One Man`s Bible

28

It was winter again. The stove door was shut, and he was sitting in bed, propped up against the headboard. The only light came from the table lamp, and the metal shade clamped to the bulb cut down the light that illuminated the floral bedcover and left the upper part of his body in darkness as he gazed at the circle of light on the bedcover. On the gigantic chessboard without borders, winning or losing was not decided by the chess pieces but by the chess players in the dark manipulating them. So, if a chess piece wanted to have its own way and stupidly refused to let itself be taken, surely it was crazy? You are less than insignificant, nothing but an ant that can be squashed underfoot any time, any place. But you can't leave this ants' nest, and can only mingle with the swarms of ants. Whether it was a matter of philosophical impoverishment or impoverished philosophy, from Marx down to those revolutionary sages, who could have foreseen the calamities and spiritual impoverishment this Cultural Revolution would bring?

There was a tapping on his window. At first, he thought it was the wind, but the glass was pasted with paper on the inside, and the curtains were drawn. Again, there were two soft taps.

"Who is it?" he sat up and asked. There was no response, so he got out of bed and walked barefoot to the window.

"It's me." A woman's voice came from outside, softly.

He could not make out who it was, but he unlatched the door and opened it a crack. In a gust of cold wind, Xiao Xiao pushed open the door and came in. He was surprised by this middle-school student coming so late at night and, as he was only in his underpants, quickly got back into bed and left it to the girl to close the door. She had almost got the door to close, when it blew open again and the chilly wind howled as it poured into the room. Xiao Xiao put her back against the door to stop it from blowing open.

"Latch it." He said this without thinking, but when he saw the girl hesitate before turning and gently pushing in the metal latch, his heart thumped. The girl unraveled the long woolen scarf wrapped tightly around her head to reveal her pale but refined features. Her head was bowed, and she seemed to be catching her breath.

"Xiao Xiao, what's the problem?" he asked, sitting up in bed.

"Nothing." The girl looked up but remained standing by the door.

"You must be frozen, open the stove door."

The girl took off her knitted woolen gloves. With a sigh, she took the iron hook lying by the stove, and opened both the stove door and the iron cover on top. It was as if she was expected to do this. Clearly, this thin, ungainly girl was not spoiled at home and was used to domestic chores.

Xiao Xiao had come with a crowd of middle-school students to his workplace to take part in the movement that soon split into two factions. This girl and a few other female students leaned toward their faction, but they were fickle and moved from faction to faction; they were enthusiastic for a few days and would then disappear. It was only Xiao Xiao who came regularly to their headquarters. She didn't yell and shout, and she was not keen on arguing, like the other girls, but always remained quietly on the side, reading newspapers or helping to copy out posters. Her calligraphy with a brush was passable, and she was patient. One afternoon, there was an urgent job to write out a batch of posters to attack the opposition, and by the time they had all been written and pasted up, it was already after nine o'clock at night. Xiao Xiao said her home was at the Drum Tower, and, as it was on the way, he offered her a lift. He got her to sit behind him on the bicycle rack. When they passed by the entrance of his courtyard, he suggested having something to eat before going on. Xiao Xiao came into his room, and it was she who went ahead and made noodles. After eating, they got on the bicycle and he took her to a hutong, where, insisting there was no need for him to go in, Xiao Xiao jumped off the bicycle and disappeared like smoke.

"Have you eaten?" he asked her out of habit.

Xiao Xiao nodded as she rubbed her hands. The heat radiating from the stove made her face instantly turn red. He had not seen the girl for a while, and was waiting to hear why she had come. Xiao Xiao remained seated on the chair by the stove, pressing her lovely face in her warmed hands.

"What have you been doing lately?" This was the only thing he could think to ask as he sat in bed.

"I haven't been doing anything." Xiao Xiao gazed at the fire with her hands on her cheeks.

He waited for her to continue, but the girl said nothing.

So, he went on to ask, "What's happening in your school?"

"All the windows of the school have been smashed, and it's too cold, so no one goes. My schoolmates have scattered everywhere, they don't know what they will be doing either."

"That's great. You don't have to go to school and can stay at home."

The girl did not answer. He leaned across, pulled his trousers off the shelf at the foot of the bed, then started to get out of bed.

"You can just lie there. It's all right. I've just come to talk with you." At this, Xiao Xiao turned and looked at him.

"Then make yourself some tea!" he said.

Xiao Xiao just sat there without moving. He guessed why she had come. Her face was flushed, and there was a glint in her bright eyes.

"It's a bit hot, shall I take off my padded coat?" Xiao Xiao said.

She seemed to be asking both herself and him at the same time.

"Take it off if you're hot," he said.

The girl stood up and removed her padded coat. She was not wearing a jacket and had on a dark-red, knitted sweater that clung to her upper body. He saw her protruding breasts and said awkwardly, "I'd best get up."

"There's no need, there's really no need," Xiao Xiao said.

"It's very late, it won't be good if you are seen by the neighbors." He was worried about her being there.

"It's pitch-black in the courtyard, and the only glimmer of light was from your window. Nobody saw me come in." Xiao Xiao's voice had turned gentle, and, instantly, this girl who was a stranger was on intimate terms with him.

He nodded to indicate that she could come to him. Xiao Xiao walked to his bed, and, as her legs touched the bed, his heart began to pound. He heard a rustle as Xiao Xiao pulled up her sweater and the faded, pink, cotton shirt tucked in her trousers to reveal her slim, lustrous body and part of her breasts. He instinctively reached out to touch her, and the girl put her hand on his, but he was not sure if she wanted to guide or to stop him. He looked up at Xiao Xiao, but could not see the expression in her eyes. Her smooth body gleamed in the circle of light, and, at the lower part of the breast he was pressing on, was the raised line of a tender, red scar. The girl's delicate fingers were squeezing his hand tightly, so, not bothering about the scar, he thrust his hand into the girl's tight-fitting shirt and seized the breast that no longer seemed to be small but was firm and had swelled up. Xiao Xiao was mumbling something, but he did not have time to work out what she was saying. He swept her into his arms, and the next moment she was in his bed.

He could not remember how the girl got under his quilt, or how she had undone the tight buttons at the waist of her trousers. The smooth, moist part between her thighs had no hair yet, but he did not know whether or not she was a virgin. He only remembered that she didn't squirm, didn't resist, didn't kiss him, and didn't take off her thick padded trousers, but only pulled them down to the knees so he could fondle her. Then, she pulled up her sweater and shirt again, but, under the quilt, the soft part between her legs was all wet. What he did remember was that, as the girl snuggled against him with her eyes closed, the light under the shade shining on her slightly parted, full, red lips, he felt a tenderness for this girl whom he thought unattractive and not yet grown up. This incident was unexpected, and, not being prepared, he was afraid of getting her pregnant. He did not dare go any further, he did not dare to enjoy her. He didn't know if this was why she had come, and didn't know what she meant by showing him the scar on her breast. He didn't know what would happen the next day, didn't know his tomorrow or the girl's, or whether they still had a tomorrow.

He lay there quietly, listening to the ticking of the clock on the table in the all-pervading silence. He wanted to ask about the scar. The girl had clearly come because of it, and would have thought about things before resolving to act. Afraid of shattering the suffocating silence, he turned on his side and looked at her for a long time. The ticking of the second hand alerted him that time was passing. It was when he raised himself to look at the clock that Xiao Xiao opened her eyes and, under the quilt, pulled together her clothes, buttoned her trousers at the waist, and sat up.

"Are you leaving?" he asked.

Xiao Xiao nodded and, still with her purplish-red socks on, crawled out from under the quilt. She got out of the bed and bent down to put on her shoes. All this time, he lay there, watching in silence as she put on her padded coat and wrapped the long scarf around her head. Then, as he saw her take her knitted gloves from the table, he asked her, "Are you in some sort of trouble?" He thought to himself that he sounded harsh.

"No," Xiao Xiao said, looking down. She took her gloves and slipped them on, a finger at a time.

"If you're in some sort of trouble, then speak up!" He felt he had to say this.

"It's nothing." Still looking down, Xiao Xiao suddenly turned and started to unlatch the door.

He quickly got up and went barefoot across the icy-cold brick floor, thinking to stop the girl, but not knowing what to do.

"Go back, you'll catch a chill," Xiao Xiao said.

"Will you come again?" he asked.

Xiao Xiao gave a nod and went out, slowly pulling the door shut behind her.

But Xiao Xiao did not come again, nor did she reappear at the workplace headquarters of their rebel faction. However, he did not have Xiao Xiao's address. Of that gang of middle-school students, the girl had stayed the longest in their rebel group, but he had no way of finding out what had happened to her. He only knew that she was called Xiao Xiao, which could even have been a nickname used by her schoolmates. But what he clearly knew was that on this Xiao Xiao's breast-below the left breast, no, the right breast, it was his left hand and the girl's right breast-there was almost an inch-long, still raw, blood-red scar. He recalled that the girl was yielding and didn't squirm, but that she wanted to show him the scar. Was it to win his sympathy or to seduce him? She was probably seventeen or eighteen, and still had no hair between her legs, but her body was beautiful, beautiful enough to arouse him. Maybe it was only because the girl was too young, too frail, that he was afraid of shouldering such a responsibility. He didn't know if Xiao Xiao's parents had been attacked, and there was no way of knowing how she had been wounded. Had the girl come to him because of the scar? Was she seeking his protection, someone to turn to? Maybe she was afraid and confused? Maybe she got into his bed hoping to be comforted? But he didn't dare accept her, and didn't dare ask her to stay. For some time after, whenever he took his bicycle out, he would make a detour past the hutong where Xiao Xiao had got off, but he never saw her again. It was only then that he regretted not having got Xiao Xiao to stay. He hadn't said anything kind or comforting to the girl. He was so careful, so overly cautious, and so spineless.