Hsu Chih-mo’s lips stretched into a big smile. “That is my secret.”
“Share with me a little, please.”
“I must go, Willow.”
“How dare you destroy the bridge after crossing the river!”
I imagined the hands she described, his hands, touching her. Pearl told me that she had woken up from her foolishness. I asked what she meant. She said that Lossing vanished from her mind the moment she was alone with Hsu Chih-mo. She was afraid she was becoming obsessed with Hsu Chih-mo. “I used to think that what I went through with Lossing happened in every marriage. I write about romance because it hasn’t existed in my life.”
“And romance is frightening?”
“I am afraid of what that knowledge will do to me.”
“So this may be more than just an affair?”
“I don’t know anymore. Hsu Chih-mo is a green refuge in the desert of my life. Because of him, I am more patient with Carol and tolerant of Absalom. I am no longer disgusted with myself. My despair has left me. I have even been thinking about adopting a little girl. In fact, I’ve already begun the process. And yet…” She stopped for a moment before continuing. “It is hard to see that Hsu Chih-mo and I would have a future together.”
“Because you are both married? Or because you are too different as individuals?”
“All I know is that I am in love with him, and that common sense has deserted me.”
“Hsu Chih-mo will continue to pursue you.”
“He doesn’t understand my responsibilities. He doesn’t understand that I will never be free because of Carol. He told me that he lost his own son at the age of five. He was able to dig himself out of his own sorrow. But I can’t. I am not like him. For Carol’s sake, I must stay with Lossing… for the money.”
“Will you give up Hsu Chih-mo?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Your mother used to say that life is about being forced to make choices.”
We both went quiet. “I am watching life escape before my eyes,” she said.
The air was filled with the sweet scent of summer blossoms. I had come to the riverbank to say good-bye to the city of Nanking. I knew that under the cover of darkness, in the shadow of the magnolia canopies, Hsu Chih-mo and Pearl walked the streets of Nanking. Pearl had told me that the place they most often frequented was a local restaurant called Seven Treasures. Her favorite was Chin-kiang mushroom noodle soup.
Lossing had moved away again with Lotus. He had accepted a new position as the head of the agricultural department at a university in southwest China. Hsu Chih-mo was free to visit Pearl, although in secrecy. The love she could not let go of revived Pearl, and she changed. She began to pay attention to the way she dressed and she joined a dance class at the university. She went with Hsu Chih-mo to collect fresh camellias during the early spring. Inspired, Hsu Chih-mo published a poem titled “The Camellia Petals on My Pillow.”
Rumors spread and the public assumed that Hsu Chih-mo had gone back to his former mistress. The newspapers competed to predict Hsu Chih-mo’s next move.
I didn’t answer Pearl ’s request for a chance to say good-bye.
I felt that we had said enough to each other. I didn’t want to hear the name Hsu Chih-mo again. I left quietly. The pier was crowded. I boarded the steamboat and stood by myself. As the boat began to pull away, I got a surprise.
Pearl ran down the stone terrace toward the water.
I didn’t think she would be able to find me.
She slowed and finally stopped. Behind her, people waved, cheered, and shouted.
Then she found me. Her eyes. I knew she saw me because she stood completely still, gazing in my direction. She wore an indigo-colored Chinese outfit. Her hair was in a bun. The sun shone down on her. She looked like Carie.
I wished that I could shut my eyes.
The porters let go of the ropes. The steamboat began to pick up speed.
“Farewell!” the crowd on the pier cried.
One wife shouted at her husband affectionately, “Hey, you idiot and soon-to-be-beheaded. Don’t forget to save firewood after lighting the stove!”
The husband laughed and yelled back, “Hey, dumb wrinkleface, you’d better remember to come home or you will find me spending all your savings on a concubine!”
I wept, wishing that my arms were around Pearl. By leaving I meant to escape my own misery, but I had ended up punishing her.
The departure would preserve what we had, I hoped.
Yet could I truly leave?
The water gap between us widened. People screamed back and forth in a contest of comic insults.
Then, in a Chin-kiang tone, I heard Pearl yell, “I am not a bird but a mosquito-too tiny for you to use a rifle on!”
Knowing I was forgiven, I shot back, “Be careful when you think that you have gotten a good deal. Check on your handsome rooster. Don’t be surprised if he grows a set of teeth one day!”
“Go ahead and cartwheel on the back of a bull! I am a loyal admirer!”
“Yeah, the fox comes and cries at the chicken’s funeral. Go away!”
CHAPTER 20
I wasn’t sure whether it was my door or the neighbors’ when I heard the knocking. The attic room where I lived was near the Shanghai waterfront, the Bund. At night I could hear porters at work and the sighing sound of passing ships. I tried to go back to sleep but the knocking grew louder. I realized that it was my door. I glanced at the clock. It was four in the morning.
“ Willow!” came Dick’s voice.
I went to open the door.
The expression on Dick’s face scared me. His eyes were red and swollen, as if he’d been crying.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Dick handed me a stack of newspapers.
I glanced at the headlines and staggered back in shock.
POET DIES IN PLANE CRASH!
HSU CHIH-MO’S PASSING AT 34 STUNS THE NATION!
POSTAL PLANE CRASHES NEAR NANKING, PILOT AND PASSENGER. NONE SURVIVE.
I recognized the words, but my mind refused to acknowledge their meanings. I kept flipping the newspapers back and forth. The date was correct, November 20, 1931. Hsu Chih-mo’s face was on every front page. I looked at him, the handsome smiling face, the leaf-shaped gentle eyes and the silky black hair. The classic good looks of a northerner. I touched the image of his face with my fingers. My tears smeared the ink.
Dick held my shoulders and sobbed like a child. “Did you know about him taking free rides on postal airplanes?” he asked.
Of course I knew. Hsu Chih-mo had been in touch with me because Pearl had again been refusing to see him. Pearl wanted to end their affair. Hsu Chih-mo figured it was because he was still a married man. He returned to Shanghai and asked for a divorce from his wife. But his wife wouldn’t release him without an impossible monetary settlement. To make money, Hsu Chih-mo accepted lecture invitations all over the country. He traveled every few days from city to city. He was also teaching part-time at both Shanghai University and Peking University. He was offered free airplane rides by a friend, a postal pilot. Hsu Chih-mo was grateful to save the money. The friend also flew Hsu Chih-mo to Nanking to meet Pearl in secrecy.
“Once bitten by a snake, forever in fear of ropes,” Hsu Chih-mo once said about Pearl ’s anxiety about a new marriage.
“Isn’t it enough that you are lovers?” I asked.
“No.” His voice was soft but determined. “I’d like to spend the rest of my life with her.”
The expression on Hsu Chih-mo’s face was still vivid in my mind. He had sat on the chair in my attic. When he stood, his head touched the ceiling. He hunched to make himself fit. Behind him, beyond an open window, was a sea of Shanghai rooftops.
Pearl would learn the news in the next few hours. She would discover her lover’s death at the breakfast table, perhaps. Carol wouldn’t notice her mother’s shock, and the servant wouldn’t know where the mistress’s tears sprang from.
I hadn’t told Pearl about Hsu Chih-mo’s last visit. He had been upset and angry at me for supporting Pearl ’s decision.