She froze, a concrete ball of fear plummeting her to the ocean floor. Was what true? That houses were burned in hername, for Alice, for Alice Mannegan? Children murdered? When she spoke it was in the tiniest voice. "I don’t know what you mean."
"Eh, well then, I’ll speak frankly! Do you follow convenience?"
She shrank from his words, from his eyes boring into her. Suibian, Follow convenience, the horrible euphemism, the woman who goes here and there as she pleases, her legs open, her promises unkept.
"Well?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Guo says that on July nineteenth you went to Ningxia University and picked up a man! A strange man! You talked with him for a few minutes and then went with him to his home! Well?"
"Who says this! How do you know!"
"Please, Ai-li." He blinked scornfully. "This is China! Eyes are everywhere! Secrets jump from one to another in a flash! Ni mei tingshuo-guo ma? Zhi bao bu zhu huo." Haven’t you heard it said? You can’t wrap a fire in paper.
How? The PLA? The pedicab driver? People paid by Guo? But it didn’t matter. He knew.
"Well?"
"Lin, it is true, I met a man and I went with him to his home. But nothing happened! We talked, for no more than a short time, and I left! Surely your"-she paused to lay a scornful emphasis on the word – "informant told you this as well!"
His voice faltered. "Yes, it was said that you left the man’s apartment quickly. But, Ai-li, why would you do this thing? Why would you follow convenience with a stranger? Does a man like me not hold your interest?"
She paused, wondering how she could possibly explain herself to him. There was the within of things-she was the Alice from the Alice Speech, the daughter of Horace Mannegan -and there was the pragmatic side of things too. She was a woman of unique sensibilities. How many men had she met in her life, her whole life, who could truly match her? Ten? Twelve? Cut that down to those who had been single and available, and the total shrank to six or eight. Counting Jian. Counting Lin. And in between meeting such men, years had gone by. What was she supposed to do? Wait alone? Shrivel? Men did not wait alone. Even Lin, she guessed, had not gone without all these years.
But all this, she could not begin to confide. So she chose the obvious excuse. "Shiyang, of course you hold my interest. You more than hold my interest! You have my whole heart. I haven’t really told you yet, Shiyang, how I feel, but believe me…" She swallowed. "The thing is, at that time we were not lovers. Don’t you remember? We had barely begun to talk! We were-"
"Force words and twist logic! Were we not talking as a man and a woman? Was not the journey between us begun?"
She hesitated. "Yes."
He squeezed his eyes shut. "Everyone says this is the way Western women are! That when they fuck you they open up everything for you, so you think you are making love to their heart, their true heart-when in fact it is merely their sex, which is nothing more than a well-traveled road!"
Tears sprang to her eyes. "That’s so unfair! I’m an individual, I’m Alice, Mo Ai-li, I’m someone who-who"-she closed her eyes. Just say it "-who loves you." She paused. "Judge me on myself. Don’t treat me like I’m all Western women."
The softening that had come over his face when he heard the word ai, Love, dissolved quickly back into anger. "Why not, when that is how you treat me? Remember the other night when we were, we were"-he paused, as if the word were suddenly distasteful to him- "fucking, you said I was the true Chinese man? At the time I did not know what you meant. But now I understand. Because Guo did some checking on you. You do follow convenience! Everywhere you go. And only with Chinese men! As if we’re all the same, we’re all…" He swallowed, stopped. His bottomless black eyes widened in astonishment. "Eh! What! What is that thing you’re holding?"
The cliff of shock gave way under her and she realized she was still holding the ling-pai. She stood speechless.
"Well?"
Finally words came, but they were words in English. "I needed a better ancestor."
"Speak reasonably, Ai-li. You know I cannot understand your language."
"It’s not my language"-she switched to Chinese-"it’s never been mine. It’s theirs."
He looked at her strangely.
"And this"-she took a deep breath and raised the tablet -"it was made for an old woman I loved, a woman who’s just died. She had one son. He will never practice filial piety. Not in the old way. And she loved me as a daughter. So I-I had it made."
His face sagged in disbelief. Quickly he scanned the characters, gaped up at her again. "So you made her an ancestor?"
She nodded.
"Mo Ai-li, that’s-that’s ignorant!"
"Well-"
"It’s not done now! Not by people like us. Those are ancient customs."
"I like old things," she said defensively.
"But culture evolves! You say you care for China! Is this all you care for, this vanished miasma of-of paintings and poems? Of mandarins and"-he finished with chilly contempt -"women with bound feet?"
"No!" She laid the ling-pai on the table, her heart banging in her ears.
"Have you not seen me at all, Ai-li? What do you think I am?"
"I think you are a man!"
"The ’true Chinese man,’ " he mocked her. "Shall I wear a silk robe and practice martial arts? Spout Confucian phrases for you?"
"How can you say such things!" she cried, tears spilling.
"Because suddenly you are as clear as water to me! You say you are leaving! Eh, go ahead-leave!"
"No, Shiyang, that’s because-"
"What? Found something better? Another man?"
"I don’t want any other man."
"No, only a new set of ancestors! Forget it. You can’t be Chinese."
"You’re not being fair. Just because I’ve devoted my whole life to China-" she said, her voice breaking.
"To your dream of China!"
"But I respect and admire you-all of you-I’ve done everything to learn your language, literature, culture-"
"Ai-li," he said bluntly. "You are who you are. An interpreter. An American woman who speaks Chinese. No more. Don’t you know what we say? You can move mountains and alter the course of rivers more easily than you can change a person’s nature! This"-he gestured derisively to the plaque- "is ridiculous! A cliché."
Silence.
"Next you are going to tell me you went to some street corner and burned grave goods!"
Oh, God. She didn’t answer.
"Well?"
"Shiyang-I don’t know-maybe I see China incorrectly. But to say I can’t be faithful to you is wrong! I swear, if you and I took our road together I would be true to you." She turned her streaming sea-colored eyes to him and felt, for once, that she was wearing all of herself on the outside. "I’d come to Zhengzhou, if you wanted. I would live with you. Or near you. And whatever vow I made to you, I would keep."
"You’d vow to what? To see my culture-which even a foreigner must admit is the most highly developed one on earth -as some cartoon of dragons and red silk?"
"No, I wouldn’t, of course not-" She yanked open the drawer and stuffed the plaque inside, slammed it shut.
"Or swear to be a foreign female who loves me until she is bored and then follows convenience?"
"No!" she screamed. "I’m not perfect! Okay! But I’m trying! Why are you making it so damn impossible?"
"Mo Ai-li!" His face changed. "Calm yourself! Be more quiet! Every one of our colleagues can hear you!"
"I don’t give a fuck!" she screamed in English.
"Ai-li!" He stepped to her and wrapped his arms around her, but not to embrace her-to contain her. His powerful arms pinned her to him while he squeezed her face into his chest.
Her tears flooded onto his shirt, her shoulders shaking.
He held her stiffly.
She burrowed into him, wrapped her arms around and pressed her body against him. Any moment, any moment, he would soften and return her embrace, he would hold her, show his love to her through his body the way he had been doing for days. "Shiyang?"
But he did not answer. He only kept a secure hold on her.
"Shiyang, please," she begged, looking up. "Don’t cut it off like this!"
Pain and regret and confusion roared across his face. But still he did not return her touch.
"Shiyang!"
He began, with no more than a soft and minute motion, to shake his head.
From outside the door, footsteps. Voices.
"Alice!" English-the voice of Spencer. "Are you all right? "
"Interpreter Mo!" Dr. Kong chimed in.
"Don’t open it," she whispered in English to Lin Shiyang. "Please! Bie kai men."
He dropped his arms and stepped away from her. There was a cold, unhappy cast to his face.
"Jiu zheyang jiesu-le ma?" Is that it, then?
He didn’t answer, but turned and opened the door. There hovered the balloon faces of Spencer, frightened, concerned; and Kong, who looked from Lin to Alice and gave a nod of infinite sadness and understanding.
"Excuse me," Lin said shortly, and pushed past them.
"Alice?" Spencer said. Across his open blond face marched fascination, pity, kindness. "Hey! Are you okay?"
Not even bothering to wipe at the tears that now made an ugly river on her face, she hiccuped, "Just leave me alone," and slammed the door.