They spoke Swanese, the language of the valley, occasionally mixing in English words. He did not know if this was just a fashionable mode of expression or if it was a regular part of their language. They also accented their speech with physical gestures and expressions, shrugging or pulling at the corners of their mouths. Sometimes they stood straight, hands folded at the centre of their bodies. They occasionally lifted a hand, then lowered it back into the same place.
Mengliu only had eyes for the woman in green. He believed she was of mixed blood, with her wheat-coloured skin and oval face, eyelashes like fans and narrow chocolate-brown eyes. Her glances darted here and there, and her lips were like a half-opened rose. She wore a silver ring in her lower lip, and with her mouth turned up, her implied smile was full of meaning. When their eyes met, he felt that this woman and her exotic flavour eclipsed every woman he had ever seen before.
A handsome young man stood up and offered to mediate. In English, he said, ‘Now, please, choose anyone from this crowd. You may follow that person home, and you will be taken care of.’ He looked like a Mexican, dressed in a long shirt zipped in front, his head covered in short curly hair. His teeth were too white and too neat. They had a cold sharpness to them.
Without hesitation Mengliu pointed to the woman in green.
The young man dismissed the crowd, and calmly swept his melancholy eyes over Mengliu, his expression like the dark billows of the sea at night.
Mengliu thought to himself, ‘This young man harbours some jealousy.’
‘Follow me,’ the woman said in English. Her voice warbled like an oriole’s.
8
The woman in green pulled her hair back. Without a word she cooked and brewed tea. Mengliu was like a mute, sitting and waiting dutifully for the smoke to rise and the food to be served. At first, he was a little uncomfortable and his eyes followed the woman’s movements closely. He wanted to ask her something — her name, age, occupation, interests — anything really, so long as it meant he could hear her voice and watch her expressions. But she showed no inclination to chat with him, as if he’d always lived in the house and had been a member of the family for a long time.
He looked around as if bored, taking the opportunity to get a reading of her body. Taking the measure of her with the precise observations of a doctor, he assembled a series of numbers for her height and weight. His estimates suggested that the numbers were in perfect proportion. He smiled, convinced that she was supple in every part of her body, and probably incapable of hiding her solitude and loneliness for long. Sooner or later she would become an exuberant she-wolf, breaking out of her confines and turning the whole world upside down. He concluded that she would be one of those women who liked revolution.
Her chest boasted a pair of loaded coconuts, uniquely lethal weapons with which to wage her revolution. They were a potent pair of aphrodisiac tear-gas canisters. Day or night, if she willed it, she could pull the pin and instantly fill the world with smoke. No one would be able to escape from her.
His fingers bounced in the air as if stroking the keys on a piano. On his fingertips was the warmth and smoothness of satin, the slope of the hills, and his touch made the flowers tremble.
The woman in green suddenly turned and looked at him. At her glance, his mind exploded like a spring thunderstorm, leaves whipping in the tempest around him.
She did not say anything. Her face remaining expressionless as she turned away again.
The leaves danced, and the noise subsided.
Mengliu meekly averted his gaze, reining it in. His heart pounded. He cautiously got a hold on himself and with a flashlight’s beam, he began to sweep the room with his eyes. In a situation like this where he did not know much about a woman, he was used to following external cues, reaching a conclusion based on various sources of otherwise irrelevant information, as if knowing that the body’s systems were closely interrelated, and firmly mastering that knowledge, could help one to move the whole person. This was a strategy he called ‘the village surrounding the city.’
The furnishings inside her home gave him a sense of deja vu. If not for the different murals, he’d think he was back in the place where he’d eaten the pig’s trotter. These buildings that all looked the same were also similar inside, almost the way rooms in a hotel have the same appearance. The only difference was in the detailed decor, like the arrangement of flowers, that revealed the owner’s personal taste. This woman’s home had a lot of flowers and plants. To the right of the door, there was a screen of plants lush with fresh foliage. On the ground were pots of various heights, and hanging baskets above, full of colourful floral vines. He recognised periwinkle, bluebells, marigolds, begonias, petunias, and the short blossoms of morning glory. The plant blooming in the living room window was like a curtain of falling water. On the dining table was a hydroponic orchid with one elegant flower in bloom. The open cupboard held stacks of candles and beautiful silver candlesticks covered with elaborate decorations. Atop them were half-burnt candles. On the floor were several blue and white porcelain vases, and a stone sculpture of an animal head. He also saw flowers that looked like birds. After the meal he learned they were called ‘bird flowers,’ ‘birds of paradise,’ or ‘birds of heaven,’ and their scientific name was Strelitzia.
Practically all the plants were in bloom. The woman in green was herself like a dragon tree, her long hair naturally loose, covering the slender stem of her body and drooping with a finely wrought leaf pattern. Filled with desire, his hands were scheming how they might minister tenderly to her.
His eyes turned back to the woman. Watching how she went about managing the household, he wondered how she could work without making a sound. He too kept silent. It was like a scene from a pantomime.
After a short while, she went into another room. When she came out, she held a stack of fresh clothes, shoes, and socks. She handed the stack to Mengliu and flatly asked him to bathe and dress. Her pronunciation in English had a loose quality, like wind stirring up all sorts of sounds in the dragon tree. It was a flavour all her own. When she uttered an ‘s’ sound, she gritted her two rows of small pearly teeth tightly together and spat an ethereal wisp of air from her mouth, letting it float like a subtle fragrance. When she said ‘I am…’, her rosy tongue crept out and her eyes moved.
The smooth glow of her breast made Mengliu’s tongue stiffen. He politely took the clothes, uttered a terse but sincere thanks, and turned his attention to bathing and dressing.
Incense sticks burned in the bathroom, saffron-scented, or maybe gardenia. They again awakened the desire in him. The wall was tiled with colourful mosaics and the window decorated with tinted wax. The lights were soft, and the room filled with purple flowers. Entering into this space filled with an air of feminine sweetness, Mengliu grew reckless, but at the same time felt the secret joy of such a privilege. His heart filled with sweetness too as he carefully set the clean clothing on the counter. Humming a tune to himself, he undressed.