“You don’t know, Liu Yue, but he also divorced another woman in the countryside,” Zhuang said.
“I’ve been married three times, and each wife has been younger than the one before.”
“No wonder,” she said. “That’s the source of all those wrinkles.”
Zhuang glared at her. “So what will your son do?” he asked Meng.
“I know the executive county head in my hometown, so I called him, and he promised to find a job for my son at the county level. You won’t believe what I’m going to tell you. I asked if I should come with Zhuang Zhidie to talk to the district commissioner, who was a classmate of Zhuang’s, and he said, ‘Are you trying to force my hand by bringing in a big gun?’ ‘So you know Zhuang Zhidie, do you?’ I said, ‘Not only do I know him, I was the witness at his wedding.’ ‘Zhuang Zhidie is a celebrity,’ he said, clearly pleased, ‘and I must do whatever he wants. Our policy doesn’t allow us to give your son a job, and I won’t use the back door. If I did, someone could file a complaint. Instead I will deal with it out in the open, telling people that your son is a relative of Zhuang Zhidie’s, and that we must find him a job. I’d promise to do that for anyone whose relative makes as many contributions to society as Zhuang Zhidie.’”
“You’re always cooking up something, and I’m the one who’s in trouble if there’s a problem,” Zhuang said.
“It’s just that you’re so famous,” Meng said. “When the county head comes to Xijing, I’ll bring him here, and you can entertain him as a favor to me.”
“Ai-ya!” Liu Yue remarked. “You not only come here alone to eat, but now you want to bring other people with you.”
“Why not? Here, look at this.” Meng took out a medicine pouch and told Zhuang to put it up against his navel.
“What kind of a crazy idea is that? I injured my foot, and you want me wear this on my belly?”
“You never believe me. What does a writer know about health products? As the mayor suggested, a street for magic health products has been created in the eastern part of the city, where twenty-three companies are selling their wares. This one is called a magic health sack. They also sell magic brain caps, magic kidney belts, magic power bras, and magic virility underwear. I hear they’re working on magic socks and shoes and hats, as well as magic cups, belts, pillows, mattresses, chair cushions, and so on.”
“That’s enough. This is not a good sign. I wonder who gave the mayor that terrible idea. When society went downhill during the Wei and Jin dynasties, qigong practice, alchemy, and the search for an immortality elixir became trendy. So now it’s health products.”
“Why are you worried about that?” Meng said. “If there’s a seller, there’s a buyer, and when there’s a buyer, there’s more to sell. Besides, it aids Xijing’s economic development.”
Zhuang shook his head and changed the subject:
“I’ve been home all this time and no one’s been by. But there’s something I want to talk to you about.” Zhuang asked Liu Yue to leave them alone, to which she replied with a pout, “Is it something sordid you don’t want me to hear? I’m going to tell Dajie.”
“Be a good girl and go on out,” Meng said. “I’ll bring you a magical power bra in a few days.”
“Shut your filthy mouth!” she said. “Have your wife wear it first.”
“Listen to her,” Meng said. “My wife tried one, and now she has the nipples of a young girl.”
“Liu Yue is still young, so watch what you say,” Zhuang cautioned. He continued in a soft voice after the girl was gone. “I talked to the mayor about the upstairs unit at the nunnery, and he has agreed to give it to us, along with a set of used furniture. Here’s a key. Go take a look, but I have to stress that you mustn’t mention it to anyone, especially Niu Yueqing or your wife.”
“Great!” Meng was overjoyed. “You are, after all, a celebrity, unlike us insignificant people with no sway. We should write a piece for the paper to let people know how much our mayor values culture.”
“Go ahead, write one, since we’ll likely need more help from him in the future,” Zhuang said. “Now that we have a place, let’s think about the kind of activities we want to hold there, who should and can be invited, and who absolutely shouldn’t be allowed in. But no matter what, you and I must be the only two with keys. We can host our first meeting after my foot gets better.”
“Why don’t we start off by having Huiming give a lecture on Zen Buddhism? There’s a type of futurology that’s really hot these days. I’ve had a look at just about every book on the subject, domestic and foreign. But she has new views from the perspective of Zen. She thinks the world of the future will or ought to be a Zen energy field and that advanced humans should follow Zen philosophy. I’ve been thinking about that myself, and I could write something now that we have a quiet place. When I’m home, Xia Jie is always nagging me about one thing or another. They say that Zen requires peace and quiet, but up till now I haven’t had a quiet place to go.”
“The greatest peace comes with true Zen, when your mind is calm. What matters most is a transcendental state of mind, but when did you ever put aside everything in the mundane world? And you have the nerve to talk about Zen? I think you’re getting unhappy with your latest wife. If you don’t change, you could marry ten times, and every one of them would nag you.”
“Impossible,” Meng said with a laugh. “I’m no celebrity, so where am I going to meet that many women?”
“You’re in a league of your own.”
“You’re too career-oriented to have a carefree life.” Meng said with a snigger. “I’ve thought a lot on your behalf. You’ve accomplished so much more than the average writer, but can you guarantee that your work will enjoy long-lasting fame, like that of Cao Xueqing and Pu Songling? If not, even a minor section head can enjoy a happier life than a writer. Buddhism focuses on dharma, of which there are thousands of different kinds. Different professions experience dharma in their own way, whether it’s a general, a farmer, a thief, or a prostitute. When you look at it that way, being a general doesn’t make you noble, nor does being a prostitute make you humble, since everyone is equal.”
“I know all this, of course,” Zhuang replied. “I said long ago that being a writer is only one way to earn a living. But personally speaking, writing is all I know, so all I can do is write the best work I’m capable of.”
“If that’s the case, there’s no need for you to live such an austere life. Nowadays in this chaotic society, if you don’t use the power you have, it will soon become useless, and if you don’t exploit your fame, your hard-earned reputation will have been achieved in vain. You don’t need me to tell you how those in power use their authority for personal gain. You’ve seen enough yourself. But let me tell you about our next-door neighbor, an old man who made a killing in business. Like an old cow that prefers tender clover, he married a young woman, with the view that a rich man needs to have his way with women before he becomes incapable of enjoying the good things in life. On my way over here, I walked by his house. He’s been bedridden for three days. Through the window I heard his young wife ask him, ‘What would you like to eat?’ The old man said, ‘Nothing.’ ‘What would you like to drink?’ she asked. Again he said, ‘Nothing.’ So then she asked, ‘So do you still want to do it?’ The old man said, ‘You’ll have to help me up.’ You see, he’s not too sick to know how to enjoy himself.”
“Enough of that,” Zhuang said. “Have you seen Zhou Min and the others lately? Why hasn’t he come to see me? I feel like there’s a cloud looming over me. Yunfang, I’ve felt it since the beginning of the year. I get jumpy easily.”