Three Sisters (6 page)

The truth is, Youqing's wife believed she was incurably barren. But since he had redoubled his efforts in bed, she did not have the heart to tell him. The doctor had made it clear that the miscarriage had done too much damage. But that had not stopped her from trying. She undertook a regimen of herbal preparations, staying with it for nearly four months. Nothing worked, in part because she had an aversion to traditional Chinese medicine—not the taste, but something else. The common practice was to take the dregs of herbal preparations outside and dump them in the middle of a road to be stepped on by passersby, who would crush them into the dirt; then and only then would the treatment prove effective. But Youqing's wife did not want anyone to know that she was taking the medicine, for that would make her vulnerable to all sorts of gossip. Everything had to be done in secret.

Luckily for her, as the former member of a propaganda troupe, she had promoted the philosophy of materialism and was impervious to the attractions of superstition. She merely dumped the dregs in the river. Her attempts to keep her regimen secret, however, were easily thwarted by the aromas of the herbal concoctions she cooked up, which traveled farther than the smell of an old hen being stewed. The minute she started brewing the herbs, people's heads would pop up in the yard, and they would slip gazes more lethal than arsenic through the cracks in the doorway. Over time, Youqing's wife felt more like a sneak thief than a follower of Chinese medicine, which doubled the bitter taste of whatever she was taking. In the end, she gave it up. That sort of bitterness she could do without.

Her affair with Wang Lianfang had not yet begun by the time people started talking about them. It was not until the winter of 1970 that he began climbing onto her body. In the spring of 1971, the affair was still in its early stages. Their first meeting—out on the street—had occurred not long after her brief period of recuperation. Wang's eyes bespoke compassion, but Youqing's wife needed only a single glance to know exactly what was on his mind. Men in official positions customarily use a cordial smile as an invitation to sex, and Youqing's wife knew how to treat men like Wang. She responded with a bashful smile, confident in the knowledge that eventually he would take her to bed. It was a foregone conclusion, one that fit perfectly with the plan already forming in her mind. She would give Youqing a child; one way or another she would have his baby before having sex with Wang Lianfang, which was going to happen sooner or later. But it should be later. Men are like burglars: The easier the entry, the faster the departure. She'd learned this from experience, and the lessons of history must not be forgotten.

Wang Lianfang, on the other hand, was impatient. That became clear to her soon after they met, when he desperately tried to create opportunities to be alone with her. Say what you will, he was not a man given to reckless behavior in public. Cats instinctively wait for nightfall; dogs know to hide in corners. If Wang Lianfang showed up in front of her house, Youqing's wife would go next door for some boiled water, excitedly and loudly proclaiming, "Well, look who's come to see us, it's Party Secretary Wang." In the face of such excitement, Wang Lianfang had to suppress his anger and react with a warm and friendly smile. By keeping things out in the open, Youqing's wife differed from the other women, who were almost pathologically cautious. Her way was better, effectively delaying the day when he would mount her and push her head down as a rooster does to a hen.

One day he decided to broach the subject directly: "Youqing is a fool. I wonder if I'll ever be lucky enough to enjoy the benefits of his sort of dumb luck." Youqing's wife felt her heart lurch. She was not unmoved by his comment, but she pretended that she'd missed the obvious and responded in a loud voice that made Wang very nervous. She was careful not to overdo it, since she wanted to keep him on a string and not scare him into retreating. If he lost hope, she would ultimately wind up more hopeless than he. She knew what she was—a lazy woman. Lazy people need someone to depend on. Without that, they are condemned to live out their days in a dreary anticipation of death.

The head of production had assigned Youqing's wife to the fertilizer detail, a dirty, tiring job that earned relatively few work points. The assignment had been intended as a warning. So, with a rake over her shoulder, she joined a team of men as they headed out to the fields in high spirits. Wang Lianfang was walking toward them, so greetings were exchanged. They'd continued a dozen or so steps past him when Youqing's wife suddenly turned and caught up with Wang. She reached out to brush some dandruff off his collar and fingered a loose thread. But instead of pulling it out with her hand, she leaned over and bit it off, then knotted it with her tongue and spat it out seductively.

"You don't look a damned bit like a Party secretary," she said in a low voice. "Why don't you go out and rake fertilizer for me?"

It may have been a silly comment, but it had a stunning effect on Wang Lianfang, who was so overjoyed his eyes glazed over.

Needless to say, Youqing's wife did not work with the fertilizer detail that day. Standing at the head of one row, she took off her green-checked head scarf, scrunched it up in her hands, and said, "This won't do. I'm heading back."

Hoisting the rake over her shoulder in full view of the head of production, she took off for home, swishing her hips like a set of tractor tires. No one tried to stop her. Who knew what she'd meant by "This won't do"? And what was she "heading back" to do?

By this point Youqing's wife had given up hope. There would be no more pregnancies for her. Youqing, too, had brought his efforts to an end; nothing he had tried worked. Feeling put out and unhappy, he had left for the irrigation site on the day that Wang Lianfang came by at noon. Youqing's wife had just had a good cry over how badly her life seemed to be turning out. How had it come to this?

"Where did I go wrong?"

She'd had such high hopes, loved being in the spotlight, and was eager to excel, only to see everything turn out horribly, not at all what she'd expected. The future looked dismal. Wang Lianfang walked in with his hands clasped behind his back and shut the door. He stood there looking as if he had already bedded her. Not surprised by his visit, she stood up, thinking she ought to be pleased. He could have just about any woman he wanted, and yet she had been on his mind all along; he clearly liked her.

So why not? He was the best-looking man in Wang Family Village, well dressed, always said the right thing, and had nice, clean teeth that were, she figured, brushed daily. Her shoulders sagged with those thoughts, and she cast a sad look at Wang as tears spilled from her eyes. Slowly she turned and shuffled into the bedroom, where she eased her buttocks down on the edge of the bed. Lowering her head and stretching out her neck, she began to undress. When she was finished, she looked up and said, "All right, come on."

Youqing's wife was no ordinary woman; she'd seen a bit of the world and, as such, had no reason to fear Wang Lianfang. This attitude alone was enough to make her superior to other women. Everyone was afraid of Wang, and that's just the way he wanted it. Their fear was deep-seated, not just an outward performance, which he especially liked. He had ways of dealing with people who felt differently and would not stop working on them until they feared him as much as everyone else did. But the unintended consequence of this inspired fear was that the women he took to bed either shuddered during sex or lay there like dead fish, afraid to move, keeping their arms and legs close to their bodies, as if Wang were a hog butcher. Not much fun in that. But, to his surprise, Youqing's wife was not the least bit afraid of him and, more to the point, she enjoyed sex.

As soon as it began, she displayed a unique talent for taking the initiative. If it's wind you want, it's wind you'll get, and if you prefer rain, happy to oblige. She did things no one else dared to do and said things no one else was willing to say. She was a wild woman from start to finish, and when it was over, she lay on her side and wept. It was impossible not to feel sorry for her and, at the same time, hunger for more. This was a technique she employed to great effect. She was a cut of meat Wang Lianfang loved to chew on, and he was a man of considerable appetites, which she satisfied.

Utterly spent, Wang Lianfang lay on top of Youqing's wife and dozed off. When he awoke he saw that he'd left a string of saliva on her cheek. He reached for his overcoat and took a bottle of little white pills from the pocket. Youqing's wife was impressed with his preparations; obviously, he never fought battles for which he was unprepared. "Try one, my dear," Wang said with a little laugh. "It'll keep you out of trouble."

"Not me," she replied. "I plan to present Wang Family Village with a little Party secretary. You take it." No one had ever dared talk to Wang Lianfang that way.

"What nerve!" Wang said with another little laugh.

Youqing's wife turned her head and refused to take the pill, silently commanding Wang to take it instead. With a look of frustration, he did. Then she took one and watched as he spat his into his hand and laughed again. So she puckered her lips and smiled, slowly revealing a little white pill caught between her two front teeth. Wang responded with a happy display of anger, the sort of vexation to which only a man of a certain age has access. "You're making things hard on me," he said as he popped his pill in his mouth and swallowed, then opened his mouth wide for inspection. With the tip of her tongue, Youqing's wife moved the pill back into her mouth, then a gurgle came from her throat. She stuck her tongue out for Wang's inspection. Her tongue, bright red and nicely pointed at the tip like a skinned fox, moved deftly and mischievously—a bit of sexual provocation. Throwing his arms around her, Wang clamped his teeth on the extended tongue. As she quivered, she knocked the bottle of pills to the floor, where it shattered and sent its contents rolling in all directions. The pills spread like a starry night in summer and the noise gave them both a start.

"Good," she said, drawing a shout from Wang as he started in again, after which she spat out the pill she'd hidden in her mouth.
No need for me to take any of those,
she said to herself.
I don't have that kind of luck.
The thought saddened her, for it was a miserable acknowledgment that she was not doing right by either herself or her husband. But she forced herself to drive that thought out of her mind and moved in concert with Wang. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she hung on and whispered into his ear, "Be good to me, Lianfang."

"I'll try my best," he said.

Tears formed in her eyes.

"Be good to me, Lianfang."

"I said I'll try my best." They repeated themselves over and over until she was sobbing, so choked up she couldn't utter a complete sentence. Wang Lianfang was beside himself with joy.

Wang Lianfang had gotten his first taste of what he was after; like a stubborn mule, he circled Youqing's wife, his millstone. Youqing was usually at the irrigation site, and time was of the essence. But fate controls the affairs of humans, no matter how cleverly they make their plans. What happened one afternoon proves the point: Youqing came home unexpectedly. When he walked in the door he found his wife stark naked, one leg resting on the bed frame and the other dangling over the chamber pot lid. Wang Lianfang, also naked, was standing there, stuck to Youqing's wife and swollen with arrogance. As he stood in the doorway staring blankly at the scene, Youqing was too stunned to comprehend what was happening. Wang Lianfang abruptly stopped moving and looked over his shoulder. "Youqing," he said, when he saw who it was, "go outside and rest awhile. I'll be finished soon, and you can come back."

Youqing turned and walked out. The bedroom door, the front door, and the gate were all wide open when Wang left. He closed each of them on his way out.
That Youqing,
he said to himself,
doesn't even know how to close a door.

Liu Fenxiang now became the primary object of Yumi's attacks. She had become enemy number one. How could Yumi forgive a woman who made her father act like a bridegroom, dutifully shaving and combing his hair every morning before he went out? By then he had all but stopped talking to his wife, and the way he looked at her made Yumi shudder. Shi Guifang, who spent most of every day cracking and eating sunflower seeds in the doorway, no longer looked as if she belonged to the family. As far as Wang Lianfang was concerned, now that she'd given him a son she pretty much ceased to exist. He even started spending the night with Youqing's wife. Yumi experienced bitter disappointment on behalf of her mother, but she could only stand by and watch. It was not the sort of thing she could talk about. And who was to blame? The slut, that's who. It was all the doing of that slut. What Yumi felt toward Youqing's wife went beyond loathing.

Yumi's feelings toward Youqing's wife were complex. Admittedly, she hated her, but it was more than that. There was something that set her apart from other women: a strength unknown in the village, something the other women lacked, something they could see but could not describe. Even Wang Lianfang seemed humbled in her presence.

Liu Fenxiang was exceptional; she rose above everyone else. And it was that indescribable something that fed the people's indignation. There were, for instance, the tone of her voice and the way she smiled when she talked, a mannerism the younger women of the village gradually began to imitate. Though no one pointed it out or called attention to it, it was there, and that characterized the power she possessed. In effect, everyone in the village liked her.

The men had nothing good to say about Fenxiang, but deep down they were fond of her. Their voices changed when they spoke to her, and not even a scolding from their wives made a difference, since it would be forgotten by the next morning. Though she would be the last to admit it, Yumi was jealous. That was why her loathing ran so deep. She wanted nothing more than to carry Wang Hongbing up to Fenxiang's front door, as she had with the other women; but Youqing's wife made no attempt to be secretive and even flaunted her relationship with Wang Lianfang. Since she thought nothing of chatting with Wang out on the street, what was to be gained by standing in front of her house? The woman was so brazen it was impossible to shame her; not even the presence of Little Eight could do that.