At that point Madame Yan asked bluntly, “He is so loyal to you, and neither of you is getting any younger.... Why don’t you just get married?”
Wang Qiyao responded with another laugh. Raising her head, she looked Madame Yan straight in the eye. “A woman like me. . . . How could I talk of marriage?”
The next day, Kang Mingxun indeed came by to call on Wang Qiyao. Although she had expected him to show up after Madame Yan’s visit, she was still caught by surprise. Standing there face to face, neither knew what to say. Mrs. Wang sized up the situation and decided it was best to give them some privacy, but slammed the door shut on her way out to register her disapproval. But Wang Qiyao and Kang Mingxun didn’t even notice. This was the first time they had been together since their parting. It felt like thousands of years since they had last seen each other. They had appeared in each other’s dreams, but the images in their dreams were so far from the real person that they would have been better off not even dreaming. They had, in truth, resolved not to think of each other—and succeeded. But, face to face once again, they discovered that letting go was not as easy as they had thought. They stood there for a moment before Kang Mingxun walked around to the other side of the bed to take a look at the baby. Wang Qiyao stopped him. When he asked why he shouldn’t see the baby, she said, “Because I said so. . . .”
Kang Mingxun pressed for an explanation. Wang Qiyao said that it wasn’t his baby. They fell silent for a while before he said, “Well, whose is it then, if it isn’t mine?”
“Sasha’s.”
At that, the two of them broke down in tears. All the sorrow they had suppressed back when they had to make that difficult decision suddenly came rushing back; they wondered how they had ever got through everything that had brought them to this point.
“I’m so sorry . . . I’m so sorry. . . .” Kang Mingxun kept apologizing, knowing it would do no good even if he said it a thousand times over.
Wang Qiyao kept shaking her head, aware that if she did not accept the apology, she would have nothing at all. They were both in tears, but it was Wang Qiyao who stopped crying first.
Wiping away her tears, she insisted, “She really is Sasha’s child.”
Hearing her say this, Kang Mingxun also pulled back his tears and sat himself down. There was no more mention of the baby; it was as if she had ceased to exist. Wang Qiyao had Kang Mingxun make himself some tea and, as he busied himself, she asked him what he had been doing of late—did he still play bridge? Was there any news on the job front?
“For the past few months, it feels like I have been doing only one thing—waiting in line. I get in line at nine thirty every morning to get into the Chinese restaurant. Then I line up again around four at a Western restaurant. Sometimes I have to line up just to get a cup of coffee or a quick bite, like a bowl of rice with salted pork.”
He explained that he was the one who usually got stuck holding a place in line for the rest of the family; once it got to close to his turn, everyone else would show up.
“Everyone talks about there not being enough to eat, but I feel like all I do all day long is eat!”
Wang Qiyao took a closer look at him and jokingly observed, “You’ve been eating so much that you’re starting to grow gray.”
“I don’t think that’s from eating too much—it’s from missing someone too much....”
Wang Qiyao rolled her eyes. “Oh no, I’m not singing
Rendezvous at the Pavilion
with you again!”
They seemed to have slipped back into their old ways—except that there was this new addition asleep on the bed. Sparrows were pecking at crumbs on the windowsill and they could hear someone forcefully shaking out a comforter on a nearby balcony.
Kang Mingxun was just on his way out as Mr. Cheng came back from work. Passing on the stairs, they exchanged a quick glance but neither left much of an impression on the other. It wasn’t until he got inside that Wang Qiyao explained that the man was her neighbor Madame Yan’s cousin, the one she used to spend time with.
“It’s almost dinner time. How come you didn’t ask him to stay for dinner?” Mr. Cheng asked.
“We really don’t have anything special to entertain a guest... so I thought it would be rude to invite him,” she explained.
Mrs. Wang kept quiet but had a disgusted look on her face. She went out of her way to be nice to Mr. Cheng, who wondered who had crossed her—he knew it wasn’t him. As usual, he spent some time playing with the baby after dinner. Seeing the baby fed and contentedly asleep with her tiny fist in her mouth, he took his leave. It was around eight o’clock. People and cars passed back and forth under the bright city lights. Instead of taking the trolley, Mr. Cheng draped his fall coat over his arm and walked home. He took in the familiar scents of the city and soaked up the evening scene. Now that the burden weighing on him for so long had been finally lifted, he felt relaxed: mother and child were safe and sound and the baby didn’t bother him as he had originally feared. In fact, Mr. Cheng was struck with a peculiar happiness; it was as if he, and not the child, had been given a new lease on life.
The late show was about to begin at the cinemas, which added a feeling of excitement to the night air. The city still had the spirit of a night owl, and the same energy of years ago was still there. The tricolor revolving pole outside the barbershop was the emblem of this unsleeping city. The strong aroma of Brazilian coffee wafting out of Old Chang’s gives the impression that time is flowing backward. How exciting the night is! Desire and contentment abound and, despite the compromises that have to be made, everyone gives their all, living life to the fullest. Mr. Cheng’s eyes grew moist and a strange excitement welled up in his heart, the like of which he had not experienced in a long time.
The next time Kang Mingxun showed up, Mrs. Wang did not go into the kitchen to avoid him. She sat on the sofa reading a cartoon version of the
Dream of the Red Chamber
. Wang Qiyao and Kang Mingxun couldn’t help but feel awkward and fell back on making small talk about the weather. When the baby woke up crying, Wang Qiyao asked Kang Mingxun to hand her a clean diaper. To her dismay, her mother got up and, taking the diaper out of Kang Mingxun’s hand, scolded her.
“How could you have the gentleman do this kind of thing?”
“I don’t mind,” explained Kang Mingxun. “It’s not like I’m busy with anything else. . . .”
“Right, let him help out,” Wang Qiyao added.
Mrs. Wang drew a long face. “Don’t you have any manners? How could you ask a gentleman like him to lay his hands on these filthy articles? He is decent enough to treat you with respect and come to visit; but don’t take it as a sign that you can walk all over him. Show some tact!”
Stunned by the innuendo in her mother’s sudden attack, Wang Qiyao burst into tears. Mrs. Wang became even more incensed.
She flung the diaper in her daughter’s face, screaming, “I try to help you save face, but you just don’t seem to care! You demean yourself, and it’s all your own doing! If you want to lead a life of shame, go ahead! Nobody’s going to be able to help you if you don’t help yourself!”
With that, Mrs. Wang also burst out crying. Kang Mingxun was thoroughly bemused; he had no idea what had brought this on. Not knowing what else to do, he set about trying to mollify Mrs. Wang, “Please don’t be upset, Auntie. You know that Wang Qiyao has a good heart. . . .”
His words made Mrs. Wang laugh.
She turned to him, “Mister, you are very perceptive. Wang Qiyao does indeed have a good heart. She has no choice. Where would she be if she didn’t have a good heart?”
Suddenly Kang Mingxun realized that
he
was the object of her wrath. He stepped back and stammered something inaudible. At this point, the baby, whom no one had been tending to, began to howl. Of the four people in the room, three were now in tears. Aghast at the chaos, Kang Mingxun felt impelled to say, “It is less than a month since Wang Qiyao gave birth. She should still be resting and we should try not to make her upset.”
Mrs. Wang laughed coldly. “Oh, so Wang Qiyao should be resting this month, should she? That’s funny, I didn’t know. With no man around to rely on, how is she supposed to be able to rest? Will you explain that to me?”
Those words brought an abrupt end to Wang Qiyao’s tears. When she had finished changing and feeding the baby, she said, “Mom, you said I lack tact; but what about you? How do you think it looks when you say such things in front of our guest? After all, it’s not as if he has anything to do with our family. You’re the one who is demeaning me—and yourself! At any rate, I’ll always be your daughter!”
Mrs. Wang was dumbstruck. By the time she was ready to respond, Wang Qiyao cut her off. “This gentleman has the decency to come by and pay his respects. I would never dream of making any unseemly demands on him—and neither should you! All my life I’ve had no one to rely on but myself; I make no other claims besides that. I’m sorry to have troubled you to help out during this difficult time, but I promise you that I will repay you for your trouble.”
Her remarks were directed at her mother, but they were also meant for Kang Mingxun. Mother and daughter both fell silent for a time, until Ms. Wang wiped away her tears and murmured bleakly, “I see I’ve been worrying too much. Well, you are almost through your first month, and it looks like I’m no longer needed here.”
Even as she spoke, she began to gather up her personal effects. Neither Wang Qiyao nor Kang Mingxun dared say a word to persuade her to stay. They watched in shock as she packed her things and placed a red envelope on the baby’s chest. She went out the door and down the stairs; then they heard the sound of the downstairs door closing, and she was gone. Inside the red envelope were 200
yuan
and a gold pendant.
When Mr. Cheng arrived, he found Wang Qiyao out of bed cooking dinner in the kitchen. He asked where Mrs. Wang had gone. Wang Qiyao told him that her father was not feeling well and, since it was already almost a month since the birth, she had persuaded her mother to go home to look after him. Mr. Cheng noticed her swollen eyes and guessed that she had been crying, but he decided not to press her and simply let things go at that. With Mrs. Wang gone, the mood that evening was a bit dull. Wang Qiyao was not very talkative and answered Mr. Cheng’s questions absentmindedly, leaving her guest rather down. Mr. Cheng sat off to one side and read the newspaper. He read on for quite some time and the apartment grew quiet. He thought that Wang Qiyao must be asleep, but when he looked over he saw that she had propped her head against the pillow and was staring up at the ceiling, lost in thought. He quietly approached to ask what she was thinking. The last thing he expected was for her to jerk back and ask him what he wanted. There was alarm in her eyes and a distant look that made Mr. Cheng feel like a stranger. He retreated to the sofa and went on with reading his newspaper.
All of a sudden, rowdy noises broke out from the
longtang
outside. Opening the window to look out, Mr. Cheng saw that a crowd had gathered around a man holding up a weasel he had caught in his chicken coop. After recounting the beast’s crimes, the man carried it toward the entrance to the
longtang
with the crowd following close behind. Mr. Cheng was about to close the window when he caught the scent of osmanthus blossoms in the air; it wasn’t terribly strong, but the fragrance went straight to his heart. He also noticed the narrow span of sky above Peace Lane—a deep, deep blue. He felt exhilarated.
Turning to Wang Qiyao, he said, “Let’s have a banquet to celebrate the child’s one- month birthday.”
Wang Qiyao did not say anything at first. Then, breaking into a smile: “Is that cause for celebration?”
“Yes,” Mr. Cheng said more earnestly. “A first-month birthday is always a happy and auspicious occasion!”
“What’s so happy and auspicious about it?”
Mr. Cheng did not know how to answer. Although she had been the one to crush his excitement, he pitied her. Wang Qiyao rolled over away from him.
After a pause, she continued, “Let’s not fuss over this one-month celebration. Let’s simply make a few dishes, buy a bottle of wine, and invite Madame Yan and her cousin over. They have been good to me, coming to see me and all.”
That was enough to put Mr. Cheng back in high spirits. He pondered what kind of soup and dishes they should serve. Wang Qiyao objected to virtually every one of his suggestions, and he had to start from scratch. They became more animated as they argued back and forth about the menu and gradually things went back to normal.
On the afternoon of the dinner Mr. Cheng left work early to pick up the food for that evening. They put the baby to bed early and chatted as they cooked. Mr. Cheng saw that Wang Qiyao was in a good mood, which also put him in a good mood. They arranged the cold dishes in a delightful pattern, garnishing the plate with purple radishes.
Wang Qiyao declared, “Mr. Cheng, you’re not only a great photographer, but you can cook too!”
“And you didn’t even mention what I’m best at . . .”
“What’s that?”
“Railroad engineering.”
“I practically forgot your true calling. You see, all along you have been entertaining us with your hobbies, and hiding your real talent!”