owing to the social climate in which they lived, women from both places were apt to chase after fashion, as a result of which they looked boringly alike, variations on the same themes. None of them captured his eyes, much less his heart. In the past few years, it appeared as if he had begun to lose his appetite for women, but in actuality his standards had grown stricter and it was harder to find anyone to his liking.
There was something about Wang Qiyao that struck Director Li’s fancy. He had never been fond of the color pink, because it was too feminine. A woman in pink was wearing her coquettishness all over her face, parading her sensual allure. But when Wang Qiyao wore pink she managed to make it tasteful. The pink still spoke of coquettishness, but it was honest and straightforward. One could see every stitch and thread that went into the embroidered flowers on her
cheongsam
—all expressions of care and diligence. Director Li realized that he had misjudged pink and decided it was just as natural on a woman as were the wind blowing or water flowing. If anyone was at fault, it was those women who ruined it by wearing it the wrong way; their accomplices, the tailors who ruined it by making awful outfits, were also to blame. But, after all, how pleasing to the eye and comforting to the soul this color really is!
Director Li had dealt with so many women that he was a little dazed, and so he had grown circumspect. He may have thrown his flower into Wang Qiyao’s basket, but she was still by no means unforgettable in his eyes. Preoccupied with business matters and entangled by other women, he didn’t have much time to think about her. Upon being invited to attend the grand opening ceremony for the department store, he happened to inquire who would be cutting the ribbon. He was told that it was yet to be decided, but that a certain movie star whom he liked—with whom he had once had an affair—had been suggested. Director Li responded by saying, “Why not invite Miss Third Place!” And so Wang Qiyao was invited and ended up sitting beside him. From close up, her satin
cheongsam
appeared as soft as water, as if understanding human desires, and her new hairstyle was youth pretending to be old, sensible, and shrewd. When she asked him her question about cosmetic lines, he broke out in a smile. Not only did he not mind her faux pas, but he liked it very much indeed.
A girl utterly innocent of the world!
And then, when he noticed that having realized her mistake, she kept quiet, a deep pity welled up within him—it was at that moment that he secretly made his decision.
As far as women went, Director Li was always decisive. There was never any dragging out of things or beating about the bush: he always dove right into the heart of the matter. This was partly the result of what power does to a person, but it was also simply because he felt that life was too short to do otherwise. After the banquet Director Li offered to see her home in his car, catching Wang Qiyao by surprise. Watching how the crowd cleared a path for them as they made their way out, she followed him meekly to his car. She noticed the fawning gazes as they approached the car; although she could sense that their reaction came partially out of fear, she kind of liked it. She began to understand just what kind of person this Director Li was. She was a bit taken aback but also pleased when Director Li personally opened the car door for her. He sat beside her, and though not a large man, he radiated an aura of authority with his dignified manners. He was the symbol of power: all one could do around him was to submit and obey. Director Li kept quiet the whole way. The curtains were drawn; off and on, street lights shown through the car windows. Wang Qiyao found herself speculating,
What is he thinking?
It was not until then that a curiosity bordering on hope dawned on her.
How will this day end?
she wondered. The car continued to glide over the road and the lights showing through the white curtains now ran in series. This city that never sleeps is like a riddle, and the answer to the riddle will not be revealed until its time comes. When will the time come? One never knows. Wang Qiyao was a little scared, but she was also calm in the face of fate. She seemed to feel that whatever was to happen had already been decided. What good did do to worry about it?
Director Li it is, then, not Mr. Cheng. Director Li is the type of man who makes decisions. Mr. Cheng needs other people to make decisions for him. The car had already reached Wang Qiyao’s home when Director Li turned his head toward her, “I’d like to invite Miss Wang for a casual dinner tomorrow night. I wonder if she will do me the honor.”
The invitation was couched in humble words, but, issuing from Director Li’s mouth, the words carried a subtle power. It’s your decision, and yet not your decision. Wang Qiyao nodded in some confusion. Director Li proceeded to clarify that she would be picked up at seven in the evening, at the same time reaching over to open the door for her.
Standing in front of her own home, as she watched the car disappear in a flash from the
longtang
, Wang Qiyao felt she was dreaming. It was her first meeting with Director Li, yet he had seemed to know all along what to do with her.
Who was this man anyway?
Wang Qiyao’s world was very small, a woman’s world, comprised of clothing fabrics, rouge, and powder. Its glory was the glory of makeup and finery—matters that were but floating clouds in the big world. Mr. Cheng was a man, but because of his gentle nature and his eagerness to please Wang Qiyao he had turned into a woman, a slave to Wang Qiyao in her little world. Director Li, on the other hand, belonged to the wide world outside, a world incomprehensible to her. However, she did understand that her little world was controlled by the big world; the big world served as a foundation, with a solidity on which one could rely.
Slowly she pushed open the door. The parlor downstairs was dark. An odor of greasy food wafted out of the lit kitchen, where several maidservants huddled together to gossip about their employers. She climbed upstairs to her bedroom and stayed up for a while, sitting at the window and looking out. The neighbor’s window was only an arm’s length away. Although the curtains were drawn, one could see clearly into the other room, but everything there was normal.
Wang Qiyao pondered her coming dinner date with vague anticipation. What had happened the day before seemed so distant she could hardly recall it. She put her mind to work planning the clothes and shoes she should wear the following day, and deciding how she was to do her hair. She sensed that Director Li liked her, but in what way she did not know—and that uncertainty left her at a loss as to how she should present herself. However, she had a basic faith in the natural course of events. Come what may, she must be steadfast. Even though she must apply herself with due diligence, she should never try to force the issue, because things had a way of unfolding according to hidden principles. She must put her whole heart and mind—there was no room for error—into doing her share, but always leave herself plenty of space to maneuver in just in case things should fall short of her hopes.
The next day Wang Qiyao kept the same hairdo but put on a white
cheongsam
with white piping, something studiedly casual that she might have even worn around the house. Her makeup was heavier, though, and the bright red lipstick and rouge accented her plain dress. On her arm was a beige cashmere sweater, whose sole purpose was to round out the color palette. The car stopped once again at the entrance to the
longtang
, and the chauffeur came to knock at the door, once, twice, neither too soft or too loud; he was obviously well trained. Wang Qiyao felt a little frazzled when she walked across the courtyard. She had met this Director Li only the night before; before she even knew who he was or why they had met, things had suddenly come a long way. Director Li greeted her with a smile as she got in, as if they had been old friends. Even though they exchanged few words, this was after all their second meeting, so the atmosphere was somewhat more relaxed.
On the way, Director Li looked down at the purse sitting on her knees and pointed to the beads. “What are those?”
“Beads . . .” Wang Qiyao earnestly responded.
“Oh! . . .” Director Li exclaimed in mocking surprise.
It was only then that she realized he was teasing her. Responding in kind, she pointed to the ring on Director Li’s finger.
“What’s this?”
Without a word Director Li took her hand and put the ring on her finger. Her joke had backfired, but she was helpless to retract her words, nor could she withdraw her hand. Fortunately, the ring was much too large to stay on and Director Li had to take it back.
“Well now, we’ll just have to go shopping tomorrow for a more suitable one!” They reached the Park Hotel as he said this. The men at the door all knew Director Li and greeted him as they ushered them inside. They rode the elevator to the eleventh floor, where the staff had been expecting them. They were led to a private dining room with a window overlooking the city lights.
Without consulting Wang Qiyao on the menu, Director Li nevertheless managed to order all her favorite dishes. Apparently he knew what a woman liked. While waiting for the food, he casually inquired about Wang Qiyao’s age and education and where her father worked. Wang Qiyao was annoyed at this questionnaire-like barrage, but responded matter-of-factly to all of his questions. Impishly, she asked him the same questions, never expecting him to reply. When he took her seriously she was pleasantly surprised. Next he asked Wang Qiyao what she was thinking. Thoroughly flustered, all she could do was sip tea to hide her face.
Director watched her for a while before asking, “Would you like to continue your education?”
“I don’t care . . .” Wang Qiyao answered as her eyes met his. “I have no ambition to have a Ph.D. like Jiang Lili.”
“Who is Jiang Lili?”
“She’s my classmate,” replied Wang Qiyao. “You wouldn’t know her.”
“That’s why I asked.”
This forced Wang Qiyao to say a few things about her friend, stopping and starting, in bits and pieces, until, exasperated, she said, “I don’t think you would understand.”
Director Li held her hand in his. “If you talk to me every day, I will . . .”
Wang Qiyao’s heart leaped to her throat. She blushed deeply, so embarrassed that her eyes brimmed with tears. Director Wang released her hand and said softly, “What a child you are!”
She couldn’t help but raise her head. Director Li was glancing out the window. It was a foggy night outside, and this was the highest point in the whole city. Once the food was served, Wang Qiyao gradually managed to compose herself. It occurred to her that she had overreacted. She had prided herself on being sophisticated, especially since gaining some experience in dealing with Mr. Cheng, and she thought she should not have been so bashful. Recollecting herself, she cast about for topics of conversation. Her childlike attempts to act grown-up were not lost on Director Li, but he was all too willing to humor her. She asked him how many documents and memos he had to read and write each day, then realized, as soon as she had posed the question, that he might not actually write
any
—it was probably the duty of his secretary to write documents and he only needed to sign them. She hastened to ask how many documents he signed each day. Director Li reached into her purse and took out her lipstick. Drawing a thick red line on the back of her hand, he remarked, “I’m signing one right now.”
On the third day Director Li again invited Wang Qiyao to dinner, after which he took her to Lucky Phoenix Jewelers to buy a ring, fulfilling his promise in the car the day before. Then he saw her home. Watching the car as it drove away, Wang Qiyao was dismayed. The Director came when he wanted to come and left when he wanted to leave—she had no say whatsoever. She had known this would happen, but somehow she wished for more. It was a wish ungrounded by any confidence; she was put in the unaccustomed position of having to be totally passive.