As things turned out, the opportunity for Wang Qiyao to move out of the Jiang household presented itself just a few days later. Unfortunately, the way things came about left everyone upset. One night Jiang Lili went into Wang Qiyao’s room looking for a book she had lent her. Jiang Lili didn’t find the book, but beside Wang Qiyao’s pillow she saw the photos — and the poems Mr. Cheng had inscribed on them. Jiang Lili had been blind to Mr. Cheng’s intentions vis-à-vis Wang Qiyao even though they had been right there before her eyes all this time, but the photos forced her to come face-to-face with reality. A suspicion she had long suppressed and buried deep in her heart was suddenly yanked out into the open — all at once the water subsided and the rocks were exposed. This revelation utterly destroyed Jiang Lili’s love, as it destroyed her friendship. Jiang Lili had worn her heart on her sleeve in both of these relationships. She had willingly devoted so much of herself to both of them. Never had she imagined that this would be how things would come to an end.
Director Li
A request for Wang Qiyao’s presence at a grand opening arrived the day Wang Qiyao moved out of the Jiang house. Wang Qiyao had already stepped into the pedicab when the Jiang’s amah rushed over with the envelope. Wang Qiyao noticed the unmistakable look of joy on the old Cantonese woman’s face and knew that she was only too happy to see her go. She wondered how she could have earned the enmity of someone she barely even knew. Why would the amah hate her for no apparent reason?
Neither Jiang Lili or her mother came out to see Wang Qiyao off; Lili’s excuse was that she had to make a trip to the university to register for classes, and her mother had a headache. This left Wang Qiyao with the feeling that she was taking flight amid defeat. Dressed in a beige shortsleeved silk cheongsam, Wang Qiyao was carrying a folded fan to block the early autumn sun, in whose rays lingered the last remnants of summer. The sound of cicadas rang out one after another, but the trees stretching their canopies over the street were already showing fall colors. Her spirit was so low that she didn’t have the energy to open the envelope in her hand. She had not told Mr. Cheng about what happened: some things are tricky to explain. She was also in something of a pique and rather enjoyed making her situation appear worse than it really was — as if that was the only way to vent her resentment. As the pedicab emerged from the broad longtang, a scented mist rose up from the lilacs along the courtyard walls. The street just outside the longtang was empty of people and traffic, and the quietude also seemed to send up a mist. When Wang Qiyao finally opened the envelope in her hand, she discovered it was an invitation to cut the red ribbon at the grand opening of a department store. The invitation didn’t make her terribly excited. If anything, it led her to ponder sarcastically just what a “Miss Third Place” like herself could possibly bring to such a grand opening. It was probably a secondrate department store and they couldn’t get Miss Shanghai or the girl who came in second — so they had to settle for her. It was turning out to be a dreary day. Another chapter of her life was over. Although things had come to a close, the aftermath held plenty of clean-up work for her.
She arrived back at home just in time for lunch, but told her family she had already eaten and went into the small tingzijian with a few books. The floor and walls in the tingzijian were all a dirty gray, having just been scrubbed with soapy water. Wang Qiyao’s mind was unusually serene as she spent the entire afternoon reading. Around dusk she received two phone calls. The first was from Mr. Cheng, who asked her why she had gone home. He only learned of her departure after a trip to Jiang Lili’s house, where he was told that she had some matters to take care of at home. When Mr. Cheng asked Wang Qiyao what exactly had happened and offered to help out, she laughed. “Nothing of consequence; actually it was an excuse to get out of there.”
Mr. Cheng heaved a sigh of relief and, after some hesitation, asked whether her sudden departure had something to do with what he had said the other day.
Wang Qiyao replied with a question. “Just what did you say the other day? How come I don’t remember anything about it?”
Too embarrassed to press the issue, Mr. Cheng paused for a moment and then asked if he could come and see her. She said that since she had only just returned home, she needed to take care of some errands, but they could talk about getting together in a few days.
The second telephone call came from the department store, reiterating the invitation. She was informed that a car would be sent to pick her up. The ribbon-cutting ceremony would be followed by a banquet where her presence was also requested, after which the car would see her back to her residence. The tone of the man on the phone was extremely eager and courteous, as though afraid she wouldn’t come. That pair of telephone calls brought a great deal of comfort to Wang Qiyao. She felt as if she had sunk to the bottom but was now coming back up to the surface. She had not planned to have dinner, but after those two phone calls, she not only ate but even sat down to help her mother with extracting the plumules from lotus seeds before going upstairs to bed. She slept soundly that night.
The day of the ribbon-cutting ceremony Wang Qiyao wore the same outfit she had worn during round 1 of the beauty pageant — the pink satin cheongsam. Her hair had grown out a bit, but she did not get it cut and permed, instead deciding at the last minute to have it combed into an old-fashioned chignon at a nearby hair salon. She took a perfunctory view of the whole thing, as her way of protesting against being ignored for so long. She wondered how they could possibly still remember “Miss Third Place” when she herself had almost forgotten. Her appearance, however, turned out to be a success. Pink was the perfect color for her, delicate and fresh. Her hairdo was also the most fitting style for her mood, with its tantalizing hint of a woman with a past; but hardly anything could hide the blooming youth of an eighteen-year-old. Her shoes were new, a pair of white stilettos that made her appear taller, giving her the stateliness of a proud locust tree in the wind.
As Wang Qiyao got into the car at the front of the longtang, she could feel countless eyes on her, peering out from all the windows. Nothing escaped her neighbors’ notice. Wang Qiyao felt a bit sad. Riding in the car, she gazed at the street scenes passing by outside her window, as the trolley bells kept clanging, an eternal sound. Her eyes had a blank expression, as if she were indifferent to everything; but in that coldness was a determination to meet all challenges, a resolve to follow her fate through to the bitter end.
Upon arrival her eyes betrayed a gleam of surprise. The department store was the very one advertised in all the newspapers and on the radio in recent days. The grand opening ceremony was also quite imposing, and several dozen flower baskets lined the entrance to the store. Although Wang Qiyao began to regret the casualness with which she had viewed the event, she quickly composed herself, even laughing at herself for getting too excited. After all, however glorious the affair might be, her part was no more than to make the rounds and go home. At that moment Wang Qiyao seemed to see through everything; but that didn’t mean that she was going to give up trying. On the contrary, sizing up the situation coolly was just the preparation she needed for the hard work ahead. She reached for her compact to make a last-minute inspection before getting out of the car.