Feeling lonely as she waited, she tried to fill her loneliness, but the more she tried, the lonelier she felt. She could have gone to stay with her parents, but she did not want to be interrogated. For the same reason she did not want them to visit her. She had stopped phoning them, effectively cutting herself off. After the first time, Jiang Lili visited twice more, and they went to the movies together. But then she stopped coming. Nobody else called, and Wang Qiyao did not go out. She forbade the maid to go out except to buy food, and even then she severely limited the time the maid was allowed to spend on errands. She wanted the maid, too, to feel what it meant to be lonely. Loneliness added to loneliness. She ate very little, once a day at the most, and was usually oblivious to what she was eating. She sometimes put on the Mei Lanfang record and tried to figure out just what it was that Director Li got out of the songs. She also wanted to be better prepared in case he took her to another Peking opera, but the significance of the lyrics still eluded her. She felt resigned to having always to wait for Director Li. It had been a game of waiting from the outset — the days she waited far outnumbered their days together. She did not realize that waiting was the main activity at all the units in Alice Apartments.
Every time Director Li came back, Wang Qiyao could not help crying. She never complained, but Director Li knew why she was unhappy — although this did not prevent him from leaving again. Director Li too felt helpless. Even he couldn’t figure out at what point all those accumulated setbacks began to weigh him down and make him feel helpless — he whose pet phrase used to be “Go for it!” had became “Unfeasible.” Because of his willingness to take risks, he had penetrated to the very core of power, but now that he was there, he had run out of room for maneuvering and almost everything became unfeasible. People thought he was powerful, but he knew he was helpless, even when it came to his own fate. He pitied Wang Qiyao as well as himself. His loss of faith in himself only strengthened his pity for her, and he tried to be good to her. Wang Qiyao, for her part, came to yearn for him, and there existed between them the true affection of man and wife. This was a love engendered by waiting, a tenderness that contained more sorrow than joy, an affection that tried to make the most of what they had.
Wang Qiyao was not aware of how desperate the situation had become. She only knew that Director Li was growing more and more erratic, and this left her feeling ill at ease. She also began to notice that at each visit he looked more haggard and aged than the last time. She felt she was living in a cave while a storm raged outside. But what could she do except worry? His was a world in which the clouds and rain contended furiously; in her world, clouds were clouds and rain was rain. What could she do besides wait? All she could offer to Director Li was her waiting. She couldn’t even discern his world from afar, much less enter it. She listened intently for the sound of his car starting at the entrance to the longtang. It was gone in an instant.
On one of his visits Director Li turned to her after they had made love and said gravely, “You must never acknowledge your relationship with me. This apartment is rented under your name, and no one knows when I come to see you. There may be rumors about us, but they are only rumors.”
Lying in bed next to him, she took his words to mean that he wanted to deny any involvement with her. “Of course!” she rejoined sarcastically. “I know very well I am not worthy of being associated with the Lis. I have never fancied myself a member of your family. I have never acknowledged anything.”
She spoke as if the precaution was totally unnecessary. Director Li knew she had misunderstood him, but didn’t quite know how to explain himself, so he simply smiled a bitter smile. He did not think Wang Qiyao could be petty, but there it was. Realizing her mistake, she was deeply contrite. She managed to force a smile as she looked at his drawn face and white hair, saying, “I was just teasing.”
Director Li was moved. He took her in his arms. “My whole life I feel like I have been walking on thin ice and now I’m at the edge of an abyss. This time I’m afraid I may not be able to save myself. I just don’t want you to get entangled in my problems. You who are so innocent.”
He was almost in tears as he spoke. These words came straight from his heart, and they were words he rarely allowed to escape from his lips. He spoke these words for her, but also for himself. Astonished at what she heard, Wang Qiyao wanted to interrupt him as he made these ghastly pronouncements, but the words stuck in her throat. She started to sob.
In retrospect this was an unusual night. Outside, it was abnormally dark and quiet. Not even the vendors’ clappers could be heard, and no music issued from the Paramount. It was so quiet they could clearly hear the maid in her bedroom crying in her dream. Neither of them could sleep a wink. They talked a while before becoming absorbed in their respective anxieties. Wang Qiyao wept quietly, but Director Li pretended not to notice. It was not that he did not want to comfort her, only that he did not know how. Any promise he might make would not be easily kept, so he was better off not making any. Wang Qiyao heard Director Li get up from bed and walk around the living room. She too pretended not to notice. If Director Li, with all his connections, was helpless, who could help him? It was a profoundly lonely night. They were together, yet neither could comfort the other; each was powerless to alleviate the other’s anxiety, both tormented by premonitions. Director Li’s premonitions were based on what he knew. Wang Qiyao was simply scared, sensing the coming catastrophe. She dared not think further, telling herself, Everything will be better tomorrow when the sun comes up.
As she lay waiting for the dawn, she fell asleep and dreamed that she was on her way to Suzhou to visit her maternal grandmother, but was awakened before she could reach her destination. The room was dark, but she could see Director Li’s face clearly, hovering over her. He placed a Spanish box of carved mahogany next to her pillow, reached for her hand, and put a key in her palm. He said the car was outside and he had to leave. Wang Qiyao put her arms around his neck and sobbed. She lost all her good manners and reserve, hanging on to him childishly, refusing to let him go. She did not know when he would be back again. Facing her were endless days and nights of awkward waiting, of staring at the light on the wall, which moved fast when she wanted it to slow down and quickly when she wished it would stand still. Outside the window, the parasol trees too had frustrated her wish by shedding their leaves prematurely. Wang Qiyao cried for a long time in a confused welter of misery. She was still crying when Director Li pushed her away and left. That night she soaked herself with tears, until morning came and she was too exhausted to go on crying.
This time Wang Qiyao could not sit still to wait for Director Li’s return. She had to get out. She dressed herself properly and hailed a pedicab. She stared absentmindedly ahead at the street scenes, passing from one place to another. The display windows in the shops told her that styles of shoes and hats had changed, but this did not concern her. The new romantic movies advertised outside the cinemas also had nothing to do with her. Nor did the young couples sitting in the coffee shops. She felt she already belonged to an older generation. The silvery sunlight sprinkling down between the leaves dazzled her. Watching the crowd on the street, she thought it unfair that among all of those people there was no Director Li! Stepping down from the pedicab, she realized that she had come out to shop without knowing what she was looking for.