Dialogue

Chapter 4

4 There is a conundrum which has long bothered me. It is about how I feel towards my own body; many of my actions are inexplicable. Sometimes I seem to be living in thin air, or between protective screens that cut me off from the world. Often when I can’t distinguish clearly between right and wrong, straight and crooked, I either ignore the elusive things which weigh on the deepest part of my heart, or I instinctively wish to forget them completely. I often say to people: “If you can’t think a problem through, don’t think about it.” It’s easy to deceive others, the hardest one to deceive is yourself, especially with regard to the important experiences in life. The more you avoid them, the larger they loom. After I returned to Beijing, I often went to Wei Bo and his wife’s place. They were my parents’ best friends, this childless old couple, and treated me as their adopted daughter, and naturally I too considered them close to me. This was a very subtle and dangerous relationship, this intimacy not based in blood. In human relationships, sometimes a momentary slip can lead to lifelong regrets. Instinctive urges, ethical constraints, the blurred distinctions between human and animal, love and sex; being a girl without very clear ideas about her situation with regard to the natural physical demands of her own body, and a secret sexual relationship with a very mature member of the opposite sex; all this, in that era and for someone of my age, sowed the seeds of destruction like the burning flames of hell. In the early nineteen-fifties, my father and Wei Bo were sent by the new China to what was then the Soviet Union to study Western painting. Wei Bo was a glib talker, and in my eyes, he was more politically correct than my father. One day in the corridor, he heard the sound of an old Deng Lijun song coming from the male dormitory, and exclaimed with an angry oath: “The young people of today have become so unsound, listening to this kind of 39 Chapter 4 degenerate music, all the stuff they played formerly in the brothels of the old society.” In my last term at the Arts High School, Wei Bo’s wife went to Europe to do some research. Just as before, I often went to their place. One Sunday afternoon, this old man, my so-called “Uncle Wei Bo”, suddenly hugged me. He was so gross, groping my face with his hands. I pushed him away forcefully, and looked at the man who was in my eyes an exceptionally earnest elder, in shock: “What are you doing?” “Nothing, I like you, I want you to understand what love is.” An old man’s voice. “What’s love got to do with you and me? You’re not my boyfriend, why are you behaving like this to me?” The girl’s wide open eyes staring at him. “You’ll understand afterwards, every woman has to experience this, it’s love. If you hadn’t been ignorant about this all along, then why did Luo An have a relationship with the girl who shared your desk in class, and why did you break up? It’s because you don’t understand a thing. If you’d known a bit earlier about what happens between men and women, you wouldn’t have lost him. Come over here! Don’t be scared. I only want to teach you. I like you. Think about it, you’re like my adopted daughter, so how could I want to harm you?” As soon as he started talking about that matter, the girl felt extremely uncomfortable. The sense of humiliation confused her emotions. The old man sensed his advantage and came close to the girl, put his arms around her, made her sit on his thigh and lightly patted the girl’s body. “Don’t fret anymore about that business. Love is something you have to learn, and I am willing to teach you.” As he spoke, he slid his hand inside the girl’s clothes and felt her body. The girl instinctively recoiled, too ashamed to look at him. “Don’t be afraid, afterwards you’ll see. With the men you like, you’ll have to learn how to stroke their bodies. It’s only when there is direct bodily contact that it’s called real love. With Luo An before...