Shanghai Girl (9 page)

"I won't be graduating until this summer. My major is political science."

Gordon nods, studying me.

I try to amend what I said. "I major in political science, all right. But it's not all those didactic Marxist theories. Nowadays, we also study the structure and workings of so-called 'western democracy'."

"So, tell me, Sha-fei, what are the pros and cons of China's current structure of government versus that of 'so-called western democracy'?" he challenges.

I look straight into his eyes and ask, "Do you want the official version or my personal opinion?"

"I thought you're not supposed to have a personal opinion."

"Not supposed to, but I have one. Perhaps it would be wise of me not to tell you, though."

Gordon agrees, "You'd better not. I already think you're a wise and capable young lady."

A sudden shyness comes over me at his compliment. "You overpraise me, Uncle Gordon," I say, blushing, and lowering my head.

"Let me give you a piece of advice, Sha-fei. You should take recognition in stride and not be overly modest. Acknowledge the compliment by simply saying 'Thank you' with pride. You can argue that modesty is traditionally considered a virtue in Chinese culture. But in order to survive and succeed in today's world, you must learn to be assertive without being aggressive. Fight for what you’re entitled to. Understand?"

"Yes, I do. Thank you, Uncle Gordon." I decide to put this into practice as soon as possible.

Touching my nose with his index finger, Gordon says, "You naughty little thing."

I reply defensively, "No, I was thanking you for your advice."

"Is that right? I'm sure that they didn't teach you to talk like this in school," Gordon says with a laugh.

"That's right. They didn't teach me any of this at Pujiang University here in Shanghai. It's just me."

"Good for you."

"Thank you," I answer brightly, tilting my head forward. "I forgot to tell you that I go to the same school where Father taught."

Gordon squints, as if trying to picture Tao Hong the Professor. "Is that right? Was he a good professor?"

"I never took his classes. He died before I got into the school. He had been a popular teacher before imprisonment, but after his release, he didn't live long enough to teach much."

Gordon looks at his spoonful of blood soup in his hand and pours it back to the bowl. "It's sad Tao will never know about our meeting today."

"Yes. Father died without hope of any sort."

"How did your family take it?"

"Mother was relieved Father was finally dead. She tried to negotiate with the school to get compensation for our family, but the school gave nothing. I knew, even then, that the person who cared about me the most had gone. I had no siblings – you know about China's one child policy, right? I knew I was going to have to fend for myself for the rest of my life." I pause to swallow something, tears or saliva I'm not sure. Gordon is listening intently without a word. "What I didn't know was that Mother had struck a deal with an important school official so she could marry my stepfather and live her good life that way."

"Oh, I didn't know...," Gordon decides not to finish his sentence.

"That school official used to be my stepfather's subordinate. Thinking Mother was good-looking, he introduced her to Stepfather, as a favor to his old commander. Mother stayed with me for another year after she was legally married, then she went to his home in Nanjing, shortly after I began college. She didn't postpone moving away because of me, though. The government's transfer of official residency permit took that long, even at Stepfather's level."

Gordon exhales audibly. "I guess your mother made the best of her circumstances. What does your stepfather do?"

"He is a ranking cadre. Mother is finally living her good life, the life she didn't have with Father," I say bitterly.

"Are you on good terms with your stepfather?"

I lower my head and talk into my lap, "I suppose I am. It's a shame that I'm still dependent on him financially. I want to be strong and independent. But Stepfather … He's such a … such a … terrible man! …” Tears well up in my eyes. Gordon does not seem to mind that I am sobbing. He reaches over, pats my shoulder, and says, "Sha-fei, I have a daughter of my own. I guess you're about her age. If there's anything you want to say, Uncle Gordon is here to listen.”

"It’s, it's my stepfather. He's such a powerful man and he will destroy my future if...”

"If what?"

"If, if I don't obey him …"

"What do you mean -- obey?"

"In the worst sense you can think of."

Gordon throws me a quick glance, then lowers his eyes, his face flushing. "I’m outraged – taking advantage of a cai mao shuang quan young lady like you … ” He calls me a woman endowed with both talents and beauty.

“My talents do not interest him,” I say coldly. “His old friend can destroy my future if Stepfather told him to. My fate upon graduation and for the rest of my life will be controlled by Stepfather."

"How is that possible?"

"It's possible because all jobs are assigned by the government and determined by the school authorities. One cannot choose or switch a job assignment. You can't even decide not to take an assigned post. That's the policy. The government doesn’t give us four years of free college education without exacting a price. His friend is in a key position to hurt my chances."

Gordon gestures for me to slow down. "I'm confused. Can't you just pack and leave and forget about dealing with these people? You know the old Chinese saying, 'Of the thirty-six stratagems, running away is the best'?"

"Of course I know it, but I can't pack and move wherever I want. There's the government's residency registration system. Even Mother had to wait for a year to join Stepfather in his house. Without connections, there's nowhere for me to run to as long as I'm in China." As soon as I finish saying this, I realize there's a new option I've never considered before. "Unless I leave China.”

Gordon looks at me questioningly.

"Well, why not? I'll go to the U.S. and retrace Father's footsteps. Some of my schoolmates have gone abroad as graduate students. I just have to find out how they did it."

Gordon's face looks serious. "Here's a piece of fatherly advice, Sha-fei. You shouldn't make major decisions of your life impulsively. I'm sure Tao would tell you the same thing if he were here. You should think things over, and weigh the pros and cons before making a decision."

"I've been thinking about my future very hard recently. I now have no other choice. Besides, in America, I can put my talents and education to use and better myself."

“Where did you get that idea from?”

“I just know it. America is a land of opportunities and freedom.”

Gordon shakes his head and laughs. “What a cliché. Everyone who has never lived in America thinks so.”

“I believe it. At least in America, nobody could crush me just because he has all the right connections in China.”

Gordon says, "You’re so headstrong, you remind me of my daughter Irene. She's fiercely independent and wants to do everything her way, often the wrong way."

"I don't know what your daughter is like, but I do respect your advice."

"I don't know what to tell you, Sha-fei. I'll certainly help you if you let me know when you need help, but with a matter like going to America, you should really discuss this with your family first. Or your boyfriend, maybe?"

"My mother stopped caring for me long time ago.” I hesitate for a second, then add, “And I don’t really have a boyfriend."

Gordon says pensively, "Maybe that’s not exactly a bad thing. Irene had a boyfriend who led her astray.”

I am wrapped up in my own thoughts about boyfriends. After starting college, I was no longer quite an outcast as before, initially due to Father’s rehabilitation, and later, due to Stepfather’s influential position. However, the school encourages us students to focus on our studies and moral integrity. Couples who date are considered victims of bourgeois liberalism and criticized as the dregs of the student body. Expulsion, after schoolwide humiliation known as “self-criticism,” is a common punishment for students caught in premarital relationships. Thus, my knowledge of boyfriends is more imaginary than real. And I’ve had my share of imagining.

Still, I did have a few encounters with boys. During my sophomore year, a handsome upperclassman I knew once approached me in a dimly lit corner of the library. "Do you know how foreigners kiss?" he asked, pursing his mouth into an "O."

"No, I don't want to know."

"You're not telling the truth. You do want to know."

My cheeks burned.

He blocked my way into the aisle. "You're blushing," he said. And he touched my face. "You want to be kissed, don't you?"

I recoiled, yet felt warmth between my legs. "Please let me go?" I pleaded.

My plea must have encouraged him, for he planted a moist kiss on my mouth enthusiastically. I eased away from him and ran into the ladies room, where I discovered a damp, colorless stream had stained my panties similar to the sticky onset of a menstrual period.

I had been overcome by guilt. For a virgin to experience arousal was a social and ethical taboo. After all, Chi Gu, the words for the pubic bone in Chinese mean "the bone of shame." Even thinking of Chi Gu was supposed to make a woman feel disgraceful. The sticky stain was a warning. I must avoid the upperclassman's advances.

Then, Lu Long came along. We met in “The History of the Chinese Communist Party” class, a mandatory course for students of all majors. During one class, Lu Long, who was majored in mathematics, slipped me a note in broken English:

"Dear Hong Sha-fei,

Your English very nice. I want go U.S. I want you, together study. OK?

I am sitting your behind, two positions.

Lu Long"

On the back of the note, I wrote in English: "OK. Let's study English together and help each other."

I didn't own a bicycle then. Lu Long offered me rides across campus side straddling on his. We agreed to practice English while on the bicycle.

"I exercise mouth English and go U.S.A.," he would say.

"You practice oral English in order to go to the U.S.," I would correct him.

"Yes, yes. We practice oral drills, hard on and up everyday."

"Well, we practice hard and make progress every day."

"In U.S., bicycle useless. I drive you in big car. I want you sit on me together!"

Back and forth, on campus, we rode and practiced.

Once, he suggested that I wrap my arms around his waist for better balance. I declined coquettishly, arguing that we might be perceived by the school as being too intimate. Lu Long agreed that an embrace on the bicycle might indeed endanger our future chances of being granted the permission by the school to go abroad to study.

More than once when I was near Lu Long, I had experienced the sensation of wanting to be hugged. But for the benefit of both of us, we never let that happen. Just two months ago, he managed to get a scholarship to go to New York for graduate school. He has written me a few letters saying he was busy surviving and wished I could also have a chance to study in New York.

I look into Gordon's eyes and say, "I have nobody but you to discuss with whether or not to go to America right now, Uncle Gordon. I'm so used to making all major decisions about my life, I'm not hesitant over this one. Could you please help me?"

Gordon examines me like a director trying to decide whether to star me in his movie. There are no more clouds of steam rising from our soup bowls. Once-floating blood chunks in the soup start to sink. The food has gone cold.

I look around. Three waiters wearing soiled white smocks are leaning against the entrance to the kitchen, looking in the direction of our table, chatting among themselves. Two are puffing on cigarettes. The third throws me a silly smile. People at the tables surrounding us are talking, drowning out each other’s voices. I see a waitress, pail in hand, showing a nearby table a live fish ready to be cooked. "This one not fresh enough!" a diner protests. "Look at the eyes, they're glossed over." As the waitress refuses to switch the fish, an argument ensues.

I say to Gordon quietly, "Nobody seems to be watching us or eavesdropping. I’m glad."

"Sh-sh-u-u. You don't have to say it. I sized up the situation here as soon as we walked in. It was okay. Sha-fei, you should learn to 'Keep your eyes open to all four routes, and your ears tuned into all eight directions.'"

"Have sharp eyes and keen ears. Be observant and alert."

"Exactly. And shrewd."

"Thank you, Uncle Gordon."

"You're very welcome. Now, let me ask you something. How many dialects can you speak?" He takes off his bi-focal glasses as if it helps him think more clearly.

"Obviously, Shanghainese,” I smile for stating the obvious. “Mandarin, and several Southeastern coastal dialects. I understand more than I can speak without accent. Why?"

"No Cantonese?"