For days afterward Director Li did not contact her. It was as if he had never existed, but there was no denying the reality of the jeweled ring. With the ring on her finger, Wang Qiyao could not help thinking about him. She was captivated. Whatever he said came to pass and whatever he forbade became an impossibility. During those days Wang Qiyao did not go out and she declined to see Mr. Cheng. She was not deliberately avoiding him; she just wanted to be alone. In her solitude Director Li’s face floated in her mind, hazy, a face that she saw from the corners of her eyes with her head down. Wang Qiyao did not really love him. He was not in the habit of accepting other people’s love: what he consented to accept was the responsibility for other people’s fate. He took other people’s fate and assumed responsibility for them in varying degrees. What Wang Qiyao wanted was for him to become responsible for her.
Wang Qiyao’s family tiptoed around her during those days. They were dying to ask what was going on, but they all held their tongues. Their neighbors had recognized Director Li’s license plate, which was widely known in Shanghai. The fact that the car had already made several trips to their
longtang
sent rumors flying. That was another reason Wang Qiyao stayed holed up at home. Parents in the Shanghai
longtang
were generally open-minded, especially when it came to daughters the likes of Wang Qiyao. They had no choice but let them do what they pleased. They treated their daughters almost like guests—even before marriage—serving them the best food and indulging their occasional tantrums. Every morning her mother would stand at the window looking out for the car with a mixture of hope and dread. Whenever the phone rang, spasms of alternating apprehension and relief shuddered through the household. And although no one said a word about it, everyone in the family was counting the days.
Several times Wang Qiyao wanted to vent her frustration by calling Mr. Cheng. She impulsively raised the receiver but put it down every time. How could she be so foolish as to toy with her own life? She could lose it all as a result of such childish antics. How could she possibly compare Mr. Cheng to Director Li? She came to terms with the fact that there was nothing she could do except to accept whatever fate had in store for her. She calmed down, albeit with a feeling of helplessness, but also with a resolve to remain steadfast in the face of new challenges. She would simply have to let things take their course, keeping faith meanwhile that when the boat reached the bridge, it would straighten out by itself. She needed patience. She had to wait in ignorance as to whether there was something worth waiting for. What else could she do but wait?
It was another month before Director Li reappeared. By that time Wang Qiyao was thoroughly discouraged and had given up hope. Director Li sent his chauffer to fetch her. As the chauffeur waited in the parlor, she hurriedly got dressed, having time only to change into a
cheongsam
. The
cheongsam
was brand new and a bit too large, but she had had no time to get it altered. A few days earlier, she had had her hair trimmed but not permed, so she quickly curled it with hot rollers. She had lost some weight and her eyes looked larger, a little sunken, betraying a touch of resentment. She was taken to a restaurant on Sichuan Road, to another private room, where she found Director Li sitting at the table waiting for her. As soon as he touched her hand, bitter tears rolled down her cheeks. He sat her down right next to him and held her in his arms. Neither of them said anything, but they understood each other. Director Li too seemed to have been through a lot. The hair around his temples had grown grayer. However, the ordeals they had undergone were different—hers had ground away at her heart, but he had undergone ordeals that crushed him like an unbearable weight and left him ready to give way at any moment. They had both come for solace. What Wang Qiyao wanted was comfort that could last her a lifetime, while Director Li just wanted a smidgen. The things they asked for were different, in quality as well as in quantity, but a smidgen to Director Li was the entire piece for Wang Qiyao—it made a perfect match.
As Wang Qiyao cuddled against Director Li, her heart settled down and she finally felt grounded. By this point Director Li’s iron-like will had also turned into mush. He thought to himself,
Women are really the only clear notes amid the cacophony of strident noises in this tumultuous world
. Wang Qiyao had ceased to think. Now that she had Director Li she did not need anything else. After they held each other for a while, Director Li lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. Her face seemed more childlike than ever, with the total trust and obstinacy of a child. Director Li had seen a lot of women, from all walks of life and in all kinds of circumstances. At this stage in his frenzied life a woman looking up at him with unquestioning trust evoked a poignant mixture of sweetness and bitterness. He was enthralled. He clasped her to him again and asked what she had been doing at home.
“Counting my fingers.”
When he asked why on earth she would do something like that, she answered, “I was counting the days until you came back.”
Director Li held her tighter, and thought,
She may look like a child but she
’
s got all the guile of a woman
. After a pause, Wang Qiyao asked what he had been up to since last they met.
“Signing documents, of course.”
At that they both laughed. Wang Qiyao thought,
He even remembers that joke. He must have been thinking about me all this time.
The nights on Sichuan Road were reassuring in their ordinariness. The lights illuminated clearly all things in their respective orbits. The restaurants served food that one might have found at home, delicious even though a bit greasy. The window, fogged up by human breath, had a warm feeling, seeming to exude sympathy. Director Li released Wang Qiyao and let her return to her own seat. He said he had sent someone to rent an apartment for her. He would visit her regularly. If she felt lonely she could invite her mother to stay with her sometimes. Of course he would also hire a maid for her. If she wanted she could attend college, but only if she wanted—since, after all, she did not want to be a Ph.D.! They both smiled at this allusion to their first dinner alone together.
As Wang Qiyao listened to him, she thought it was a well thought out, almost flawless proposal, yet she did not want to accept immediately.
“I’ll go home and ask my parents . . .”
This schoolgirl-like response made Director Li smile at her indulgently. He reached out to caress her head. “From now on you only have to ask me.”
Tears streamed out of Wang Qiyao’s eyes, and a profound sense of grievance welled up in her. Director Li was silent. He understood even better than Wang Qiyao the source of her grievance. He had seen tears of this kind many times. Even though they always proved to be fleeting, they left a residue, which tended to resurface during times of crisis. When he was young, he thought he could crush anything in his hands into dust. But he no longer had that boundless confidence. Experience had taught him that every person in the world—no matter how great—is always a puppet in the hands of another. Those are the hands of fate. He therefore felt that Wang Qiyao was shedding tears also for him, and he was moved. After Wang Qiyao stopped weeping, she patted her eyes; they were still red, but clear enough that one could see all the way down to their bottom. Director Li saw himself reflected in those eyes. After that she seemed much more relaxed, but at the same time resolute, as if she had finished performing a farewell ceremony. She had now entered a new stage in her life and was ready to go to battle.
“When can I move in?” she asked.
Director Li was taken aback. He had thought it might take some time to get her used to the idea and had not expected her to be so cut-and-dry about it.
“When . . . ever . . .” he uttered hesitatingly.
“How about tomorrow then?”
This put Director Li in a tight spot, because although he had toyed with the idea of getting her an apartment, he had not taken any steps actually to rent one.
“Let’s wait a few days . . .” he was forced to temporize.
In the ensuing days Director Li was constantly in Wang Qiyao’s company, eating with her and taking her to see Peking opera. Director Li was a southerner, but he had spent a large part of his life in Peking and so had become a Peking opera aficionado. He now found the local operas of his hometown of Shaoxing extremely boring. Movies also bored him. The Peking operas he liked were those featuring female lead roles—and among these he delighted most in the ones where the lead was played by a man. He thought that men in female roles were more feminine than women, because only a man could understand what was so entrancing about women—women themselves would never understand. The female leads played by women articulate the female form, but men could articulate the female spirit. This is a simple case of an onlooker being able to form a clearer picture of what goes on than the parties involved. He especially despised Hollywood movies and the women in them, who displayed nothing but feminine shallowness. Those Hollywood actresses were not fit to hold a candle to men playing female roles in Peking operas. He thought if he were to play a female lead, he would bring to life the most beautiful woman in the world. A woman’s beauty is definitely not self-conscious. Women are most beautiful when they are not aware of their beauty—often precisely when they think they are ugly. The feminine beauty articulated by men in female roles is an idealized beauty. Whether moving about or staying still, frowning or smiling, they are interpreting women, as if women are books they have studied. Director Li’s love of Peking opera stemmed from his love of women; furthermore, the two were similar in that he looked at both from the perspective of an aesthete. Wang Qiyao came from a generation in Shanghai that grew up watching Hollywood movies; the drum rolls and clanging gongs of Peking opera always gave her a headache, yet she learned to control her personal dislikes when she accompanied Director Li the opera. After a while she actually began to find it interesting, and was able to make a few intelligent remarks about the performance, allowing her to converse with Director Li on the subject.
Director Li took her to see the apartment a week later.
The apartment was located in an alley off one of those quiet streets that ended at the intersection in front of the Paramount Nightclub in Jing’an Temple district. There were several apartment buildings standing side by side, collectively named Alice Apartments. The one that Director Li rented was on the ground floor, with a large living room and two smaller south-facing rooms that could be used as either bedroom or study. A room designed for the maid faced north. The floor, of narrow teak planks, gleamed with burnished brown wax. The European-style furniture was made of rosewood. Curtains had been hung and the tables were covered with tablecloths. Antimacassars, vases, and other such items had been deliberately laid aside for Wang Qiyao to do with as she liked, to give her the satisfaction of decorating her own home. The closets were also empty, so that by filling them she could fill out her days. The jewelry box was also empty, to be filled with Director Li’s riches.
The overall feeling that Wang Qiyao experienced upon entering the apartment was that it was large and empty. Walking around, she felt tiny. She had the distinct sensation of floating on air. She doubted its reality. Was it genuine or fake? The apartment was dark because it was on the ground floor, the curtains were drawn, and also the day happened to be overcast. When the lights were turned on, it felt like nighttime.
Entering the bedroom, Wang Qiyao saw a bed for two, over which hung a ceiling lamp. The scene looked eerily familiar, as if she had been there before, and her heart sank. She was about to turn around to take a look at the other room, but her path was blocked because Director Li stood right behind her. He held her and maneuvered her toward the bed. After a slight struggle, she found herself lying on the bed. It was dark in the apartment, and only the birds chirping outside the window indicated to her it was still daytime. Director Li mussed up her hair and the makeup on her face, then started to unbutton her. She stayed still and even cooperated by getting out of her sleeves.
This moment was bound to come sooner or later,
she thought to herself. She was nineteen and this was the right time. No one deserved this moment more than Director Li. Giving this to him felt more right to her than if she had given it to anyone else. She would be able to settle down with no second thoughts and no lingering doubts. She caught a whiff of the lime that had recently been used to whitewash the ceiling—it struck her nose with a certain cold acridity. On the brink of that very last moment, she did feel some regrets. She realized that she had twice worn a wedding gown—once at the film studio and once on stage during the final round of the pageant—but when it came time for a wedding gown in real life, she was not wearing one.
Chapter 4
Alice Apartments
ALICE APARTMENTS IS a place unknown to most, a quiet island in the midst of a noisy city. Situated near the end of a dead-end street, it is a self-contained world. The window curtains are drawn, and even the cries of the crows and sparrows seem to be shut out. The residents seldom step outside and even the maids do not stop to gossip. As soon as the sun goes down, the iron gate is clanged shut, leaving a small side door illuminated by an electric lamp as the only point of entry. Who lives here and what do they do? Why is the place called “Alice”? Does the name have any special significance? “Alice” evokes the image of a beautiful young girl in love. The place is a wonderland compared to our philistine world. And although it is right next door it could just as well be at the edge of heaven, each world invisible to the other. Why has it been plunked down into this ordinary neighborhood? What kinds of things take place behind those curtains? The city air is full of beguiling rumors, scandalous rumors, rumors of adventurous women who sail away on their love to faraway places—places as distant as Alice Apartments.