They shared a few laughs by the roadside, lifting their spirits. Bai Qiu proposed they go to a bar. Mengliu’s earlier hot-blooded state had cooled down now, and he put aside his thoughts of Qizi. He accompanied Bai Qiu along Liuli Street to the Green Flower Bar, one of their favourite haunts. The proprietor tried to be especially generous toward the poets with his home-brewed Chinese wine, often going so far as to offer them drinks on the house. Of course, if the poets occasionally received special treatment on account of the proprietor’s daughter, whose name was Shunyu, the proprietor got something good out of it too. They held a variety of literary salons there, turning the Green Flower into a hub for Beiping’s literati.
The Green Flower was in an old wooden house, and occupied both the upper and lower floors. Inside, it was warm, with Chinese-style decor. It was said that the tavern’s owner had been a soldier and had seen action on the battlefield. He had travelled to China and loved Chinese culture, Chinese food and Chinese liquor. He had purchased several items at a private auction and had them shipped to back Dayang, bringing a Chinese flavour to the bar that included everything from the furnishings to the waiters’ uniforms. He paid even more attention to the inner rooms. One room was furnished with an ancient wooden day bed and an intricately designed drinking table. Another had elaborately designed square tables, with chairs to match. The seats were covered with an eclectic assortment of brightly-coloured cushions, upon which the patrons could recline when they became drowsy with talking. Ancient calligraphy and paintings hung from the walls, and porcelain pieces from the Song through to the Qing dynasties adorned the shelves. Even the coat rack was carved wood. The literati gathered in the Green Flower to talk freely about politics, ideals, literature and women. They drank until the small hours, then squatted on the curb and vomited. They talked bullshit and shared their truest aspirations, and at the end of it all, the old boys disappeared one by one into the cold still night.
At first, Mengliu and Bai Qiu sat in the main hall by a window with bowls of fried peanuts and seeds and nuts, assorted cold dishes and shredded squid accompanied by warmed wine. They poured the wine into porcelain cups no thicker than a thumb, and toasted each other with them. After they had had a few drinks, Hei Chun and some others lifted the curtain and entered the bar, followed by two girls, one dressed in black and the other in white. Mengliu took one look and froze. His gaze bounced back like a spring and his hand nervously reached for an ashtray. He pinched a cigarette and inserted it into his mouth, only to spit it out immediately after.
Hei Chun had already seen them and cried ‘Cheers!’ He hurried over and exchanged a few pleasantries then invited them to join him in a room on the second floor where they could all catch up. They settled in, but the atmosphere had not livened up, and no one had yet taken up quarters on the day bed. They all looked like they had gathered for a meeting, propping their elbows on the edge of the drinking table. When the waiter carried their dishes up and laid them out, the profile of the girl dressed in white was visible through the crook of the waiter’s elbow, allowing Mengliu a chance to watch her secretly. Soon he met her gaze through that same aperture. His heart was set on fire with a crackle like that of a newly-lit match.
Just as they were warming up, the proprietor came in. He was in his fifties, his head sprouting a shock of silver hair and his cheeks as rosy as a tuberculosis patient. He lumbered over and plopped down on a stool, making it immediately appear small and frail. He did not employ his usual loud tone, and seemed almost to be a completely different person. In a small voice he said, ‘Wine. You all drink whatever you’d like. Just don’t talk politics, and don’t make trouble.’
After fiddling with the wine cups for a while, he got up. Walking to the door, he turned back and called, ‘Shunyu, come here. I’ve got something to tell you.’
The girl sitting inside, the one in black, stood up. With a weary grimace, she reluctantly followed him outside.
Her figure wasn’t bad at all, her appearance decent. She looked like a typical honour-roll student, fit to be a civil servant or hold a job in education.
‘Shunyu just joined the Plum Party. Her father has been a part of the literary movement all his life. He wanted her to be a poet, but is also afraid for her to mix with the likes of us.’
Hei Chun rubbed his palm over his hair, which was shimmering with grease. ‘Pity the loving parents! I guess we’re just like chicken ribs. We’re tasteless, but even if a thing is tasteless, it’s a waste just to throw it out.’ Finished with his self-deprecation, he glanced around the circle and asked, ‘You all know each other, right?’
They glanced at each other, but before anyone could speak, Hei Chun pointed the girl in white out to Mengliu. ‘I guess you don’t know Qizi, from the Physics Department. She’s very talented. Her ex-boyfriend is from the Chemistry Department, a jerk called Dadong who helped someone with some research into the making of fake antiques a while back, and caused an explosion, that reduced the guy’s house to nothing. He’s been in the hospital for nearly a month himself, practically in ruins.’
In large groups, Hei Chun always liked to preside over the small talk. Sometimes his talk was over the top, and he liked to season it with foul language.
The girl in white smiled in acknowledgement. She pulled off her white down jacket and hung it on the coat rack. Beneath, she wore a tight black low-cut sweater and low-waist denim bell bottoms. It was quite revealing. Everything about her was petite and exquisite.
They all made the most of the occasion, laughing and enjoying themselves. Bai Qiu said he and Dadong had played a bit of soccer together. Dadong was a handsome guy but a lousy soccer player. He ran around the field haphazardly, committing fouls all the time. If a shot didn’t ricochet off the goal post, it was only because it had sailed right over it.
They spent some time making fun of Qizi’s ex-boyfriend as a source of merriment. Every idiotic move that could be made by a football player was attributed to him, and the poor chap’s name was turned into dirt right there in the bar. But then, this was common practice. Any time they drank together, there were always a couple of absentees whose names would be brought to the table and dragged through the mud. Sometimes they would become the subject of a limerick, which would be relived at their next drinking session.
As they sipped at their wine, the conversation livened up.
Mengliu’s expression gave nothing away, but his heart was fluttering. He was thinking about Qizi, and his joy once again broke down the door to his heart. It was as if he had entered a garden in full bloom. He helped himself to the wine, noticing how dazzlingly white Qizi’s skin was, like a spotlight aimed right at him. He longed for a moment alone with her, to hold her delicate hand, and to whisk her away to some secluded spot where he could express his affection to her.
Shunyu returned to the party. Their mockery of Qizi’s ex-boyfriend came to an abrupt end.
Shunyu was young, with long hair, large eyes, a tiny mouth, and a flat chest. Her canines were perfectly aligned with an adorable set of jug ears. Playing host, she was in an unbridled state, constantly reaching out her slender arms to add tea or wine to each empty cup. With this wellspring flowing from her, her face became as rosy as the proprietor’s, though hers was a healthier hue.