Sea fairies await the one (as if once encountered Zhang Ailing)

Author: Liu Zhu
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2005-11-01
Features: In Chapter Five, "Deep Love is Futile," after these two meetings, both Fang Qi and Qi Yan gradually gained a deeper understanding of each other. Qi Yan would push his luck, first visiting Zhi Ling's house every few days, then every other day, and eventually becoming a daily visitor. Moreover, he would arrive at dawn and leave only when it was dark. Naturally, his lunch also fell on Zhi Ling, but Zhi Ling felt too embarrassed to ask for food money from him. Undoubtedly, the meager cost of meals was not within Zhi Ling's considerations; what truly troubled her were more complex reasons. Once, she said bluntly to Qi Yan, "Mr. Qi usually stays in Nanjing, so I suppose your longing for Shanghai is 'yearning for home as if it were the moon.' After coming back, you should stay home more to accompany your family, why do you always linger here?" Qi Yan replied with a smile, "‘The wine of Lanling is fragrant with saffron, in jade bowls it glows like amber light. But if the host can make his guests drunk, he need not know where home is.’ Fang has been so kind to me, as if Lord Mengchang had never failed in his hospitality to Feng Xuan—fish, meat, and even conversations as pleasant as a gentle breeze. Here, I feel like a guest who is truly welcome. I am like a pigeon in Fang's house, the only difference being that I fly out at night and return during the day." Zhi Ling was moved by this well-dressed man's humble comparison of himself to her pigeon, though she found it somewhat odd, yet it stirred something within her. However, upon reflection, she realized that in this matter, his disadvantage was clearly no greater than her own. "Ah, Qi Yan, Qi Yan, what do you think of me here? You have a wife and children, how can you visit here so freely without any restraint?" Zhi Ling couldn't help but grit her teeth in anger, silently resolving that the next time he came, she would firmly reprimand him and make him understand that he would gain nothing here, only wasting his time. But on the very evening she made up her mind, she received another letter from Qi Yan, "A fish carries a letter," its words so warm and sincere that she felt an irresistible attachment and entanglement once again. Thus, the next day, when she opened the door, she saw Qi Yan smiling at her, "Good morning, Fang." Zhi Ling was infected by his smile and couldn't help but smile back, no longer willing to bring up the gloomy topic of "breaking ties with you." The current situation left Zhi Ling in a dilemma, a predicament she couldn't escape, and she had to make a resolution. Sometimes, she even hoped that this resolution would come from Qi Yan. After all, she was a woman, and once deep affection stirred within her, she wasn't strong enough to resist. She felt that if Qi Yan didn't seek her out, she would never go to him again. But just as she was torn between conflicting emotions, Qi Yan became even more frequent in his visits. Could he have noticed her indecisiveness? This cunning man. "It is because my love for you is greater than yours that you have become so bold." This was a line from New Eloise in which Julie told her lover and teacher, Saint Preux. But was this really love? Despite having written so many novels about "love and hatred," when she too found herself caught in passion, she was utterly confused and bewildered. "What should I do? What should I do?" Zhi Ling thought. Before her eyes, a little girl crying tearfully and her brother's eyes filled with sorrow seemed to reappear. They were Qi Yan's children, as if they were shouting at her, asking what they should do. Then there was Qi Yan's wife, who still wore the expression of unyielding anger when she met Zhi Ling on the street. Zhi Ling, with a guilty smile, picked up the ring and returned it to her. This time, of course, she no longer thanked Zhi Ling but stared at her blankly, "Do you still have any basic moral standards? How can you be so hypocritical and cruel!" Zhi Ling, defending herself, blurted out, "Oscar Wilde once said—‘A moral man is a hypocrite, and a moral woman is necessarily mediocre.’ It doesn’t matter how you see me." "Indifferent? You’ve torn a family apart and call that indifferent? What shameless Wilde, what writer, to call a woman like you a talent? I’ll make the whole of Shanghai judge this matter, expose your behavior to the public, and see if you still dare to be ‘indifferent’!" Zhi Ling was stunned, and two lines of tears streamed down, soaking her pillowcase. She suddenly realized that this was just a nightmare. But just as it is said that "what you think in the day, you dream of at night," what ill omen did this nightmare foretell? Although in a certain sense, she was a woman of the secluded house who didn’t know "what day it was," in this world, you are connected to the outside world even if you don’t go out, and the power of the media cannot be taken lightly. Every day, there were many newspaper vendors downstairs competing with loud voices, as if orioles had met parrots, each unwilling to yield. Zhi Ling had found their cries amusing in the past, but lately, she had grown to resent them. "Exclusive news, Southeast Morning News exclusive news. Our city’s female writer, Fang Zhi Ling, is deeply entangled with a Nanjing official. Also, great news for everyone, the US-UK coalition in the Pacific theater has won another major victory." "Important news—Yesterday, a ‘blackblack’ murder case occurred on Baitang Road, and Detective Holmes has personally gone to the crime scene. According to HuPu Evening News, the paper recently interviewed novelist Fang Zhi Ling, who has hinted her preference for a minister in Jinling." "Rumors, these small papers are always spreading rumors. And they call it an interview? When did I ever accept their damn interview?" Zhi Ling, furious, grabbed a newspaper from the table and tore it to shreds, as if it were the "exclusive news" loudly proclaimed by the vendors. What particularly stirred Zhi Ling was the mention of "Nanjing official" and "Jinling minister" in the small papers. She vaguely felt that Qi Yan’s political status was even more difficult than the fact that he had a wife and children, perfectly fitting Li Shangyin’s poignant verse, "Adding ten thousand layers of mist to Mount Peng," as it had always been a world apart from her from the beginning. She knew very well what "the Nanjing government" meant to ordinary people. In occupied Shanghai, though no one dared to openly call those who served the Nanjing government "traitors and lackeys," who didn’t curse them a thousand times in their hearts? Zhi Ling’s friend Bing Yi had connections with officials of the Nanjing government. In the past, Zhi Ling had coldly observed that someone as sharp as Bing Yi, who could "guess the second half of a sentence just by hearing the first," was not very clever in this regard. Of course, she knew that Bing Yi mostly did so for the convenience of running the newspaper and had never participated in any political activities of the "Wang Faction." But external associations were always more imaginative than a writer’s imagination. Because Bing Yi had often received help from Chen Gongbo, the President of the Legislative Yuan under Wang Jingwei, it was rumored that Bing Yi was Chen’s mistress. Even an article had appeared in the newspapers—"Orchid Hand, Flirtatious Bing Yi, Beauty’s Scheme Turns Gongbo Upside Down." Zhi Ling couldn’t help but think of her own reputation. Now Qi Yan was openly visiting her house every day, and with this trend, could her reputation be better than Bing Yi’s? It was likely even worse! Her thoughts were fragmented and chaotic, and Zhi Ling had been unable to do anything for two days. The day before, Qi Yan had returned to Nanjing. Although Zhi Ling resented his daily visits, she didn’t feel any relief when he truly left her. "It’s only for a few days. When the roses on your balcony bloom, I’ll be back," Qi Yan said gently. Zhi Ling frowned and said, "Are you taking leave from me? That’s really strange. If you’re taking leave, you should go to your Wang and say so—he’s your superior. However, I do have one question—I don’t often say that you’re someone who has already ‘lost the game,’ like Jia Yi, who wasn’t given enough importance. That doesn’t sound very sincere, does it? I think you’re still obsessed with Changge." Qi Yan’s expression changed, and he smiled again, "Calling the Nanjing government Changge, wouldn’t that make Mr. Wang a tyrant like King Zhou? And of course, we who are below are just aiding the tyrant, unforgivable, right? Well, well, I won’t debate this with you today. Time will tell who is truly loyal and who is not, and the political right or wrong will eventually become clear." Just then, the doorbell rang. Was it him? He was back so soon? Zhi Ling immediately opened the door. It was Su Jia, not him. She remembered that the last time Qi Yan came, she had mistaken him for Su Jia, and now that Su Jia was really here, she had mistaken him for Qi Yan again. In both cases, her hopes had been dashed. Su Jia saw Zhi Ling and said, "His character—" Zhi Ling was momentarily speechless. "What character? Are you saying he’s not a good person? Then tell me how he’s not a good person?" Su Jia asked eagerly. Zhi Ling, however, smiled and said, "This man, he drinks Tokyo wine, climbs Changtai willows." "Nonsense, you’re playing word games with me? It’s just that Chinese intellectuals are so clever, I don’t understand. Please translate for me." Zhi Ling had to explain, "Tokyo is the capital of Japan, so drinking Tokyo wine means he’s part of the Wang Jingwei faction; and climbing Changtai willows refers to Changtai, an ancient place for singers and dancers, which today means—" "Academic snob, really snobbish!" Su Jia gritted his teeth, then continued, "I get it. In your style, I’ll reply with—my man, he hangs out in places like ‘See You Again Tomorrow,’ and he’s also with the Japanese." Zhi Ling buried her face in her hands and smiled bitterly. Su Jia walked over and forced her hand away, saying, "Then what else is there to say? Even if he’s a genius, you can’t give him a good look. Such a person, ha, such a person deserves—" Zhi Ling added, "To die, to die, is that right?" "That’s right, you understand me, Zhi Ling." Su Jia laughed. But Zhi Ling frowned and made a firm, different decision from her usual self. P258-266