Women Walk, Men Stop

Author: Lan Shan
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2005-01-01
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 when one is single, one is married, and one is divorced, who is happier, and who is less fortunate? A single woman, cheating isn’t stealing, you know; a married woman, left only with temptation, because she’s already labeled; a divorced woman, lacking 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 want to do what they dare not, leading some to envy, some to sneer, and many more to admire—three women make a play. Especially when one is single, one is married, and one is divorced, who is happier, and who is less fortunate? A single woman, cheating isn’t stealing, you know; a married woman, left only with temptation, because she’s already labeled; a divorced woman, lacking the bold courage of a young bull. Thus, the friendship of women is on the verge of being called forth. Please read the excerpt:
Sitting proudly in a chair like a queen, with a cup of steaming Taiwanese bubble tea beside her, her eyes carelessly drifted down the corridor, able to see any movement clearly. What kind of figure is she? Stunningly handsome or utterly ordinary, blending into the crowd like a lost leaf? If the former, that would be amazing—tying her to your arm would be a great honor. After all, what they want is attention. They’d rather starve than eat, just to catch the eye! As long as one aspect of their physical or psychological needs is met, it’s all good! If the latter, don’t waste your breath—just leave. Life is too short to waste on such nonsense. According to official Chinese gender ratio data, it’s 116 men to 100 women, while the black market figures stand at 150 men to 100 women. At least 40 to 100 million men lack healthy outlets for their desires. In a market economy with such an oversupply of people, why not be picky? Pick until your hands get numb, pick until you see stars. And our standards can’t drop either: cars, houses, money, status, and children (better not have them). Let’s stick to the “Five Good Omens” formula.
In the corridor, a teenage boy and girl were kissing and hugging like two trees fused together. From the back, they looked like they were in a foreign country—too bold, something the Chinese aren’t used to. We have to consider the feelings and eyes of our fellow countrymen. Of course, it didn’t bother anyone else, only the old folks who hadn’t caught up on this lesson and those who’ve failed in love, as well as the fake moralists. I’m none of the above, but I still felt uncomfortable. This prolonged exchange of spit could provide convenience for bacteria or even viruses. If I’d eaten a chicken leg, steak, frog, or whatever at lunch, those avian flu, bovine spongiform encephalopathy, SARS, or other wild diseases could find a cozy new home in my young, healthy skin. Still delicate and tender—just thinking about it makes my stomach ache. Do these Western things really have to invade and become part of our daily habits? The mouth feels good, but eating meat, rice, noodles, vegetables, and fruits also satisfies the senses. But from a medical perspective? Let’s go to the zoo. Those monkeys and chimpanzees don’t care about public kissing, hugging, face-to-face cuddling, or even masturbating in the streets. Are we supposed to strip naked and return to the jungle too?
“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 shiny and neatly combed, not very long—like vegetation in a semi-desert, semi-arid region. His face was slightly flat but had clear features, still handsome. His clothes were straight—maybe he’d polished them up for a date, but usually, he’s a slob, not even washing his underwear for 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 I didn’t like him, I’d just say, “I’m sorry, I’m the wrong person,” and leave.
“You can sit too.” We both prepared to sit down.
“You can stand too, it doesn’t matter for chatting or drinking tea.” He smiled, still sitting down in a relaxed and elegant manner.
“You’re prettier and younger than I imagined.” Not bad for a university teacher—his mouth was smooth, and it seemed he was quite pleased with this flattery.
“Ha, your imagination is that poor? Oh, just kidding. If you take it seriously, it’s no fun.” He wasn’t embarrassed at all, just smiled. “You’re also bolder than I thought.”
“Are you a tiger or a giant ape? If not, shyness would be pointless.”
“Women, a little timid, shyness is understandable. Over time, it becomes a quality that should be possessed.”
“Congratulations, you’re obviously both! What do you teach? What do you usually talk about with those unruly students?” He cleared his throat.