Chapter 24
The post office was closed during the Spring Festival, and Ye Yimo's notebook of excerpts lay on him for five or six days. He read the contents inside and found that the poems he copied were mainly poems, both in Chinese and English, such as some excerpts from the English version of Rabindranath Tagore's "The Crescent Moon", "Towards the Light" and "The Scent of the Earth", Robert Duncan's "The Sanctuary of Childhood", Robert Bly's "Towards a Woman from Two Worlds", Hermann Hesse's "Romantic Songs", Shu Ting's "Hui-an Women", Chen Jingrong's "Prelude to Power", etc.
The poems were copied on the front of the notebook, and the back was covered with simple doodles, depicting the decomposed movements of a dancing human body. The latest page was a stitched monster with a human body and a dog head. Next to the stitched monster was a malicious joke, "Woof woof, kick it back to the Atlantic Ocean." Mo Daoyan guessed that she used personification, and the stitched monster was the embodiment of the person she hated.
When Mo Daoyan was in college, the Misty Poetry School was on the rise. "Selected Poems of Bei Dao" was regarded as a token of love, and Gu Cheng's "A Generation" was widely sought after and circulated. He was the president of the English Club at that time, and also the vice president of the "Jin Liang Research Society". The latter was founded by Qiao Zhuocheng, the number one fan of Jin Yong and Liang Yusheng. Because they could not recruit female members, they asked him to be the face of the society. Even with him in the lead, the limelight was still snatched away by the "Guyu" Poetry Society, and the line of recruiting new members stretched from the auditorium to the playground.
Qiao Zhuocheng was unconvinced. The president and vice-president of the poetry club were shabby, and after reciting a few obscure and eccentric lines, they seemed to have transformed themselves into a graceful and elegant poet. Lin Daiyu, hearing this, died without even waiting for her golden marriage. How could such whining be so captivating to her female classmates? Where was justice, and where was the dignity of Jiaotong University? The female classmates scoffed at him, calling him a frog in a well, oblivious to the birdsong. Misty poetry was a reflection on reality, a product of the pursuit of poetry's independent aesthetic value. Poets were messengers who despised the dark side of society and longed for a brighter world.
Mo Daoyan was not a fan of poetry, nor was he a radical critic. He would occasionally read some poems when he felt like reading was beneficial. He had some impression of most of the poems in the anthology, except for the one about the stitched monster. Every word in the anthology was like a seed, a seed of life that wanted to break through the ground. When he thought of the tube-shaped building, he couldn't help but applaud her, although he had applauded her countless times in his heart.
He said that "get along well" was not accurate. Get along well is mutual, and his was one-sided. Perhaps he should use "favor" as the word. After all, she was one of the few opposite sexes he wanted to actively make friends with, and the only one he had a desire to explore besides purely academic exchanges. Although it only went so far, after learning that she was married, he no longer had any inappropriate thoughts.
His former uncle, a young man with a bright career ahead of him, stole another man's woman three years after his marriage. He disregarded discipline, behaved in an ugly manner, and used his fist, which was meant for the enemy, to hit his wife, breaking his aunt's nose and eight ribs. To protect his daughter, his grandfather beat his uncle into a vegetative state with a rusty gun, thus destroying the fame and fortune he had gained through his glorious military achievements.
The family members drew different insights from this tragic case. Grandma said, "Lust is like a sword hanging over your head. Don't be greedy. Too much greed will bring disaster, and disaster is inevitable." But the old man was still her hero. Dad said, "A father who can't protect his daughter is a worthless father." Dad was a good father, but he wasn't a good son or brother. He neglected his sister, giving the bastard an opportunity to hurt her and ruining his father's integrity. But no one can say for sure that he was the last man standing. The men of the Mo family shed blood but not tears, protecting their country on the battlefield and their families afterward.
My mother is a pragmatist. She first analyzed the feasibility of avoiding the situation of "hurting others and hurting yourself", and then reiterated the law of exchange. She did not agree with my grandfather's use of violence to fight violence. My aunt never got over the grief caused by my father's regrets in his later years. It was a regrettable sequelae, but she envied her aunt for having a father who loved her dearly.
No matter how much Mo Daoyan wanted something, he never had to fight for it. This habit did not come from the inspiration of his uncle's tragedy, but it was often not difficult for him to get those things, and he did not need to be polite and desperate. After growing up, he had his own opinion on his uncle's affair. He bit off more than he could chew, and his ability and ambition did not match. If that man was strong enough, he would not embrace other women on the one hand, and covet the possible promotion convenience brought by his grandfather's official position on the other hand, bringing pain to his aunt and refusing to give her a new life, which eventually led to the escalation of the situation and made it irreversible.
He disliked trouble, and neither did he like causing trouble for others. Aside from a slight sourness about the man playing with an umbrella in the corridor of the tube building, he mailed his notes on the morning of the sixth day of the Lunar New Year holiday, sealing the affection he had felt for a specific period deep in his heart. But now that he had the right answer, even if it was just a fleeting thought, it had slipped away. The regret of truth was more alluring than the false perfection of perfection, and it only solidified his resolve to divorce. In the past, he hadn't wanted to date a woman. Marriage was a vessel without substance to him. Who controlled it, what was put into it, had no bearing on him. Now that he knew what that felt like, he wanted to keep it as his own. If he came across something he wanted to treasure, he would put it in there himself. If not, he would leave it unused. The Mo family had two sons, and having Mo Daoxing to carry on the bloodline was enough.
Mo Daoyan turned half of his body and asked instead of answering, "What do you mean by fulfilling your wish?"
Tong Yufei stood up, leaned against the desk and said, "The two are in love, and each gets what he wants."
"Are you still attached to me?"
"It's deeper than you think."
"So deep that when I said I'd consummate my marriage, I cried like my husband had died?"
"It's because of reluctance that I look forward to the relationship that is mutually agreeable. At the same time, I am trying to do better."
Mo Daoyan's cold eyes were dark, and his black pupils were like washed agate, shining brightly. "I won't try things that I'm not interested in. You won't get what you want."
He left his seat after he finished speaking. Tong Yufei trotted after him, shutting the door he had just opened. He turned his back to the door and blocked his way. "If you're not interested in kissing, why don't you just get out of the way? Mo Daoyan, liking something superficial doesn't mean it's shallow, and having low tastes doesn't mean it's low class. Eating stinky bean paste won't stink, and how can you tell if there's a rough gem in the gift box if you don't open it?"
At this moment, Mo Daoyan looked at Tong Yufei with new eyes. He rarely heard such words from those avant-garde girls abroad, but she said it with a conservative face. She said a lot of flowery words, but the translation was simple and clear. She was inviting him. A glass table lamp with a green base was on in the study. The fluorescent light was filtered by the lampshade and cast a large area of lilac purple, which made her face slightly flushed. She had permed her hair during the Chinese New Year, with small waves, making her hair look thicker. The hair on both sides was clipped with red hairpins, and the rest floated behind her. A strand of hair had static electricity and passed over her shoulder and stuck to his sweater.
He picked up the strand of hair that had gone out of bounds and tucked it behind her ear: "You can take the money and leave this door with a clear conscience."
"Who would believe it?"
"What if someone doesn't like jade? Aren't you afraid of losing both the wife and the army?"
"No."
He seemed to be persuaded: "Smile more and show your teeth."
Her smile was most fake when she didn't show her teeth. With a few teeth showing, her eyes curved, and her whole body looked happy, a forced smile naturally wasn't a sign of genuineness. His move had a certain air of bullying, but seeing her feigning happiness ignited his desire more than the heroic expression on her face. Such moments were necessary. The more she smiled, the more joy would grow in her eyes. Then his kiss fell, cool as ice, first landing on her dimples, then slowly moving to her lips. She melted the ice with the warmth of her lips, and the water from the ice gradually warmed up, moistening her slightly dry lips.
Mo Daoyan picked her up in the air and carried her back to the desk, where he sat her down. He took off the red hairpin, and her black hair fell down. He parted her hair in the middle and gently brushed it to both sides of her shoulders. He pulled open her white Chanel-style jacket with black edges and slowly unbuttoned the silk-wrapped buttons of her chemise.
He bit her lower lip lightly and stroked the pure white bra under her blouse: "Wouldn't it be tight if you wore a small size?"
This was a difficult question for Tong Yufei to discuss since puberty. It was fine in winter with thick clothing, but in summer, short-sleeved shirts revealed her curves, and people kept looking at her. While not all of them were malicious, who could stand being looked at like a gorilla in a zoo? After college, her figure became even fuller, and amidst the three-decker bus crowds, she was a disaster zone. To avoid attracting attention, she had to wear bras two sizes too small, tightly fitting. Wearing a small bra was uncomfortable, but as long as it wasn't life-threatening, she could tolerate the discomfort.
In the past few years, she had gone to bed without a bra, or in a large size. When he slept next to her, she would put on a small one, but it was neither too big nor too small. How could he know her size so accurately? She naturally recalled the scene of falling into his arms that night and being measured by his hands, and her heart was even more confused.
Compared to her mess, he was much calmer: "Wear the right size from now on, it's not its fault."
"You're meddling too much."
"You have to continue to be my wife. To some extent, it will always be under my control for a period of time. I have an obligation to protect it."
"I don't want to talk about this."
"Why rush? Winter nights are long."
Her mouth was blocked again, leaving her unable to argue. Mo Daoyan took a sip of honey tea, swallowing half and passing the other half into her mouth. Kissing was a new subject, and she wasn't yet proficient in it. She was suffocated by the kiss, and a low, awkward gasp came naturally, stimulating Mo Daoyan to deepen the kiss. The sensation in her lips slowly faded, and the sensation in her hands gradually increased, running disorderly across his chest and shoulders. Her hands became hot, and so did her body, until her mouth was dry. She kissed him gently back, curling her tongue around his, which tasted of orange.
In her confusion, she remembered some things related to oranges.
In the summer of the third year after she was taken home by her biological father Tong Jianzhong, Tong Jianzhong went to the market in town and brought back two navel oranges. Tong Yi ate one, and she and Tong Wanfen ate one. Oranges were not common in summer and tasted particularly sweet, but Tong Yi was like Zhu Bajie eating ginseng fruit. He gobbled one up in no time and wanted to eat her sister's and hers. Since she came back to this home, she and Tong Yi had fought a hundred times. One was rampant and the other refused to give in. Tong Yi didn't eat her orange, nor did he let her eat the orange. He threw the orange into the dry toilet in the yard, pointed at the sewage and laughed, "Second Miss, please have your meal. There is plenty of orange juice."
It was an orange, but it was more than just an orange. She could choose not to eat the orange, but she couldn't let Tong Yi get too proud of himself. She swung the sickle hanging on the wall and cut Tong Yi's eyebrow.
Tong Jianzhong rushed over from the kitchen upon hearing the crying. Seeing the blood all over the floor, he slapped her so hard that she almost fainted. "How cruel! Just a little misstep and Tong Yi's eyes are blind. Get out of here. You don't want this family anyway. Go back to being with that idiot. I'll just consider it the death of two daughters."
In the pouring rain that night, she walked three miles, spent 20 cents in town, used a hand-cranked phone, and called the public phone at the county cultural center. Fortunately, her adoptive father was still working overtime. When she heard his voice, she burst into tears: "Dad, I want to go home."
If she knew that it was a farewell forever, she would not fight back or retaliate even if Tong Yi stepped on her face, and she would not make that phone call. But the rain was clearly about to stop at that time, who knew that it would start raining again two hours later?
When the orange flavor dissolved and disappeared, the slight feeling of suffocation disappeared. Mo Daoyan withdrew from her mouth and frowned at her: "You've been drinking."
She bit her lip: "A little bit, I won't default on my debt."
He fastened the silk buttons on her chemise one by one: "Is this the dress with the most buttons you have?"
Mo Daoyan didn't really want to take advantage of her situation and defeat her when she didn't have a wife. The light was dim, and he couldn't see clearly whether the flashes in her eyes were tears or reflections. He only sensed a hint of something unusual from her slightly changed expression, which confirmed his previous suspicion. When she forcefully kissed him, he smelled the faint fragrance of rice and the scent of sake on the tip of her tongue, which even the taste of mint chewing gum could not cover up.
How can you believe the words of a drunk person?
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