Before the wedding, many things needed to be bought, and Shijun planned to go to Shanghai. He said to Cuizhi, "I'll also visit Shuhui and ask him to be my best man. He can help with many other things. Don't let his jovial demeanor fool you; he's really capable. I truly admire him." Cuizhi didn't say anything at first, but after a while, she suddenly said indignantly, "I don't understand why you always praise Shuhui, as if you're inferior to him in every way. Actually, you're much better than him, a million times better!" She hugged him and buried her face in his shoulder. Shijun had never seen her show such enthusiasm before, and he was somewhat flattered. At the same time, he felt ashamed because her enthusiasm for him was so naive, while he himself was probably still a little uneasy. It was for this reason that he was eager to talk to Shuhui in person and discuss things with him.
When he arrived in Shanghai, knowing that Shuhui wouldn't be home until Sunday, he went directly to Yang Shupu's dormitory to find him. Shuhui had already finished get off work, and Shijun noticed that he was wearing a gray woolen vest. Manzhen had made two of the same vests and given them to the two of them before. Shijun hadn't worn his vest in a long time, but he couldn't stop others from wearing it.
The two were taking a walk in the suburbs when Shuhui said, "You've come at just the right time. I have a few things I want to say to you in person, which I can't write in a letter." Shijun smiled and asked, "What's so mysterious about it?" Shuhui smiled and said, "I'm leaving Shanghai next month." Shijun asked, "Where are you going?" "Wow, one of my colleagues from the factory has also been arrested. He shared a room with me in the dormitory. He's a very nice person. I always borrowed books from him and liked to have long talks with him. So, since I met him, I feel that my thinking has changed a lot." Hearing this, Shijun understood a bit and whispered, "Are you going to the Northwest?" At that time, the Red Army was marching north to fight the Japanese and had already reached northern Shaanxi. Shuhui nodded. Shijun paused for a moment, then whispered again, "Is it dangerous for you here? Is it glorious? I just think that for an engineer like us, staying here, no matter how hard you try, you're just serving the ruling class. It's better to go over there, where you can truly do something for the people."
Shijun nodded silently. They walked in the open field. The factories in Yangshupu had all closed for the day, and the whistles of many ships wailed far and near, while smoke from the chimneys rose straight up against the crimson sunset. Suddenly, Shuhui grasped Shijun's hand and said, "Why don't you go too? People like us with a little skill always want to do something for society, but look at what kind of society this is." Shijun said, "I think anyone with a modicum of thought wouldn't deny that our society is deformed and unreasonable, but—" Shuhui smiled and said, "But what?" Shijun looked at him and smiled, saying, "I lack your revolutionary spirit." Shuhui was silent for a moment, then said, "I'll really be disappointed if you don't go. You really should go and see."
"It's worth seeing—it's a completely new atmosphere. I think if there's still hope for China, that hope lies there." The two walked in silence for a while longer before Shijun said, "Actually, I—I'd like to go, but my situation isn't so simple." Shuhui thought he was making excuses, so he didn't say anything. After a while, he couldn't help but say, "Actually, now that your father has passed away, aren't you more free? You can arrange things at home, and your mother's life won't be a problem. You can just get up and leave." Shijun didn't speak, and after a while, he smiled at him and said, "The truth is, I—I'm getting married." Shuhui seemed to have expected this news and wasn't surprised. Shijun knew he must have misunderstood, thinking he was marrying Manzhen, so before he could speak, he quickly added, "I'm engaged to Cuizhi." Shuhui was stunned and said, "You and Cuizhi?" Then he suddenly laughed.
Shijun felt that his attitude was somewhat insulting, and he didn't know if it was directed at Cuizhi or at him, but in any case, it was very infuriating.
After laughing, Shu Hui said, "If you marry Cui Zhi, you'll be completely stuck. You'll be stuck as the husband of a rich man's wife for the rest of your life, obediently living as a submissive citizen of this old society." Shi Jun just smiled faintly and said, "That depends on each person." He was clearly not happy, and Shu Hui noticed it too. She then condemned herself for opposing their marriage. Was there still some selfishness in her heart? On the one hand, reason wouldn't allow her to get close to Cui Zhi, but on the other hand, she didn't want anyone else to possess her. That would be too despicable. Thinking this, she decided not to say anything, even though she had many things she wanted to say to Shi Jun.
He laughed, "Look at me, how unreasonable of me! I haven't even congratulated you yet, and I'm already arguing with you!" Shijun laughed too. Shuhui then asked, "When did you two get engaged?" Shijun replied, "Just recently." He felt he needed to explain, because Shuhui knew better than anyone that he had never liked Cuizhi. So he said, "You remember, my sister-in-law introduced us to someone before, but she was still a child then. As for me, I guess I was a bit childish back then; the more they tried to introduce me to someone, the less I wanted to." His tone suggested that his willful youth was over, and now he was steadily entering middle age, following the conventional lifestyle of people in his social class, embarking on the journey of life in a conventional way. Hearing his words, Shuhui felt a pang of sadness. They walked slowly through the countryside; dusk was falling, and a flock of crows cawed overhead. Shi Jun brought up the matter of asking him to be his best man again, but Shu Hui declined, saying that he was about to leave and probably wouldn't be able to attend Shi Jun's wedding. However, Shi Jun said that if he couldn't make it, he would rather move the wedding date forward, and he was sure Cui Zhi would agree. Seeing his insistence, Shu Hui couldn't refuse.
That evening, Shuhui invited him to have dinner at his dormitory. They talked for a while afterward before he left. He was staying at his uncle's house this time. After staying for a few days and buying most of his things, he returned to Nanjing.
Shuhui arrived in Nanjing the day before their wedding. Weddings are always noisy and chaotic, with the house in disarray. Despite her busy schedule, Mrs. Shen still managed to arrange a guest room for Shuhui. Their own home was rather cramped, but this wedding was quite grand. The ceremony was held first at the Central Hotel, followed by a banquet at a large restaurant that evening. When Cuizhi appeared at the restaurant, she had changed into casual clothes: a bright red velvet narrow-sleeved cheongsam with a bright red velvet vest over it—the most fashionable style at the time. Shuhui watched her from afar under the lamplight. It had been so long, almost a year. The last time they met, he congratulated her on her engagement to Yipeng; now he was congratulating her again. Always an outsider, he couldn't help but feel a pang of emotion. As the best man, he should have sat at the same table as the bride and groom, but because he was good at socializing and needed to entertain guests, he was placed at a different table.
Perhaps because of him, their table was particularly lively, with a lot of boisterous drinking. Shu Hui's finger-guessing skills weren't very good, but he refused to admit defeat, so he ended up drinking the most.
Later, everyone took turns toasting the newlyweds. Shu Hui joined in the teasing, and everyone started nagging them to recount their courtship. After a long standoff, someone tried to smooth things over, suggesting they simply hold hands in public. This might have been a difficult situation for a traditional bride and groom, but for them, a modern marriage based on love, what was a simple handshake? However, Cui Zhi was stubborn; she just sat there with her head down. Shi Jun was too young and inexperienced. It was Shu Hui who stepped in to help them out, forcefully pulling Cui Zhi's hand and saying with a smile, "Come on, Shi Jun, put your hand out, quick!" But then Cui Zhi suddenly looked up, staring blankly at Shu Hui. Shu Hui must have been drunk; for some reason, he wouldn't let go of her hand. Shi Jun thought to himself, "Cui Zhi must be angry. Her face is pale; she looks like she's about to cry."
After the banquet, some people went back to their homes with them to continue the wedding festivities, but Shu Hui did not participate. He had already told Shi Jun that he had to take the night train back to Shanghai that day because he was about to leave for the north and had many things to take care of. So when he returned to Shi Jun's house, he only told Mrs. Shen and then quietly took his suitcase and hired a car to leave.
The guests who were making a ruckus on the wedding night didn't leave until very late. The room, which had been packed with people, should have felt much more spacious now that everyone was gone, but on the contrary, for some reason, it felt smaller and the ceiling was too low, almost suffocating. Shijun stretched, feigning leisure. Cuizhi asked, "Who was that chubby little boy who was making the most noise?" They talked about the guests one by one, praising Miss So-and-so as the most eye-catching, Mrs. So-and-so as the most "crazy," and someone else as the most comical. They talked for a long time, seemingly enjoying it immensely. Several tall glass dishes filled with various candies sat on the table. Shijun, like a host, offered her some, and she ate a little of each. This room was originally their family's sitting room. After some renovations, Mrs. Shen, catering to the younger generation's tastes, didn't use bright red everywhere like in traditional new houses, creating a sea of blood. Now, the room was decorated elegantly, more like a Western-style hotel room. However, there was a pair of silver candlesticks on the table, with two red candles lit. Only these red candles in the deep of night had a hint of a bridal chamber.
Cuizhi said, "Shuhui is really drunk today." Shijun laughed and said, "You're right!"
I'm genuinely worried about how he'll get on the train alone." Cuizhi was silent for a moment, then added, "By the time he sobers up, who knows where the train will be."
She sat in front of the dressing table brushing her hair, which was covered in red and green confetti.
Shijun then told her about his uncle's old aunt, who was a devout Buddhist and hadn't left the house for one or two decades, yet she had come to attend the ceremony today. Cuizhi, brushing her hair, suddenly remembered and said, "Did you see Amy's hair today? It's very special." Shijun said, "Oh? I didn't notice." Cuizhi said, "It's said to be the latest style in Shanghai."
Did you see it when you went to Shanghai last time? Shi Jun thought for a moment and said, "I don't know."
I hadn't paid attention. —”
As the conversation dwindled, Shijun chuckled, "You must be tired today, right?" Cuizhi replied, "I'm fine." Shijun said, "I'm not sleepy at all. I guess talking so much has actually made me more alert. I'd like to sit a little longer and read a book. You should go to sleep first." Cuizhi said, "Okay."
Shijun was looking at a magazine. Cuizhi continued brushing her hair, and after finishing, she took off her jewelry one by one and put it in the dressing table drawer. Seeing that she was moving slowly, Shijun thought that she probably felt uncomfortable undressing and getting into bed in front of people, so he laughed and said, "You probably can't sleep with the light on, right?" Cuizhi smiled and said, "Yes." Shijun said, "I have that habit too." He stood up and turned off the light, then turned on another desk lamp to read, and the room immediately became dark.
After a while, he turned his head to look and saw that she was still awake, but was clipping her fingernails by candlelight. It was indeed late; one of the two candles had already burned out. According to superstition, this was a very bad omen. Although Cuizhi might not believe in such things, Shijun still took note, simply smiling and saying, "Oh, the candles are all gone. Aren't you going to sleep?" Cuizhi replied after a moment, "I'm going to sleep." Shijun noticed her voice was a little hoarse and wondered if she had cried again because he had been cold to her? Could it be because one of the candles had burned out first?
He glanced at her intently, but just then, she happened to use the scissors she used to trim the candle wick. With one snip, the flame of the red candle dipped downwards, and for a moment, everything went black. When she finished trimming, the candlelight flickered back on, illuminating her face, which was now perfectly calm. But Shijun knew she must have been crying.
He walked up to her and smiled, asking repeatedly, "Why are you unhappy again?" She first pushed him away in annoyance, then suddenly grabbed his clothes and burst into tears, blurting out, "Shijun, what should I do? You don't like me, and I—I don't like you either. It's too late now, isn't it?"
Of course, it was too late. What she said was exactly what he was thinking. He admired her courage to say it, but what good would it do to say such things?
He could only murmur words of comfort to her: "Don't think like that. No matter what, I'll always love you—Cuizhi, really, don't worry. Don't be like this. Don't cry. —Hey, Cuizhi." He whispered comforting words in her ear, but in truth, he himself felt just as lost and confused as she did. He felt like they were two children who had gotten into trouble.
Fourteen (1)
Manzhen was hospitalized due to a difficult childbirth. The Zhu family had originally hired an obstetrician to deliver the baby at their home. This was a female doctor they knew well, someone who often played cards with Manlu. This doctor was a refined and discerning individual, familiar with many strange occurrences in wealthy families, and therefore unfazed. Manlu trusted her. However, her medical skills were not particularly advanced, and then the difficult labor occurred. She insisted on taking Manzhen to the hospital, but the Zhu family kept delaying, unwilling to let her leave the house, until finally, at the last minute, they hastily drove her to a hospital.
Manlu accompanied her there. Manlu's idea was to have her stay in a first-class ward to isolate her from the outside world as much as possible. However, both first and second-class wards were full, and they were afraid of delaying her by going to another hospital, so they ended up having to stay in a third-class ward.
Manzhen was already unconscious when she left the Zhu family home, but as the car door slammed shut and the car slowly drove away, the large iron gate to the garden swung open with a clang, and suddenly a clear feeling washed over her. She was finally out. She'd rather die outside. She hated that house; this time she would never go back, unless in a nightmare. She knew she would dream of it. No matter how old she got, she would never forget that palace-like house and garden; in her terrifying dreams, she would return there again and again.
She gave birth to a boy in the hospital, weighing only five pounds. She thought he wouldn't survive. The night shift nurse brought the baby to her to breastfeed, and she gazed at his red face in the dim yellow light. Before the child was born, her feelings towards him were more hatred than anything else, even though she knew the child was innocent. Even now, with the child here in her arms, she still felt a slight, tinge of disgust amidst her surprise. Who did he look like? Actually, this newborn baby didn't resemble anyone, only a red, skinned kitten, but Manzhen seemed to find something suspicious about his face, making her wonder if he looked a bit like Zhu Hongcai. —In any case, he didn't resemble her at all. Some people say that if a mother often thinks of someone while the child is in the womb, the child will grow to resemble that person. —Does he look like Shijun? It's really hard to tell.
Thinking of Shijun, she immediately felt a surge of turmoil. During her years of confinement in the Zhu family, she longed to see him, to tell him everything, for only he could offer her comfort. She seemed never to have considered that she already had a child with someone else; would he treat her differently? That was only natural, wasn't it? But she had idealized him, believing he would only love her more because of all the suffering she had endured. In her pain, she was fortunate to have such an absolutely trustworthy person, someone she could think of constantly—her only solace. But now, she was about to regain her freedom, and perhaps soon she would see him again, yet worry had arisen. What if he were in Shanghai, and happened to be visiting a friend in this hospital, passing by this room and seeing her—that would be wonderful, she could be rescued immediately. But—what if he happened to see this nursing child nestled beside her? Just thinking about it for him, it was truly unbearable.
She looked at the child, who was suckling at her breast with all his might, as if he wanted to drink her whole.
She needed to find a way to leave this hospital quickly, maybe even tomorrow, but she couldn't take the child with her. Her own future was uncertain; she didn't know what would happen after she left. She didn't need to worry about leaving the child with her sister; her sister wouldn't mistreat him. Hadn't she always wanted a son? But the child was too thin and weak.
She believed he would die.
She suddenly leaned down and kissed him tenderly. She felt that their relationship as mother and son was a fleeting encounter on the frontier of life and death, and they would soon be separated, but for the moment they were the closest people in the world.
When the caregiver came to take the child away, she asked the caregiver for a glass of water. She had already asked for this when the caregiver came to take her child's temperature last time, and she asked again now, but the caregiver still hadn't brought it. She was so thirsty that she had to shout loudly, "Miss Zheng! Miss Zheng!"
But this woke up a woman in labor in the next bed; she heard the man coughing.
A white cloth screen separated their two beds. They had spoken through the screen before; the woman had asked Manzhen if this was her first child, and whether it was a boy or a girl. She herself had also given birth to a boy, on the same day as Manzhen's child, less than an hour apart. The woman's voice sounded very young, yet she was already a mother of four. Her husband's surname was Cai, and her name was Jinfang; the couple made a living by running an egg stall at the small market. That night, Manzhen heard her cough and said, "Mrs. Cai, did I wake you?" Cai Jinfang replied, "It's alright. The caregivers here are awful; you have to beg them like a beggar to do anything, calling out 'Miss, Miss' at the top of your lungs."
I'm so angry and upset. Thinking about it, it's true, I can't stand being treated badly by my parents-in-law, but I come here to be treated badly by them!
Cai Jinfang turned over and asked again, "Mrs. Zhu, didn't your sister-in-law come to see you today?"
Manzhen was completely confused. Who was "Mrs. Zhu"? Who was "sister-in-law"? Then she suddenly remembered that when Manlu took her to the hospital, she probably registered her as Mrs. Zhu Hongcai. Manlu had been visiting her every day for the past few days, and everyone in the hospital knew that she also had the surname Zhu and assumed that she was from Manzhen's in-laws.
Seeing that Manzhen couldn't answer, Jinfang asked again, "Is she your sister-in-law?" Manzhen could only give a vague reply. Jinfang then asked, "Is your husband not in Shanghai?" Manzhen hummed in response, but felt very sad inside.
It was late at night, and everyone in the room except the two of them was fast asleep. Outside the window, the sky was pitch black, with a white cross embedded in the white-painted window frame. Under the dim light, Manzhen told Cai Jinfang everything that had happened to her. She and Jinfang had never met, but she instinctively felt that Jinfang was a kind person, and that she desperately needed help. She had originally planned to tell the local doctors as soon as she had the chance to request an early discharge without waiting for her family to pick her up. Or she could have told the nurses to relay the message, but the doctors and nurses here clearly didn't care about patients in third-class wards; who would bother with their family disputes?
Moreover, given how bizarre her story was, would anyone believe her? What if Manlu insisted she was mentally ill and, while she was still recovering and lacked the strength to struggle, forcibly dragged her back? Although there were many people in the hospital, who had time to deal with such trivial matters? Looking at herself, she did indeed resemble a mental patient somewhat. Her hair was very long, tangled and hanging loosely over her shoulders. There was no mirror here, so she couldn't see her face, but she could see that her hands had become so pale, her wrists as thin as sticks, and one of her constricting bones protruding high.
As long as she had a little strength in her legs and could stand up, she would quietly slip away. But now, even sitting up made her dizzy; she hated her body for being so weak. She discussed with Jin Fang the possibility of asking Jin Fang's husband to send a message home, asking her mother to come and pick her up immediately. Actually, she didn't think this was the best approach. She didn't know her mother's true attitude; she was probably already bribed by her sister. Otherwise, why hadn't they tried to rescue her after she'd been deprived of her freedom for almost a year? This was what pained her most—she couldn't believe her own mother treated her this way. She was even worse off than a complete stranger like Cai Jin Fang.
Jin Fang was furious, saying that her sister and brother-in-law were no human beings, and said, "Drag them to the police station!" Man Zhen hurriedly said, "Be gentle!" The caretaker sitting at the door knitting occasionally made a soft "tap" sound with his bamboo needle.