Everyone spotted the changes in Xiao Yanqiu, a taciturn woman who had given up dieting just when her efforts were beginning to show results. No one recalled hearing her talk about what she was up to, but they saw her face regain its luster and her voice rediscover its depths. Some assumed she had not recovered from “tattooing” her voice that time, for a proud woman like Xiao Yanqiu did not give up easily. But the abandoned diet was not the greatest change in her. Nearly everyone noticed that she took herself out of the picture once the full cast rehearsal started. For all intents and purposes, Chunlai was the only one rehearsing now, while Xiao Yanqiu sat in a chair facing the girl to prompt and occasionally correct her. Xiao Yanqiu looked happy, too happy, in fact, as if she had snatched the sun out of the sky and stored it in the fridge at home. Given the circumstances, she had no choice but to put on a show, to overact. As she devoted all her energy to Chunlai, she looked less like a performer and more like a director, or, to be more precise, Chunlai’s personal director. No one knew for sure what she was up to; they had no idea what was ripening and flowering in her head.
Every evening she dragged herself home, exhausted. The fatigue lingered, roiled, and flooded through her body, like thick, suffocating smoke from burning leaves after an autumn rain. Even her eyes were tired; they would lock onto something and stay there, too weary to move on. She often stood up straight and breathed in deeply to rid her chest of the imagined smoke and mist. But the air never reached the right spot, so after a while she gave up.
The dazed look in Yanqiu’s eyes did not escape the attention of Miangua, for whom his wife’s lethargy was cause for serious concern. She had rejected him twice in bed already. Once she’d been cold and detached, the second time it was a case of nerves. The way she acted, you’d have thought that he didn’t so much want to make love as to stab and make her bleed. He dropped a hint here and there, and sometimes was quite direct, but she remained oblivious. There had to be something terribly wrong with the woman’s heart, for nothing seemed to touch her.
7
Bingzhang came to see Xiao Yanqiu when she was teaching Chunlai how to stand for maximum effect. Striking the right pose entailed not only the conclusion of one dramatic mood, but also the silent beginning of another; it had both its own logic and beauty. The most difficult task was finding the right measure of decorum, for that, ultimately, was what art was all about. Xiao Yanqiu had demonstrated the pose several times, and kept raising her voice until she was nearly shouting. She wanted everyone to take note of her enthusiasm, her even temper, and her willingness to show that she did not feel ill-treated, that she was at peace, as if her mood had been ironed out smooth. She was more than just the most successful performer around; she was also the happiest woman and sweetest wife in the world.
That was when Bingzhang showed up. Rather than step into the rehearsal hall, he waved to her through the window. This time he led her to the conference room, not his office, where they’d had their earlier conversation. The previous talk had been productive, and he hoped this one would be as well. In a pleasant, unhurried manner, he asked how the rehearsal was going, though it was obvious that this was not what he had in mind; unfortunately, beating around the bush was too ingrained a habit for him to do otherwise. For some reason, even though he was in charge of the drama troupe, he could not help being afraid of the woman sitting across from him.
Xiao Yanqiu sat with a single-minded concentration that was exaggerated to the point of borderline hysteria, like a woman waiting to hear sentence pronounced. Noting her demeanor, Bingzhang knew he needed to be careful with what he was about to say.
Finally he got around to the topic of Chunlai, and then came straight to the point. He told Yanqiu that the young woman had previously decided to move on out of concern that she’d be unable to go on the stage and was unsure of her future, not because she’d really wanted to leave. A smile burst onto Xiao Yanqiu’s face. “I have no objection,” she said in full voice. “Really, I have no objection at all.”
Ignoring her comment, Bingzhang continued with what he wanted to say: “I should have spoken to you earlier, but I was kept from doing so by meetings in town.” With a self-deprecating smile, he continued, “My hands are tied, as you know.”
Yanqiu swallowed and repeated herself, “I tell you, I have no objection.”
He gave her a cautious look. “We held two special high-level organizational meetings over what we consider a very serious matter,” he said, “and I want to see what you think—”
Yanqiu jumped to her feet, so fast she even frightened herself. Again she smiled. “Really, I have no objection.”
Bingzhang stood up and asked warily, “Have they spoken to you already?” She stared blankly, not knowing what “they” were supposed to have “spoken” to her about. Biting his lower lip, Bingzhang blinked nervously, filled with things to say, but unable to begin. Finally, he mustered up the courage to stammer, “We held those two meetings, and, we thought—they thought—it would be better for me to talk to you.You will take half the role … though naturally, we’ll understand completely if you think it’s a bad idea. But you will play half, Chunlai will play the other half. Do you think this will …”
She did not hear what came after that, though she had heard every word up till then. At that point, she realized that for days she’d been operating under false assumptions, from which she had been making plans. No one in authority had spoken to her. Putting on an opera was such a huge event, how could she decide which play to perform or who to play which role? Everything had to be finalized by the organization. She’d been thinking too highly of herself and overestimating her authority. One person getting half the role was the sort of decision the organization would inevitably make. That was how they always did it: one role, two performers. She was so happy she broke out in a cold sweat. “I have no objection,” she gushed. “Honest, I have absolutely no objection.”
Xiao Yanqiu’s quick and easy agreement came as a surprise to Bingzhang. He studied her carefully and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that she was sincere; he wanted to praise her, but could not find the words. Not until much later did he ask himself how he had come to utter a phrase that no one had used for decades. “Your consciousness has been raised,” he’d said. She nearly shed tears of joy on her way back to the rehearsal hall, as she recalled the afternoon when Chunlai had talked about leaving and the words she’d used to convince the girl to stay. She stopped to look back at the conference room door. Although she’d told Chunlai in front of Bingzhang that she would be her student’s understudy, obviously he had not taken her seriously. To him, apparently, she was just farting in the wind. And he was right, Yanqiu told herself. A vow from a woman like me is just that, a fart in the wind. No one believes a woman like me, not even me.