Three Sisters Page 12

  This time she let go, pressed her breasts against him, and said, "Get me a job at the supply and marketing co-op."

  Guo's passion had nearly frozen his tongue, and he did not know what to say.

  "Do it for me tomorrow," she said.

  He agreed.

  Yumi ran her fingers through her hair and lay back, arms and legs open for him. He was so excited by this time that the passionate lovemaking he'd been anticipating turned out to be a disappointment—he finished almost before he began.

  "I'm sorry," she said softly as she lay beneath him, her arms wrapped around his neck.

  "I'm really sorry." She said it so many times that it saddened her and she was soon in tears.

  Actually there was no need to apologize. It had not gone well, but ultimately it had no effect on his passion. If anything, it had been an intoxicating experience. He was breathing hard, experiencing a growing attachment to his young wife. She was definitely worth keeping.

  The supply and marketing co-op had not been Yumi's first choice. She'd have preferred an assignment to the grain-purchasing station. And for good reason. The purchasing station was on the river, near Broken Bridge's largest concrete pier, and it was where all boats to and from the commune tied up or passed by. She figured that if she was put in charge of the scales, a position of authority, anyone who came to town from Wang Family Village could not help but notice her. She had it all worked out. But on second thought, managing scales was dirty work that would keep her out on the pier, and that was not a proper job for someone who lived in town. Clerking at the co-op was more respectable. Better surroundings, lighter work. So, after carefully weighing the pros and cons of each, she settled on the co-op. It was not a permanent position, but she'd get nearly three yuan more in wages. But then, what about the purchasing station job? That should go to someone in her family, of course. At first she thought of Yusui, but she was too empty-headed for that kind of work. No, Yuxiu was the right choice. Intelligent and attractive, she was better suited for life in town than Yusui.

  But Yumi had no sooner arrived at her decision than a troubling thought surfaced. I've been pinned down in bed, selling what's between my legs, while that little tramp Yuxiu would land a good job. She'd be in better shape than me.

  But that thought did not last. Isn't what I'm doing the best way to win back some dignity for my family? It's worth it.

  Now Yumi's most important tasks were to keep performing in bed—doing what he liked best—and to get pregnant as soon as possible. It was critical to take advantage of his sense of newness; if she got pregnant now, managing him would be easy. If not, once the novelty wore off, who's to say what he'd do? Men are like that. What they want is sex. Feelings mean nothing to them. A woman could have a ton of feelings for a man, and that would not count as much to him as the several ounces she carries on her chest.

  Yumi had barely begun working at the co-op and had not found the right moment to talk to Guo Jiaxing about Yuxiu when her sister unexpectedly came to town. She showed up at Guo Jiaxing's office before nine in the morning, her face wet with dew and sweat. Guo was at his desk reading the paper, but not taking in a word because he was dreamily recalling some of Yumi's tricks in bed. Sex was all he had on his mind. He rubbed his bald head and sighed, sounding like a man disappointed in himself.

  The old house has gone up in flames and can't be saved, he said to himself. He was not really upset; the sigh was more a display of that special happiness only an aging man knows. So there he sat, happily analyzing the good fortune that had befallen him, when a girl appeared in the doorway of his office. He'd never seen her before and guessed her to be about sixteen or seventeen.

  Quickly wiping the expression off of his face, he lowered his newspaper and coughed dryly. He stared at the girl, who showed no hint of fear or any sign of leaving. So, after laying the paper down on the glass top of his desk and sliding the teacup to one side, he leaned back in his chair and said gruffly, "Who let you in here?"

  The girl blinked several times and smiled sweetly. "Comrade," she said abruptly, "you're my brother-in-law, aren't you?"

  That sounded so funny to Guo that he felt like laughing, but he didn't. He stood up, clasped his hands behind his back, and shut his eyes. "And who might you be?"

  "I'm Wang Yumi's third sister, my name is Wang Yuxiu. I arrived this morning from Wang Family Village, and you're my brother-in-law. That's what the man at the entrance said. You're my brother-in-law." The word "brother-in-law" in her crisp voice carried a distinct feel of intimacy, the closeness of family. The deputy director of the revolutionary committee in charge of the People's Militia could tell at a glance that the girl was Yumi's sister; the resemblance was unmistakable. But she obviously lacked Yumi's manners and did not appear to share her sister's temperament. She was like one of those unbalanced Japanese machine guns, indiscriminately strafing the area— tatatata. Guo walked to the doorway and pointed outside. Then he curled his finger and said, "She's in the shoe and hat department at the co-op."

  Yuxiu had arrived in Broken Bridge at a little after seven and had already taken a turn around the open-air market. This was not a casual visit. She had come with the express and unwavering purpose of putting herself in the hands of her elder sister. She could no longer stay in Wang Family Village, and the main reason was that Yusui had forced her to wear two labels: "Piss Pot" and "Shit Can."

  Once those epithets began making the rounds, she could not hold her head up in the village. Worst of all, it had been her sister, not a stranger, who had coined those terms of abuse in front of a bunch of girls. There was no one else to blame. Piss Pot. And Shit Can. They had quickly become her nicknames. While a nickname isn't a real name, often it can be more you than your real name. It zeroes in on your flaws and your most vulnerable sore spots.

  Hearing one is like being skinned alive. Even ten thousand pairs of pants cannot cover up your shame. Nicknames are poison to the person they're given to, everyone knows that. But they are not static; they have an uncanny ability to expand, and that is what Yuxiu found intolerable. Piss Pot for instance. Why not piss bottle, or vat, or jug, or jar, or ladle, or basin, or bowl, or saucer, or vase, or roof tile?

  None of these had had any intrinsic relationship to Yuxiu, but that had all changed. Now they constituted a sinister threat, the ability to ruthlessly reveal the unspeakable secret of her shamed body.

  These common objects could be found anywhere; and so could Yuxiu's shame. She was not being paranoid, that was not it at all. When she was talking with someone who mentioned one of those objects, the person would stop and flash an apologetic look, pregnant with meaning. It was a true affirmation, binding all those everyday objects to Yuxiu, quietly but with inescapable permanence. Once something like that attaches itself to you, it strips you naked in front of a crowd. Covering the top exposes the bottom, and covering the bottom reveals the top. Sure, the crowd feels sorry for you. Out of sympathy they keep from saying anything, pretending, as if by mutual agreement, that they didn't hear what was said. To protect your feelings, no one laughs. At least not out loud. But you can see laughter in their eyes, and that silent laughter is far more hurtful, holds greater cruelty than spoken curses. Like sharp teeth that can snap shut on you at any time, it is an embodiment of the explosive power of jaws that can crush you at will. Deadly. Too much for Yuxiu. Even the most tenacious head must bow before it. It is a situation against which no defense is possible. In her case, such indefensible situations did not always involve external forces. Sometimes they cropped up within Yuxiu herself. Shit Can is one example. It was a taboo, and so she avoided all words dealing with toilets and such, whether she was relieving herself or emptying the commode. And as the restrictions grew, her freedom of movement diminished. She hated having to use the commode, for big or for small. Every time she peed, it made a despicable sound, underscoring her loss of dignity, her shamefulness. If only she didn't have to go. But she did. So she only went on the sly, each visit to the toilet making h
er feel like a thief. She held it in during the day and she held it in at night, and she even had nightmares about peeing that woke her up. In one of those terrible dreams she hunted for a place to pee, and this eventually led her to a deserted sorghum field. But she no sooner squatted down than a crowd of girls descended upon her. "Yuxiu," they whispered, "Shit Can." With a start she woke up. She saw people everywhere, faces with mouths and pairs of laughing eyes above them.

  Worst of all for Yuxiu were the men. They never failed to give her the eye when they walked by and greeted her with salacious smiles, as if they were reliving indulgent pleasures. Such knowing looks were unspoken claims of mutual understanding as if the men were tied to her in countless ways. In front of others, the smiles were replaced by sanctimonious looks that said "Nothing wrong here." How sickening. That's not to say she was unaware that something had happened between them and her. But terrifying fear kept her from bringing it into the open. They, of course, weren't about to either. Which made them coconspirators—joint keepers of a secret. She was one of them.

  Fortunately Yuxiu had enough self-awareness to avoid crowds unless it was absolutely necessary. That brought her a measure of tranquillity, but not without a cost: She became unbearably lonely. As someone who was used to being popular, this change was especially hard to take. The only people she felt comfortable around were the most inferior, those shunned by everyone else. Either they came from families with bad backgrounds, or they weren't very smart, or they were seen as flighty. Before all this had happened, Yuxiu would have shunned them too. Now that she had no choice, she derived little joy and rather a lot of unhappiness and bitterness from her association with them. But there it was again—she had no choice.

  That's not to say they didn't get along, mainly because they idolized her and were proud to be seen as her friends. They looked up to her and saw her as their model, and she found that gratifying. They followed in her wake, emulating everything she did and said, as if she had joined their ranks. Their looks of pride, however, only made them appear even more stupid. If they had a disagreement with someone else, words that Yuxiu had used became their weapon.

  "That's what Yuxiu said," was their declaration of war. "That's how Yuxiu does it" would be spoken with passion, the speakers secure in the knowledge that they had nothing to fear. It removed all doubt. This gave Yuxiu a sense of accomplishment, for she placed great stock in the effect she had on people.

  "Better to be the head of a chicken than the tail of a phoenix" was her motto. Everything seemed to be going well, but the good times could not last. One day she made such a fool of herself that she could no longer stay in Wang Family Village. The incident centered on Zhang Huaizhen, who lived nearby, one lane over. Although Zhang and Yuxiu had never been close in the past, she was an intelligent girl, not one to be taken lightly. Fate had dictated that she be born into the wrong family—a very bad family, in fact.

  Just how bad was complicated and requires more than a brief explanation. The girl had reached marrying age, but none of the prospective matches had panned out. So the matchmaker proposed what she considered the perfect match—in this case, the grandson of a national traitor. The boy agreed and sent over a jin of brown sugar, another of white sugar, coupons for two jin of grain, a coupon for six chi of fabric, and two and a half jin of streaky pork. All in all, a generous amount of betrothal gifts. Huaizhen said no, and nothing could change her mind, not even her mother's persuasive arguments.

  She returned the gifts and immediately turned into a willing mute, going all day long without saying a word. People in the village assumed that the matchmaker had said something so hurtful that the girl had stopped talking. The matchmaker, who'd suffered a great loss of face, pointed at a bitch on the side of the road and said, "You think you can open those legs of yours and win over the masses. Well, dream on." At that moment, Zhang Huaizhen vowed to never marry. From that day on, she walked around with the face of a widow, ignoring everyone who came to her door with marriage proposals.

  Then for some reason she and Yuxiu became friends, able to talk freely about all manner of things. Having a friend like Yuxiu instilled a sense of pride in Huaizhen, who was transformed into a real chatterbox, never failing to sing Yuxiu's praises to anyone who would listen. On this particular afternoon, she met Yuxiu on the bridge on her way home from the fields, carrying a hoe on her shoulder.

  Huaizhen was not quite herself that day, possibly because there were so many people around. Wanting to show everyone that she and Yuxiu were more than ordinary friends, she ostentatiously draped her arm around Yuxiu's shoulder just as a group of young men were walking up. Wanting to look good, Yuxiu tried to toss her hair, but it was caught under Huaizhen's arm.

  "Take your arm away, Huaizhen," she said. But instead, Huaizhen hugged Yuxiu even closer, which pulled Yuxiu's blouse to the side and gave her a slovenly look. Yuxiu was very unhappy, so she wrinkled her nose and said, "Huaizhen, why is your underarm odor so strong?"

  Everyone heard her. Huaizhen was stunned that Yuxiu would say something like that. Without a word, she removed her arm, turned, and walked home. By dinnertime that night, Yuxiu's calamity was on its way, although she did not know it. She was eating a bowl of rice porridge at the head of the lane when a group of a dozen or so boys from five to about eight years in age walked up to her door, each with a handful of broad beans. " Kuang kuang kuang," they hollered as they ate the beans, "Piss Pot Wang, kuang kuang kuang, Shit Can Wang." At first she didn't pay attention and wasn't sure what Piss Pot Wang and Shit Can Wang referred to. But she quickly figured out what they meant.

  The real hurt came from the word "Wang." In other words, the boys were calling her "Queen of the Piss Pot" and "Queen of the Shit Can." She simply stood there, rice bowl in one hand, chopsticks in the other, and acted dumb. She couldn't make them stop, and they were so loud that several other kids walked up to join them. Crowds are like that: As long as they make enough noise, plenty of people will join in. This particular crowd kept getting bigger and began taking on the look of a parade.

  They yelled so loud that their faces turned red and their necks thickened.

  "Kuang kuang kuang, Piss Pot Wang, kuang kuang kuang, Shit Can Wang, kuang kuang kuang, Piss Pot Wang, kuang kuang kuang, Shit Can Wang."

  Too young to realize what they were doing, they thought that they were just having fun. But while they may not have known what they were saying, people who heard them did. Things were getting interesting. Before Yuxiu knew it, the lane was filled with people, mostly adults. As if they were watching an outdoor opera, they laughed and talked and had a grand time. Piss Pot and Shit Can.

  At first the words had only hinted at something, and were little more than a verbal game. But not now. They had floated to the surface, had gone public, and had taken on fixed meanings. They had become slogans invested with deep emotional impact. Everyone who witnessed the incident knew that.

  Meanwhile, Yuxiu stood there not knowing what to say or do, and her face underwent a slow change. She felt a greater shame than if she had been standing there naked. She might as well have been a dog. The sun was about to set behind the mountain, and the sky above Wang Family Village turned blood red. As she stood in the lane, Yuxiu felt like biting someone, but she didn't have the strength. The soupy rice had long since dribbled down her chin. "Kuang kuang kuang, Piss Pot Wang. Kuang kuang kuang, Shit Can Wang! Kuang kuang kuang, Piss Pot Wang. Kuang kuang kuang, Shit Can Wang!" It had a nice ring to it, like a chant.

  Before she left home, Yuxiu swore that once she walked out the front door, she would never again set foot in Wang Family Village. She'd be ashamed to show her face in this place. She had no interest in settling scores with its residents. If everyone is your enemy, it is the same as having no enemies. When there are too many lice, you stop scratching.

  Yuxiu accepted what had befallen her. She could let everyone off the hook but the little whore Yusui. Thanks to her, Yuxiu was no longer able to hold her head up in Wang Family Village
. If the little whore had never uttered those evil, hurtful words, none of this would have happened. The girl would have to pay, especially since she was her own sister. This was one score Yuxiu was determined to settle. And once she'd made up her mind, she swung into action.

  One morning before the sun was up, Yuxiu got out of bed and tiptoed up to Yusui's bed with a kerosene lantern.

  The little whore really was a simpleton; she looked dumber than other people even when she slept, with her arms and legs spread all over the place like a dead pig. Yuxiu set down the lantern and took out a pair of scissors. In a matter of seconds, Yusui was bald on one side, not neatly, but as if a dog had gnawed on her hair. It changed her appearance so much that she looked like a different—and very strange—person.

  After laying the locks of hair in Yusui's hand, Yuxiu slapped her sister twice and ran. She'd barely made it to the door when she heard odd noises coming from Yusui. Seeing her own hair in her hand must have scared the little whore silly, especially since she had no idea what had happened. All she could do was scream.

  Yuxiu ran as fast and as far as she could, and when she conjured up the bizarre image of Yusui holding clumps of her own hair in her hand, she had to laugh. Soon she was laughing so hard her body seemed to get lighter and she could barely breathe. Few people were as stupid as Yusui, the little whore. It took her forever to realize that her cheeks were stinging. The little whore's head must be filled with pig intestines.

  Once she had settled into a room in the commune compound, Yuxiu uncharacteristically turned into a hardworking, almost servile resident. Yumi could tell that her sister had come to Broken Bridge not because she was clever enough to anticipate Yumi's plan. Not at all. The little fox fairy had dragged her broken tail to town because she couldn't stay another day in Wang Family Village. That was a fact.

  Yumi would know what sort of fart was coming whenever Yuxiu fidgeted. Pleased with the change in her newly servile sister, she saw no need to tell her about the purchasing station, not yet. Better to give her time to put her lazy past behind her and get rid of her haughty ways. Things had changed, and Yumi was beginning to place a bit of hope in Yuxiu. Time for her to learn how to get along in this world. The girl's flirty nature had been a constant worry, but no longer.