At that point Mr. Cheng finally realized that she was simply intent on being unreasonable; he decided to be a bit more brazen and put everything on the line.
“Well, since I keep asking the wrong questions, why don’t you go ahead and ask me something?”
“Who said you’re always asking the wrong questions?” Jiang Lili warmed up a bit; the cold look on her face had obviously been just a show.
This strengthened Mr. Cheng’s resolve to remain taciturn. They had come to an impasse. All Jiang Lili could do now was lower her head and sip her tea. The melodious sounds of a steamship whistling from afar contrasted with the stillness in the room, where a genial warmth was gradually emerging. They were both thinking of the past, which was still heartwarming, despite its unpleasant aspects. It may be true that life goes forward, but it can also be said that life is a series of retreats. As one gets older, one is more willing to make accommodations and less likely to mind things.
“I see not much has changed for you — still here in the same old apartment,” Jiang Lili observed.
Mr. Cheng lowered his head and responded sheepishly, “I am a man of few desires.”
Jiang Lili laughed disdainfully. “How could you make such a claim? You have very definite desires.”
Mr. Cheng didn’t have the courage to answer.
It was only after a long silence that Jiang Lili asked, “Where does Wang Qiyao live?”
Mr. Cheng was startled. “You’re looking for her?”
“If you don’t know, just say so,” she said impatiently.
“I know where you can find her,” Mr. Cheng hastened to reply.
“Where?” Jiang Lili sprang to her feet, as if about to rush out immediately to find Wang Qiyao.
Mr. Cheng also stood up. “I was just getting ready to go over there myself. I’ll take you to see her…. We were actually just talking about you the other day.”
Invigorated by this turn of events, he forgot the clothes he had come home to pick up and made straight for the door. In the doorway he turned around to discover she had not budged. She was standing there staring at him. Even at a distance he could see the sadness in her eyes. He had the sensation of having stepped back in time to when they were all young. The two stared at each other, each coming to terms with the other’s feelings, before walking out the door.
It turned out that Jiang Lili was completing the paperwork for admission to the Communist Party. One of the forms required someone to certify the high school listed on the applicant’s résumé—Jiang Lili immediately thought of Wang Qiyao. Wang Qiyao seemed so far away in her past, she almost doubted if the memories of her were real. For more than ten years now, Jiang Lili had been leading a radically different life. She had redirected her passion toward accepting everything that she had once found repugnant. Where she had been impulsive and self-indulgent, she was now self-critical and disciplined. Her ardor left everyone else straggling far behind. She took everything to the brink — and then some. To make up for her bad political background, she was determined always to go against what her heart truly desired — the more she abhorred something, the more she insisted on doing it. Marrying Old Zhang was one example, choosing to work at the cotton mill in Yangshupu another. As time went by, the old Jiang Lili grew increasingly distant; it was as if she was playacting, and her whole life was the play.
Her application for admission to the party was deemed problematic. The authorities conceded that she was a revolutionary — but not in the way they hoped. The reports she wrote nearly every six months overflowed with confessional passion — the feverish prose was a bit too melodramatic even for the party. In 1960 the disease of zealotry was spreading fast — most of those accused of it were petty bourgeoisie. In truth, it is difficult to pinpoint just where the disease originated; each class had its own disease, and most people couldn’t even figure out where they themselves stood.
Leaving the building, Jiang Lili and Mr. Cheng got on the trolley and rode in silence, listening to the clanking bell. The sound seemed to conquer time and space, remaining constant in the midst of a world in constant flux. Likewise, the trolley tracks were like time tunnels that never moved no matter how many roads they traversed. The three o’clock sunshine had a familiar glow — it was difficult to say whether it belonged to the past, the present, or the future — for thousands of years it had remained unchanged, so it certainly was not going to be fazed by a few decades of human vicissitudes. They got off the trolley, crossed two intersections, and arrived at Peace Lane. There light and sound came in bits and pieces, jumbled together like fabric remnants haphazardly snipped off from the outside world. As they walked silently down the longtang, windows rattled and drops of water from the laundry hanging out overhead dripped down onto their necks.
Arriving at Wang Qiyao’s back door, Mr. Cheng reached into his pocket and took out a key. Focusing on that key, Jiang Lili’s eyes suddenly took on a piercing gleam, but when Mr. Cheng noticed her expression, she quickly looked away. Embarrassed, he wanted to explain, but Jiang Lili stepped briskly ahead of him and went inside. Upstairs, Wang Qiyao was awake but still resting in bed. Inside the darkened room, Wang Qiyao did not immediately recognize Jiang Lili. By the time she did, Jiang Lili was already standing in front of her, looking down at her. Their faces were close — almost touching — their eyes met and each held the other’s gaze. It was only for a split second, but all of the sights and sounds they had experienced during all those years apart seemed to pass through their eyes. Wang Qiyao sat up in bed and called out, “Jiang Lili!”
Jiang Lili caught sight of her protruding belly under the blanket and the piercing gleam returned. Wang Qiyao drew back instinctively, but this only emphasized her condition. Jiang Lili blushed; staggering backward, she took a seat on the sofa. She turned to face the window, but didn’t utter a word. The threesome had parted under awkward circumstances; they were united again under equally awkward circumstances — fate was not done collecting its debts, it seemed. The light on the curtains shifted, the noises filtering in through the window became quieter, more intermittent, and Jiang Lili announced she had to leave. They made no attempt to detain her, partly because they felt ashamed, but also afraid of being spurned. Mr. Cheng saw her out before going back upstairs. The two avoided eye contact — they both knew that Jiang Lili had gotten the wrong idea about their relationship, but were actually rather pleased with the misunderstanding.
That evening they sat across the table from one another, shelling walnuts. Shanghai opera came in erratic bursts from the radio next door. They were perfectly calm. No longer did they demand anything of life other than what they presently enjoyed. Perhaps it was not all that they wanted, but they had learned to be content with what they had. One cracked open the shells while the other removed the nuts; they ate all the broken pieces, saving the whole ones for later. That was one of the rare nights that Wang Qiyao didn’t feel drowsy and her back was not sore as it had been. Mr. Cheng brought her a pillow to lean against.
“When is the baby due?” he asked.
Wang Qiyao counted on her fingers. It was going to be sometime in the next ten days. Mr. Cheng couldn’t help feeling anxious; in the end, it was up to Wang Qiyao to put him at ease.
“Childbirth is the most natural thing in the world — just look at all the people out there walking the streets.”
“I’m worried that you might be alone when the baby comes and won’t have anyone to help you get to the hospital.”