The Pearl Jacket and Other Stories Page 2

  “Okay, we’ll wait then. Wait till I’m back.”

  “Okay.”

  Neither said anything for a long while. All was quiet except for the footsteps and sighs of Moon Granny outside.

  “Ugly Brother.”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s kismet.”

  “Kismet.”

  “Our kismet is not good.”

  “Mine is not good. Yours, good.”

  “Not good.”

  “Good.”

  “Not good.”

  “Good.”

  “Not good at all!”

  He heard tears in her voice this time. Tears rolled out of his eyes, strings of big warm teardrops, and fell on her cheeks.

  (1989)

  July 28, 1976

  Yuan Bingfa

  “You are something!” My wife muttered angrily when I came back home after a day’s work. “Jazzing up your life with a little romance . . . an affair with this Yan woman from Tangshan!”

  I was puzzled and said with a smile on my face: “Thank you for trying to flatter me, but I would never have such guts. When you and I were dating, it was you who made the first move, remember?”

  My wife wasn’t pacified by my lame joke: “Don’t pretend to be an innocent lamb. When men are bad, they have more guts than a stag in heat!”

  I knew it was more serious and asked: “What on earth has happened?”

  She tossed me a slip of paper, which I opened right away. It read:

  My Dear:

  Perhaps it was destiny that you and I met during that long, lonesome trip. You gave me not only company but also so much precious comfort which I can never forget. If you desire to keep in touch with me, please write me at the address below:

  Four-Horse Street

  Building 2, Apartment 201

  Nankai District

  City of Tangshan, Hebei Province

  Love,

  Yan

  I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry when I finished reading the note. “From what trash can did you find this?” I asked my wife.

  “Trash can? I wouldn’t have bothered you if I had picked it up from a trash can. It’s from inside one of your books, of all the places in the world!”

  “Inside a book? Which book?”

  “That novel, Extramarital Affairs, by a Taiwan author, Li.”

  “How can that be?”

  “I was puzzled, too. How could my honest, beloved husband have done something like this? Yet how can I argue with this solid evidence in front of my eyes? Do you have a good explanation, Mister?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  After a pause I said: “Although I can’t explain, I am willing to swear to Heaven that if I am having an affair I would be a dog, a chicken, a duck, a buffalo, a horse, a poop, a pee, a nothing, or an anything but a human being!”

  At this my wife laughed, bitterly: “I don’t care what you are. All I care is to find out about that Yan woman in Tangshan!”

  I was speechless.

  She then said: “I’ll go to Tangshan tomorrow to look for the Yan woman at the address in the letter.” I thought she was being carried away by her anger at the moment and didn’t take her seriously. So I went to work as usual the next day. When I came back from work in the afternoon, I saw a note from my wife on the writing desk saying that she was indeed on her way to Tangshan.

  At this I was furious. Woman! Impossible woman!

  Then, I thought, this trip might do her some good. If she could really find that Yan woman in Tangshan, the cloud of suspicion would be cleared.

  Unfortunately, the next morning, I was dumbfounded to hear this news from the radio: “At 3:40 this morning, a severe earthquake occurred in the eastern part of Hebei Province. According to the National Earthquake Information Center, the magnitude of this earthquake was 7.8 on the Richter Scale, as powerful as 400 nuclear bombs the size of the one dropped on Hiroshima, all exploding at the same time about 16 kilometers deep inside the earth.”

  I was drenched in sweat. I knew that the worst might have happened to my beautiful and beloved wife. Based on time nd distance, my wife must have arrived at Tangshan the very night right before the earthquake happened.

  That day, with a heavy heart, I went to ask for leave so I could go to Tangshan. There I saw the eyes of one of my colleagues, Young Zhang, red and tear-streaked, too.

  I asked: “So, you’ve heard about Tangshan?”

  Young Zhang nodded: “A woman I love lives in the city that has been leveled by the earthquake.”

  I blurted out: “Is her name Yan?”

  Young Zhang’s eyes brightened up at the mention of the name: “Yes! You. . . . ”

  “Did she write you a letter?”

  “Yes!”

  “Goddamn it! How did that note get into one of my books?” I asked angrily.

  “Oh!” Young Zhang slapped himself on the thigh. “I borrowed books from you.”

  Now everything was clear. I gripped Young Zhang’s collar and hollered: “You turtle’s son, give me back my wife!”

  My wife never returned. It was later officially confirmed that she became one of the 242,419 that perished in the Tangshan earthquake.

  The date of my wife’s death is July 28, 1976.

  (1996)

  The Girl in the Red Skirt

  Yue Yong

  Early this year I started to work as editor of a magazine in Guangzhou. Since there is quite a bit of distance between my apartment and my office, I pedaled my bike to work every morning.

  One morning my alarm clock didn’t go off and I overslept for 15 minutes. The minute I had washed my face I jumped on the bike and pedaled like mad to the office.

  I was flying toward an intersection when the red light came on suddenly.

  I applied the brakes hard but still managed to bump into the back of the bike ahead of me. “Sorry! Terribly sorry!” I apologized as I wiped away the sweat on my forehead. On the bike was a girl in a red skirt. She turned, smiled, and shook her head, meaning she wasn’t hurt. On her pretty face were two cute dimples. What a beautiful girl! I murmured to myself. Just then, the green light was on. The girl in the red skirt stepped on her bike again, made a left turn at the intersection, and vanished.

  Strangely enough, almost every day after that accident I’d see the girl in the red skirt on my way to work. She would ride alongside me for a while before turning left at the intersection.

  When we met every morning we would greet each other with a “Hi,” a nod of the head, or a simple smile, like two old friends.

  One beautiful sunny morning we were both stopped again by the red light at the intersection. She nodded to me, somewhat awkwardly. Right before the green light came back, she stuffed an envelope into the basket in the front of my bike, stepped back on her bike, and disappeared like the wind.

  Confused and curious I opened the letter:

  Hi, Yue Yong:

  How are you? I’ve seen your picture and work in many magazines and like your writing a lot. Can we be friends? If you are interested, please drop your reply in the basket in the front of my bike.

  I was elated, and wrote a reply that very evening—“Yes, I am very interested!”—and dropped it in her basket the next morning.

  On the morning after that, she dropped another letter in my basket.

  After that I wrote her another reply. . . .

  We went back and forth like this for a while until we became very good friends between whom there wasn’t anything we couldn’t “talk” about.

  It turned out that she was very interested in literature. Sometimes she would give me an envelope containing her submissions. She had a unique style in writing, reflective and exquisite. I published them all.

  One morning three months later, she asked in a letter, out of the blue: Do you have a girlfriend?

  My reply: No.

  The letter she gave me the following day had only one line: Can I be your girlfriend?

  I almost jumped for joy! This wa
s what I had been dreaming of for quite some time.

  The day after that I asked for a half-day leave so I could go and buy a bunch of blooming red roses. However, I never gathered enough courage to present the roses to the girl in the red skirt at the intersection, and cursed myself when I watched her turn left and continue on her way.

  Not ready to give up, I turned left, too, and followed her so I could present the flowers to her when she stopped at her destination.

  Not knowing she was being followed, the girl in the red skirt turned into a large gate of what appeared to be a school.

  I pedaled harder toward the gate and was about to make a desperate dash when I stopped suddenly, stunned by what I saw on the nameplate above the gate:

  LOVING HEART SCHOOL FOR THE DEAF-MUTE

  So this was the reason why I had known the girl in the red skirt for so long yet she had never spoken a word to me. . . .

  All that passion inside me was gone instantly. The flowers slipped out of my hand, too.

  After that I would go to work via a detour and I never saw that girl in the red skirt on my way to work again.

  It was about half a year later when I saw her on a live Loving Heart Charity Fundraising TV show. She looked stunningly beautiful under the limelight in that same red skirt, and her song “Love’s Labor” brought everyone in the audience to tears.

  She was introduced as an outstanding sign language teacher at this deaf-mute school.

  (2001)

  Odd Day, Even Day

  Ling Rongzhi

  Xiao Ju became a mistress at a very young age. Pretty and bright, Xiao Ju never thought she would be a mistress one day, but many things happen not because we want them to happen, but because they are destined to. Xiao Ju’s family was poor. She passed the college entrance exams, but didn’t have the money to pay tuition and fees. She got acquainted with a fat cat who paid for her college. Before a year was over, she became his “beauty hidden in a gold house.”

  Xiao Ju didn’t want it to be like this at first, but one time she had a glass of wine, which went to her head, and she consented. Once he had got what he wanted, he was worried that she might be lured away while in college. So he bought this house for her to live in.

  Xiao Ju wasn’t quite settled emotionally, though, because in her heart was someone else, her high school sweetheart, Ah Fu. Ah Fu was poor, but he was honest and was as nice to her as she was to him. But Au Fu had no money to pay for her college, let alone to support her. The fat cat, however, could not only support her, but support her extravagantly and toss her lots of money for her to spend, too.

  So Xiao Ju was sheltered in this villa, and everything seemed good: good food, good clothing, yet one thing wasn’t good: boredom. The fat cat was still married with a son and a daughter. His wife was quite sharp and watched him closely. Every time he came, it was on an odd day. He would sneak here from work. He would spend two hours here at the most. When he finished he would toss some money and leave no matter how badly Xiao Ju asked him to stay.

  Every day Xiao Ju had nothing to do but take care of the flowers and plants in the garden and her cat and her dog to kill time. Xiao Ju had endless amounts of money to spend. Her cat and dog ate better food than most average people. She played with her dog often, which she named Ah Fu, because the young man was still in her heart.

  One day the dog fell into a ditch and couldn’t climb back out. Desperate, Xiao Ju called aloud: “Ah Fu! Ah Fu!”

  Ah Fu, the young man, happened to pass by on his way home from work. When he saw who it was calling his name, he almost jumped for joy. “Xiao Ju, is that you? Why are you here?”

  “Ah Fu?” Xiao Ju held Ah Fu’s hands and wouldn’t let go. “Why are you here, indeed?”

  “Work, of course! I’m a worker at a factory not far from here.” Ah Fu pointed. “What about you? Aren’t you a college student?”

  “Come in so we can talk,” Xiao Ju led Ah Fu into her home.

  “This is your home? Oh, so big and beautiful!” Ah Fu couldn’t stop looking around, his eyes wide-open. “Where did you get the money to buy such a big house?”

  With tears in her eyes Xiao Ju told her story. When it was over, she held him in her arms. “Do you hate me? Can you forgive me?”

  His head low, Ah Fu said: “No use talking about hate or no hate. It’s all because I’m poor and have no knack for anything. I don’t understand why this world is becoming so practical and cruel.”

  Wiping away her tears, Xiao Ju looked up and said: “Ah Fu, don’t go and work at that factory any more. I’ll support you.”

  Ah Fu almost laughed aloud: “You want to support me? You?”

  Xiao Ju nodded: “Yes, I will support you. He gives me lots and lots of money anyway, enough to support me, and you, too.”

  Ah Fu wanted to say something, but Xiao Ju put her hand to his mouth.

  Afterward, Xiao Ju kissed Ah Fu and said, breathlessly, “Ah Fu, you know in this whole world I only love you. Be sure to come often.”

  Ah Fu asked: “What if I run into him, if I come often? Then we’ll be finished!”

  Xiao Ju gave Ah Fu another kiss and said: “Blockhead! Come often doesn’t mean come every day. He comes only on odd days, not on even days. So, why don’t you come on even days, to be safe.”

  Ah Fu said: “Okay, I’ll come on even days.”

  So from then on Ah Fu came over every even day. Once he was here they’d talk some sweet nonsense first. Before long Xiao Ju would make the first move. When it was over, Xiao Ju would give Ah Fu a big sum of money. At first Ah Fu didn’t feel comfortable taking the money. Xiao Ju said: This money is free, free of charge or anything. Take it and put it aside. It’ll come in handy. At this, Ah Fu took the money.

  From then on Xiao Ju was not bored any more. On odd days the fat cat came while Ah Fu came on even days. Everyday someone came to be with her. Odd days she would harvest lots of money; even days, she would harvest lots of “love.”

  Ah Fu was not the same poor Ah Fu any more. Now he had a cell phone, a motorcycle, and everything he needed. On even days he would harvest lots of money, too.

  Ah Fu would hold Xiao Ju in his arms and say: “We can’t go on sneaking around forever.”

  Xiao Ju nodded: “I know. How about this: give me two years so that we can save up enough money for the rest of our lives. Then we’ll go back to our home village to have kids and enjoy life.”

  Ah Fu said: “Okay, two more years.”

  One day Xiao Ju was taking a stroll in the street when she saw an affectionate couple walking ahead of her, the man looking quite familiar. So she followed them out of curiosity.

  The woman said: “Why do you come to be with me only every other day?”

  The man said: “On even days I have to go to work. Why, I am with you on all odd days. Not enough?”

  The woman said: “We can’t go on sneaking around like this for the rest of our lives! When can we be together like a real couple?”

  The man said: “Soon, in about two years. By the end of the two years I will have made enough money to support us for the rest of our lives. We can build our home and have kids.”

  Heavens! That man was none other than Ah Fu! Xiao Ju fainted before she could cry “Foul!”

  (2002)

  You Are My Only One

  Wei Jinshu

  Both Honghong and Qingqing are very good girls. Honghong is outgoing while Qingqing is quiet, each charming in her own way. That makes it so difficult for me to choose. Even though nowadays it’s really no big deal for a man like me to be going out with two girls at the same time, I still don’t want them to know.

  In matters of love women are more devoted than men. They are most dead serious about their feelings and least tolerant of their men hot in love with one in the morning and chasing after another in the evening. I have to juggle between the two girls with extreme care.

  If I have to choose between Honghong and Qingqing, then, I’m more inclined toward Honghong because she se
ems to have a lot more going for her. Yet what I am not happy with is Honghong has been ambiguous with me. We’ve been going out for months and she won’t even let me kiss her. Qingqing is quite different. She is so devoted and soft like water and we have been thick and cozy together. If I have to break up with her, I would find it hard to tear myself away. Since my relationship with Honghong is yet to be secured, under the circumstances, Qingqing isn’t a bad backup, or runner-up.

  In order to win Honghong’s heart, I decided to write her a love letter. I’ve been in love ever since I was 14 and writing love letters is my specialty. Despite my knack and expertise in love letters, I still went all out in drafting this particular one. I pondered over each word and sentence long and hard and polished things left and right so the whole thing flowed lyrically, sounded smart, and throbbed with passion. Even I myself was touched by it when I read it over one more time. I gave this letter a title: “You Are My Only One!”

  In the letter I recalled every single beautiful moment we shared together, retraced the steps of our emotional journey, and projected how beautiful our life together would be. I emphasized over and again that she was my one and only love, which I would cherish in my heart forever and ever. I thought that upon reading this letter, Honghong had to be touched profoundly. About this I was one hundred percent positive.

  Having finished the letter I sighed with relief. Then, it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t mailed the letter for Qingqing that I had written a few days ago. So I took it out and intended to take it to the post office together with this new letter.

  As I was putting the letters into the envelopes I thought: I should mail the one for Honghong first and see how she will respond? If my letter really moves her and wins her heart, Qingqing won’t be that important any more. And that touchy-feely letter for Qingqing, well, there will be no need to send it anymore. If, I mean if, Honghong remains unresponsive, it won’t be too late to mail Qingqing’s letter. Only a few days’ difference.

  Yes, that’s the way to do it. Once I made up my mind, I sealed the letter for Honghong resolutely, hurried to the post office, and tossed the letter into the mail box.