2
T ianyi had been determined to go into marriage with her eyes open. That meant accepting that love and marriage were not the same thing at all.
She had, of course, loved, but her love was of a peculiar kind: it was as if, when she was drawn into someone’s world, she revelled in the melancholy feeling that her love was unrequited. But as soon as the man began to love her back, it all felt wrong. She was an aesthete, she put beauty above everything, she preferred fantasy to reality. As soon as the man she had idealized departed from the trajectory she had designated for him, she was suddenly appalled. No doubt because she had started reading romances too young, she could not see beyond the ideal. Love for her was an idée fixe, and nothing could change her mind. No surprise, therefore, that she always came to grief.
The first man in her life had come along in the mid-seventies during the Cultural Revolution. After a spell as part of a youth labour team in Yunnan, she was transferred back to Shidu Commune on the south-western outskirts of Beijing. Tianyi was twenty-one years old, in the flower of her youth. Though her looks were no more than average, with a little care and attention she could have appeared beautiful. But she was always drably dressed, in her faded blue jacket and trousers, white-soled black cotton flip-flops, her hair in two long plaits, tied with a rubber band since she did not bother with a hair-clip. No matter how slender one was, a figure-hugging jacket was out of the question, would have been considered indecent, in fact.
Still, she had a good voice and painted well, and her talents did not go unnoticed in the work team. Every commune in those days had a Mao Zedong Thought Propaganda Troupe and Tianyi, with her talents, became a key member and soloist. The first man she ever fell in love with was the accordionist who accompanied her. His name was Sheng.
On the day in question, Qiu, the brigade leader, made a point of telling Tianyi not to go to work in the fields because visitors were coming from the commune HQ. The two blackboards used by the youth labour team of which Tianyi was a member, were set up. Tianyi took a bench over to them, and a bowl of coloured chalks, and began writing and drawing on them. She had not been at it more than couple of hours when snowflakes began drift down from the sky. Tianyi sensed someone standing behind her. After a little bit, she heard a voice: ‘How come you’re not wearing gloves? Aren’t your hands cold?’ She looked round — a tall skinny young man was standing there. He smiled: ‘You must be one of the new arrivals. Here, take my glove!’ And without waiting for her answer, he pulled off his right glove and threw it to her. ‘Catch!’ She caught it. This, she learned later, was Sheng.
The main reason she liked Sheng was that he was good-looking. He had a prominent nose, long eyelashes, and the merest hint of fuzz around his lips. When he bent over his accordion to play, his eyelashes lowered as if he were asleep. To Tianyi, he was as handsome and noble as a prince. Good looks were important to her, more than to most girls. She was certainly not the only girl in the Propaganda Troupe to have noticed Sheng but the others were attracted to his talent. And girls often display their feelings in strange ways: these ones showed their admiration of Shu Sheng by bullying him.
All the girls in the Propaganda Troupe gossiped constantly about Sheng in the most malicious terms. Comments like: ‘Have you noticed what a lech he is, always eyeing up our chests?!’ (from Ping). Or, ‘That’s nothing! He draws women in the nude!’ (from Lili). The girls erupted in embarrassed giggles. Tianyi had had enough. She said: ‘Don’t talk rubbish like that! You’re giving him a bad name!’ The others looked at her strangely. Ping spoke: ‘Do you know what his nickname is? “Mr Jiffy”, because he pretends to be squeaky clean!’ Lili pulled out a bit of paper and waved it in front of Tianyi. On it was a rough sketch done with a pencil of a nude woman. It was all out-of-proportion, not at all attractive, Tianyi felt. ‘How can you prove he drew that?’ she asked. She felt her question was utterly reasonable but the other girls glared murderously at her. After a long while, one of the solo singers, Hong, said: ‘You’ve only just arrived, there are things you don’t understand, you’ll find out soon enough.’ Tianyi was left baffled.
Hong seemed better educated than the others, and was certainly more softly spoken. She was a trained singer — her signature piece was The Shining Red Star from the opera Red Azalea Mountain—but only had a narrow vocal range. The daughter of a naval family, she had always loved the arts and trained as a dancer too; that meant she walked with her feet splayed out, which made her the laughingstock of Ping, Lili and the others. But the Production Brigade cadres liked Hong, because she was hard-working, conscientious and kind.
The snow kept falling. They could not go to the fields the next day, so Qiu, the brigade leader, said: ‘It’ll be New Year soon. Why don’t the Propaganda Troupe get a show together? That new girl writes well, doesn’t she? She can get a programme together for you!’ Tianyi was only too happy to oblige. When the programme was ready, the Propaganda Troupe girls gathered in the room, whispering amongst themselves. Sheng arrived and sat down on a chair with his accordion, looking completely focused. The girls fell silent. The Propaganda Troupe leader, Hua, clapped her hands. ‘Pay attention! I want to hear The Tractor Drives into Miao Shan Stockade first. Wei, you lead off.’ Sheng played the introductory notes and Wei and Ping sang:
Rosy clouds over the cliff
Red plum blossom opens to the sun.
The spring breeze brings happy news
The tractor drives to Miao Shan Stockade …
When the melody rose an octave, Hong Wei was unable to hit the high notes, and Ping screeched. It sounded awful. They ran through it once more, and it sounded even worse. Hua clapped her hands for attention: ‘Let’s have the lead singers leading the chorus through their bit’, so the chorus began:
The tractor drives into Miao Shan
a girl in the driving seat
Rice seedlings nod their heads in the breeze
the fruit trees give a wave of welcome …
The tractor drives into Miao Shan
the commune members are so happy
the “iron ox” will plough the commune fields
the air is filled with songs and laughter …
The girl gets down from the driving seat
the old women are so happy
“She’s from our village!” they cry
she’s driven the tractor back to Miao Shan Stockade …
Springtime has brought happiness to Miao Shan
our sons and daughters have done good
the sunshine bathes the landscape
the hillsides are a blaze of colour
a blaze of colour, as the flowers bloom!
It was not bad. Everyone paused for breath. Then Hua instructed them to do the dance, with Tianyi singing the accompaniment. By the time the rehearsal was over, the snow had stopped falling and the land was wrapped in white velvet. It looked enchanting. With cries of joy, everyone rushed out. They were only young, after all and, in spite of the fact that they were encumbered with thick jackets, there were energetic snowball fights. Tianyi stood there, laughing as Lili stuffed a snowball down Ping’s neck. Wild with excitement, the girls began to dance in the snow, and Tianyi sang along: