英文小说：A Shadow in Surfers Paradise(64)天堂之影

何木

Chapter 64            1/2




He ought to feel guilty when he got home, but he couldn’t. He was bad, a bad egg as his wife put it. But in his bad theory, the mankind was indeed a bad result of a bad egg.

‘Has the problem been fixed?’ she asked.

‘Yes, finally.’

And strangely, for the next few days, he didn’t feel he loved his wife any less or more. Or he didn’t know, and was not sure, what love is. For thousands of years, people have been trying to sense the reality, yet only have grasped a stereotype. The fineness, and symmetry, and all that define a beauty, that are essential to develop such a ‘love’ feeling, are no more than a false interpretation of a human’s rather unreasonable brain work. In a sense, love is just a desperate, short-term outburst of a person’s greed and fantasy, out of a heart that is forever hollow, wishing to be fixed, and to join with others, permanently, but could only be touched, at most.

So out of the black hole of his being, he wanted to be touched again by Vivian. He called her a number of times, persuading her to spend time with him. But she had said, ‘I have to wait and see.’

At last she yielded and said she could take one day off.  

On the morning he woke up very early, close to dawn. Their appointment was at 10:30am, at her hotel where he would pick her up and go to a beach. Due to his hot anticipation he had not slept well; so he decided to doze a little longer, lingering in bed with his eyelids closed, until 7am when he couldn’t stay and pretend any longer. Beside him, Qiuyan was in a sound sleep.

He got up and wandered about the house, and beyond. The pavements in the yards, and the neat sidewalks along the street were vacant with dew. But it was not all silence. Either birds or early cars could destroy it. There was also a gentle cat, not far away from him, walking alone, which paused to look derisively at him for a second or two, then resumed its walk, its lonesome buttocks inspiring his sympathy. It was not as friendly as the one he had encountered in Melbourne, or it would have come flirting at him.

He heard a dove calling. By now, he knew it was the spotted turtle-dove, instead of ravens he had previously thought, that was making so melancholy a sound. But this morning he decided not to be sentimental. Every one has to die, sooner or later, naturally, or accidentally, unless one chooses to end his own life. He remembered reading a story about a Sydney teenager, who had taken his life. In his diary he said life without sorrow was boring, that as soon as he felt happy he had no inspiration.

Ah, what a young wisdom, and old, so brutal and tragic! To think the boy had ever lived in a country that was endowed with a lot of sun, and clean air, and where hunger was not a chief concern.   

Back in his house, time seemed to march like a snail. He had an unfinished book, but how could he read? Then he felt hungry, which was common when one had not had enough sleep. So he decided to toast some bread, while realising he had not even brushed his teeth.

So he went to brush his teeth, trying not to disturb his wife. After that, he fiddled with his belt and pants, and sat on the toilet, where he could hardly tolerate the idleness of his hands. So from the window sill he picked up a book, and began to read. The article was titled ‘No station in one’s life’. It said a life, between birth and death, has no predetermined stations that will stop and start like a bus or a train journey, and there is only one final stop, even that can’t be defined in terms of time.

It was an interesting article, indeed. Then an idea crossed his mind - what if he was killed by a car accident today? Say in the city, on his way to meet Vivian? Or afterwards, both of them dead in the car? And with two condoms in his pocket that he had purposefully prepared? What would his wife think and suffer from this? Ah…

Anyway, his time in the toilet seemed to have run faster, so that he was now scorching two pieces of bread. The toaster was very old, as old as Adina. But it continued to work, which was as good a thing, he believed, that this manufacturer had ever made. Its dark surface was stained with crumbs, and even with dead insects if he was not mistaken. Qiuyan seemed to have cleaned everything but this device.

The bread steamed warm, its body hardened. He fetched the jar of Vegemite, and as usual, spent some time in studying its nutritional information. It said it was rich in vitamin B, but he never had a clue how that benefited a body. He knew ‘A’ was good for the eyes, ‘C’ and ‘E’ were antioxidants that would defend cells against the damage of free radicals and help a person live a few more years.

With a knife he spread the substance onto the bread, as evenly as he could. After that he dropped the knife into the sink, where it would be cleaned and put away for its next use, invariably by his wife. It was one of the chores she had been doing, that would last as long as life lasts.

He was eating the sandwich, chewing its bitterness. The trip to the city would take about an hour, and Vivian should wait for him at the front of the hotel, to save the trouble of parking. So no rush, after his breakfast, he turned on his computer. With a beep, he was welcomed by Windows, accompanied by a noise sounding like rats.

He went to an internet forum. He clicked, clicked, and clicked, and finally settled on a post, ‘My husband doesn’t sleep at night. He is sneaky and always chatting online’.

He joined the discussion. The opinions were many, sympathies cheap. Some were very excited as if this were an affair of celebrities, or of themselves, real or imaginary. Slowly his restless mind began to settle, together with hundreds of other lonely souls, who, masked, had found online freedom to let out their obscure, inner, and often vulgar and insane thoughts.  

‘Why did you get up so early today?’ Quiyan asked from his back.

Startled he twisted his head, ‘I forgot to do something yesterday.’

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘it is already twenty past eight, aren’t you going to work?’

‘I have a conference call late this evening, so I don’t have to rush to the office.’ His lie was a fiction of a gifted novelist.  

She left him, and he watched her walking into Adina’s room. She was not unattractive. After all, her skin and fingers were better than Vivian’s.

Then his mobile rang. It was a strange number. It must be from Vivian. Was she going to cancel their appointment? He was afraid.

‘Hello?’ he said, anxiously.

‘Ni Hao, I am from Paradise Home Loans, are you the owner of the house?’ said a voice in Chinese, nice and soft and sweet, as if cooing him to sleep with her.

He was relieved.

‘Eh, no, I rent this place,’ he said smartly.

‘Oh, really, can I then talk to the owner, please?’

‘No. They are not here, all gone to work, bye, bye, you have a nice day.’

He hung up. He had to be firm with the telemarketers, at the very beginning. Otherwise they would soon trap you into a situation.

But how had they obtained his mobile number? He wondered, as he walked into the garage, where his journey had just begun.

He saw Vivian standing on the porch. She was dressed fashionably, still with her opal pendant and jade bracelet. Her flared skirt was orange, reaching her knees, with a purplish straw-plaited belt as a sash. Her T-shirt was striped black and white, and her light yellow, wide-brimmed straw-hat was adorned with some artificial flowers.

Now he felt his shabby Toyota was inadequate to host her, so dainty did she appear.

‘Have you had your breakfast?’ he asked, in a voice that became a little humble under her bright influence.   

‘No,’ she said, settling gracefully on the passenger seat.

‘Then you must be very hungry,’ he added, imaging her dressing herself up this whole morning.

‘Yes,’ she smiled, ‘so I want something big.’

He chuckled, ‘You make me hungry too.

The car went straight to a two-storey seafood restaurant close to Little Beach. After parking his car, he led her hand in hand to sit at a table at the front. Vivian understood the menu very well, and ordered things with which Bing was not quite familiar.   

‘So you are not allergic to fish?’ he asked, as soon as the waitress delivered her main food.

‘Fish is fine, but not prawns or crabs,’ she said, beginning to cut it formally with a knife and fork .

Bing was waiting for his steak. But his beer had arrived, so had her cocktail, which stood on the table reflecting her own elegance. Its multi-coloured liquid, in which a straw slanted, and the miniature umbrella, and the cherry, and the slice of melon clipped on the edge of the inverted cone glass, were all the delicate elements that made their table ostentatious in one’s eyes.

And her jaw moved, with her closed mouth eating a piece of fish. ‘You aren’t as hungry as you said,’ he said.

‘Am I not?’ she said, looking at him from under her slightly painted lids, and now forking a fat potato wedge into her mouth, ‘How about that?’

‘Vivian, you are seducing me,’ he laughed.

‘Do I have no right?’ she asked, and absorbed the cocktail that surged through the straw. ‘I know, you don’t.’

Her soft lips left the straw; the liquid dived back into the glass. He looked at her, grinning.  

‘Why are you staring at me?’ she asked.

‘I wondered if your cocktail had a fair amount of alcohol, that would turn you wilder than you were at the Opera House, or, even at our first time on the train?’

‘Wang Bing, don’t tempt me,’ she said, ‘I am a free-radical, very dangerous.’

He chuckled, and began to cut and eat his steak, which had just been delivered. ‘Is it fun being single again?’

‘Sort of,’ she said, ‘I have now an insensitive heart, no sorrow, no pain, but fun.’

After their lunch or what, they went towards Bare Island.

‘This suburb is called La Perouse,’ he said, stressing the name.

‘Oh, what a sexy name,’ she laughed, and caught his waist.

They ambled along, then he remembered something and said, ‘We need to get some drink.’

They returned to the street, where they found a liquor shop and stepped in, and found themselves in a world of bottles and cans and cartons, but amazing he smelt no alcohol.

‘An Australian bottle shop is a kind of inventory’ he said.

‘I think you need a license to sell it,’ she said.

‘Yes,’ he said, understanding she had more knowledge about things and ways of western countries. And he knew she liked to drink, but he had never seen her exceed her limit. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he could make her drunk today? Would she become truer than herself, and perhaps permit him to sneak further into the depth of her soul?

‘Excuse me, may I help you?’ the shopman came over, after dealing with another customer.

‘Oh, yes, we are looking for something,’ he found it not easy to articulate his want. ‘We want something, not heavy, and not beer. Any advice?’

‘Then wine, red or white.’

Vivian asked, ‘Do you have Tasmanian whisky?’

‘Of course,’ the man replied, gleefully. ‘This is Australia.’

Bing asked uncertainly, ‘Is it strong?’

‘Well, you can always dilute it with soda or lemonade or coke,’ the man replied.

Bing turned to Vivian, who gave an unasked answer, ‘Lemonade please.’

So, after also purchasing from another shop two bags of pistachio and macadamia, and a bottle of water, as well as two cups, they went on with their trip. The sun was not very crazy, and the air was balmy, and the white clouds, like ruffled cotton scattering the sky, shielded some hazardous rays that could kiss one’s skin into cancer. Neither a hot tourist spot, nor at the hour for after-meal walks, the place was quiet. In this season Australians might be busy preparing Christmas gifts, which, unfortunately, was not quite an activity for him, who could find little enthusiasm for either Western or Chinese festivals. It seemed to him, since migrating, the sorts of living rituals were gone; his life calendar was devoid of any meaningful occasions, marked or not.  

‘I should have also put sun cream on my arms and legs,’ she said.

‘I thought you had already done that,’ he said, gently brushing her bare arms. ‘But well, we shall be sheltered soon. And also do you know some sunlight help your body produce vitamin A?’

‘Yes, but it will darken my skin.’

‘But a black and ripened swan is still beautiful.’

‘No, no, no,’ she laughed, and pursed her lips, and, unintentionally received a kiss from him.

They reached the plateau of the terrace. Now the bay and the island lay beneath their eyes. ‘So beautiful,’ she sighed, ‘Oh, I forgot to bring my camera. How could I have forgotten about that?’

‘But at least you have remembered to put on your skirt,’ he said.

Quite absorbed in the vista, she didn’t respond to his remark. The water was breaking on the rocks, causing the splashing foam to sparkle, marvellously. The curve of the beach in the little bay was acute. The island, with some sort of construction on it, was not quite bare, with a slender and fantastic bridge linking it to the mainland. The seagulls shrieked, with their pale wings sailing across the sky, or hovering above the wave.

‘Oh, I should have brought my camera,’ Vivian said again, more regretfully than last time.

‘Well, do you really need the photos for our memory? Our brain will be imprinted with it,’ he said, and now found impulses to talk. ‘Living for now, rather than for the past or the future. Only an old, clumsy and immobile person has to suck the pleasure from the past. People, especially Chinese as I believe, tend to look into too far a future, while slighting their present lives. So that their childhood is sacrificed, with enormous homework overloading their little shoulders, so that their bachelor lives are spent in labouring towards a costly marriage that, to them, was destined and sacred, so that their living romance has to give way to raising their offspring, so that their holidays have to be cancelled in order to pay off their mortgage as fast as they can. And when they feel they are finally established, they begin to save more for their retirement, fancying they would then, at last, have enough money and time and bones to go around the world, to enjoy the residues of their love, if any, with their partners. So they wait, they hope forever, until their teeth are lost, their tastebuds dulled, their eyes and limbs impaired, until…’

‘Oh, Wang Bing,’ Vivian laughed, evidently amused by his chunk of rhetoric. ‘So you think people should live for the present and forget about the future?’

‘Well, nobody can ignore the future. What I am trying to strike is a balance, a consciousness of present quality of living. We need to balance the dimensions of an ordinary life, between young and old, present and future, earning and saving, love and responsibility, work and leisure, romance and routine, freedom and restriction.’

She broke his threads of thinking with a whisper, ‘I love you,’ which floated into his ears as if being carried over by the sea breeze.

‘Why?’ he was confused, frankly, at the time and the reason of her confession. He would take it in more naturally if she said that when she was drunk, or when they passionately kissed or made love. But she was sober; her words were far from an utterance at the moments of ecstasy.

‘Haha…’ Chortling, she didn’t answer him. ‘How silly you look. Oh, you are so scared.’

‘No, why do I have to be scared,’ he was embarrassed. ‘It was just like the first time you have said it in such a manner’

‘Well, I said it, because I want you to divorce your wife, and marry me, so that I can migrate to Australia,’ she said, lowering her head watching the rushing water under the bridge.

For a moment, he was made speechless, unsure of the nature of her words.

Then she burst, ‘Oh, my god, you look like a little boy, hahaha...’

Now becoming himself, he grabbed her body and lifted her a bit as if to throw her over the bridge. ‘You dare to make fun of me.’

‘Stop, stop, you are not going to murder me because of my intention to break up your family, are you?’ Her body was never so vibrant and animated in his capture. Then all at once two bodies were settled. fusing to each other; their lips were glued and their tongues penetrating, replaying their old scenes at the new place.

‘But I really love you,’ he said, at his high point of kissing.

But he didn’t let her open her mouth to speak.  

A sea gull was cackling.

‘Let’s go,’ he mumbled, and picking up their bags, he rotated her body to move on.

She had grown softer after the kiss, slumping against him as they trod on the wooden bridge, until they descended the side steps, reaching a floor of sandstone which was sensational, with a lot of bowl-shaped footprints left by the ancient animals.

‘Why don’t we take off our shoes,’ he suggested.

‘Good idea.’

So they took off their shoes and socks, and put them on a boulder.

‘It’s tickling, and warm,’ she said.

‘Look at the circles, and wavy lines. Aren’t they like the age rings of a tree?’

‘Better than that.’ She squatted down to touch the lines, with her skirt sweeping the rough but clean surface, like a butterfly.
Then they tottered further towards the other side of the rocky spread, and Vivian began to complain about her feet being sore. He ran back to get their shoes. But when he went to put on her socks and shoes for her, she changed her mind. ‘Maybe later, after all, it is kind of massage, free of charge.’




--to next post --

何木

Chapter 64     2/2




Then they sat in a shaded area, under which a cliff brow was protruding. Some water dripped down, reminding him of a stalactite in formation. Vivian gathered her skirt a bit. But the wind was gentle; there wouldn’t have been an effect like Marilyn Monroe’s.

‘Cheers, for...’ he toasted, searching for words.

She was waiting.

‘Hehe, for the second time of our meeting, after twenty years.’

‘Too plain, and flat,’ her big eyes were challenging, ‘say a good toast, or I don’t drink.’

‘You are so mean,’ he chided, but decided to try his best, ‘for your orange skirt.’

‘Why orange skirt?’

‘It is dazzling, irresistible, and makes me feel weak.’

‘Ha, okay then, for my orange skirt.’

Their cups were made of paper, so there was no clinking as they met each other.

‘Vivian, how could you keep so young. Do you exercise a lot, and keep on a diet?’

‘Young? not at all,’ she said quickly, though her face showed her happiness with his compliment. ‘Looking at me, wrinkles are appearing.’

He brushed her face with his fingers, and said, ‘Yes, so many, why haven’t I noticed before?’

‘What?’ she glowered at him. ‘Many? You are exaggerating.’

‘No, I am not. My eyes are like microscopes, and able to see your skin details many times smaller.’

‘That is even more exaggeration, but I do have some wrinkles around my eyes.’

‘But wrinkles can be beautiful,’ he said. ‘Look at the water surface. Glittering, it is all wrinkled. Isn’t it more beautiful than that of a smooth mirror?’

‘But a woman’s face is not water,’ she said, ruefully. ‘It is a flower, fading easily.’  

Sensing her turn of mood, he lifted his cup, and signalled her to drink. To his surprise, she finished it in one go. So did he.

After refilling their cups, he thought to cheer her up, ‘Ok, now, this cup is for…’

Again she was waiting.  

‘For your hair.’

‘Why my hair?’

‘Because it was your hair that enchanted me in the first place.’

The interest in her eyes was keen and encouraging.   

‘On the registration day in Shangwai, I was behind you when you sat with Ms. Tang.’

‘Oh,’ she said, sipping, instead of remembering. ‘Just my hair? But my hair has also begun to lose the lustre, splitting.’

‘Vivian, why are you pessimistic,’ he said, not merely to console her but to resort to sense. ‘To me, you have never been as charming as you are now. For some reason, I like more the current you than the past, more comfortable.’

‘You mean you didn’t like me as much before?’

‘Vivian, come on, you are such a proud person. Don’t concern yourself so much with the depth of your skin.’

‘But, not like men, we women have to.’ She drank, and seemed to sink further into sombreness. ‘My ex-husband went away with a girl, ten years younger than me. If it was not the skin, then tell me what it was?’

He couldn’t say but drank his whisky.

And she went on, ‘You know, in those days I often thought of you, really, and wondered if you would be different should I have married you. I knew in my heart you really loved me, at the university; I was then unable to receive it. Too young to understand those things.’

‘So now you understand those things?’

‘Don’t know, sometimes I thought I did.’

He went a bit further, ‘Do you still love him?’

‘Well, what is love, anyway.’ She drank, then becoming quiet, with her eyes casting out at the sea, and the undulating hills.

Then he grew braver, and blurted out, ‘Vivian, how many men have you been involved with?’

She was astounded, looking at him as if he were a stranger. ‘Do you have to feel interested?’

He was managing a silly chuckle, but his will was relentless. ‘Yes, I am interested. Would you mind telling it to like a friend?’

‘No,’ she said, firmly, moving her head away from him. ‘Please don’t press me. And I am not interested in how many women you have been with.’

Then he mimicked her words, very slowly, ‘So, you are not interested in knowing how many women I have been with?’

She swiftly turned her head to him, her eyes bright with curiosity, ‘Now I am interested, tell me, please, please.’ She was pushing his arm.

He gathered her body to him, and kissed her. ‘Do you really want to hear? Not jealous?’

‘Come on, don’t tease me.’

So he briefly told her of his affairs with Pan and Rebecca.

‘So your wife knows nothing about this?’

‘Of course not, otherwise, I would have already been divorced.’

‘Why?’

‘My wife is a little-spicy woman. I can’t imagine she can tolerate such an affair.’

‘Then why, us?’

‘I can’t resist you.’

‘Well, man…’ she said, releasing a sigh that must have issued from her depths.

After a break, he said, ‘Vivian, I just want to know one thing.’

‘Yes?’

‘You don’t have to tell me, but I hope you will.’

‘What?’

‘He was the assistant teacher, I don’t know his name, in our department. Was he your husband?’

‘Which one?’

‘Assistant teacher.’

She began to understand, ‘Oh, you mean Mr. Jing?’

‘Well, I don’t know his name,’ he said, stifling a pang of old jealousy. ‘I once saw you walking with him on the campus.’

His query was unanswered for a long moment.

‘No, not him,’ she took a sip as if to wash off an annoyance. ‘Was that why you seemed to avoid me?’

He didn’t answer but moved his hand onto her breasts, for now his desire was growing exceptionally strong, burning.

And she let him, her arms limp. The rock overhead stretched like an awning, and they sat and dangled at the quarter moon, overseeing the earth.  

He looked at his watch. It was past two o’clock, time to check into the hotel he had booked.

They went to the little beach, and let their bare feet sink into the sand, and the water. Her hands were occupied in tugging her skirt, as they moved farther into the sea. Then suddenly he grabbed her hands, so that her skirt fell, like a parasol, onto the water.

‘Oh, my skirt!’ she said, and tried to pick it up.

But she was imprisoned. ‘Let it be free, it is already wet.’

‘No, no, it is unfair.’ She wrenched a bit to free her hands from him, and succeeded, and reached to unroll his rolled-up pants. He let her perform the task, until she had achieved her revenge and become happy.

Her face was rosy, now unwrinkled, like the petals freshened in a flush of passion. He motioned his feet in the shallow sand, and travelled to where her feet stood. His toes touched hers, and brushed over her instep. She gasped, into his lips.

Then her hat fell to the water, so that her hair was now loose, splashing. She struggled in her effort to rescue her hat, but he restrained her from picking it up.

‘Let it go,’ he said. ‘One day it will reach the Huangpu River.’

Later, on the way to the hotel, he was lucky that there were no police to catch him drink driving.

He swiped the card to open the door. They slipped in.

‘Oh, so cool, I want to take a nap,’ Vivian said,

‘Me too, but I want to take a shower first. How about you?’ he said.  

‘Yes, you first or me?’

‘Lady first.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘But no, I don’t have anything to change into.’

‘Well…’ he hesitated. ‘Take it easy, or will I go and buy something for you?’

‘Don’t worry, then.’ She went into the bathroom, and closed the door.

Sitting on the bed and glancing around, he felt a subtle loneliness without her. The whiskey had apparently had a longer influence than the way beer affected him. His temples were throbbing, though he didn’t have a headache.

The blue curtain was thick and heavy. It draped from the high ceiling down to the floor, leaving a narrow crack from where a line of light slipped onto the carpet. The yelling and laughing on the beach outside the hotel came to him as very remote, as if they belonged to another world. It was still afternoon. But Bing was inclined to sense himself to be at twilight.

The four pillows laid against the bed head, snow-white, had no wrinkles, and he touched them to make some. It was taut and intimate, and fresh, as if it had never been used.  

Well, it cost him $200 plus GST. But it would definitely be well spent. It was once-in-a-lifetime expenditure, and a special human indulgence, and defiance to the world’s righteous social framework. He was like an insect, attracted by a dazzling light, crazy enough to lunge for suicide. After all, he had never made love with Vivian in a proper bed; all of their past matings had been done in the wilderness like animals. Today, they would lie together, pampered by the soft linen sheet and pillows, and do the job between a man and a woman in a conventional environment. It was a luxury, to them, which they deserved, he thought.      

The sound of water drifted to stir his consciousness. Yes, Vivian is taking a shower over there. What does this mean? The girl, so proud and showy and greedy, is there being bathed for him. She is washing her body, for him to take, cleanly.
His ego began to fill with a trembling pride. His heart was thudding. But strange, his penis had not worked, not yet. All the blood seemed to flood his heart, lending nothing to his penis for its usual jerks.  

Then the door was opened, from it, a body slid out. A pink brassiere contoured the breasts. A white towel, steadied by her hands, and by her outstretched hips, wrapped up to her belly button. Her hair was long and black, and yes, tumbling, wildly; her eyes were damp, flashing a hint of shyness. She walked around him, and went straight to the other side of the bed, and sat down.

‘You go, don’t look at me like that,’ she urged, as if it were her first time under his gaze.

He rose, and went to the bathroom, conscious of the nothingness between his legs. And it was like that after his shower and coming back to bed with her.

But forget that for the moment. The first thing, he decided, was to closely study her body, and her eyes and nose that had infatuated him for so many years but had never been understandable in regard to its attraction. She was now a bride, a sacrifice for his love, and youth, that had lost in her.  

Her eyes were close, as if asleep. A blush and tautness were in her skin, after the shower. He rolled his body over onto hers, and he had the sensation of the touch, in full, with her slightly cool flesh, though she was still in shorts and bra. But, don’t rush, he had plenty of time, undisturbed, to spend with her. And he was not hardened, not yet, because his heart was still beating too fast, with now perspiration dampening his forehead, and his thighs.

It was sticky. He loosed his body from her, to feel better, while his fingertips drew about her eyelids, and brushed her lashes in the gentlest stir. She opened her well-like eyes, and he kissed them. So she had to close them again.

He had a little difficulty undoing her bra. It had always cost him a moment too long for the task, and usually his women would help him, after sensing his silly fingers. But this woman Vivian didn’t bother, her eyes closed, passive, giving her all up to his hands, not even moving a little for him.   

Nevertheless it would always work. No tools are needed for it. Just a little time, and a man’s patience, although he was still not up yet. Strange.

So her breasts were unfettered, at last, spilling over to the sides. Still good looking, but not as good as when she sat or stood, well, with her bra on. Her nipples were small enough, and not very dark.

He was about to shift his head down, but he was restrained by her.

‘No,’ she said, and smiled.

‘Why?’ He wanted to check her belly button, and her secrets.

‘Not good looking.’ She wrapped his neck, pulled and pressed him to cover her front.   

He was disappointed. He kissed her lips. Then he was not satisfied, and tried again. Lucky this time she didn’t stop him, just moved a bit because of the tickling. There was a vague line about her stomach.

‘What is it?’

‘The scar left when I gave birth to my baby,’ she said, withstanding his hand.

‘Oh, you had a caesarean?’

‘Yes, the baby was not in the right position.’

‘Oh,’ but his curiosity was even increased, ‘Let me have a closer look, please, please...’

She began to laugh, her belly vibrating under his. ‘No, no, too ugly.’

But he stubbornly pushed himself down, until his eyes were above the scar. Less than ten centimetres long, the cut itself, horizontal, with its zigzagged threads still visible, didn’t seem to be ugly at all. But the dark skin around it and the still well-shaped belly button, were creased somewhat, probably the worst part of her body.      

‘So you didn’t feel pain,’ he said, beginning to kiss and lick along the scar, as an impulse of doing so came to him.

Her body writhing, she spoke between her giggles, ‘But I felt pain for a long time afterwards.’

He raised his head, ‘Did you breast feed your baby?’

‘No, it didn’t come, even if it did, I would prefer not.’ Now she forcefully held his head from moving.

‘But breast feeding is better for the baby, isn’t it?’

‘Come on, Wang Bing, why are you so interested in these things?’ She pulled his body again to cover her. ‘You had better become a woman in your next life.’

‘No, no, never…’ He wrapped his hands around her neck, widened her with his legs.

But he felt sweating, and he was not capable.

Now he was afraid.

Then she touched him, with love, with mother-like patience. So his blood returned.

He dipped into it.

She gave up a sigh, her thighs tightening.

From that moment on, he battered her. Her image with that man had also come to affect his performance, which didn’t
disgust him. Instead it seemed to arouse him better, making him more savage and forceful, and incredibly potent. With every thrust, her body was driven upwards, until her head bent against the bed board. Then he would pull her down, and repeat their journey. There was a Chinese fable - “Yu Gong Yi Shan”, and he was that the silly man who tried to move a mountain.

‘Vivian, do you love me?’

‘Yes, I love you.’

‘Really, really love me?’

‘Yes, really, really love you.’

‘So, can you promise you won’t give your body to other men?’

‘Yes, I promise.’

‘Vivian, promise, please, would you…say…yes…you like to be 不雅ed…only by me,’ he mumbled in delirium, giving her he thought as his last plunge.

But strange, it was not. So the dialogue had to continue.

‘Vivian, say, in the future, you will be mine, only 不雅 me, only me.’

‘Yes, only you, but… you also promise…’ She was not clear, as she turned from passionately reactive to madly active, pawing his flesh hard as if doing so, her joy and pain would last. ‘Say, you will only 不雅 me, Bing, 不雅 only me, no other women, oh, only me, only there…’

‘Yes, I promise, only you, Vivian, only you…Ah, Vivian…’

He was then dead, so was she.
…

His sleep was disturbed by the ringing of his mobile.

Picking it up, it was from his wife; oh, he forgot to inform her of his late evening at the workplace.

‘Hello.’ He gave Vivian, who had also opened her eyes, a quick look.

‘Where are you? The dishes are already cold,’ Qiuyan’s voice had more worry than anger.

‘Still in the office, I had to do a system backup tonight.’

‘Oh, why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Sorry, I forgot,’ he went on, ‘there was a big computer problem, I’ve been very busy.’

‘But it’s nearly seven,’ she said, ‘are you hungry? When will you be home?’

‘Probably in one hour or two, I don’t know,’ he checked Vivian’s wide, and quiet and sucking eyes. ‘You eat first, I am not very hungry.’

‘Ok, then don’t stay too long.’ She hung up.

But he was indeed very hungry.

‘You are very good at lying,’ Vivian said. ‘Are all men the same?’

‘You had better become a man in your next life,’ he evaded her question. ‘I am starving, let’s get up for dinner.’

When he arrived home, it was nearly 10pm. Qiuyan must have heard his car coming, for she opened the door for him.

‘So late,’ she said, and went straight to the kitchen to warm his dinner.

He went to the bathroom to check and remove any possible evidence of his misconduct. Then he sat at the table, where he ate his spicy food, while Qiuyan went back to watch her movie. And strangely, he was still able to finish his dinner, after the one together with Vivian.

A couple of days later his family went to Brian’s house, for the occasion of formally receiving Vivian. Vivian and Qiuyan didn’t talk much to each other.

But after they had come back home, in bed Qiuyan said, ‘Your classmate is very beautiful.’

‘Is she?’ The topic was interesting. ‘Not as beautiful as you, I would think.’

‘Yes, she looks very graceful, attractive.’

‘Well,’ he mumbled.

She turned to him, ‘Bing, I suspect…’

‘Ha,’ he interrupted her, ‘don’t be silly.’ Then he realized his response was too quick.

‘Now, I really suspect…’ she said, turning away.

He was annoyed with himself, and sorry for her. He embraced her back. ‘Why! You are so sensitive. There was nothing between us.’

‘Nothing?’ she replied, without moving her body. ‘I saw the way you looked at each other.’

‘Ah, my goodness. We are classmates who had not seen each other for twenty years. Do you not understand?’

‘No…’ Her voice seemed to be on the brink of tears. ‘Brian was also her classmate.’

‘We are only classmates, can’t you trust me.’ But his explanation was not effective at all, for she began to sob, her body trembling. It was the first time she had sobbed like that.

Feeling desperate, and utterly defeated by her woman’s sharp sixth-sense intuition, he said, ‘Okay, do you want to hear the truth?’

Without waiting for her to reply, he told a version of the story, ‘I was a bit interested in her at university, but she was not interested in me. That was all. How could a Shanghai girl care enough for a poor village lad from Sichuan?’

‘But aren’t you the guitar prince?’ She had done exceptionally well in reasoning.

‘But whatever, there was nothing. Otherwise, how could I marry you?’ Now he was firmer with this exertion, because it had some truth. And Qiuyan seemed to be convinced, sufficiently, for her to turn over, and let him wipe her tears dry. ‘Really, I didn’t have anything going with her,’ he consoled her, and took off her clothes, and then his.

Ten minutes later, he prayed Qiuyan was not smart enough to relate two recent excuses of being late at work to the Vivian’s visit in Sydney, though he slept at last.




-- End of Chapter 64 ---

Gone

看到愚公移山那里笑s 了。愚公要被斌气活了。。
斌其实从来不知道爱是什么。。

何木

Gone 发表于 2014-10-1 23:12
看到愚公移山那里笑s 了。愚公要被斌气活了。。
斌其实从来不知道爱是什么。。 ...

你认为爱是什么？从小到大你洗脑了。。。童话故事看多了。。

Gone

何木 发表于 2014-10-1 23:40
你认为爱是什么？从小到大你洗脑了。。。童话故事看多了。。

哈哈，你都知道我只看童话。。
我也不知道爱是什么。。我只是在这个男主身上，看不到爱。。

何木

Gone 发表于 2014-10-1 23:47
哈哈，你都知道我只看童话。。
我也不知道爱是什么。。我只是在这个男主身上，看不到爱。。 ...

你看周围的人，不要看小说，哪些有爱呢？哪个人有那种永恒的东西呢？不要被一两个郁闷的，’爱情’饥渴的艺术家们渲染出来的虚幻感动一下，看掉一点亮光，一往直前，最后是什么呢？蜡烛，灰烬？那些艺术家，有爱？？？这些东西是用来欺骗大脑的’毒品‘而已，让粉丝们暂时忘记无聊和死亡而已。。

Gone

何木 发表于 2014-10-2 00:11
你看周围的人，不要看小说，哪些有爱呢？哪个人有那种永恒的东西呢？不要被一两个郁闷的，’爱情’饥渴的 ...

爱在平凡人身上闪光。。

何木

Gone 发表于 2014-10-2 00:14
爱在平凡人身上闪光。。

听上去有点象阿Q

平凡的人，因为委屈，找点寄托罢了。。

Gone

何木 发表于 2014-10-2 00:18
听上去有点象阿Q

平凡的人，因为委屈，找点寄托罢了。。

嗯，阿Q有阿Q所得，非阿Q有非阿Q所失。。
听上去已经像抬扛了。。。其实怎样都是几十年，各人自知自乐就好。。。