Jiang Lili was livid. She raised her voice, “What, are all the women in the world dead? Don’t tell me that I’m the only one left? Sent here to listen to you ramble on about your grievances over her?”
Mr. Cheng lowered his head contritely and was silent. Jiang Lili also gave up speaking to him, and the two of them sat for some time in an awkward silence.
In the end, it was Mr. Cheng who continued. “Actually, I came here to ask a favor of you. . I’m not sure what made me break down like that. I’m so sorry.”
Somewhat mollified, Jiang Lili told him to go ahead and say what he had to say.
“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and you are the only one I can go to for help. I know it’s not right, but there is no one else I can turn to.”
“Whatever it is, let’s hear it!”
Mr. Cheng explained that he would never again visit Wang Qiyao. He wanted to ask Jiang Lili to look out for her. Jiang Lili did not know whether to be angry or bitter.
It took a long time before she managed to say, “Well I guess all the women in the world are dead. . even me.”
Mr. Cheng took her ridicule in stride and Jiang Lili stopped herself from saying more.
Wang Qiyao waited for Mr. Cheng’s return. She waited several days, but in the end it was Jiang Lili who came to visit. She had come straight from work in Yangshupu and had had to transfer several times on the bus. By the time she got there, her hair was disheveled, her shoes were covered with dust, and she was quite hoarse. She carried a netted bag stuffed with fruits, crackers, milk powder, and a barely used bed sheet. She emptied everything out onto the table before Wang Qiyao could stop her, and with several forceful motions, ripped the bed sheet into several small pieces to be used as diapers.
An Old Friend Flew Off on a Yellow Crane
Eventually, Wang Qiyao also paid a visit to Jiang Lili. By that time Jiang Lili had moved from the model village on the outskirts of town to the Huaihai district, where she was only two bus stops away from Wang Qiyao’s place. It was a Sunday and Wang Qiyao went out to pay the water and electric bills after putting her daughter down for her afternoon nap. The day was fine and, with time to kill after her errands, she decided to do some window shopping on her way home. Suddenly, she heard someone calling her — it was Jiang Lili. She was holding a roll of dark blue material; she was on her way to the tailor to have a pair of pants made, she said. Wang Qiyao took a closer look at the fabric and, seeing that it was common polyester, volunteered to make the pants for her.
“Are you sure?” Jiang Lili asked. “Well, in that case, let’s go to your place so that you can measure me.”
After a few steps, she suddenly stopped. “On second thought, why don’t you come to my place instead? You have never been there.”
So they turned around and headed in the direction of the Huaihai district. Jiang Lili’s apartment was on the ground floor, with a pair of large south-facing rooms and one smaller room facing north. She also had a small garden in the front courtyard, but instead of plants there were only a few bamboo poles for hanging out the laundry.
The walls of the apartment had been whitewashed unevenly, and looked as though they were not dry. The floor, waxed on a regular basis by arrangement with the property management office, was marred here and there by uneven water stains that made it too look wet. With the doors of the apartment left wide open and all the rooms connected, the constant traffic up and down the staircase, situated right outside the front door, made the apartment feel like a busy alley.
Over everything hung the heavy smell of onions and garlic, which even the ample ventilation in the apartment was unable to dispel. Although it was already October, mosquito nets were still hanging around the beds. The sparse furniture made the place feel like a public dormitory. Jiang Lili employed a wet nurse as well as a maidservant. Previously stationed outside the back door, the two, who obviously did not get along, followed the visitor inside, where, standing in opposite corners, they eyeballed Wang Qiyao. A strange expression came over the faces of Jiang Lili’s two older boys when they saw Wang Qiyao. They were around seven or eight years old and couldn’t stop whispering and giggling as they found excuses to scurry in and out of the room. Old Zhang, Jiang Lili’s husband, was not home. There weren’t even any pictures of him hanging up, so Wang Qiyao had no idea what he looked like.
Jiang Lili did not own a tape measure and had to ask the maids to borrow one from one of the neighbors. The maids argued back and forth about which of them should go out to try to borrow one; eventually they agreed that none of the neighbors could possibly have such an item. In the end they decided that a ball of yarn would have to suffice as a makeshift replacement. Wang Qiyao cut two pieces of string, one for the waist and one for the pants length; placing them carefully in the folded fabric, she announced that she had better be going. Jiang Lili saw Wang Qiyao to the door, her maids following close behind. Wang Qiyao didn’t feel quite herself the whole time she was there and completely lost her sense of direction as soon as she left. When she reached the first intersection down the lane, she heard a child shrieking from behind, “Hustler!”
She turned around to see Jiang Lili’s sons racing away, which left her feeling even more lost and confused.
As they had agreed, Jiang Lili arrived two days later to pick up her pants. Wang Qiyao had her try them on; they were a perfect fit and Jiang Lili was quite satisfied. The one thing that Wang Qiyao was confused about was why Jiang Lili would want a pair of polyester pants just as the weather was turning cold. Jiang Lili said she liked to wear polyester pants over her heavy cotton pants, which Wang Qiyao found inconceivable — how could she wear polyester over cotton? After they folded up the pants, they sat down for a leisurely chat. It was well after dinner time and Wang Qiyao’s daughter was in bed playing with a doll. Wang Qiyao made some tea and brought out a plate of watermelon seeds, but Jiang Lili reached into her pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes. Only then did Wang Qiyao realize the cause of the yellow stains on her fingers. When she asked her friend when she had started smoking, Jiang Lili responded by offering her a cigarette. Wang Qiyao declined but Jiang Lili insisted. They kept pushing each other until they collapsed in laughter; it felt like they were schoolgirls again. Watching the way she gestured as she smoked, Wang Qiyao couldn’t help but be reminded of Jiang Lili’s mother and asked about her.
“You know her. . she’ll never change,” sighed Jiang Lili, “…always stubbornly hanging on to the habits of the old society. All she’s doing is making things difficult for herself.”
Wang Qiyao inquired after her brother, who as a teenager always shut himself up in his room. From all that time with Jiang Lili, she couldn’t remember ever really getting a good look at her brother. Jiang Lili said he had not changed either; but at least he was now earning a living for himself as a high school teacher. But she spoke disapprovingly of his riding a motorcycle to work. According to Jiang Lili, her entire family reeked of mothballs; in this new era they were all remnants at the bottom of an old chest. Wang Qiyao had the uncomfortable feeling that she too was included in the description, and asked, somewhat testily, if an affidavit from someone like her would really be taken seriously when Jiang Lili applied for membership in the Communist Party. Jiang Lili laughed at the question and gave her a lecture on the charter of the Communist Party that Wang Qiyao found incomprehensible.
After Jiang Lili finished her lecture, Wang Qiyao asked if her application had been approved. Any trace of gaiety immediately drained from Jiang Lili’s face. After a minute, however, she smiled indulgently at Wang Qiyao’s ignorance and explained that the application was a long process, requiring unbending determination and unconditional faith. She told Wang Qiyao that joining the Communist Party is like being reborn, remade into a new person. The decision does not rest on consent from any one person. The Communist Party does not offer salvation — that is something everyone must find for themselves; loyalty and diligence are the only means to salvation. Listening to her, Wang Qiyao could almost see the old Jiang Lili, that romantic poet she had known in her youth, reappear before her eyes. Times had changed, however, and Jiang Lili’s odes to the wind and moon had been replaced by devoted words about steely determination and selfless sacrifice. Now, as then, however, the style smacked of theatrical exaggeration and was not entirely persuasive. Nonetheless, Jiang Lili’s sincerity and dedication were not to be doubted. After listening to her lecture, Wang Qiyao was at an utter loss as to what else she could say.