3. ‘‘You say you can ‘see clearly with your sensory organs’ for a long time: that’s because you know how to use those mirrors. When you sit down, you can immediately ‘enter a meditative state.’ I can only occasionally experience that state (for example, when I see you in the morning). Most days, I’m utterly confused…’’
From this letter, the widow drew several important conclusions: (1) She realized that Madam X had been faking all along; she hadn’t achieved anything at all. It was only a cheap trick played over and over again to fool people. She longed to monopolize all the world’s men (and even some women) and was keenly aware of their interest in novelty as well as their fragile nature, so she pretended to be learned and profound in order to hoodwink them until they were confused. (2) She confirmed one fact: a lot of people in the world were just like Madam X’s husband-a virgin with stunted sexual competence. For such people, the less reliable a woman was, and the more able she was to arouse their fleeting, misty daydreams, the more interested they were in her, and the easier it was for them to be ‘‘enchanted.’’ They were utterly ignorant of sex, yet always obstinately considered themselves right. It was easy to cure this mental illness: if a real woman entered their lives and they had a sexual relationship with her, then their fragile connection with Madam X would fall apart at once. Of course, she didn’t mean to say that this absurdity existed only because there was no real woman in the world. There were real women (the widow frowned), but they were few and far between and weren’t interested in sinking their claws into the kinds of virgins or androgynous trash who ‘‘were inept’’ and ‘‘unspeakably awkward.’’ Only because of these strange circumstances could our Madam X play her tricks; everyone could only watch helplessly as she carried out her deceptions.
Something else happened while we were waiting quietly: it was directly related to Madam X’s speech about sex. At that time, during the bedlam created by watermelon and cantaloupe rinds flying all over, a pair of hawk-keen eyes followed Madam X from start to finish. Indeed, that person was prepared to throw himself into the breach and-along with Madam X’s husband-protect her, but before it was his turn to do so, the event concluded. Was he the scoundrel who drew the picture on the wall? Or was he a stranger? Three months later, this ‘‘ardent’’ (the female friend’s word) young man walked into Madam X’s home, and without even stating his name, he ‘‘calmly but firmly’’ sat down and ‘‘covetously’’ looked Madam X up and down. Then he came straight to the point about Madam X’s lecture. After two hours, of which about an hour was spent in the silence of tacit understanding, the young man stood up and asked, ‘‘Do you think I’m right for you?’’ Madam X woke with a start from her dream, her gaze as limpid as water, and shook her head slowly: ‘‘No. Your eyes aren’t soft enough, and they are only tricolored; they can’t change color. As for me, it’s been a long time since I was a girl glowing with youth. We wouldn’t be able to satisfy each other.’’ The youth left, utterly discomfited. From the window, Madam X watched his solitary silhouette. She fell unhappily into bed and lay there a long time. It didn’t end then. Starting from an inner fanaticism from which he couldn’t disentangle himself, the young man still desired Madam X. He said this wasn’t a ‘‘sexual’’ temptation, but something he ‘‘couldn’t explain.’’ As he saw it, Madam X didn’t have enough ‘‘sex appeal’’; he could find plenty of women with ‘‘sex appeal,’’ but none of them could hold his interest for long. Was it possible that something was wrong with his body? Or was his very idea defective? He was never able to think this through. He frequently still went to Madam X’s home and sat for an hour, continuing their ‘‘spiritual communication.’’ Hot tears brimmed in their eyes. But when he raised more demands or expressed something with his body, he met with Madam X’s firm, unambiguous resistance. Once, shaking her by her thin shoulders, he asked:
‘‘Why?’’
Sadly but calmly Madam X replied, ‘‘We aren’t right for each other.’’
‘‘What isn’t right?’’
‘‘To have a sexual relationship with you.’’
‘‘How can you know?’’
‘‘I can sense this with my body.’’
‘‘Damn mirrors!!’’ Out of control, he smashed one of Madam X’s mirrors with his fist and dashed out the door, dripping with blood. Because of this, Madam X felt unsettled for a long time. She wasn’t unaffected by the youth’s charms, nor was she constrained by ideas of chastity or abstinence; it’s better to say she was willfully reckless, for if she felt something was right, nothing would stop her. This time, she really liked him, and was frequently moved by a certain charm of his, but in truth, in his presence she wasn’t sexually aroused. Nor could she fake it. That’s just the way it was. If he straightened out his thinking, she would even like to maintain a ‘‘subtle’’ relationship: such a relationship would make them both feel natural and sensible. Too bad he was stubborn, old-fashioned, and rigid, and so her only option was to break off their friendship.
We can also listen to her friend’s account. On the day when the youth arrived, she happened to be at Madam X’s home. After he sat down, she ‘‘purposely stayed to one side and didn’t leave,’’ so she saw the whole scene from start to finish. Overcome by desire, they completely forgot she was there: they paid attention only to exchanging debauched vulgarities and to faking a kind of false solemnity. In fact, they could hardly contain themselves and wished they could ‘‘hop into bed at once.’’ The funniest thing was that their conversation went on intermittently for more than ten minutes. During this time, neither looked at the other, neither moved, and ‘‘there were tears in their eyes.’’ This all made her wonder if they might be practicing some kind of qigong. She decided to tease them by laughing out loud, but they ‘‘didn’t hear’’! They actually didn’t hear anything. At that moment, Madam X had been wandering in a peaceful wonderland filled with sunshine and was unaware of any worldly annoyances. The young man’s ears, however, shook from the sound of his crazy heartbeat, and he temporarily lost his vision. So the friend’s prank came to nothing. Finally, she stood up, ‘‘kicked the door ferociously,’’ and, filled with scorn, left the house.
Was Madam X very solemn in sexual relationships? From this incident, it seems she was, but people who know her well know otherwise. For example, she not only ‘‘doesn’t turn male visitors away,’’ she welcomes them-the more, the merrier. Sometimes she also ‘‘tries to seduce them,’’ even ‘‘dropping in on them.’’ While she’s consorting with those people, naturally she has to be furtive. In particular, she has to fool her husband (even if he’s such a ‘‘good husband’’). People would probably have trouble believing that none of those men had a sexual relationship with her. In addition, Madam X surely doesn’t want people to believe this. It’s better to say that ‘‘she doesn’t give a damn.’’ She just keeps her mouth shut, and so do all the men she consorts with. Someone actually saw a man (definitely not Mr. Q) kiss Madam X on the main street in broad daylight, but this onlooker-out of ‘‘disgust and bashfulness’’-was unable to see the expression on Madam X’s face. He could verify, though, that Madam X offered no resistance. Maybe she was already limp with joy! Or maybe she’d had sexual relations with him all along! One day, the first good friend of Madam X’s husband had also seen Madam X holding hands with an extremely young guy and then go off to spend a night with him on a barren hillside in the suburbs. She didn’t return home until nine the next morning. The two of them were ‘‘wan and sallow’’ and ‘‘in high spirits.’’ With bitter hatred and a heavy heart, the good friend admonished Madam X. Madam X just giggled.
‘‘Nothing happened,’’ she said. ‘‘He wanted to, but I finally prevailed. We’re still good friends.’’
‘‘Didn’t it occur to you that he might use force? Perhaps you secretly hoped he would?’’