Zhuang pulled away.
“Wan’er,” he said, “I finally have you in my arms. I’m very fond of you.”
“I’m fond of you, too,” she said, as tears ran down her face. He tenderly reached out to dry them. Then he kissed them away. She giggled and pushed him away, only to have their lips meet once more, all their energy devoted to sucking. Before they knew it, their hands were roaming over each other’s body; soon his hand snaked down, but her skirt was so tight, he could only tug anxiously at the waistband. She stepped back to unhook her skirt, and his hand slipped in; she was wet. ☐☐ ☐☐ ☐☐ [The author has deleted 11 words.]
“I desperately wanted to touch your feet that day when I gave you the shoes.”
“I could tell, and I hoped you would, but then you stopped.”
“Why didn’t you give me a hint?”
“I didn’t dare.”
“I was an idiot. I fell for you the moment I laid eyes on you and believed that we were destined for each other. You are the first woman I’ve ever really wanted, and I was intimidated. I knew that if you showed only a hint of feelings for me, my courage would know no bounds.”
“But you are a famous man, and I was afraid you wouldn’t find me desirable.”
He carried her limp figure over to the bed and took off her skirt, then rolled her stockings down to her knees. It felt like stripping the tender bark off a spring willow, as he had done as a child back in Tongguan, or removing the outer layer of a green onion when her ample white legs came into view. She wanted to take off her shoes and her stockings, but he said he liked her with her shoes and stockings on. He stood beside the bed and raised her legs. ☐☐ ☐☐ ☐☐ [The author has deleted 379 words.] She moaned the moment he entered her and started moving, a new experience to him, so arousing his desire for conquest that he still had not come after prolonged thrusting, to his surprise. Her face was flushed red and her hair disheveled when she sat up.
“Let’s change positions,” she said. She got up and leaned against the bed.
Zhuang stared at a mole on the left side of her buttocks, but was panting too hard to speak. She stopped and took off her shoes and silk stockings. ☐☐ ☐☐ ☐☐ [The author has deleted 213 words.] He watched her squirm through drunken eyes; his lips twitched, his eyes rolled back, and he cried out. ☐☐ ☐☐ ☐☐ [The author has deleted 50 words.]
When he finished dressing, she was still curled up, as if dead, so he went over and laid her out straight before sitting down across from the bed to smoke a cigarette and feast his eyes on the alluring sleeping figure. She opened her eyes to look at him and laughed soundlessly, as if embarrassed; she was too weak to get out of bed, which reminded him of the lines of Tang poetry about the Imperial Consort who looked weightless after bathing in a hot spring. He realized that it was not about getting out of the bath, but about the sight of a woman after sex.
“You were amazing,” she said.
“Really?”
“I’ve never enjoyed it like that before. You really know how to make love to a woman.”
Immensely proud, he said earnestly, “You’re only the second woman I’ve had, after my wife. Today was special. I’ve never performed like that before. Honestly, I come too soon every time with Yueqing. I thought I was finished, that I was not a man anymore.”
“If a man is impotent, it’s his wife’s fault.”
He was so touched by her words that he rushed over to take her into his arms and burst into tears.
“Thank you, Wan’er. I won’t forget you as long as I live.”
She lifted him up and called out softly, “Zhuang-ge, my elder brother.”
He could only murmur a reply.
“It’ll be better if I call you Zhuang Laoshi.”
“Are you pitying me?”
“I’ve been calling you that all along, and it wouldn’t be good if I suddenly stopped. So I’ll keep doing that when there are people around, but in private I’ll call you Zhuang-ge.”
They fell into each other’s arms again and kissed for a while before she got dressed. After tidying her hair, she reapplied her eyeliner and lipstick.
“I’m yours now, Zhuang-ge. Wang Ximian’s wife, whom you’ve invited today, must be as pretty as a fairy. Will I look shabby when I go to lunch?”
“I invited you so you could gain some confidence.”
“But I’m still worried.”
“What’s there to worry about?”
“Will your wife welcome me to your house?”
“That all depends on how you deal with her.”
“I should be all right, but I’m not sure. She’ll probably laugh at my clothes.”
“That’s a nice outfit. If we had time, I’d give you some money to buy something fancy and trendy.”
“I won’t take your money, but I’d like you to help me choose an outfit.”
She opened her wardrobe and tried on every piece she owned. Growing anxious, Zhuang waited until she chose a black dress, and then, after holding her in his arms for one more kiss, he rushed home.
When he got home, Zhao Jingwu had been there with the groceries but, unable to get in, had left everything outside. Zhuang opened the door and was hard at work when Niu Yueqing came home with Wang’s wife. When she saw him squatting in the kitchen cleaning a fish, Wang’s wife yelled out, “Ai-ya! How fortunate to have a renowned writer cleaning a fish for me.”
“Zhidie, that’s enough showing off. Our house is no match for yours, my dear, so you’ll have to find a clean spot to sit. Zhidie will entertain you while I go into the kitchen.”
“Where’s Ximian?” Zhuang asked. “Why isn’t he here yet? Is he coming with Old Mrs. Wang?”
“Ximian had to go to Beijing today. He bought the ticket days ago, so he can’t get away. Old Mrs. Wang promised to come last night, but she had a headache this morning, probably because we had so much fun. We played mahjong late into the night, and it must have tired her out. She said she couldn’t make it after all, but to send some of the good food over later, a sort of token of her presence.”
“That’s too bad. She’s been never here.”
“It’s good she’s not here,” Wang’s wife said. “I’ll feel more at ease. With her around, we’d have to watch what we said.”
“You’re alone today,” Niu Yueqing said with a smile. “Just make yourself at home and do or say whatever you want.”
Niu Yueqing slipped out of her heels, put on an apron, and sent her husband and Wang’s wife into his study.
“You’ve lost weight,” Zhuang said after getting her settled. How come?”
She touched her face and said she’d lost so much weight that her face was losing its shape. Zhuang replied that she was thinner, but that actually improved her looks. Was she on a diet?
“Why would an old hag like me be on a diet? I’ve been suffering from a lack of energy since the beginning of the year. I experience chills and I catch cold easily, but no medicine works. Earlier this month I went to see an herbal doctor, who said there is no remedy for my illness, that I’m like a pot of water that will never boil. It’s the aftermath of bearing a child. He said I needed to get pregnant again so my body could have a major tune-up. How am I supposed to do that? I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”
“People often say that if you try hard at fifty-nine, you can have a baby at sixty. You’re not too old. I’ll get you permission if you really want another child.”
“You’re younger than us, why don’t you have one?”
Zhuang blushed, though it had only been a casual question. Niu Yueqing heard them when she left the kitchen to get some spices from a room opposite the study, so she parted the curtain and said, “That’s a good point. We’ve decided to have one. Zhidie was busy with his career before and afraid of the distraction a baby would create. But now it’s obvious that the house is too quiet with just us two adults. I asked him when he’d be done with his essay writing, since he’s already gained a bit of undeserved fame.”