The question of whether Madam X would melt and dissolve was raised not only by herself but, mainly, through the insight of our elite. To change heaven and earth, all we had to do was turn aside our mysterious vision. One day, drinking tea under the eaves, we spoke of her as of an ancient barbarian. She had gradually vanished from our memories and our field of vision. Indeed, in our annals, there was only a brief note about her, a historical reference-written as a small footnote to our people’s great achievements. As an individual, she is now so abstract and vague that the only thing left is a symbol (that is: X). Someday, even the symbol will disappear from conversation, and she will exist only in the brief note in the dusty annals of history. To later generations, that note will be a riddle that can never be solved. As always, the tide of history rolls to the east. So splendidly bright is the rising sun!
After imagining this pleasant vision, we didn’t rest on our laurels but remained very cautious and adopted suitable countermeasures aimed at X’s last struggles. Our vision told us she was about to dissolve, but this wasn’t at all the same as her ‘‘having already been finished.’’ So we had to redraw the diagram. We all acknowledged the ironclad fact of her existence and knew that she would still furiously show up. For example, the day before yesterday, she announced a premonition: a new person would take Q’s place in her life. She waited in high spirits for this new person so as to ‘‘experience’’ sublime feelings again, to ‘‘purify herself’’ and ‘‘be even more exuberant,’’ blah, blah, blah. It was clear that she intended to bob up like a cork again. None of us was afraid: we felt happy from the bottom of our hearts about her bobbing up like a cork. Wasn’t this a good opportunity for us to unfurl our spirit again? We hid at home and made our preparations. We even chose the place for her. This time, it wasn’t the granary, but a lonely valley. We would call it ‘‘love in the valley,’’ a significant title. As for the man, we called him Mr. P. Ah, before our Madam X dissolved, there was still a long, hard row to hoe! Our hearts were kind and bountiful, and our minds sensible and far-sighted. If this were not so, how could we have systematically reached the point where ‘‘the clouds parted and the fog dispersed,’’ and ‘‘a new vista appeared’’?
Looking at it from a grand historical perspective, from the roof of the thatched cottage, we saw that this X had all along been mixed up with the rag-tag crowds and danced with a mask. She had been sneaky, sometimes hidden and sometimes visible. She was the kind of inferior person who was always in the majority. People who underestimated the enemy thought that in ‘‘the blink of an eye,’’ she would disappear no later than tomorrow or the day after. Opposed to this mistaken belief, our optimists thought that the future would be rosy and beautiful, yet the task arduous. Madam X certainly wouldn’t vanish in ‘‘the blink of an eye’’ (though the day would eventually come). We had to watch her actions carefully, rapidly work out our hypothesis, and draw up a blueprint that would be more real than her real existence-as vivid as a movie. If she took one step, we had to take five and see what she would do. She came up with an idea the day before yesterday, and today we’ve figured out the place, the name, and everything! Even though ‘‘nervier’’ and more daring, she can’t hold out much longer in the face of our collective will. She can only move quickly to announce that ‘‘the new experience is finished!’’ Then she’ll lie in her small room and moan soundlessly. And if a certain person again approaches to listen closely, he’ll hear no melody. Conditions are ripe to end that mysterious ‘‘blink of an eye.’’ Then everything in the world will be young forever, X will retreat from this earth, and the brief note about her in the annals of history will offer a new and different explanation. That explanation will turn into a riddle-like symbol. Years later, when our children and grandchildren ask about this symbol, a white-bearded, tottering old man will tap the cover of the annals with a withered finger and tell them: ‘‘Shhh. This is the secret to success. Please study the diagram of the maze.’’ Wow! The diagram of the maze is blossoming and resplendent. Following the diagram, a large group of children and grandchildren will climb to the roof of the thatched cottage and to the mountaintop. And the lonely forerunner that was the writer? They will eventually exhume his name.
8. THE RATIONALITY OF THE WIDOW'S HISTORICAL CONTRIBUTION AND STATUS
Throughout the story of our Five Spice Street, the widow has been a glittering presence, and we want to sum up her historical contributions and discuss her character.
Thus far, we have described only her external image and physique, as well as the aspects of her character that derive from them. Our impression seems to be: her special stature and essence are responsible for her important position on Five Spice Street. This ‘‘specialness,’’ the source of her contributions, consists of her provocative sexual power, without which her contributions (rated almost as highly as those of the geniuses) would most likely have gone unnoticed by both the elite and the people. We need to correct this impression.
Our conclusion is just the opposite: her brilliant status on our Five Spice Street as a sort of heroine, the people’s love and esteem, didn’t result from her individuality but from her universality and typicality. To begin with, the widow’s sexual power lasted into her old age, and it was precisely this that most characterized Five Spice Street. People on Five Spice Street were full of youthful spirit. On the whole street, you could hardly find a single impotent man or frigid woman. Everyone was a master of sexual techniques. Everyone was in high spirits about ‘‘spare-time recreation’’-even old men of eighty and youngsters of thirteen. The people here are healthy, creative, and ambitious. Madam X called them ‘‘counterfeit,’’ never imagining that in her quest to become prominent, people might become suspicious about her own sexuality.
An example can demonstrate that our people are not counterfeit (this kind of example can be found everywhere). Old Meng from the pharmacy, for instance, is eighty-three this year and is as dissolute as ever. Such an example is rare in both ancient and modern times. On the outside, Old Meng doesn’t appear strong at all, but frail. Yet inside, his muscles are steel and his bones are iron; his vigor hasn’t diminished one bit. Not only is he not afraid of shacking up with someone, but he can actually ‘‘satisfy’’ a young person and even make her ‘‘surrender’’! This example alone should refute Madam X’s charge. Naturally, to recover their youth, the people on our Five Spice Street use various elixirs that have been handed down for generations. Old Meng has benefited greatly from those medicines in his pharmacy, and so he stays young. Not long ago, he actually dumped the wife of Madam X’s husband’s good friend and picked up a sixteen-year-old nursemaid. All day long, that nursemaid stayed inside the loft and looked after the house for him. Her ‘‘face was like peach blossoms,’’ and her skin was ‘‘creamy white’’! As for Old Meng, his appearance made people think ‘‘the older, the stronger’’! Among our people, this general characteristic was inherited, and it also benefited from the feng shui here. This feng shui not only gave us immunity but also boosted our ability to procreate and strengthened us by the day. Our numbers grew. The widow’s sexual power was in inverse proportion to her ability to procreate. We’ll deal with this later.