Wang Qiyao didn’t know that Jiang Lili was sick. Before taking ill, Jiang Lili had been in charge of running a socialist education program in the suburb of Chuansha and came home only four days a month. It had been quite some time since she and Wang Qiyao had seen each other. But then one day Wang Qiyao walked past Jiang Lili’s longtang and ran into her mother-in-law, who was on her way out to buy noodles. Wang Qiyao went up to greet her; although the old lady couldn’t remember ever having met her, she was friendly, and liked being close to people, and moreover had been having such a difficult time with her daughter-in-law, that once she got started talking, there was no stopping her. Wang Qiyao was utterly flabbergasted by the news of Jiang Lili’s illness and the color immediately drained from her face. Instead of comforting old Mrs. Zhang, who was in tears, Wang Qiyao headed straight down the longtang toward Jiang Lili’s apartment.
She walked past the silent crowd outside the bedroom, pushed open the door, and went into see Jiang Lili. The curtains were drawn and Jiang Lili was sitting up in bed leaning against a pillow, reading Life in a Branch of the Communist Party. When she saw Wang Qiyao she smiled. That was an expression Wang Qiyao was not accustomed to seeing on Jiang Lili’s face, whose brow was usually knit in anger. There was something pitiful about her smile at that moment; it was as if she was looking for forgiveness. The sight was enough to move Wang Qiyao to tears. She sat down on the side of the bed, her heart quivering; it was hard to believe the toll this disease had taken on her friend in so short a time. The truth about her illness had been kept from Jiang Lili, who was told she had hepatitis. Afraid that Wang Qiyao would have reservations about being so close to her, she explained that it was a chronic form of hepatitis and assured her that it was not contagious — that was why she didn’t need to be placed in isolation. She inquired after Wang Qiyao’s daughter and asked her to bring the little girl to visit sometime, repeating once more that she was not contagious. Wang Qiyao was too grief-stricken to speak; she could see that Jiang Lili was drained by talking, and soon excused herself. Meandering aimlessly down the sunny streets, she bought several things she did really did not need and didn’t get home until around lunchtime. Not feeling hungry herself, she warmed up some leftovers for her daughter and sat down to knit a winter hat. Her mind gradually settled as she knitted; once she had calmed down, her first thought was to go see Mr. Cheng.
That night Mr. Cheng saw Wang Qiyao all the way downstairs when she left. They strolled along the Bund for a while; inside they were both deeply troubled but they kept their conversation away from what was bothering them. A few aquatic birds were flying low over the river and they heard the faint sound of a ferry’s whistle sounding as it made its way to Pudong on the other shore. With their backs to the water, they couldn’t help gazing up at the grand fortress-like buildings created by the British during the days of the treaty ports. The overweening style of the architecture could be traced back to the Roman empire; it was designed to look down over everything, impressing viewers with an air of tyrannical power. Fortunately, behind these magnificent buildings was an expanse of narrow streets and alleys that led to the longtang houses, whose spirit was democratic. The Huangpu River too stood as a symbol of democracy. The ocean breeze, coming in through the mouth of the Suzhou River, tries to blow inland, but is thwarted by the tall buildings along the Bund, which turn it back, causing it to increase in intensity. It is a good thing that the surface of the river is wide enough for the wind to spread out so that the opposing currents do not collide too violently; the consequence, however, is that the wind constantly rages around the Bund at all hours of the day and night.
“How’s your daughter?” Mr. Cheng inquired.
“She’s fine,” said Wang Qiyao.
But then she suddenly implored: “If something should happen to me one day, I would like you to take care of her.”
Mr. Cheng found himself smiling. “Jiang Lili is the one with the incurable disease, so why are you seeking a guardian for your child?”
The mere thought of Jiang Lili made their hearts heavy. After a few minutes, Wang Qiyao said, “It’s better to make arrangements now rather than later.”
“And what if I refuse?” asked Mr. Cheng.
“It’s not your place to refuse; I’ve already chosen you.”
There was a solemn despair in her tone that prevented her words from sounding flippant. Mr. Cheng turned to face the river, which glimmered faintly in the dark. He recalled how the three of them, Jiang Lili, Wang Qiyao, and himself, had gone together to the Cathay Theater to see a movie. How many years ago was that? How could it be possible that we are already approaching the end of the story? But the end is nothing like what they had imagined. It seemed as if nothing had been truly resolved, and yet everything was resolved.
Wang Qiyao and Mr. Cheng also discussed whether they should try to persuade Jiang Lili to move back to her mother’s house, where she could have some peace and quiet and would be able to eat better. They didn’t know that the day before their visit, Jiang Lili’s mother had visited her and was nearly driven out of the house by her daughter. By that time, Jiang Lili’s father was back in Shanghai and had divorced Jiang Lili’s mother, who got the house and a share of his assets. He and his mistress from Chongqing were renting a house on Yuyuan Road. Jiang Lili’s brother, who had never married and had no friends, still locked himself in his room every day after work listening to music. He was still at home, living like a stranger under the same roof with his mother; they often went for days without even seeing one another. The woman servant was Mrs. Jiang’s only company, but she too viewed Mrs. Jiang with contempt; with her own active social life, even she had little time to spend with her mistress.
Their little house came to feel like a huge lonely place. All of the flowers and plants in the courtyard had withered and died, leaving behind broken branches and rotten leaves. Eventually even those dead plants gave way to garbage and dirt, making the courtyard appear even more desolate. It was a good thing that Mrs. Jiang was not a sensitive person who took special notice of her surroundings, otherwise she would have suffered more. She only wondered why time hung so heavily on her hands. Her immediate reaction when she first heard about Jiang Lili’s illness was to shut herself up at home and cry her heart out. For simpleminded women like her, incapable of seeking understanding, crying was an effective way to relieve anxiety. Tears gave her a measure of consolation, and usually elicited a positive response. Once her tears had dried, she would find new hope and feel much better. Wiping her face, she changed into going-out clothes, but as soon as she got to the door she started to feel apprehensive about her outfit. She was afraid that her nice clothes might offend her daughter and son-in-law’s good Communist beliefs. She went back inside to change into a plainer outfit before setting out again.