On hearing the story, Wang Qiyao exclaimed, “Even in my wildest dreams I would have never imagined that Jiang Lili would one day become a cadre! Isn’t that wonderful!”
Mr. Cheng agreed that it was wonderful, even though neither really believed their own words; the story simply sounded too much like a legend — something just didn’t ring true.
After a pause, Wang Qiyao went back to the previous topic. “So, the director was a Communist all along! Back when I ran for Miss Shanghai, he took me out to dinner and tried to persuade me to withdraw. I wonder if he was following orders from above? Who knows, maybe if I had listened to him, it would have been me joining the revolution instead of Jiang Lili!”
They both laughed.
Wang Qiyao and Mr. Cheng considered paying a visit to Jiang Lili, but they wavered, uncertain whether — under the circumstances — they were still fit to be her friends. Like most Shanghai residents who had lived through such sweeping historical changes, they regarded the Communist Party as unapproachable, and saw themselves as people left over from a previous era. Moreover, living in the heart of society, caught up in the swirl of everyday life, they barely had a chance to develop a coherent opinion of themselves, let alone grand concepts like “the nation” or “political power.” They are not to be faulted for their narrow frame of reference, because a large city is like a huge machine that turns according to the principles dictated by its own structure; only its tiniest components have a human texture, and it is these tiny components that people hold onto, otherwise they would fall into the vacuum of abstraction. The residents of Shanghai hewed to the little things of life, which left them stranded on the margins when it came to politics. If you told them that the Communist government belongs to the people, they would still keep their distance, due to modesty as well an overweening pride — deep down they still believed that they were the true masters of the city. Wang Qiyao and Mr. Cheng were all too conscious of the fact that they did not belong to the same class of people as Jiang Lili. The only reason they came up with the crazy idea of paying her a visit was because of their former entanglement. If not for that, they would have never even dreamed of calling on someone like her.
Wang Qiyao’s reunion with Mr. Cheng was also a reunion with her past. When she reflected back on her youth, revisiting past experiences, she wondered whether it had all been a dream. Who can really tell the past from the present? As she grew heavier and her feet swelled up, she gave in to laziness and ended up sitting around most of the day. Her mind would wander as she sat knitting a wool outfit for the baby with material taken from an old sweater. The yarn came in different lengths, and she had to connect them as she knitted. Progress was painfully slow. Every day, Mr. Cheng would be overwhelmed with work at the office and chores around the house, and it was only after dinner, around eight o’clock, that he would finally get a chance to sit down. By then Wang Qiyao would be so exhausted that she could barely keep her eyes open or get a complete sentence out of her mouth without slurring the words. Mr. Cheng, watching from the other end of the sofa, was infected by her lethargy and they would nod off together until the evening chill snapped them out of their slumber. Mr. Cheng might awaken with a shiver but Wang Qiyao would remain still. She would wait for him to make her bed and help her get in, whereupon she would get half undressed and burrow under the covers. As always, Mr. Cheng would go on to make sure all the doors and windows were locked before he turned off the lights and quietly closed the door behind him.
They had been wondering whether to call on Jiang Lili and had still not made up their minds, when she took them by surprise by unexpectedly turning up on Mr. Cheng’s doorstep. Since his reunion with Wang Qiyao, Mr. Cheng was hardly ever at his apartment, except when he went back late at night to go to sleep. There is no telling how many times she must have gone there looking for him before she finally caught him at the elevator. Failing to find him upstairs this time, she was waiting for the elevator to take her back down, when it arrived and out stepped Mr. Cheng. Standing there, face to face, they recognized one another, but there was something about each of them that the other did not recognize. It seemed only natural that they should feel as if their world had completely changed, even though at one level everything seemed just as it was before. Jiang Lili was in a Lenin suit; her khaki pants were a bit baggy around the knees and too short around the ankles. Her leather shoes were covered with dust. Her glasses, also dusty, seemed thicker than before, so that one had to peer through several concentric circles to find her small eyes, and look even deeper into her eyes to find a glimmer of recognition.
“What a coincidence!” Mr. Cheng exclaimed.
“What do you mean? You might think it’s a coincidence, but not me!”
Thus brusquely checked, Mr. Cheng did not know how to go on.
“You’re not home in the morning, not in the evening. . you don’t even come home in the afternoon for lunch!”
Mr. Cheng apologized as he opened the door for her, even though deep down he wanted to tell her, “Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?” It was a Sunday afternoon and, having helped Wang Qiyao settle down for her nap, he had decided to go home to take a shower and pick up some fresh clothes — he had never dreamed that he would run into Jiang Lili. Jiang Lili stepped inside; as she stood in the dust-laden sunlight, her face showed not even the hint of a smile. Her eyes were full of reproach. Mr. Cheng felt uncomfortable and his heart pounded. He was looking for something to say that might break up the tension, but what came out instead was, “Is there anything I can do for you?”
This infuriated Jiang Lili. “You think the only reason came by is because I have some official business with you?”
Mr. Cheng turned red. He contrived a smile and excused himself to make tea. But the hot water Thermos was empty, the glasses were dirty, and the lid of the tea can had rusted shut. Following him into the kitchen, where she watched as he boiled water and washed the glasses, she observed, “This place looks like a chicken coop!”
With that, she turned and went back into the living room. When Mr. Cheng emerged from the kitchen, she was standing there lost in thought. The heavy drapes in the photo studio had been pulled back and the room looked empty and abandoned, with the lamps, platform, and cardboard backdrops all pushed into the corner. Watching her from behind, he did not have the nerve to disturb her, so he withdrew to the kitchen and hovered around the stove, as the kettle whistled louder and louder until the hot steam popped open the lid.
When Mr. Cheng returned with the tea, Jiang Lili was pacing back and forth, with hands clasped behind her back like a man. He placed the tea on the shaky round table that normally served as a prop.
Sitting across from her, Mr. Cheng asked, “How’s your husband?”
Jiang Lili frowned. “Who do you mean? Old Zhang?”
This was how Mr. Cheng found out her husband’s surname. He deemed it unwise to pursue this line of inquiry and instead asked about her children.
She frowned again. “Always causing a ruckus, that’s all they know how to do! What else is there to ask about?”
He considered asking about her work but thought it was not his place to pry into official affairs, so he stifled his words. He truly had nothing else to say, but Jiang Lili would not permit him to remain silent for long. “After all these years, isn’t there anything else you want to know?”