Shanghai Leisure Women

Author: Chun Zi
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2002-04-01
Features: "Why do people live?" Nizi asked me. I was more than happy Nizi had asked that question. I was going through a breakup and needed answers. "Have you heard this? 'The moment humans start thinking, God laughs.'" This was said by the man beside me. I t heard a phrase outside Nizi's circle spoken within it. "People who don't believe in God can ignore Milan Kundera's words." Counterattacks had become my professional habit. I was only polite when I had no opponents. The man immediately made a show of backing down. That must be a sign of well-mannered upbringing. I liked politeness and refinement—fragile people were afraid of being hurt. Nizi seemed absentminded. She suggested going for drinks. Nizi—red card whiskey. The man—light beer. Me—eggnog. There was a piano playing "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina." We started discussing Eva Perón. Nizi said, "Shall we go to Argentina?" "By boat, I want to see Buenos Aires." During geography class, I had spent some time memorizing the capitals of different countries. "South American women are very sexy." The man said. Nizi and I smirked sarcastically. We seemed quite satisfied with the atmosphere. The man said, "Later, if I'm left here drinking alone or with others, I'll feel sad." "I already feel sad," Nizi exclaimed. That didn't sound like something Nizi would say. But I overturned that judgment. No one can fully understand another person. So people are destined for loneliness, and misunderstandings. I wondered if human relationships are built on mutual misunderstandings. If so, people should really give up any arguments—except for sweet treats. Nizi and her boyfriend couldn't often be together, and neither allowed anyone else into their space. Suspicion severely hurt their earlier sweetness. In Nizi's world, there was a lack of spiritual romance, and she didn't like "affairs," she was just like a child lacking iodine, uncontrollably ruining a stable life; without change, she would suffocate, and dramatic events never came. What was left was stirring up trouble. Once, in the middle of the night, Nizi called her boyfriend's bedside phone. His wife cut her wrist with a razor blade and had to get seven stitches. This woman and her husband had made their fortune selling smuggled cigarettes and wouldn't easily let others have them. The next day, the man, drunk, vomited all over Nizi's place, spitting out many curses. Nizi hid at my place for two days. I had never, or I tried to avoid, falling for someone else's husband—not just because of the morality society instilled in me, not just because of that, but for other reasons. Including the suffering Nizi and the woman I'd never met endured. Nizi's drinking grew worse, and she switched from chewing gum to betel nuts. Women find it hard to completely sever their emotions. The house was very cold, with no heating, and we all longed for a cup of pure British tea. Er Dongqiang, who had lived in such a house for a long time, had no idea how delicate city dwellers like us were.