Outside, the washbasin was blocking a man with charcoal on a three-wheeler, who called out for them to move it. Mu Jiaren ran outside to push it out of the way and carried in a bucket of dirty water to make room for the vehicle to pass, after which he took the bucket back out. With nothing else to do or say inside, he went back to his washing. Ah-can told him to go buy some takeout so they could treat their guests. Zhuang quickly declined her offer, which offended her. “Do you think we’re too poor to offer you something to eat and drink? Or is the place too dirty for you?’ She even laid her hands on Zhuang’s shoulders to keep him in his seat and, while she was at it, flicked off some dirt from the back of his collar.
So they stayed, drinking and eating the usual things — pork liver, shredded pork belly, pig’s ears, bamboo shoots, and mushrooms. Ah-can also cooked a medium-sized fish. When she was frying the fish on the outdoor stove, the aroma spread through the lane, causing the children in the room across the way to cry out for fish. Zhuang looked out and saw an old woman making noodles; she too was stripped to the waist, her sagging breasts hanging almost all the way down to her waist. She had two children on her back. “What fish?” she grumbled. “Can’t you see that Aunty Ah-can has guests? Have this instead.” She reached down with her floured hand and flung her breasts over her shoulders. Surprisingly, the children grabbed them and began sucking. Ah-can quickly filled a bowl with rice and a few pieces of fish and went over with it. She came back and whispered, “You’ll probably laugh at the way she looks, but I heard she was a true beauty as a younger woman. Those breasts alone had men salivating. Two of the men even crossed the line. But now she’s old and doesn’t care about her appearance. Besides, this place is so hot she couldn’t keep any nice clothes on her anyway.”
When they were finished, they chatted some more before Mu did the dishes and got ready to go to work. Zhuang and Meng got up to leave also, but Mu stopped them, “What’s the hurry? I’m on night shift and have to leave, but you two stay and talk some more. Stay for dinner, and we’ll treat you to a Henan specialty, spicy noodles.”
“We can’t keep eating like this,” Zhuang said, “or you won’t have anything for us next time we come.”
“I know what you’re thinking. You don’t think it’s proper to stay when my husband is out, do you?” Ah-can said. “If their conscience is clear, a man and a woman can sleep in the same bed with nothing to fear.”
Zhuang and Meng blushed so deeply that even their necks turned red; they couldn’t leave now. After Mu left, she asked them how they got there and where they parked. When told it was a scooter, she asked Meng to go out and wheel it over, in case the old woman went home and there was no one to keep an eye on it. As soon as Meng stepped out, she fixed her bright eyes on Zhuang and said, “Tell me the truth. Do you really need to leave, or do you think it’s improper to stay?”
Zhuang laughed and said, “You’re such a straightforward person that even though we’re meeting today for the first time, I feel like I’ve known you for a long time. Like an old friend.”
“Truth always pleases the ear. You have no idea how happy I am about your visit. Stay awhile if you don’t think this place isn’t good enough for you. I’m going next door to borrow a pack of watermelon seeds to nibble on.” She left.
“What do you think of her?” Zhuang asked when Meng walked in.
“A born beauty with a great personality.”
“I don’t meet women like her very often. She’s more poised than Ah-lan and less girlish than most women. It’s a rare quality for a woman, like a knight without the airs of a swordsman or a monk who doesn’t look like a temple attendant.”
“She’s caught your fancy, I see,” Meng said as Ah-can walked in and handed them each some watermelon seeds.
“Ah-lan will be home late,” she said. “Why don’t you write a letter for Mr. Zhong here, and I’ll post it to my sister tomorrow. Given Mr. Zhong’s situation, one more letter could add another year to his life.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” Meng said.
“Of course. All you have to do is put yourself in his shoes. I’m young, but I have no one to write to, nor anyone to write to me.”
“That’s impossible for someone with your looks and temperament,” Meng said.
“That’s what everyone says. But my looks and temperament were my downfall. When I was younger, I set my heart on the sky, but in the end my fate has turned out to be worth less than a sheet of paper. I didn’t meet people who were better than me, and I couldn’t get rid of the deadbeats. I’m not as lucky as you.”
“We’re all the same,” Meng said. “Mr. Zhuang receives lots of letters, but they’re mostly from people seeking writing tips. I’ve never heard him mention any girls.”
“It’s probably because Mrs. Zhuang is so pretty that the girls stay away after assessing their own looks.”
“You’re right, she is quite good-looking.”
“That’s good,” she said with a smile.
“What’s good about it?”
“I’d feel bad if you said she wasn’t pretty. You see, I’m sure that meeting Mr. Zhuang is a personal highlight for all women, but they probably can’t tell you why. Now, if they heard that his wife was ugly, they would think he had low standards and there’d be no point in falling for him.”
“That’s an interesting way of looking at it. Usually when a woman falls for a man, she can only hope that his wife is ugly enough for her to have a chance.”
Zhuang waved his hands, complaining about the direction of their conversation. “It’s too bad Ah-can has to live around here,” he said.
“Nothing bad about that. Haven’t you noticed that many great women marry men who aren’t their equals? People often say that gold is gold even if it’s buried in the ground. Of course I’m not gold, but even if I were, what’s the use in being hidden? Iron isn’t worth much, but it can be turned into pots for cooking, and become more valuable than gold. My greatest comfort now is my son, a great kid, good-looking and smart.”
“Where is he?” Meng asked.
“He’s in middle school. He comes home late because they offer after-school classes. My hopes are all on him now. I want him to go to college and then get a doctoral degree so he can go overseas and make a name for himself.”
Troubled by her talk, Zhuang cut in, “You’re still young. You should be living for yourself. Pinning all your hope on your son could—”
She smiled stiffly and looked down. A layer of dust caught her attention, so she picked up a rag and wiped it away. “You’re right, of course. But you don’t understand.” She gave a short laugh. “I once told Ah-lan about going hungry in Xinjiang. She said she’d gone hungry once, too, but that was when she was on a business trip and had to skip meals while she was traveling. Me? It was not knowing where my next meal came from. We were so poor, we couldn’t scrape together a handful of rice. We both went hungry, but in totally different circumstances.”
“I see,” Zhuang said.
Meng thought he got the drift of their conversation, but all he was sure of was that Zhuang and Ah-can had a lot to talk about. So he said he would take the scooter into town on business, and Zhuang could stay to write the letter. He would be back in a couple of hours. Without waiting for a response, he walked out and rode off on the scooter.
Meng’s departure made Zhuang uneasy.
“You can write that letter now, can’t you?”
“Yes.”
She brought him a pen and paper, pushed everything on the table to the side, and invited him to sit down, saying she wouldn’t bother him. She would sit and read. Unable to get into the mood, he tore up the first few openings. Offering him some sunshine, she opened the drapes and fanned him from behind so the heat would not bother him. He told her there was no need for that. Finally getting the inspiration he was looking for, he started writing, with so much feeling he seemed enthralled. After reading for a while at the head of the bed, she quietly watched him as he wrote. A long time passed before he finished and turned to see her staring at him. She seemed not to be aware that he was looking at her. “I’m done,” he said.