Iron and Silk (23 page)

The street was crowded, so neither of us said a word. Trucks, buses and jeeps flung themselves madly through the streets, bicycles wove around us, and pedestrians darted in front of us, cursing the “liumang” if we brushed too close to them. Finally I turned onto the road that ran along the river, and the crowd thinned out. It was a horrible road, with potholes everywhere that I could not see in time to avoid. She, too shy to put her arms around my waist, had been balancing herself across the rack, but when we hit an especially deep rut, I heard her yelp and felt her grab on to me. Regaining her balance, she began to loosen her grip, but I quickly steered into another pothole and told her to hold on. Very slowly, I felt her leaning her shoulder against my back. When at last her face touched my coat, I could feel her cheek through it as if my back were naked.

We reached the bridge and I started the long climb. About halfway up she told me to stop riding, that we could walk up the bridge to give me a rest. When we got to the top of the bridge, we stopped to lean against the edge and look back at the dim lights of the city. Trucks and jeeps were our only company, so we talked quietly before going on.

“Does this remind you of America?” she asked, gesturing toward the city lights with her chin.

“Yes, a little.”

“Do you miss home?”

“Very much. But I’ll be home very soon. And when I get home, I will miss Changsha.”

“Really? But China is so … no, you tell me: what is China like? I want to hear you tell me what China is like.”

“The lights are dimmer here.”

“Yes,” she said quietly, “and we are boring people, aren’t
we?” Only her eyes showed above the scarf wrapped around her face, and they stared evenly at me. I asked her if she thought she was boring. She continued to stare at me, then here eyes wrinkled with laughter.

“As a matter of fact, I am not boring. I believe I am a very interesting girl. Do you think so?”

“Yes, I think so.” She had pale skin, and I could see her eyelids blush a faint pink.

“When you go back to America, will you live with your parents?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’m too old! They wouldn’t want me to hang around the house. They would think it was strange if I didn’t live on my own.”

“How wonderful! I wish my parents felt that way. I will have to live with them forever.”

“Forever?”

“Of course! Chinese parents love their children, but they also think that children are like furniture. They own you, and you must make them comfortable until they decide to let you go. I cannot marry, so I will have to take care of them forever. I am almost thirty years old, and I must do whatever they say. So I sit in my room and dream. In my imagination I am free, and I can do wonderful things!”

“Like what?”

She cocked her head to one side and raised one eyebrow. “Do you tell people your dreams?”

“Yes, sometimes.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Well, I’m not going to tell you my dreams.”

We were silent for a while, then she suddenly asked me if I was a sad man or a happy man.

“That’s hard to say—sometimes I’m happy, sometimes I’m sad. Mostly, I just worry.”

“Worry? What do you worry about?”

“I don’t know—everything, I guess. Mostly I worry about wasting time.”

“How strange! My cousin’s husband says that you work very hard.”

“I like to keep busy. That way I don’t have time to worry.”

“I can’t understand that. You are such a free man—you can travel all over the world as you like, make friends everywhere, and see places that most of us can’t even imagine. You are a fool not to be happy, especially when so many people depend on it.”

“What do you mean?”

“My relative says that your nickname in the college is
Huoshenxian
—an immortal in human form—because you are so … different. Your lectures make everyone laugh, and you make people feel happy all the time. This is very unusual. You should always be that way; it makes sad people happy. Isn’t that important?”

I agreed with her that making other people happy was important, then asked her if she was happy or sad. She raised one eyebrow again, looking not quite at me.

“I don’t have as many reasons to be happy as you.” She looked at her watch and shook her head. “I must get back—we have to hurry.” As I turned toward the bicycle, she leaned very close to me, almost touching her face against mine, looking straight into my eyes, and said, “I have an idea.”

I could feel her breath against my throat. I asked her what it was. “Let’s coast down the bridge—fast! No brakes!”

I got on the bicycle. “Are you getting on?” I asked her.

“Just a minute. At the bottom I’ll get off, so I’ll say goodbye now.”

“I should at least take you to the gate of the hospital.”

“No, that wouldn’t be a good idea. Someone might see me and ask who you were. At the bottom of the bridge I’ll hop off, and you turn around. I won’t see you again, so thank you. It was fun meeting you. You should stop worrying.” She jumped on, pressed her face against my back, held me like a vice and said, “Now—go! As fast as you can!”

L
earning the long sword proved more demanding than any of the other wushu Pan had taught me. The morning after he agreed to teach it to me, Pan arrived very early with two broom handles, led me up to the bathhouse and began the training without a word. In the past, he had always told stories and imitated me with great humor to illustrate his points and to make me relax. Now, he rarely spoke and made no effort to be humorous, insisting that I simply drill until he taught me the next move.

My last month in China was a busy one, as I had to complete my teaching duties, prepare my belongings for the move back to the States, attend farewell meetings and banquets and begin saying goodbye to my friends, students, colleagues and teachers. Still, I practiced as much as I could with my broomstick, never knowing when Pan would come next, and always wondering what would happen if I “made him sad.” With two weeks to go, he stopped coming.

I tried frantically to get word to him, so that I could at least see him once more before I left, but no one could reach him. Rumor had it that he was in North China, but why, and for how long, no one knew.

The night before my departure, I was in my room packing the bag I had made for my swords and other weapons. I remember debating whether or not to pack my broomstick along with the swords when I suddenly jumped with fright. Pan stood not three feet behind me, with a rolled-up carpet under his arm. He smiled and told me to follow him. We would finish tonight, no matter how long it took. I reached
for my broomstick, and he shook his head. “You won’t need that anymore,” he whispered, and we went outside. We made our way up to the bathhouse, and when we got there Pan put the carpet down and looked around at the night scene. “You leave tomorrow, don’t you?” “Yes.” “I will miss you.” I stood dumb for a moment. “I will miss you, too.” One of the coal trains blew its whistle, and Pan smiled. “I will leave tomorrow, too. By the time you reach America, I will be home as well. We are both going home.” He told me that after years of waiting, his request for a transfer back to North China had been accepted. He paused for a few minutes, taking in the view, then said in English, “Let’s begin.”

He unrolled the carpet and took out two long swords. He handed me one, and we set to work. I felt light as a feather, and time had no meaning at all. We were both soaked with sweat, and he laughed and told stories the whole time. At last we did a routine together, then he told me to do it alone.

“This is the end of your training. The last move of this routine will be your own, and after that, as far as wushu is concerned, you will proceed alone.” At that moment, everything was magnificent—the night, the heat, the sword, Pan and I—we were all magnificent. I flew through the routine, and when it was done, I thought I had never known such exhilaration before. Pan nodded, put the sword he was holding back on the carpet, rolled it up and faced me. He stood straight and looked right into my eyes, and suddenly I was back in the training hall, standing at attention during our first lesson. I waited for it, for the critical moment of our duel. Then, very slowly, he spoke: “I brought two swords tonight. I am taking only one back with me.”

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