Boy in the Twilight (18 page)

Lin Meng is a cheerful kind of guy. He uses as his teacup a large glass jar, the kind designed to hold instant coffee, and he likes to plunk a chair down next to the door and sit there with his back against the door, holding that big jar in his hands and laughing his head off as he talks. In no time at all he starts to bullshit. Often he would divulge indiscreet details about his and Pingping’s private life, and he got a kick out of this. He’d laugh so much he’d knock his head against the door with a resounding thump.

At such moments Pingping would scowl at him and say, “Don’t talk about that.”

When there were a lot of people in the room, Pingping would sit on a little round stool, her hands on her knees, watching us talk with a smile on her lips. When we felt maybe we were neglecting her and asked, “Pingping, why don’t you say anything?” she would say, “I enjoy listening to you guys talk.”

Pingping liked to listen to me summarizing the plot of some recent movies, or Shen Tianxiang telling fishing stories, or Wang Fei comparing different brands of refrigerators, or Chen Liqing singing one of the latest hit songs. What she did not enjoy was Lin Meng’s conversation. It wouldn’t take long for her husband to say, “Pingping wants to fall asleep in my arms every night.”

Pingping’s eyebrows would arch in a frown. We would burst
out laughing, and Lin Meng would point at his wife and say, “If I don’t take her in my arms, she won’t be able to sleep.

“But once I take her in my arms,” Lin Meng would continue, “she starts breathing down my neck. It tickles …”

At this point, Pingping would say, “Don’t talk about that.”

“Then it’s me who’s unable to sleep.” Lin Meng would give a big laugh and finish what he wanted to say.

The problem was, Lin Meng’s comments on this subject would continue, and would not stop so long as we were there. He’s the kind of guy who likes to have us gathered round him, rolling about in stitches, and he would stop at nothing to achieve this kind of effect. He would recite the complete catalog of nicknames that Pingping gave him when they were in bed, leaving us doubled up in laughter.

The list began with “Darling,” followed by “Precious,” “Prince,” “Knight,” and “Horsie.” Those were the more refined names. Then there were the ones inspired by food items, like “Cabbage,” “Tofu,” “Sausage,” and “Potato,” and also some names that we found peculiar, like “Perky” and “Droopy.”

“Do you know why she calls me ‘Perky’?”

He knew we didn’t understand, so he stood up when he asked us this, very full of himself. Pingping got to her feet also. She looked furious and had gone completely pale. “Lin Meng!” she cried.

We were expecting her to really let loose, but all she said was “That’s enough.”

Lin Meng sat back down with a long belly laugh and looked her in the eye. She returned his gaze, then turned and disappeared into another room. All of us felt very uncomfortable, but Lin Meng acted as though nothing had happened, waving his hand dismissively. “Never mind her,” he said.

He then returned to his question. “Do you know what she means by ‘Perky’?”

Not waiting for us to shake our heads, he pointed below his belt. “This guy here.”

We began to laugh. “And ‘Droopy’?” he asked.

This time our eyes automatically fixed on his crotch, and he pointed at the spot again. “Same thing.”

It’s true what they say, you just have to be prepared to make adjustments when you’re married. After Pingping had lived with Lin Meng for a couple of years, she had gotten used to her husband’s bullshitting, and when his tongue was wagging she would no longer say to him “That’s enough,” but would look down and play with her fingers, already resigned, it seemed, to Lin Meng’s indiscretions.

Not only that, but on occasion she would make some similar comments herself—of a much more restrained kind, needless to say. I remember one day when we were sitting in their house and everybody was saying how charming Lin Meng looked when he laughed, Pingping broke in: “It’s when he’s happy at night that he looks his best.”

We didn’t immediately pick up on what she meant, and we looked at Lin Meng and then at Pingping, unsure whether to laugh. “When he needs me,” she added, for clarification.

We had a good laugh at that, and Pingping, realizing she had said something she shouldn’t have, flushed bright red. Now that he had become the object of amusement, Lin Meng gave a weak, embarrassed chuckle, and he did not knock his head against the door as usual. He went quiet whenever somebody made a joke at his expense.

So we knew one or two things about their sex life, and even more about other aspects of their marriage. Lin Meng was a
lucky man, in our view. Everyone agreed that Pingping was an attractive woman, and it was obvious how understanding and capable she was and we had never seen her get into an argument with Lin Meng over anything. When we visited them, she would always be prompt in pouring water into our teacups and quick to deliver matches to any pair of hands that was preparing to light up a cigarette. After Lin Meng got married, his leather boots were always shining and he dressed with increasingly good taste, all thanks to Pingping. In the past, he had been the most slovenly member of our circle.

SO THERE I WAS
, recalling these vignettes of them as a couple, and when I arrived at their apartment on this particular morning, it seemed to me it had been a long time since I had last visited. When Pingping opened the door, I found that she had changed. She had put on some weight, it seemed, or maybe she had lost some.

It was Pingping’s hand I saw first. A slender hand grasped the frame, and then the door opened. When Pingping saw me she seemed to give a start—because she hadn’t seen me for a long time, I assumed. I walked in with a smile on my face, only to discover there was no sign of Shen Tianxiang or Wang Fei or Chen Liqing—no sign of Lin Meng, even. “Lin Meng?” I inquired.

Lin Meng was not at home. He had left for the factory at seven thirty in the morning. Shen Tianxiang, Wang Fei, and Chen Liqing would also be at work at this hour. There was only me and Pingping … “Is it just the two of us?” I said to her.

In the apartment, was what I meant. I noticed how Pingping’s
face tightened when I said this and I thought to myself, Is that a smile? “What’s the matter?” I asked.

Pingping looked at me uncomprehendingly. “Were you smiling at me just now?” I said.

Pingping nodded. “Yes.”

Her skin tightened once again. It was me who smiled then. “Why do you smile in such a strange way?” I said.

All this time Pingping had been standing in the doorway. She had never closed the door and her hand was still clutching the doorframe. Her posture seemed to indicate she was simply waiting for me to leave. “Do you want me to go?” I said.

At this, she detached herself from the doorframe and turned to face me, her hands moving this way and that as though she couldn’t find a suitable place to put them. I had never seen Pingping in this state, standing completely rigid, her smile unrecognizable as a smile. “What’s up with you today?” I said. “Are you about to go out or something?”

She shook her head helplessly. “If you’re not in a hurry,” I said, “I’ll sit down.” I sat down in the sofa but she kept on just standing there. I laughed. “What are you doing?” I asked.

She sat down in a chair, her face angled away from me. She was breathing heavily, it seemed, and her legs stirred restlessly, as unable to find a comfortable position as her hands had been just a minute before. “Pingping, what’s the matter with you?” I said. “Today I come to visit, and you don’t pour me a glass of water and you don’t peel me an apple—are you tired of me, or what?”

Pingping shook her head vigorously. “No, not at all. Why would I be tired of you?”

She smiled, and got up and fetched me a glass of water.
This time her smile looked like a smile. “We don’t have apples today,” she said, passing me the glass. “Would you like a prune?”

“I don’t eat prunes,” I said. “That’s something you women like. Just water is fine.”

Pingping sat down in the chair again, and as I sipped my water I said, “In the past, every time I came to your house, I would always find Shen Tianxiang and the others here, or if they weren’t all three here, at least one of them was bound to be. Today, not one of them has come, and even Lin Meng is not at home, so it’s just the two of us, and you’re not a great talker …”

Pingping was all keyed up, I suddenly realized. Her head had swiveled round in the direction of the door, and she was listening to something, listening, apparently, to the footsteps of someone coming up the stairs. They walked with a very slow step. They seemed to be in no hurry. They reached the landing just outside, then continued up the next flight of stairs. Pingping exhaled, then turned to look at me. Her face was so pale it gave me a shock. She smiled again, the way that made her skin tighten. I couldn’t stand to look at her smile, so instead I glanced around the room. The balloons had disappeared. No pink colors anywhere, so far as I could see, and I couldn’t help but take a quick glance at the balcony, but Pingping had no panties hanging there, so there was no pink there either. “Do you not like balloons anymore?” I asked.

Pingping’s eyes were watching me in a way that gave me a feeling she heard my voice but didn’t hear what I was saying. “The balloons are gone,” I said.

“Balloons?” She looked baffled.

“That’s right, balloons,” I said. “Didn’t you used to have lots of balloons hanging in your apartment?”

“Oh …” She remembered.

“I get the feeling,” I said, “that today you’re acting a little … How shall I put it? A little strange.”

“No, I’m not.” She shook her head.

Her denial didn’t seem very confident. “I wasn’t originally planning to come and see you, did you know that?” I said. “We’ve moved to a new place, and I was helping my mother to get things sorted out in the kitchen and helping my father to get things sorted out in the study, and they were both driving me crazy the way they were bossing me about, so I hotfooted it out of there, and at first I had the idea of going to see Shen Tianxiang, but he and I were together just a couple of days ago, and I often hang out with Wang Fei and Chen Liqing, so you two were the only people I hadn’t seen for a long time. That’s why I came to your apartment, not realizing Lin Meng wouldn’t be home. I’d forgotten he’d be at work today.”

I didn’t reveal that I had made up a story about her and Lin Meng having a fight. Pingping was a serious person. “It didn’t occur to me you’d be at home on your own …”

Finding Pingping alone and so preoccupied, I thought I really should leave. I stood up. “I’ll be off now,” I said.

Pingping got to her feet at once. “Why don’t you stay a bit longer?”

“No, I should go.”

She said nothing more and simply stood there waiting. It looked increasingly as though she wanted me out of there right away, and I took a couple of steps toward the door. Then a thought occurred to me. “I’ll just use your bathroom.
There are no public toilets on your street,” I added, closing the door behind me.

Originally I was just going to have a pee, but after I’d finished peeing I felt like having a crap, so it was going to take me a while. Just after I squatted down, I heard a thudding outside as though someone was running upstairs at high speed. There was a cry of “Pingping, Pingping!” as he reached the door to the apartment.

It was Lin Meng. I heard Pingping saying, with a quiver in her voice, “How come you’re back?”

The door must have opened; Lin Meng had come in. “Today I was sent out to pick up a shipment,” I heard him say. “I was desperate for a pee, but I couldn’t find a toilet anywhere on the road, so I had to rush back home.”

Lin Meng seemed to charge like a wild boar toward the bathroom. As he tugged at the bathroom door, he suddenly went quiet. He must have been shocked to find the door locked, and I heard him ask Pingping in a flustered voice, “Is there someone in there?”

Pingping must have nodded, for the next thing I heard was Lin Meng bellowing, “Who’s in there?”

Inside the bathroom, I couldn’t help but grin. Before I had the chance to reply, Lin Meng started kicking the door and shouting, “Come out of there!”

At this stage, I had only just squatted down and had had no time to do my business, but given how the door was shuddering under the impact of his kicks I had no choice but to pull up my pants, fasten my belt, and open the bathroom door. When Lin Meng saw it was me, he was dumbfounded. “Lin Meng, I haven’t finished yet,” I said, “but you were kicking the door so
loud. I was about to dump my load, but with you kicking like that, it went back in again.”

Lin Meng stared at me, his eyes as big as saucers. “I never expected it would be you!” he said, through clenched teeth.

His expression made me laugh out loud. “Don’t look at me that way,” I said.

But Lin Meng just carried on staring, and pointed at me, as well. I kept my distance from his extended forefinger. “You’re giving me the shivers,” I said.

“It’s you who’s giving
me
the shivers!” Lin Meng roared.

His shouting so alarmed me that I began to take his indignation seriously. “What’s the matter?” I asked.

“I had no idea you would carry on with my wife,” he said.

“Carry on?” I said. “What do you mean ‘carry on’?”

“Cut out the playacting,” he said.

I threw a glance at Pingping, hoping to get some idea of what Lin Meng was on about, but I found her face had gone completely white, like a sheet of paper, with just a trace of gray around her lips. The way she looked made me even more uneasy. Now I understood what Lin Meng had in mind. He thought I had slept with Pingping. “Lin Meng,” I said, “you’re making a big mistake. There’s absolutely nothing going on between me and her.”

I saw that she was nodding, but Lin Meng seemed not to have the slightest interest in my declaration or in her nod. He pointed at me. “You can give up trying to deny it,” he said. “As soon as I came in the door, I could see she was acting strange. Right away I knew there was something fishy going on.”

“No,” I said. “What you think happened didn’t happen at all.”