Women walk, men stop

Author: Lanshan
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2005-03-01
Features: The original title of this novel is "The Tale of a Single Woman," a beloved online literary work among netizens. It's a gospel for single women, a feast of words celebrating youth, and a wild carnival of small-feminist revelry—three women make a play, especially one single, one married, and one divorced. Who is happier, and who is less fortunate? For single women, cheating isn't stealing; for married women, there's only temptation, as they've already been labeled; for divorced women, they lack the bold courage of a young bull. Chen Yishan is a die-hard unmarriedist "single woman," her life filled with conquest, vanity, pride, and exuberance. This unrestrained lifestyle satisfies many who long to do what they dare not, earning her both admiration and disdain, with most simply appreciating the drama of three women. Especially a single, a married, and a divorced—so who is happier, and who is less fortunate? For single women, cheating isn't stealing; for married women, there's only temptation, as they've already been labeled; for divorced women, they lack the bold courage of a young bull. Thus, the friendship of women is on the horizon. Read the excerpt:
Sitting in a chair like a queen, with a cup of steaming Taiwanese bubble tea beside her, her eyes casually drifted down the corridor, spotting any movement with ease. "Damn it, what kind of look is that? Stunningly handsome or utterly ordinary, blending in with the crowd?" If the former, that would be amazing—tying one to your arm would do wonders for your reputation. After all, it’s all about ( refers to the number of people looking back, meaning popularity). It doesn’t matter if you’re eating or drinking, just make sure you’re eye-catching! As long as one aspect of your physical or psychological needs is met, that’s fine! If the latter, don’t waste your breath—just leave. Life’s too short. According to official Chinese gender ratio data, it’s 116 men to 100 women, while the black market figures are as high as 150 men to 100 women. At least 40 to 100 million men lack healthy outlets for their desires. In a market economy with such a surplus of people, why not be picky? Pick until your hands and eyes are numb. Under these conditions, our standards can’t drop: cars, houses, money, status, children (better not have them), and stick to the "Five Good Things" ().
In the corridor, a teenage boy and girl were kissing and hugging like two trees fused together. From the back, you’d think they were in a foreign country—too bold, something the Chinese aren’t used to. You have to consider the feelings and eyes of your fellow countrymen. Of course, it didn’t bother anyone, only the old folks who hadn’t caught up and the ones who’d failed in love, along with the fake moralists. I’m none of the above, but I still felt uncomfortable. This prolonged exchange of saliva could be convenient for bacteria or even viruses. If I’d eaten a chicken leg, steak, frog, or something else for lunch, those avian flu, cattle fever, SARS, or other wild diseases could find a cozy new home in my young, healthy skin. Still, my skin is delicate and tender—just thinking about it makes my stomach ache. Do these Western things really have to invade and become part of our lifestyle? Your mouth feels good, eating meat, rice, noodles, vegetables, and fruits—can’t you also enjoy the color of food? But from a medical perspective? Go to the zoo and see. Those monkeys and chimpanzees don’t care about public kissing, hugging, face-to-face intimacy, or even masturbating in the streets. Aren’t we supposed to shed our clothes, baring our bodies, and return to the jungle?
"Excuse me, is this Ms. Chen Yishan?" A young man in a white shirt walked over, asking politely. I openly studied him for 20 seconds. His hair was sleek and neatly arranged, though not very long—like vegetation in a semi-desert or semi-arid region. His face was a bit flat but had distinct features, still handsome. His clothes were straight, as if he’d just gotten ready for a date, though usually, he’s a mess—his underwear hasn’t been washed in two weeks? I sniffed, but didn’t smell any odor, only a faint, just-right scent of cologne.
"You’re the university teacher?" This was like admitting it. If he didn’t like her, he’d say, "I mistook you for someone else," and leave. "Can I sit?" As if preparing to sit, he asked. "You can stand too, it doesn’t matter for talking or drinking tea." He smiled and sat down, looking relaxed and elegant.
"You’re prettier and younger than I imagined." Not bad for a university teacher—smooth-tongued, and it seemed he enjoyed this flattery. "Haha, is your imagination that bad? Oh, just kidding. If you take it seriously, it’s not fun." He wasn’t embarrassed, just smiled. "You’re also bolder than I thought."
"Are you a tiger or a giant ape? If not, being timid and shy would be pointless."
"Women are allowed to be a bit timid and shy—it’s understandable. Over time, it becomes a quality you should have."
"Congratulations, you’re obviously both! What do you teach? What do you usually talk about with those unruly students?" He cleared his throat.