I know Wang Meng likes you

Author: Cui Jianfei
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2003-10-01
Features: "I Know Wang Meng Likes You" is a book title that carries a touch of riddle-like charm. Based on the content of the book, a more fitting title might have been "What I Know About Wang Meng." However, while "What I Know About Wang Meng" is more aligned with the book's subject matter, it is undeniably too straightforward, lacking the necessary subtlety and poetic essence. In contrast, the current title, though somewhat convoluted, is more engaging and captures the reader's attention. The author, Cui Jianfei, is a graduate of Nankai University's Department of History. In 1996, he volunteered to become Wang Meng's secretary, a role he has held for seven years. Over these seven years, Cui Jianfei has had countless "intimate encounters" with Wang Meng, living and working alongside him, which has given him an unparalleled deep understanding of Wang Meng's creative and intellectual life, as well as his daily routines. Naturally, writing a book about Wang Meng would carry significant credibility. I believe "I Know Wang Meng Likes You" is first and foremost an interesting book. It is not a rigid academic treatise or a scholarly work meticulously crafted in an academic setting, but rather a delightful and engaging book written in the style of essays and. Throughout the book, vivid and entertaining descriptions far outnumber rigorous arguments, and strikingly vivid imagery greatly surpasses conventional narratives. In the hands of scholars or critics, we often see only the image of Wang Meng as a creator, but in Cui Jianfei's portrayal, we see more of the Wang Meng who is full of joys and sorrows, passions, and desires.
In "I Know Wang Meng Likes You," Cui Jianfei primarily portrays Wang Meng by focusing on the 25 things he enjoys. For example, cats are one of Wang Meng's favorite animals in life. Wang Meng has owned many cats, among which the most spiritual and perceptive was a cat named "Hua" he kept during his time in Xinjiang. Cui Jianfei provides a deeply moving description of the close bond between Hua and Wang Meng: "Hua always followed Wang Meng. Sometimes, when Wang Meng rode his bicycle, Hua would dash out swiftly at the sound of the old bicycle, nuzzling Wang Meng's muddy pants. Other times, when Hua and Wang Meng's wife, Cui Ruifang, lived in the city of Ili, she could accurately calculate the time Wang Meng would return home, running out two miles ahead to greet him after work."
In the portrayal of the relationship between humans and cats, we first sense the compassionate side of Wang Meng's life. Only by understanding this can we grasp why so many vivid and outstanding descriptions of cats appear in Wang Meng's novels and why he once considered naming the fourth installment of his "Seasons" series "The Season of Cat Care," as cats hold such a significant place in his daily life and spiritual world.
Another example is Wang Meng's love for swimming. Cui Jianfei writes, "Swimming is Wang Meng's favorite sport. He cannot let go of it, becoming obsessed with it." For Wang Meng, who is so fond of swimming, the most unbearable thing is a day without the opportunity to swim. Xinjiang, located in the arid northwest of China, lacks the conditions for swimming due to its dry and rainy climate. Thus, Wang Meng had to join the bare-skinned boys in the countryside to satisfy his "addiction" to swimming in roadside ditches or muddy pools. How embarrassing it must be for a grown man to swim with a group of bare-skinned children in a small ditch, yet Wang Meng insisted on doing so, revealing the extent of his obsession with swimming. Therefore, Cui Ruifang, Wang Meng's wife, once remarked that he swam as if he were Forrest Gump, a foolish but lucky character from the American film "Forrest Gump." Wang Meng, however, found joy in this comparison. He admitted, "I am a swimming Forrest Gump, and I am quite satisfied with this nickname—it makes me very happy."
A fondness for swimming naturally implies a mastery of battling waves, or perhaps the joy of swimming lies in the ability to fully display one's robust physique and strong will in the face of natural waves. Additionally, the book features many insightful descriptions of Wang Meng's character, such as his tolerance and perseverance.
However, "I Know Wang Meng Likes You" is not merely a book that uses an engaging style to portray Wang Meng in everyday life. In my view, the greater value of Cui Jianfei's work lies in its ability to offer profound insights into Wang Meng's literary creation and literary thought while remaining entertaining. Glimmers of the author's exceptional insights are scattered throughout the book, which is uniquely designed. For example, in "Wang Meng's Favorite Kind of Weather," Cui Jianfei writes, "Wang Meng has made an extremely detailed and incisive analysis of Li Shangyin's fine rain, cold rain, and evening rain. Wang Meng told me that writing 'Rain in Li Shangyin' required considerable academic effort. Today, there are countless academic papers on Wang Meng, with so many outstanding scholars participating, totaling tens of millions of words. However, most of them are grand theories or speculative arguments, with insufficient close reading. This is a characteristic of China's literary criticism circles, not limited to Wang Meng studies alone. If someone were to write a 'Rain in Wang Meng' as Wang Meng did for 'Rain in Li Shangyin,' how wonderful that would be!"
Here, Cui Jianfei not only fully acknowledges Wang Meng's profound and insightful analysis of Li Shangyin but also points out the value of studying Wang Meng's depictions of rain. At the same time, he exposes and criticizes the flaw in China's literary criticism circles, where grand theories and speculative arguments abound, while detailed close reading is lacking. In just a few lines, the author encapsulates such rich meaning.
Another example is in "Wang Meng's Favorite Painter," where, after introducing how both Picasso and Wang Meng have, to varying degrees, been misunderstood by the literary world, Cui Jianfei compares their attitudes: "Picasso, faced with all kinds of criticism, becomes angry. Wang Meng, on the other hand, adopts a different stance—amusement. Wang Meng uses the Chinese legend of Zhuangzi turning into a butterfly to compare himself to a large butterfly: 'You can hold my head, but not my waist. You can hold my legs, but not my wings. You will never know who Wang Meng is like me.' One is angry, the other is amused. On the surface, they seem completely opposite attitudes, but the naive me discovered that they share one similarity—they are both like young boys, one foolish, the other witty."
The ability to see the similarity in two completely opposite attitudes and convey it vividly to the reader with concise and lively prose demonstrates the author's wisdom and sharpness.
The publication of this book was first to commemorate the 50th anniversary of Wang Meng's literary career. From a longer cultural perspective, however, both the portrayal of Wang Meng in everyday life and the insightful observations on his literary creation and thought in Cui Jianfei's work clearly contribute to a deeper understanding and research of Wang Meng.
In recent years, Wang Meng's most enjoyable summer vacations were spent in Beidaihe. He would write in the morning and swim in the afternoon. Around 1994, one summer day, he passed by Beidaihe Beach Park and saw a crowd gathered at the entrance, bustling and noisy, stretching their necks and toes, stamping their feet and beating their chests—quite a lively scene. Wang Meng approached to take a look and discovered they were participating in a lucky draw game. He was captivated and stopped to watch, finding it increasingly interesting and sparking all sorts of thoughts. In the concluding chapter of his novel "Assassination—3322," Wang Meng, through the mouth of the male protagonist, Li Men, introduces this game to the female protagonist, Feng Manman. Feng Manman is a sexy, beautiful, and competitive woman. She and Li Men were university classmates in the 1950s. Li Men came from a good family, was academically excellent, and Feng Manman, seeing his promising future, fell in love with him. However, Li Men was about to be labeled a rightist, so Feng Manman secretly invited him to the park, gave him her virginity, and then broke up with him. Soon after, Feng Manman fell head over heels for another classmate, the popular cadre trainee Hou Zhijin, and mercilessly exposed Li Men to draw a line. Li Men was sent to the frontier to work as a laborer, while Hou Zhijin remained at the university as a Party and government official. Feng Manman married Hou Zhijin. Later, she adopted a high-ranking official as her godfather, helping Hou Zhijin advance in his career and become the secretary of the department. After the Cultural Revolution, Li Men returned to the city. Due to his strong professional skills, he rose steadily, almost becoming a deputy director, while Hou Zhijin, lacking professional skills, became less and less influential. Feng Manman then turned back to Li Men, becoming intimate with him again. She also reconnected with her former landlord father, who had fled to the United States, and left Hou Zhijin behind, eventually making her way to the U.S. Several years later, Feng Manman returned to China and met Li Men at a coffee shop in Penang. Her hair had turned white, and she looked disheveled and destitute. She asked him, "I'm asking you, do you believe in fate?" Feng Manman pressed the issue relentlessly. Li Men frowned, thought for a moment, and said, "I'll tell you a story about fate. It will be a long one. Starting from last year, at the entrance of the eastern suburbs park in our city, a lucky draw game appeared. The operator of the game placed four colored glass balls—yellow, red, black, and white—each with five balls, totaling twenty. He put these twenty balls into a bag and let the players randomly draw ten. There was no entrance fee; they attracted customers by offering the game for free. He stipulated that if the ratio of the colors drawn was 5500, the player would receive a grand prize—a Canon camera or a German-made telescope. If the ratio was 5410 or 5320, the prize was still substantial, such as a pack of Wrigley's cigarettes. 4411 would earn a keychain or a disposable lighter. 4321, however, would result in a fine of one yuan—just one yuan. And if the color ratio was 3322, for example, three black balls, three white balls, two red balls, and two yellow balls—you can infer the rest—you would be fined five yuan. The prizes were displayed. The game was free to play. At first glance, the chances of winning seem better than losing: at least four ratios would win without any cost, and another ratio would require a small fee of one yuan, which is indeed negligible. Do you know how much a pound of pork costs in our place? Among all the possibilities, only 3322 is the worst—it costs a fine of five yuan. I watched for a long time and found it quite amusing. Let me put it this way: out of ten people, at least seven will draw 3322. It's so fair! Maybe one or two will draw 4321, and that ratio is still fair. Out of ten people, maybe one or half will win a keychain or lighter—that would be a very lucky person. As for winning the grand prize, it is theoretically possible but practically almost impossible. In fact, it's just a simple probability or chance problem, one that can be calculated. I watched for many days and finally understood—it's fate. Fate is actually a form of mathematics, very precise. Those who dream of winning without spending a penny, those who want to take advantage everywhere and rely on luck—when they draw a 3322, they curse their own hands 'stinky' and curse their bad luck. But they don't realize that the vendor had anticipated all of this. The number of balls of each color would not differ too much. That is, fate is actually a fair thing. God is the same—his greatness lies in the fairness and accuracy of mathematics. Fate is mathematics, fate is fair, and those who complain about fate are too ignorant of basic mathematical principles. I've gone off on a tangent—do you understand what I mean?"
"Li Zi, you shouldn't teach me math like this—it disappoints me so much! I hate you!" Feng Manman was clearly very unhappy with Li Men's mathematical theory of fate. How tragic Li Men was! She stopped talking and cried uncontrollably. Li Men's speech was indeed tragic. Feng Manman, who was once alluring in beauty, bold and decisive, cunning, and always trying to take advantage in every stage of life, was now aging, exhausted, and powerless. Her former lover, Li Men, gave her such a math lesson and a fatalistic judgment. What could Feng Manman say but to be heartbroken and cry?
The bustling game at Beidaihe Park, Wang Meng did not participate in, but he watched it intently. He saw it as a scam and deduced a series of life's fates, all contained in the vendor's pocket. Leonardo da Vinci hid Judas's face in darkness in his painting "The Last Supper," with the eye-catching focus on Judas's tightly gripped money bag—the gold coins inside that bag led Judas to betray God's son, Jesus. You can't tell whether the power of the pocket is greater than God's power or if God and the pocket conspired to kill his beloved son. The scene of the bustling Beidaihe Park is also a subject worthy of painting: a group of eager but cursing their own bad luck men and women; a few cunning and clever small-time swindlers who set up a big scam; a colorful ball that makes a clanging sound and changes magically. At the entrance of this scam stands a philosopher observing coldly, watching and thinking about the divine sign of God hidden in the pocket and the fate of humanity. Isn't this a good classical painting theme? Half Raphael, half Bruegel.
Wang Meng liked mathematics. His high school math teacher, even after Wang Meng became a famous writer, still regretted him, saying that if Wang Meng had listened to him back then, his achievements in literature would have been much greater. Wang Meng often reflected on 3322, confirming his interest in mathematics. Although he didn't become a mathematician, he found a way to satisfy his mathematical cravings. Let us join Wang Meng in reflecting on this 3322. Why 3322? If it were eight balls, it would be 2222; if it were twelve balls, it would be 3333. Wang Meng pointed out that this was wrong—it had to be ten, and only 3322. Because everyone's fate is roughly similar but not exactly the same—it is uneven. Three and two is uneven; four colors, such as black, white, red, and yellow, are also uneven. That is, people's fates are different, but not by much. And seven out of ten people are 3322, while two out of ten are 4321 or 4330, which relates to Wang Meng's observations of society. His experience is that in human affairs, extremes are rare—the absolute black and white, left and right, enemy and friend, right and wrong are rare, while intermediate states, transitional states, chaotic states, self-contradictory states, controllable states, and malleable states exist in large numbers. Therefore, Wang Meng insists on the principle of normalcy or common sense in his dealings with people and things, "In matters where there is no absolute certainty, a middle course is acceptable." This is similar to Confucius's doctrine of the mean, but there are also differences. However, Wang Meng acknowledges exceptions. After all, there is still a one-tenth chance of 4222, 4411, 4330, or even 5500.
In October 2002, Wang Meng gave a speech at China Ocean University and once again mentioned the topic of 3322. He said, "5500 is almost impossible—if any of you draw 5500, I am willing to give you my speech fee and most of my income." In 1998, I went to Singapore with Wang Meng. The president of the Singapore Chamber of Commerce, Lin Fangji, said that the chance of winning the grand prize in the lucky draw was roughly the same as the chance of dying in a plane crash. Wang Meng laughed heartily and found it very amusing. Wang Meng later said that if someone's luck could reach 5500, like the chance of a plane crash, then no one could stop it—either submit to it or accept fate. Wang Meng had many more insights into 3322. Remember that the writer Zhang Chengzhi once said that he got headaches when he learned to multiply four-digit numbers. Compared to Zhang Chengzhi, who belongs to the non-three-or-two category in mathematics, I dare not follow Wang Meng in indulging in mathematical cravings anymore. Wang Meng said, "This is a completely simple probability problem—mathematicians could list the formula for it." I have heard several friends with a mathematical background evaluate Wang Meng's 3322, and they all agree that it is a simple probability problem, but so far, no one has been able to list the formula for it.