TO HER COMRADES YUNHE SAYS that her release from prison was pure luck. She claims that because she had left no evidence, she was merely considered a suspect from the beginning to the end of the case. It had to do with my strong will-I could have confessed under torture, but my commitment to Communism won me victory.
In truth she knows that she has betrayed the oath. She justifies this by thinking that she is more useful to Communism alive than as a martyr.
After signing the paper, she is released. The first couple of days back in her apartment she tosses all night. She sees images of dogs attacking her cellmates. The screams from the torture chamber haunt her thoughts. After midnight she gets up and gathers together her books and magazines. She walks downstairs and throws them in the dump. During the day she avoids streets where Communist leaflets are posted. She no longer communicates with Communist friends. She finds the house noises endearing again. The sound of the husband and wife fighting next door keeps her nightmares at bay. The neighbor boy's piano becomes music from heaven. She doesn't mind the smell of burnt soy sauce from the kitchen. She lies in bed all day and she still misses Yu Qiwei.
I decide to change my name. A new name symbolizes new life. I want the name to ring my character too. Besides, changing one's name is fashionable in Shanghai. It helps one to get noticed. Some people cut out their last name so that there are two syllables instead of the traditional three. This is considered an act of rebellion. The sounds stand out by themselves. There are names that have inspired me, especially those of established writers and actresses. They are Bing-xing for Ice Heart, Xiao-yue for Smiling Moon, and Hu-dee for Butterfly.
I name myself Lan Ping. Lan means Blue, my favorite color, and Ping means Apple and sweetness. Blue associates with the images of sky, ink and myth, while Apple evokes the idea of harvest, ripeness, fruitful future and also my hometown Shan-dong, where apples are the trademark export product.
After my recuperation from prison, I start to branch out. I reconnect myself with old friends for acting opportunities. I tell people that I am committed to helping the country. A good play promotes the nation's conscience and this is what's important.
I put my will to the test. I wear my biggest smile. To take care of my blue dress I wear an old jacket. That way I feel free to push my way through crowded buses. I take the blue dress with me and change before my meetings. I change back to my old jacket after the meeting. Because my empty stomach often growls in the middle of meetings I drink a lot of water. I have to hide my feet, because they swell from walking too much.
But still there are more rejections. Everyone tells me that I am good yet I receive no offers. Many girls in the same situation give in. They go to bed with the leering men who call themselves directors or producers. I tell myself over and over that I cannot give up.
In June the girl discovers that there is an audition for an interpretive rendition of Ibsen's Doll's House. The director is Mr. Zhang Min, a Russian-trained theater master. She is excited the moment she hears the news. She had read Ibsen's play so many times back in school and has already memorized most of Nora's lines. Although she is aware that she has very little chance to win the role, she tells herself to try. If nothing else comes out of it, she will make an impression. She will get to meet director Zhang Min.
She registers for the audition and begins to prepare the part. She invites her neighbors to come and hear her while their soups are on the stove. She gets the ladies little stools to sit on so that they can listen to her while cutting beans and carrots.
The day of the audition she gets up early and puts on light makeup. She feels confident and comfortable. The first to arrive at the Arts Club where the audition is to take place, she chats with the doorman and finds out that there have already been three days of auditions.
The good news is that Mr. Zhang Min is still looking. The doorman winks and puts his palms together to wish the girl luck.
By nine o'clock the room is packed with young women. The director's assistants come in and begin to set up tables and chairs. After the stage is set Zhang Min appears. He already seems bored. He orders the audition to begin immediately.
While waiting for her turn, Lan Ping takes a close look at the director. He is a soft-spoken man who wears a black cotton jacket and a black French beret. He smokes a cigarette and holds a tea mug in his hand. His assistant calls the contestants by their numbers. He looks at them without expression.
The young women do everything to overcome their stage fright. One girl takes deep breaths while the others massage their throats. Lan Ping waits with her heart beating fast. She is not as nervous as she thought she would be. She reflects on her time in jail. What can be more frightening? She smiles.
Mr. Zhang Min notices the difference. With his thumb supporting his chin he leans forward and begins to watch the girl. He keeps the same pose from the beginning to the end of Lan Ping's performance. He doesn't say anything afterwards. From the way he looks at her Lan Ping knows that she has made an impression. Before she leaves the room Zhang Min gets up and waves. I want to see you do that part again.
She does the part again.
He watches. He stops her and demands, Chisel the phrase this way. How about softening the tone a bit? Oh, Torvald, I'm not your child. Don't bang your chest. It's too cartoonish. Let yourself miss a beat. Hold the tension. Pivot your head toward the window, then the door, now speak.
She follows the direction, improvising at the same time. She is in a plain blue blouse, her body tall and slender. She is full of desire yet vulnerable. The assistants whisper to each other. Zhang Min doesn't smile, doesn't say anything more. After Lan Ping finishes, the director sends an assistant to tell her to wait in the greenroom. Mr. Zhang Min would like to talk with you after he is done. He is wrapping up. He won't be seeing anyone else today.
They meet and have tea. It goes well. Her senses tell her that he appreciates not only her acting skill but also her personality. She is flattered. You understand Nora, he remarks. Strangely, in the back of her mind, there is a recurring, seemingly irrelevant thought: he is a married man.
Later, much later, after the play, after the role, after her heart is broken over her next husband, she will listen to that thought and go to Zhang Min for shelter. She will move into his place and become his mistress. But at this point, she is a professional. And she is going to play Nora.
Nora is a traditional Western housewife, the mother of three children, Zhang Min says. Her husband and her friends think that she lives a good life-well fed and clothed. She gets expensive gifts at her birthdays.
But she is like my mother, the girl interrupts. Her man doesn't regard her as an equal but a bedmaid.
Go on, Miss Lan Ping! Go on.
She is not allowed to make decisions about the house, her children or her own activity. She is a wing-clipped bird, kept in an invisible cage. She is a concubine, a foot warmer and a slave. She is a prisoner. I was a prisoner. I know what it's like to be a prisoner.
The director encourages her. Describe your background, he orders. She enters her role. She describes her father, his drinking and his violence, and then her mother, the slave. She describes herself, how she ran away and grew up in hardship. The director listens attentively, forgets to drink his tea. Later on he tells her that her interpretation was exactly what he had been looking for. He falls in love and could have kissed her right on the spot. You are my perfect Nora. The play is going to fly because of you.
Then she meets her costar, Mr. Zhao Dan, her lifetime curse, the king of Chinese stage and screen. Dan plays her stage husband, Torvald. Lan Ping can hardly believe her luck. She remembers the sensation of being introduced to Dan for the first time. Awestruck. The handshake that makes her tremble. She is unable to hide her nervousness.
He is a tall and handsome man with a pair of penetrating eyes. He nods, acknowledging her.
Miss Lan Ping is a member of the left wing. When Zhang Min says this to the actor, the girl feels belittled.
I am new but I don't lack talent, she says, as if to nobody.
Would you like some candy? the actor yells. Who would like to have some candy?
They work fourteen hours a day and make the theater their home. Sometimes they sleep behind the stage. They are a good pair when they are acting. But there is already tension between them. What annoys Dan is Lan Ping's boldness, her assumption that she is his equal. The way she uses her new status and her association with him to show off to others. He can't stand her elation.
She begins to set herself up to be burned. She can't help being attracted to him, first toward his genius, as a mentor, a teacher, and then to him as a man. Later she says that it was simply her nature to conquer the unconquerable-she was attracted to the challenge, not the man.
She is Dan's partner and fan. He makes her focus on her character. But she becomes confused, she mistakes her stage relationship with him for the real thing. It is all new and exciting. She loses herself.
It eventually becomes clear that he doesn't appreciate her as much as she appreciates him. He pays no attention to her although they act in intimate scenes together. He is his own inspiration and she is a prop, an off-camera object, which he takes as a lover, to which he speaks love. He regards her as a provincial actress, miscast for the role.
Dan wants to have nothing to do with me after working hours. He doesn't want to discuss the role with me. Instead he offers suggestions regarding my part to Zhang Min. Besides what's on the script he has no interest in hearing what I have to say. He has many friends who are influential. They come by after the show and usually go for tea or snacks. I make myself available but am never invited. It tells me that Dan thinks of me as a poor choice for Nora. I see this in his arrogance, and from the way he begins to miss rehearsals. He doesn't want to be my Torvald. I am not sure whether he has ever spoken to Zhang Min about a possible replacement. I am sure that if it wasn't for Zhang Min, I would have already been replaced.
Dan is flirtatious. He likes to play with Lan Ping using the lines of Torvald. He squeezes her hands, presses her body against him during acting. He makes excuses to get her into his makeup room, pins himself against her. Come on, it is a perfect day in spring, he says.
Dan's lightness torments her. It hurts her more than anything when he makes jokes about the moments on stage where her intense effort has made her awkward.
It is in her relationship with Dan that she learns her fate. Learns that she can't escape Dan and men like him. Later she watches him as he moves on, to abandon her as a stage partner, and to pair with her rival, Miss Bai Yang.
Yet she can't forget Dan, who has not said one worthy word about her. The childish grin on his face every time he greets her. For that, in the future, Dan will pay with his life.
Madame Mao believes that one must collect one's debts.
I rebuff Dan. I demand his seriousness. Although nothing seems wrong on the surface, there is this undercurrent, an unspoken resentment. One day, the day after I had pushed him off of my chest, he mentions a girl. I am in love, he says. Her name is Lucy. Lucy Ye. She is the one I intend to marry. She is an actress too. A tender creature unlike you.
He brings Lucy in between us, too often, as if mentioning her will protect him from being attracted to me.
Maybe the truth is there, speaking its own voice for Lan Ping and she doesn't know it. She wants to swallow Dan up. She has not had a man since arriving in Shanghai. Her longing for affection is dreadful, and she cannot escape her feelings.
When Dan is asked to comment on Lan Ping as a stage partner, he says, No, no comment. Truly. He says this to every journalist, critic and friend. A shrug of the shoulders. Truly, no comment. It hurts Lan Ping beyond healing.
Yet, underneath all of this, in the midst of her resentment and tension, there is never a sense of finished business-never an end to wanting Dan.
In the weeks leading up to opening night, I pour myself heart and soul into the role. I feel the character, feel the Tightness of the story for our times. Although Dan won't take me out, I go out with others, lesser cast members. I tell them how I feel about what we are involved with. I find myself getting emotional, my voice loud. Let's toast the show!
One night, there is a playwright in the group. He says that I should consider myself very lucky. He points out that if it were not for Dan, no one would come-no one is interested in watching me. I am terribly offended. I bounce off my chair. Who are you to say this to me?
I make enemies. I can't avoid them. After the fight some friends advise me that I should have just ignored the stupid playwright. But I am hurt by his words! My friends say, You're too serious. Those were the utterances of a drunkard. It doesn't mean anything. But I disagree. I believe that it was his true view. He is influenced by Dan.
On stage she lives out her eternal despair. Nora's lines fall from her lips like words of her own. I've lived by performing tricks, Torvald, and I can bear it no more.
On opening night the theater is jammed. Five-foot-tall flower baskets sent by friends and associates pile over the terrace. The seats are packed. The add-up seats-seats that have no backs-are sold at full price. Dan and Lan Ping's pictures are painted on wall-size posters on each side of the theater. Both their eyes are shadowed with dark blue paint. Lan Ping is in a black satin dress. The characters are in a dramatic pose, standing chest to chest and lips an inch apart.
The crowd is spellbound. Although most of them are Dan-fans, Miss Lan Ping takes them by surprise. As she catches her breath in the makeup room during intermission, Zhang Min rushes in. He gives her an affectionate hug without saying a word. She knows that he is proud of her, knows that she has succeeded.
This Nora has a Communist's mouth, one paper raves. It attacks and bites into our government's flesh. Miss Lan Ping's Nora speaks the voice of the people. The audience identifies with her. What we hear in Nora's voice is a political message. The people of China are sick of the role they are forced to play. They are sick of their incompetent government, the head of state Chiang Kai-shek, and themselves as the obedient, discreet and child-rearing Nora.
This is what she has always wanted in life-being able to inspire others. It is what the operas did to her when she was a young girl. Now she has finally arrived. The novelty of fame brews on. She is thrilled to be recognized when walking on the streets.
She likes the interviews although the big papers are still not interested in her. They do stories on Dan. She doesn't give up. She is determined to make herself Dan's equal in every respect. She offers her stories to the smallest papers and accepts invitations to talk at schools. She loves to pose for photos. She adores the lights, the clicking sound of the cameras.
On stage they are lovers. She sits on his lap. He returns her affection. She tries her best to hide her feelings for him. She leaves the theater in a hurry, pretending to run to the next engagement. She tries to run away from her loneliness. Just looking at Dan makes her heart ache. Since the play's opening Lucy Ye has come to see Dan every evening. They steal kisses in between scenes. Dan's dressing room door is always closed.
She tries to handle herself, tries to get over Dan. She invites Dan and Lucy to tea, to discuss improving their performances. It is to make her heart learn reality. To go through a funeral. Eat yourself. She sits across from the couple and speaks seriously. She focuses on the roles, voices her opinions. She bends down to sip tea while feeling her tears coming.
I am walking out of this house that suffocates me and I will survive. You will see, Torvald! she cries on stage.
It is at this moment that her fate answers. It is then that he, a man named Tang Nah, appears in her view. He makes her see him. Nothing extraordinary at the beginning. He pushes himself like a photo-print in a darkroom. The texture gets richer by the second. Now it is clear.
He is among the critics attending the show on opening night. Fashionably dressed, he is in an elegant white Western suit and white leather shoes with a matching hat. He comes to meet his destiny, the woman for whom in the near future, he will twice try to kill himself.
Tang Nah is a liberal. A typical Shanghai bourgeois. A stylish-looking man, above average in height, a pair of single-lid eyes, long straight nose and sensuous mouth. He is well educated and an expert in Western literature. Among his favorite novels is Lady Chatterley's Lover. He drinks tea and speaks English at parties in front of pretty women. On opening night his face is neatly shaved and his hair smoothly combed to the back. He is in an excellent mood. He enters the theater and walks to his seat, into the web of passion. Later on he is criticized for having an unrealistic mind, for his need to live in a fantasy world, and for being a weak man who lets emotion drive his life. But he is already in it when he enters the dark space where she is to appear, to present herself as an illusion.
It is right here, on this night, the first sight, already nothing is real. Her makeup, her hair, her costume, the little picture house. The fantasy itself. She is his Lady Chatterley.
Each night, she relies on her role to carry her up high.
Lan Ping-Nora leans herself against Dan's chest, against the man who twenty-five years later she will throw into prison for having rejected her. But now she feels his heartbeat, his body heat. She feels strangely in love, touched by her own passion. The characters speak their lines. She tears herself away from Dan. He grabs her. She struggles, pushes him, giving him a chance to tame her. He comes back, locking her arms behind her, bending her toward the floor. They strike a final pose. Her hair falls back, her breasts pressing against Dan. She sees his sweat melt his makeup and feels his breath hit her lips.
A Doll's House becomes the talk of Shanghai. The talk of 1935. Lan Ping rides her fame and begins her move toward the movie industry. Yet she finds herself unwelcome. It is another circle and another gang. To break in she realizes that she has to start from square one. During the day, she looks for opportunities in film, at night she continues to play Nora. Her audience grows, and the government feels threatened by the play's political impact. One month later, Zhang Min is ordered by the Department of the Censorship to remove the political element from the show. When he leads the troupe in protest, the government shuts down the play.
A public letter is issued by the troupe criticizing the government. Lan Ping's signature is on the top. With the same passion, with the same tone and voice which she uses on stage, she speaks on radio and at rallies. She passionately calls the government "Torvald."
It is a fateful evening that Tang Nah and I meet. It is the course we both are meant to be served.
I am on my way to the Shanghai Film Studio. Not too long ago the studio took a chance and signed me up. It is a small contract, and in business terms I am still on my own, but I feel better being under the studio's wing. The tiny roles I get I must earn. I am not sleeping around. In this business actresses are for sale. It's a tradition that certain men in town "take care of" the new girl on the block. These are powerful men. The money guys of the industry. They approach me for coffee and tea. You definitely have star potential, they say. Their breath stinks. Why don't you come with me to my place so that I can introduce you to…
She has tea and coffee with powerful men. She puts on makeup for them. She always manages to walk out at the last minute. She knows many girls who didn't. They get shut behind the door and lose their souls for good. Lan Ping believes that she can ride the momentum of A Doll's House. But underneath her smile she is lonely and depressed. Her sweet voice is often out of place. It carries an edge of fear. She has nightmares about the ground splitting and silently swallowing her.
It is in fear she meets Tang Nah. He walks toward her on a noisy street at dusk. He smiles, stops, takes his cigarette from his lips and introduces himself.
The sun has just set. The sky is covered with red clouds. I am in a lousy mood. But the man in front of me is a well-known journalist. A staff member of a major newspaper, Dagongbao. I can't afford to be rude. I offer him my hand.
Sorry I can't quite recall… Have we met?
Dan introduced us, remember?
Oh yes, that's right, now I remember. Mr. Tang Nah. I have read your reviews. They are excellent.
He nods. I miss Nora.
Thank you. For some reason my nose begins to tickle. I quickly look down at the pavement and say, It is very nice of you to say that.
No, please, he responds. I don't mean to just pay you a compliment. You are a very good actress.
He tells me that he has seen the show at least eight times. He mimics my stage moves, turns around and walks a couple of steps-it is my entrance scene.
He lifts my mood. I can't help laughing. He is funny.
Once your satin dress got caught on a prop, he says, hands animated. Remember? No? Anyway I got nervous for you. But you turned the accident into part of the plot. Oh, I was completely impressed. I have seen a lot of shows in my life and I have never seen anyone like you.
I find myself listening to him. I miss Nora too, I answer.
I've longed to meet you personally, he goes on. More than once I went to the backstage gate hoping to get a glimpse of you after the show.
Many years later Madame Mao visits the moment in her dreams. The lovers stand on a small street lit up by a line of food stands. Tofu soup, sweet and sour cabbage, water chestnuts, duck-blood soup with rice noodles. She remembers clearly that there was a boy selling gingko nuts at the corner. He roasts the nuts in a wok on top of a little portable stove. The flame is reflected on his chest. It looks like the boy is holding an armful of light.
This is how they begin. Just for a walk first. He picks her up and takes her to places she has never been. A cigarette held between his fingers, he displays his knowledge. On one hand, he is gentle, enthusiastic and modest, on the other hand, he is arrogant and opinionated-this is how he makes his name as a critic.
They are different, almost opposite in character. She finds Tang Nah stimulating. His English fascinates her. He is a new world she can't wait to discover. She is charmed by his liberal attitude. He is a very different man from Yu Qiwei. If Yu Qiwei brought her a sense of adventure, Tang Nah cultivates a sense of culture. If Yu Qiwei opened her character and shaped it, Tang Nah embraces her and loses himself in her role. If Yu Qiwei is a man of calm and determination, Tang Nah is a man of sensitivity and pure passion. To Yu Qiwei she was a star in his universe, to Tang Nah she is the universe.
Tang Nah is like an old horse who knows his way around Shanghai. In Tang Nah's circle everyone admires the West and everyone hates the Japanese. Often singing breaks out in the middle of one of Tang Nah's parties. People compete to sing the loudest. The composers write notes on napkins and musicians strike up the tune. The playwrights construct their scenes in between toasts and the actors play them out on the floor. A few days later the song will be on the radio or the scene in a movie.
I am getting to know Tang Nah's close friends, film director Junli and his wife Cheng, a writer. Junli is the most talented among his friends. He is in his late twenties and is becoming popular with his new movies. He is a peculiar-looking man with thin hair. He calls Tang Nah a pure romantic. Tang Nah's way of living gives me ideas for movies, he says. If I had known I wouldn't have taken Junli's words as a compliment. Tang Nah lives for drama and this gears him to disaster.
At the moment what friends say about Tang Nah impresses me. I never consider that Tang Nah's passion could be negative, or even harmful. Tang Nah's friends won't ever have to live with him so they don't know. I will discover that Tang Nah can't tell movies from reality and that he doesn't want to. But he is extraordinarily kind to his friends. He has done reviews for Junli's films and volunteers to be Junli's publicist.
I am not certain what Tang Nah tells Junli about me. Tang Nah says that it's a secret. Man to man. I am sure he tells Junli his opinion of me. And I am sure Junli has seen A Doll's House. But Junli never voices his impression of me. It seems that he is not sure about me or about Tang Nah's relationship with me. He observes and studies us like characters in his films. He probably thinks that I come on too strong with Tang Nah. He might have doubts about Tang Nah too. As a best friend he must know Tang Nah's way with women. He must have sensed that we will end up badly. But Junli never gives me any advice or warning. He cares about Tang Nah too much to betray him.
However, I sense it. The way things clicked between me and Zhang Min does not happen between me and Junli. It is a great pity. I can't force a director's affection. If I weren't Tang Nah's girlfriend, Junli might be able to look at me in a different light. But Tang Nah didn't make that possible. I couldn't meet Junli as anything else but Tang Nah's latest woman-the damage was already done.
Still, I continue to hope that with Tang Nah's help Junli will offer me a role in one of his movies. Or he can refer me as a talented actress to his colleagues. I am anxious to get my career going again. I am twenty-one years old already.
Tang Nah says, I am twenty-five years old. And I think enjoying life is more important than anything else.
But my question is, How can one enjoy life at its fullest when one is not doing what one wants to do?
Tang Nah believes that Lan Ping can be better than she is. He is confident about transforming her. He thinks that she can be a goddess.
Tang Nah tells Lan Ping the meaning of being a modern woman. It is her pursuit of culture. This is the difference between Shanghainese and other Chinese in general. This is where the Shanghai women's self-confidence and elegance come from.
Compared to the inlanders, Shanghainese have a much more balanced attitude toward life. For example, they admire the foreigners' culture but never fawn on them. Tang Nah points out to Lan Ping and asks her to observe that even the rickshawmen, the lowest class in Shanghai, are able to toss phrases of English into their dialect. It is the smoke that makes the ham tasty. See what I mean, Miss Lan Ping?
He leads and she follows. He teaches Lan Ping to read the English version of A Doll's House. Since she already knows the translation he thinks that this will make it easier and more interesting for her. She repeats after him. But she can't get rid of her accent. She has this Shan-dong tongue. Stiff. Tang Nah tries his best but she still pronounces X as ai-co-sib and V as wei. Tang Nah gets frustrated. He tries every way. She thinks he is very cute. He begs her to be serious. She tells him that he is teaching a dog to catch a mouse.
Every night she goes to his place to study English. He lives in a two-room apartment in a nice neighborhood. He is a neat fellow and grows plants by his windows. There is calligraphy in his room, all gifts from well-known masters. She is bored after a few lines and he kisses her and begs her to endure a little longer. She plays with him like a naughty girl. He loses his focus and quits. He gives her a spelling test. It always begins with L-O-V-E. And she always says L-O-Wei-E. He laughs and bites his lower lip to demonstrate the V sound. She bites her lower lip. But when the test begins, it is still L-O-Wei-E. He scratches his head, lies on top of her, puts his mouth between her lips and asks her to bite it when sounding V.
He is a good lover, not always in a hurry to possess her. He takes her out and tries to relax her. He takes her to galleries, antique shops, bookstores, concerts and poetry readings. They look at their reflections when passing the street windows. They are a handsome couple. Both tall and slim.
She appreciates it that he never makes fun of her mistakes. She knows that sometimes she overplays her cleverness. She appreciates it when he goes out of his way to ignore it when she lies out of embarrassment. Tang Nah is critical of others but never of Lan Ping. He never says, How terrible you don't even know who Su Dong-po is. He explains patiently that Su is a famous ancient poet and then reads her the work. Then he buys tickets to visit Su Dong-po's birthplace and gives her a lecture on the way.
The white-colored cliffs shoot out of the horizon while the Yangzi River rushes toward the east at its bottom. Around the cliffs there is a narrow path for climbing. The view steals my breath away. At the bottom, there is a little wooden boat and a fisherman for hiring. As we sit in the boat looking up, the cliffs seem to be pressing air back into my lungs. The sky is magnificently clear and blue. At noon we are on top of the cliff. As we look down from a bird's perspective, the boat is smaller than an ant. The comparison between greatness and smallness gives me a sense of life's range and depth.
This is how I fall in love with Tang Nah. I begin to see everything through his eyes. A new world that begins with the story of Su Dong-po. Tang Nah is comparing Su's encounter with the ancient court with our current government. The way A Doll's House was forced to shut down. The way my role was taken away from me.
A group of court officials made their dislike of the poet known to the emperor, Tang Nah explains. They reported that they had discovered in Su's verses disrespect and provocation. Playing on the emperor's doubts, Su was sentenced to a lifetime in exile. The poet must take leave of his family forever. He is dragged through his hometown to enter upon a long bitter journey toward the western desert. Imagine facing the endless interrogation and torture by local executioners. Imagine all his friends turning away from him in fear of the government.
No pain could ever be greater than the isolation and loneliness of the heart, Tang Nah continues. Yet, alone the poet was alive with his own spirit. It was then that the idea of the great verse Writing on the Red Wall was conceived. It was born in despair. It burst out in the middle of suicidal thoughts.
The girl looks up at Tang Nah in awe as he explains maturity.
It is like the radiance of the sun but not as bright and hurtful to the eyes. It is a sound that is pleasant and resonant but not sugar-filled. It is a kind of ease. It doesn't demand attention. There is no longer a need to please. It is the point at which one no longer begs for another's understanding. It is a smile that forgives all. It is one's peacefulness, one's remoteness toward the world of materials. It is a height that one doesn't have to climb to achieve. It is when the passion-dough is ready for steam, when the shrill sound of a mountain wind gives way to a gentle moan and the streams gather into a lake.
One evening we are strolling after dinner at a local restaurant. Suddenly there is noise. A block away, on the side street, someone is calling for help. As we get near we see a big-shouldered Russian hitting a thin rickshawman. The Russian complains that the man has asked for too much fare. There is a crowd but no one speaks for the rickshawman.
We watch for a while. Tang Nah becomes upset. Why don't you two talk and come up with a reasonable price? Tang Nah goes up to the Russian. He demands that he stop hitting the rickshawman.
The Russian says, Get out of my face!
No, replies Tang Nah. No paying no leaving.
I worry that the Russian will turn around and hit Tang Nah. It is what he will obviously do next. But Tang Nah stands firm. At that very moment I feel my love for him. A perfect hero.
The rickshawman is unable to speak clearly. His mouth is bleeding. The Russian speaks English. He insists on leaving without paying.
How about five yuan? Tang Nah pitches his voice. I know the area. The distance where the ride began and ended would cost at least eight yuan. Let's be fair.
One dime, the Russian offers insultingly. He throws a dime on the ground.
Suddenly the rickshawman rises and jumps on the Russian. With the help of the crowd, Tang Nah and I push both men to the nearest police station.
We assume that the rickshawman will get justice at the police station. But we are disappointed. Who gives you the right to violate a foreigner? the police chief yells at Tang Nah. He might be an investor and we can't do enough to make him feel at home.
Are you a Chinese? Tang Nah yells. It's your obligation to help another Chinese when he is mistreated! Tang Nah's whole frame shakes when the police chief frees the Russian and fines the rickshawman.
For a long time Tang Nah is unable to speak.
We continue our stroll. But our mood has changed completely. The smell of the gardenias is no longer sweet and the night scene is no longer soothing.
There has to be a revolution, Tang Nah mutters finally. Chiang Kai-shek's government is completely corrupt. It has to be brought down or China has no hope. I shall write about this incident in a play and you will perform it.
Suddenly we stop walking. We embrace and kiss passionately in the middle of the street, in the middle of the night and in the middle of the pain.
I think I am ready. I am over with Yu Qiwei and the rest of the mess. I am beginning a new relationship with the man I totally adore. Yet I am afraid. I can't proceed. There is this little voice speaking in the back of my head, in a panicky tone. It tells me that I am about to hurt myself.
I am in Tang Nah's arms. I ask him to hold me tight, tighter. I ask him to convince me.
What are you afraid of? He is in tears, he can't stand my pain. You will never be hurt again, I promise.
I am a revolutionary! The strange phrase pops out of my mouth. My voice is blunt, as if it were a statement of caution.
Tang Nah makes no response, he is confused.
I too. It is odd. I have no explanation. There must be a reason. There must be tension building already. Tension that will break us apart even as it pulls us together. I speak in order not to be tempted, in order to refuse. I am sure this is it. My senses try to tell me that there is a mismatch. A gap between us that is impossible to fill. It happens right then, right in the middle of novelty. But it is no use. No one can escape fate. We must come together to share this path, to share the view of the gingko-nut boy and his armful of light.
A few days after the Russian incident we sign a lease on a small apartment on the north side of Shanghai. We move in and begin to live together.