“Can’t you wait a bit?” said Dunhuang. “At least finish eating.”
“I’ve got to go,” she said, rubbing her hand over the stubble on Dunhuang’s scalp. “Next time I’ll treat Xiaorong, how’s that? You can come along too.”
“Go on, Qibao,” said Xiaorong. “You ought to be there for the party. We’ll have plenty of chances to hang out.”
Then there were two. Dunhuang was a little annoyed; the wheels had completely fallen off the dinner. “Jesus, the whole world has something better to do, I’m the only one sitting on his thumbs. Let’s keep eating.”
“No big deal. Another couple beers? I’ve already forgotten what you’re like when you’re drunk.”
Dunhuang drank glass after glass in silence. At around eleven he took her back to her building. Xiaorong asked, “Do you want to come up for a glass of water? He’s been staying at the shop these days.” Dunhuang went up.
There were fewer DVDs in the room this time, and many of the baskets were empty and stacked. She said they’d all been taken to the store for inventory. Dunhuang nodded, feeling a little dizzy — not a surprise considering how much he’d drunk.
“Qibao’s pretty nice,” said Xiaorong.
“Thanks,” Dunhuang said, looking at her. Xiaorong turned her face away, toward the hot-water thermos. “Oh, I was going to get you some water.” She picked up the cup that Dunhuang had used while he was staying there, packed it with tea leaves and poured the water. “Strong tea clears the head.” She held out the cup, but Dunhuang took her hand. She said, “Dunhuang. . ” The cup fell to the ground and he pulled her into his arms. She said, “We can’t do this.”
“Do what?” Dunhuang said.
Dunhuang only held her, nothing else. “I dreamed you jumped off a bridge,” he said. “You drifted down like a piece of clothing. Scared me awake.” Xiaorong’s voice was low. “My life is just fine, why would I die?” She pulled Dunhuang’s head down to her chest. Dunhuang felt even dizzier and his ears buzzed. They collapsed sideways onto the bed. The place was too damn small. Xiaorong said, “We can’t, Dunhuang, I’ve got. . ”
“So do I!” Dunhuang said.
He put his mouth and tongue between Xiaorong’s chin and neck. It was the softest part of her. Her only protest was deep in her throat, she sounded like she might cry. Slowly, her arms and legs opened to him, then she contracted and began to shudder. Dunhuang was already inside her, but she was silent. She only ever flowed on the ground, she never raged in the sky, like Qibao did.
As Xiaorong stuffed the pillow cover into her mouth and bit down, Dunhuang was coming as well. As he worked, he reached for the shelf at the head of the bed — he had to get a condom on soon. Xiaorong pulled the cover from her mouth and said, “Don’t bother, I’m pregnant.”
Dunhuang stopped.
“I found out two days ago.”
Dunhuang stayed motionless, and the name “Kuang Xia” flashed in his head. The blood ebbed from where it had gathered, vanishing as quickly as the cup of water he’d just drunk. He was gradually losing sensation, losing shape and volume, until he finally drifted from her body like a wisp of smoke.
The sound of night trucks passing by the window. A dull explosion from somewhere nearby, and the sound of car alarms going off. Later, all sound faded away, and the night was still but for the ticking of the bedside clock.
“I shouldn’t have asked you to come up.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Do I have any choice?”
“You’ll keep it?”
“I’ll keep it. I can’t get rid of it. It’s my child, it’s part of my body.”
“So get married, have the kid, and live in Beijing?”
“I’ll take it one day at a time. It’s the only thing in this place that belongs to me.”
Dunhuang immediately thought of all those women who sold DVDs and ID cards with babies in tow, their shirts open and nursing in public as they asked, Want a DVD? Need an ID? Xiaorong got dressed and walked to the bathroom, looking lonely and abandoned with her shirt hanging askew. Dunhuang imagined that she was walking not toward the toilet but toward the street, children appearing on her back and in her arms. She sat down at the curbside and hiked up her shirt, stifling the cries of a child named Kuang Xia with one large, white breast. Dunhuang lit a cigarette. Xiaorong emerged from the bathroom, her clothes tidied and hair combed, and said, “Don’t smoke in here, it’s bad for the baby.” Dunhuang obediently pinched it out, and thought it might not be as bad as he imagined. Perhaps she’d spend her days sitting in state in the Cosmic DVD shop, smiling at all the customers, gracefully counting their earnings. Who knew?
Dunhuang left the room on the pretense of wanting another cigarette. He didn’t go back. As he left the building he looked up at the windows, most of which were dark, and no faces showed in the ones that were lit. That’s good, thought Dunhuang. It’s best this way.
14
At last, spring had truly arrived. But Beijing’s springs are short — yawn and you’ll miss them, and the next day will hit 28 degrees Celsius while you’re still wearing your sweater. The novelty had begun to wear off for Dunhuang and Qibao, too — they each dealt with their own lives, focused on their own business, and didn’t see each other as much as before. Qibao was still refusing to move in with him, and told him to quit pushing or she’d dump him. So Dunhuang continued to live in his little room in Weixiuyuan, and thought that was fine — if he had to piss in the middle of the night he could just do it on the scholar tree. He thought he might be personally responsible for some of the tree’s new leaves.
Dunhuang gave Qibao a key to his room so she could come over when he wasn’t home. When she was bored she would show up with some junk food and watch DVDs until Dunhuang got back. Then she might do his laundry, but she wasted so much water the landlady developed a facial tic just watching her, since utilities were included in the rent. She couldn’t come right out and complain, instead she tried an oblique approach, “My goodness, you’ve been at those two shirts so long, I thought you were washing ten at least.”
Qibao immediately knew what she was getting at. When she’d first arrived in Beijing she’d stayed in a place just like this one, where the landlord was constantly at her to use fifteen-watt bulbs, and telling her, “Don’t expect to make anything worth eating in those electric rice cookers, what you need is a coal stove, buy a coal stove.” Qibao wasn’t having any of it, and six months later the landlord drove her out. This old bag, thought Qibao, she’s even a cheapskate about the water.
“Well you know, ma’am, Dunhuang was a poor child, he’s only got these two shirts, and he wears them one after the other. He’s as filthy as a metalworker and it takes a lot of work to get them clean. The sheets are worse.”
The landlady’s heart nearly broke. Sheets, too. . There wouldn’t be enough water in the whole Yangtze river, the water meter was sure to burn out altogether. “That Dunhuang sure is lucky,” she said, “to have a girlfriend as good as you.”