The Good Women of China: Hidden Voices (7 page)

‘And how can all these men start a company without a secretary – wouldn’t they lose face? But a secretary for only eight hours aday is not enough, someone has to be there to fix everything all the time. Add to this the law of sexual attraction, and opportunities abound for attractive young girls. Fashionably dressed young women rush about between the stuffy government departments and quicken the pace of economic development in China.

‘Personal secretaries are also required by the foreigners fighting to stake a claim on our economy. They don’t understand the first thing about China and its customs. If not for the help of their secretaries, the corrupt Chinese officials would have made mincemeat of them long ago. To be a foreigner’s secretary, you also have to speak a foreign language.

‘Most “personal secretaries” are quite realistic about their prospects. They know that their bosses will never abandon their families. Only a fool would take their sweet words for love. There are some fools though, and I hardly need to tell you the result.’

I had listened to Jin Shuai’s exposé of the world of ‘escorts’ and ‘personal secretaries’ open-mouthed. I did not feel that we came from the same century, let alone the same country. ‘Does this really go on?’ I stuttered.

Jin Shuai was astounded by my ignorance.

‘Of course! Let me tell you a true story. I have a good friend, Ying’er, a lovely, considerate girl, tall and slender, with a sweet face and voice. Ying’er was a talented student at the art college. She could sing and play any kind of instrument, so she brought music, smiles and laughter everywhere. Both men and women liked her company. Two years ago, when Ying’er was in her second year, she met a Taiwanese company director called Wu at a dance hall. He was good-looking and smart; the real estate company he ran in Shanghai was doing well, so he wanted to open a branch in Nanjing. But when he arrived here, he found it hard to get to grips with all the commercial regulations. He spent thousands of US dollars, but was nowhere near setting up the branch after six months.

‘Ying’er took pity on Wu. With her resourcefulness, pleasant manner and good contacts, she sorted out the red tape with the commercial bureau, the tax office, the city council and the bank. Soon, the branch office was in business. Wu was overcome with gratitude. He rented a suite in a four-star hotel for Ying’er, and covered all her expenses. Ying’er was a woman of the world, but she was won over by Wu’s gentlemanly behaviour. He did not behave like the fat cats who think that money can buy everything. Ying’er decided to stop escorting other men and to throw herself into helping Wu with his Nanjing business.

‘One day, at about three o’clock in the morning, Ying’er rang me, sounding extremely happy:

‘“This time it’s the real thing. But don’t panic, I haven’t told him how I feel. I know he has a wife. He said she was a good woman. He showed me their wedding photographs: they’re well matched. I don’t want to tear his family apart, it’s enough that he’s good to me. He’s so loving; when I feel down or lose my temper, he doesn’t get angry. When I asked him why he was so patient, he said: ‘How can a man call himself a man if he gets angry with a woman in pain?’ Have you ever heard such tenderness? All right, I won’t disturb you any longer, I just didn’t want to keep anything from you. Good night, my dear.”

‘I couldn’t get to sleep for ages, wondering if such ideal love between men and women could really exist. I hoped Ying’er would prove it, and give me a bit of hope.

‘I didn’t see Ying’er for the next few months as she withdrew into the bliss of love. When we met again, I was shocked at her thin, drawn appearance. She told me that Wu’s wife had written to him, ordering him to choose between divorce and leaving Ying’er. Naively, Ying’er had thought Wu would choose her since he had seemed unable to live without her. Besides, the Wu fortune was so large that dividing it wouldn’t affect his business too much. However, confronted by his wife, who came over from Taiwan, Wu announced that he could let neither wife nor fortune go, and ordered Ying’er to get out of his life. He and his wife gave Ying’er 10,000 dollars as a token of gratitude for her help with their affairs in Nanjing.

‘Ying’er was devastated, and asked for time alone with Wu to ask three questions. She asked if his decision was final. Wu said it was. She asked if he had meant his earlier declarations of affection. He said he had. Finally, Ying’er asked him how his feelings could have changed. He replied brazenly that the world was in a constant state of flux, then announced that her quota of three questions was up.

‘Ying’er returned to her life as an “escort”, now firm in the conviction that true love did not exist. This year, less than two months after she graduated from university, she married an American. In the first letter she sent me from America, she wrote, “Never think of a man as a tree whose shade you can rest in. Women are just fertiliser, rotting away to make the tree strong . . . There is no real love. The couples who appear loving stay together for personal gain, whether for money, power or influence.”’

‘What a pity that Ying’er realised this too late.’

Jin Shuai fell silent, moved by her friend’s fate.

‘Jin Shuai, do you plan to get married?’ I asked curiously.

‘I haven’t thought much about it. I can’t figure love out. We have a professor who abuses his power to determine exam marks. He calls up pretty students for “a heart-to-heart talk”; they talk their way to a hotel room. This is an open secret, everybody except his wife knows. She talks contentedly about how her husband spoils her: he buys her everything she wants and does all the housework, saying he can’t bear for her to do it. Can you believe the lecherous professor and devoted husband are the same man?

‘They say, “Women value emotions, men value the flesh.” If this generalisation is true, why marry? Women who stay with their unfaithful husbands are foolish.’

I said that women were often slaves to their emotions, and told Jin Shuai about a university lecturer I knew. Several years before, her husband, also an academic, had seen many people make a lot of money by starting their own businesses. He was chafing to leave his job and do the same. The woman told him that he did not have the business or management skills to compete, and reminded him of his skills: teaching, research and writing. Her husband accused her of looking down on him, and set out to prove her wrong. His business was a spectacular failure: he drained the family savings and had nothing to show for it. The woman became the family’s sole breadwinner.

Her unemployed husband refused to help her in the home. When she asked him to help with the housework, he would protest that he was a man, and couldn’t be asked to do womanish things. The woman left early for work and came home late, staggering with exhaustion. Her husband, who never got out of bed before one o’clock in the afternoon, and spent all day watching television, claimed that he was much more exhausted from the stress of unemployment. He could not sleep well and had little appetite, so needed good, healthy food to build up his strength.

His wife spent all her spare time tutoring children for extra money, only to be criticised by her husband for running herself down. He did not give a thought to how the family was being fed and clothed. Unwilling to spend money on make-up or new clothes for herself, the lecturer never let her husband go without good suits and leather shoes. He was unappreciative of her efforts, and complained instead that his wife was not as well dressed and elegant as before, comparing her unfavourably to attractive younger women. For all his education, he seemed like a peasant anxious to prove his power and position as a man.

The woman’s university colleagues chided her for spoiling her husband. Some of her students also expressed their disapproval. They asked her why she was putting herself through so much for such an unworthy man. The woman replied helplessly, ‘He used to love me very much.’

Jin Shuai was incensed by my story, but recognised that it was a very common situation.

‘I think more than half of all Chinese families are made up of women who are overworked and men who sigh over their unfulfilled ambitions, blaming their wives and throwing tantrums. What’s more, many Chinese men think that saying a few loving words to their wives is beneath their dignity. I just don’t get it. What has happened to the self-respect of a man who can live off a weak woman with an easy conscience?’

‘You are sounding like a feminist,’ I teased her.

‘I’m no feminist – I just haven’t found any real men in China. Tell me, how many women have written to your show to say that they are happy with their men? And how many Chinese men have asked you to read out a letter saying how much they love their wife? Why do Chinese men think that to say the words “I love you” to their wives undermines their status as a man?’

The two men at the next table were pointing at where we were sitting. I wondered what they made of Jin Shuai’s fierce expression.

‘Well, that’s something Western men say because of their culture.’ I made an attempt to defend the fact that I had never received such a letter.

‘What, you think it’s a cultural difference? No, if a man doesn’t have the courage to say those words to the woman he loves before the world, can you call him a man? As far as I’m concerned, there are no men in China.’

I was silent. Faced with a woman’s heart that was young and yet frozen solid, what could I say? But Jin Shuai laughed.

‘My friends say that China has finally come into line with the rest of the world when it comes to our topics of conversation. Since we no longer have to worry about not having enough food or clothes, we discuss the relationship between men and women instead. But I think the subject of men and women is even more complex in China. We have to contend with over fifty ethnic groups, countless political changes and prescriptions for the behaviour, bearing and dress of women. We even have over ten different words for wife.’

For a moment, Jin Shuai looked like a carefree, innocent girl. Her enthusiasm suited her better than the carapace of the PR girl and I liked her better.

‘Hey, Xinran,’ she said, ‘can we talk about all the famous sayings associated with women. For example, “A good woman doesn’t go with a second man.” How many widows in China’s history have not even considered remarrying in order to preserve the reputation of their families? How many women have “emasculated” their female nature for the sake of appearances? Oh, I know “emasculate” isn’t a word used for women, but that’s what it is. There are still women like that now in the countryside. And then there’s the one about the fish . . .’

‘What fish?’ I had never heard this figure of speech and realised I must seem very ignorant in the eyes of the younger generation.

Jin Shuai sighed ostentatiously and tapped the table with her varnished fingernails. ‘Oh, poor Xinran. You haven’t even got the various categories of women straight. How can you possibly hope to understand men? Let me tell you. When men have been drinking, they come out with a set of definitions for women. Lovers are “swordfish”, tasty but with sharp bones. “Personal secretaries” are “carp”, the longer you “stew” them, the more flavour they have. Other men’s wives are “Japanese puffer fish”, trying a mouthful could be the end of you, but risking death is a source of pride.’

‘And what about their own wives?’

‘Salt cod.’

‘Salt cod? Why?’

‘Because salt cod keeps for a long time. When there is no other food, salt cod is cheap and convenient, and makes a meal with rice . . . All right, I’ve got to go to “work”. You shouldn’t have listened to me rabbiting on for so long. Why didn’t you say anything?’

I was silent, preoccupied by the startling comparison of wives with salt cod.

‘Don’t forget to answer my three questions on your programme: What philosophy do women have? What is happiness for a woman? And what makes a good woman?’

Jin Shuai finished her tea, picked up her handbag and was gone.

I pondered Jin Shuai’s questions for a long time, but I realised that I didn’t know the answers. There seemed such a huge gap between her generation and mine. In the course of the next few years, I had the opportunity to meet many more university students. The temperaments, attitudes and lifestyles of the new generation of Chinese women who had grown up during the period of ‘Reform and Opening Up’ were entirely different from those of their parents. But although they had colourful theories on life, there was a deep layer of emptiness behind their thoughts.

Could they be blamed for this? I did not think so. There had been something missing from their upbringing that had made them like this. They had never had a normal, loving environment in which to grow up.

From the matriarchal societies in the far distant past, the position of Chinese women has always been at the lowest level. They were classed as objects, as a part of property, shared out along with food, tools and weapons. Later on, they were permitted to enter the men’s world, but they could only exist at their feet – entirely reliant on the goodness or wickedness of a man. If you study Chinese architecture, you can see that many long years passed before a small minority of women could move from the side chambers of the family courtyard (where tools were kept and the servants slept) to chambers beside the main rooms (where the master of the house and his sons lived).

Chinese history is very long, but it has been a very short time since women have had the opportunity to become themselves and since men have started to get to know them.

In the 1930s, when Western women were already demanding sexual equality, Chinese women were only just starting to challenge male-dominated society, no longer willing for their feet to be bound, or to have their marriages arranged for them by the older generation. However, they did not know what women’s responsibilities and rights were; they did not know how to win for themselves a world of their own. They searched ignorantly for answers in their own narrow space, and in a country where all education was prescribed by the Party. The effect that this has had on the younger generation is worrying. In order to survive in a harsh world, many young people have adopted the hardened carapace of Jin Shuai and suppressed their emotions.