Proofreaders: happyBuddha, Lee, Kai, m@o, Marcia
That year, Japan launched campaigns to strengthen security throughout northern China under the slogan, “liberate East Asia, eliminate Communism in self-defence, and work industriously to increase production.” Consequently, the tension in Tientsin heightened as well.
A massive raid
was conducted in spring and once again in late summer.
Although Lao-Wu’s cover had not been
revealed, the administration arranged for him to retreat from
Tientsin in fear for his safety. In the last two years, Shen Liangsheng had
transferred several sums of money in support of logistics through Lao-Wu’s connections. The latter
appreciated his contributions, but it proved too risky to say aloud during
their farewell. He later asked Ch’in Ching to pass on the message: “I don’t
know when I will be able to return. You must be very careful in the future.
Don’t interact with anybody else. I thank you on behalf of the Party, and Vice Chairman Chou also asked me to thank you personally.”
Ch’in Ching
delivered the entire message word for word before adding, “Come to think of it,
Vice Chairman Chou is half a Tientsiner.”
“Oh, a fellow Tientsiner.”
“I should be saying that, not you.”
Shen K’echen had moved to Tientsin after the Peiyang
government fell and the Shen ancestry
traced back to the Northeast, so Shen Liangsheng was not a true Tientsiner.
But upon hearing this, Shen Liangsheng only turned over a page of the newspaper
and retorted, “But I married into a Tientsin family. Why can’t I call myself a
Tientsiner?”
Amused at how the
man had become cheekier as he aged, Ch’in Ching shook his head smilingly and
sat down beside the man. He skimmed through the page that Shen Liangsheng had
just finished reading but did not find the column he wanted. Then he realized
it was in the man’s hands and proceeded to hold out his hand in demand.
“I’m still
reading. Wait your turn.”
Ch’in Ching
simply looked at him with a smile on his face. Very soon, Shen Liangsheng could
only wave the white flag and toss the papers over to him. He asked a question
to which he didn’t expect an answer, “Are you the most obnoxious or what?”
The paper that Shen Liangsheng was reading was New Tientsin Gazette,
which was previously known as Tienfungpao.
The specific page that they were fighting over was the literature section in
which the newest chapters of The Legend
of the Shu Shan Swordsmen were being released. Ch’in Ching
was a devoted fan of Huan Chu Lou Chu and thus would not miss even one chapter.
Originally, Shen
Liangsheng did not read for leisure, but since he had settled down with Ch’in
Ching and become used to domestic life, his tastes began to change. With time
to spare, the two men tended to a few plants here and there, and on idle days,
they would make a pot of tea and sit across from one another each with a book
in hand for hours at a time.
Perhaps all men had
a secret love for wu-hsia in their bones. Seeing Ch’in Ching following every
single release of The Legend of Shu Shan Swordsmen
and praising its story, Shen Liangsheng thought he might as well buy the
printed books from Lili Press and read the story from the start.
After catching up, he followed the new releases with Ch’in Ching and even
engaged the man in discussion afterwards.
The Legend was a
hsien-hsia novel with an extensively elaborate world. There were characters
both good and evil, and each had wukung more powerful than the last. They could
soar the skies and burrow through the earth. They could travel on their swords.
Their abilities were strange and fascinating, never failing to surprise the
reader. Regardless of how much his tastes had changed, Shen Liangsheng did not
lose his fastidious and methodical nature. Even though it was a novel, he had
Ch’in Ching accompany him in sorting the relationships between the always
increasing character set, debating who had the better wukung and more useful magic
items and whether good would prevail against evil or vice versa. In this, Ch’in Ching
lacked the studious attitude of the other man but nonetheless found this
serious way of reading fiction rather interesting. He gladly joined in the
discussions, and before he knew it, he, too, had become quite serious.
Occasionally the two men had opposing opinions and neither could persuade the
other. At times like these, Ch’in Ching would threaten menacingly, “You
disagree with me one more time and you’re washing the dishes this week!” While
saying so, it didn’t occur to him that it was rather immature for two grown men
to fall out over a fictional novel.
Despite it being
fiction, the author’s captivating prose made the world come to life – as though
such a place with a different sky and earth truly existed. In that wondrous world,
the air was full of flying swordsmen, and characters came and went. But whether
they became realized immortals or fallen demons, one thing never changed: no
barbarian dared invade.
“Ch’in Ching, what are your plans now that Lao-Wu has left?”
Ch’in Ching was
intently reading the new chapter when Shen Liangsheng suddenly asked. He
replied lightheartedly, “What do you mean plans? Of course I’ll keep teaching.”
Shen Liangsheng
didn’t pursue the subject, dropping it as though it had only been a spontaneous
question. He didn’t bring it up again until they turned in for the night. With
the lights off, he started in a rare tentative tone, “I’ve been thinking about
the current situation, Ch’in Ching…. What if I said I want you to switch
schools…maybe to an elementary school, how would that sound?”
Shen Liangsheng’s
concern was justified – Sheng Kung had been expanding, and fame came at a
price. As with Yaohua, Sheng Kung had been on the Japanese radar
for some time. Back in the day, Nank’ai had suffered greatly for its
anti-Japanese stance, and later on, the principal of Yaohua was assassinated by
a Japanese agent in broad daylight. Shen Liangsheng was anxious because first, he
had been inactive for a long time and broken off contact with the world of
politics, and second, Ch’in Ching had worked for Lao-Wu. And who knew when the so-called “security strengthening
campaigns” would come to an end? He knew the probability was low, but even that
scared him. Should anything happen, he was afraid that he couldn’t protect the
man, and thus he thought it would be best if the man transferred to a less
prominent elementary school.
But then again,
since they had moved in together, Ch’in Ching had stopped all other activities
other than teaching out of concern for safety. By making this request now, Shen
Liangsheng felt as though he were eating away more and more of the
schoolmaster’s aspirations. Honestly speaking, he would by all means tie the
man by a rope and keep him by his side if he could actually do that, not
letting him go anywhere or do anything. He would only rest easy if he could
keep the man at home every single day.
Shen Liangsheng himself thought the request was too
much and didn’t plan to force the man to quit the job at Sheng Kung. He only
wanted to make the suggestion, and if the man didn’t agree then he would let the
matter go. But unexpectedly Ch’in Ching patted his hand under the sheets after
seconds of silence.
“Fine,” the
schoolmaster said quietly.
Ch’in Ching
understood the other man’s intentions perhaps all too well. In the past two
years, the man had donated all of his savings in offshore accounts using the
identity of an overseas Chinese – what was the purpose? Certainly, this was
partly because of the sentiment that the man had developed for this country and
the wish to support the fight against Japan, but there also lay within a desire
to make amends to him. They had left this unspoken, but only a shameless
bastard would not have read between the lines.
“Of course it’s
fine.” After not receiving any response from the man, Ch’in Ching patted his
hand again and added reassuringly, “It’s the same job no matter where I go.
Don’t worry about it.”
He asked the man not to think too much about it but
had a strange dream himself.
The beginning was
very normal and even had a sexual undertone to it. Ch’in Ching dreamt he was
fooling around with Shen Liangsheng in the bedroom, their hands on each other’s
bodies hinting at foreplay. Then, Shen Liangsheng pushed him up against the
floor mirror in the corner. His back was against the icy glass but his groin
was burning. He shut his eyes in the comfort of being fellated as a few moans
escaped his lips.
But soon he felt
a pair of arms circling him from behind in a nearly suffocating hold. Where did
the arms come from? Ch’in Ching was horrified at the thought of the arms of a
phantom reaching out from the mirror and grabbing him as though to
drag him into it.
“Shen–” He wanted
to cry out for help only to find the man who had been kneeling before him gone.
He buckled against the clutch and turned around. The person, or perhaps ghost,
had fully stepped out of the mirror and stood face to face with him. Blackness
enshrouded them obscuring the apartment he was familiar with, but the face
before him he knew well. It was none other than the man to whom he had cried
for help.
“Shen
Liangsheng….” Ch’in Ching called in a daze. Perhaps he had been reading too
many wu-hsia novels; the man he knew so well for some reason was dressed in
clothing from ancient times. His long hair was black and his attire even
darker; only the man’s pale face stood out in the darkness. It was a face that
harboured no emotions, but as they looked into each other’s eyes, a silent tear
trickled down the man’s face.
“Don’t–” Ch’in
Ching reached out in a panic. He wanted to tell the man not to cry but found he
could not. He couldn’t even wipe away the tear for him – the tear seemed to
hold within it an excruciating sorrow. He must have caused the man so much pain
that this overwhelming agony, torn between love and hatred, could be seen in
his eyes.
Ch’in Ching was
so unnerved he didn’t know what to do – watching the man in pain made him hurt
as well. He couldn’t squeeze out even a single word of comfort. He just stared
at the man before him like a statue, afraid he would vanish if he so much as
blinked.
“Ch’in Ching? Ch’in Ching?”
Ch’in Ching could
not move in the dream, but in reality he was restless in his sleep, constantly
trembling. As though he could sense it, Shen Liangsheng awoke and realized the
man was having a nightmare, so he began shaking the man.
Still in a
stupor, Ch’in Ching lay there for a few seconds before he suddenly rolled over
and wrapped his arms tightly around Shen Liangsheng pressing his face against
his chest. Moments later, he was clinging onto the man with both arms and legs
as he muttered something under his breath so softly Shen Liangsheng could not catch it.
“There, there.
It’s all right now….” Shen Liangsheng didn’t know what Ch’in Ching had dreamt
about and found the man’s actions a bit amusing, but he couldn’t say that. He
hugged the man back and gently brushed his back while comforting, “Did you have
a bad dream? It can’t hurt you now that you’re awake. Don’t be afraid.”
“Why do you sound
like my mom?” Coming back to himself, Ch’in Ching felt a bit embarrassed and grumbled
in attempt to cover it up before pushing himself off of the man.
“Already getting
cheeky with me, are you? I say you deserved that nightmare.” As though he had
not had enough of Ch’in Ching, he pulled the man back into his embrace. “What
did you dream about?”
“I dreamt you were
a ghost and ate me up.” Ch’in Ching continued his cheeky remarks, but after a
while, he couldn’t keep it bottled up inside and told everything to Shen
Liangsheng. Finally, he asked in a whisper, “When did I do something terrible
to you?”
“Yes, when
indeed?” Shen Liangsheng kissed his forehead and sneaked a hand downward into his
pyjama pants. “The second half was a nightmare, but the first half wasn’t, was
it? I say you had that dream ‘cause we haven’t done it enough this week.”
“Quit it. It’s
the middle of the night….” Ch’in Ching refused quietly, but he soon became
aroused because his body had gotten used to the man’s touch. As the lust
remaining from the dream was relit, he gave up trying to dissuade the man.
“All right, if
you say so.” Shen Liangsheng purposely stopped after the other man was fully
erect and patted him on the butt. “Go to sleep.”
“Oh, come on.
Don’t be like that.” Ch’in Ching lowered himself and began nibbling on the
taller man’s chest and lapping at the nipples. He reached under the sheets
himself and slid his own bottoms down before bringing the man’s hand to his own
bare hips. He led the man’s fingers to his entrance and deliberately flexed his
muscles there while grinding his own erection on the man’s thigh.
“You hopeless rascal,” Shen Liangsheng scolded superficially as he
rolled over and stripped the man in mere seconds. He started kissing Ch’in
Ching from head to toe in efforts to arouse as much desire as possible until the
man could no longer stand it. Only when the man spread open his own legs
pulling his own cheeks apart and begging him to enter did he ram himself into
the body he could not be any more familiar with. Even so, the sex never failed
to be exhilarating, and they never grew tired of it.
“Isn’t it strange? Why do you reckon I had that
dream?” After the sex, Ch’in Ching had recovered from the scare but still could
not forget about the dream. He asked Shen Liangsheng in a puzzled manner, “What
if I really did owe you in the last life?”
“You actually
believe in reincarnation?” Shen Liangsheng lay with the man in his arms as he
caressed his sweaty back. He thought to himself that the man probably had the
dream because of the request he had made before bed. He truly was confining the
man as he had in the dream, dragging the man to a place for just the two of
them and selfishly forgetting about the war, about the present turmoil. It was just as the sonnet said, “Let us stay rather
on earth, beloved – where the unfit contrarious moods of men recoil away and
isolate pure spirits, and permit a place to stand and love in for a day, with
darkness and the death-hour rounding it.”
“To be honest, I
don’t….” Ch’in Ching paused wanting to continue but decided his mind was simply
running wild at this hour of the night. In the end, he found a comfortable spot
in Shen Liangsheng’s arms and hummed softly, “All right, good night.”
“Ch’in Ching, I
have nobody left in my family. You, too.” With the man in his embrace, Shen
Liangsheng spoke about what had been going through his head quite
straightforwardly, “It’s just the two of us from now on. I will take good care
of you, and we’ll stay like this until the end, yes?”
“Yes,” Ch’in
Ching answered quickly. He looked up and stared at the man up close. Childishly
but earnestly he added, “And I will take
good care of you, too.”
“Good
boy. Now, sleep.” Shen Liangsheng chuckled and planted a kiss on his eye, and
the two drifted asleep in each other’s arms.
Even if
they did not forget about the war and the present turmoil, they might not ever
be considered selfless anyway. The amount that Shen Liangsheng donated was a
number that the average citizen could not even dream of, but in the context of
a long-lived war, it was but a drop in an ocean, a mere symbol of support.
Compared to the truly selfless people who had shed their blood on the
battlefield, their contributions appeared miniscule. However, in the end Shen
Liangsheng simply wished to live with the man for the rest of his life, which
was why he had to save his life for himself and for the man no matter what. Not
only would they be each other’s companion, they would be each other’s parent,
brother, and child; they would be all of the most intimate of relationships to
each other. And together they would stay till death did them part.
“Is
that you? Did you get the noodles?”
“I didn’t go at all.”
“Why?”
“I passed by the grain market, and the line was so
long I thought they’d sell out by the time it was my turn. Let’s make them
ourselves.”
That was August of Year Thirty-Four of the Republic,
nineteen forty-five by the Gregorian. After the news of Japan’s unconditional
surrender had spread through Tientsin, the city fell into a joyous frenzy. The
vendors of fireworks and firecrackers were stupefied when their inventory proved
insufficient for the demand that was higher than even the New Year’s season.
Firecrackers aside, even common household items like
noodles were in short supply. Every household celebrated the Japanese retreat to their godforsaken country by observing the custom of eating lao mien
to rid one of misfortunes. At first, everyone was more or less in disbelief
after hearing the news of surrender. Only after eating the noodles did their
worries settle down, along with the noodles in their stomachs.
Ch’in Ching poured some flour into a bowl, and Shen
Liangsheng stood beside him adding water for him. While Ch’in Ching worked on
the dough, he prepared the vegetables and the gravy. The two men
then stayed by the stove waiting for the noodles to cook. After the noodles
were done, the men transferred them into bowls, careful not to break even the
ends hanging outside the bowl as was the tradition for longevity noodle.
And eating the long noodles was like taking in the
long happy years of the foreseeable future.
The two
men ate noodles by themselves that day and went to the Lius’ place for another
celebration the following day. On the way, they passed by a photography studio
where Ch’in Ching stopped in his tracks. He looked over to Shen Liangsheng with
a smirk. “Shall we?”
Actually, neither of them liked to take photographs.
Moreover, they were together day in and day out, so it never occurred to them
to buy a camera to take a photograph every now and then. It would be the first
time they went to a studio together.
The studio storefront was not grand, but the ‘Just
Married’ banners on the door attracted much attention. Seeing the owner was
rather young, Ch’in Ching assumed he had recently married and greeted
good-naturedly, “Congratulations on the marriage!”
“Oh dear. Lots of people have been saying that,” the
owner replied with enthusiasm. “I married two years ago and had lots of these
banners left over from then. It’s such a festive time now, I thought I’d put
them up.”
Ch’in Ching was in a good mood to begin with, and the
owner was a nice man, so he began engaging in light conversation. When the man
asked if Shen Liangsheng was his friend, he looked over at the taller man and
answered smilingly, “We’re cousins.”
“Cousins, eh. Good, good….” The owner stood behind the
camera and gave them instructions as he peeked through the viewfinder. “A bit
closer, my good sirs…come now, why are you standing so far apart? Closer…put
your arm around him…yes, now that looks like two cousins! Now look here…and
smile…perfect!”
Having taken the photograph and received the receipt, Ch’in
Ching reached for his wallet, but the owner shook his hand. “Free of charge!
How could I ask for money on a day as happy as today? I’m providing free
services every day this week!”
“No, we couldn’t.” Ch’in Ching placed the money on the
counter. “You can’t lose profit just because you’re happy, can you?”
“I said it’s free!” The owner chuckled merrily as he
stuffed the money back into Ch’in Ching’s pocket and ushered the two cousins
out of the studio. Pointing to a paper slip on the door, he said, “See, it’s
written here. Happy times have been so hard to come by I’d gladly lose profit!”
Indeed, Ch’in Ching and Shen Liangsheng had not
noticed the paper below the banners. Neatly written on it were these words:
Providing
free services in celebration of the motherland’s victorious resistance.
The day
they retrieved the finished product, Ch’in Ching took it out once more before
bed even though he had already seen it earlier in the day.
“What are you smiling at?” Shen Liangsheng had just
gotten out of the shower. Seeing the man looking at the photograph with a silly
grin on his face, he sat down beside the man and wrapped an arm around him.
“I heard that the good-looking ones don’t look good in
photographs, but you look just as good in the photograph as you do in the flesh.”
After praising Shen Liangsheng, he shamelessly added for himself, “But I have
to say, I don’t look too bad myself.”
If this were any other day that Ch’in Ching acted
narcissistic, Shen Liangsheng would certainly make a few mocking remarks. As he
held the man, however, he felt touched seeing himself holding the man in the
same way in the photograph and the two men inside smiling at the two men
outside.
“Let’s develop a bigger one and put it up,” Shen
Liangsheng reached for Ch’in Ching’s hand and held it tightly and added, “to make up for
our missing wedding photograph.”
That
night they made sweet, sweet love. It was not very passionate but rather mild
and long-lasting as though they were floating on water, gently drifting down a
warm river to a place too far to glimpse.
In the year of the victory against Japan, Shen
Liangsheng was thirty-five, Ch’in Ching thirty-three. They didn’t notice the
age in the other person because they saw each other every day. The men in the
photograph also appeared young and spirited.
However, the fact of the matter was that a long time
had passed. After the lovemaking, they lay side by side holding hands. Ch’in
Ching gazed at the foot of the bed where a sliver of moonlight peeked through
the nearly shut curtains making him realize just how much time had passed.
He seemed to remember that once upon a time he had
lain beside the man watching a sliver of moonlight fall upon the floor, a glowing
beam creeping past the foot of the bed amidst the gloom. It was like a silvery
white thread that wove through nearly ten years of their lives.
Ch’in Ching flipped over and gazed into Shen
Liangsheng’s eyes. He brushed his hand along the man’s hairline and commented
softly, “Haven’t seen any white hair on you.”
“It’ll come soon. I’ll have to ask you to help me pluck
them.” Shen Liangsheng guessed what was on Ch’in Ching’s mind and replied in
the same soft voice. He reached out his hand too and touched the mole by the
man’s eye while continuing to joke, “But I won’t be able to help with these two
creases.”
Ch’in Ching loved to tell jokes and to smile. Probably
because he smiled too much, there were two faint wrinkles by the corner of his
eye.
“Wow, you already think I’m old, don’t you?” Ch’in
Ching made a fake pitiful face, but in the next moment, he seemed to have
thought of something else and snickered, “Remember what the novel said….”
Most of
the books that Ch’in Ching had read Shen Liangsheng had read with him, and thus
the latter knew exactly to which novel the schoolmaster was referring. As
expected, Ch’in Ching began talking about the prose of a certain female author
by the name of Chang from Shanghai who had gained quite a bit of
popularity in recent years. It was a metaphor for love and marriage that was
both playful and relentless:
“Every man will probably have two women like this in
his life, at least two. If he married the red rose, sooner or later, the red
would become a smudge of mosquito blood on the wall while the white stayed the moonlight by the bedding; if he married the white rose, the white would
become a grain of rice stuck on his clothes while the red became a rouge mole
on his chest.”
“Come now, as if I’d ever think badly of you.” Hearing
Ch’in Ching bring up this story, Shen Liangsheng was extremely happy – he had treated
their photograph as a belated wedding picture, so the man treated himself as
his wife. Even if it was a joke, it made Shen Liangsheng fill with joy.
How could he think badly about this? All he wanted to
do was rejoice.
Perhaps it truly was the good karma that he had
collected in the past life that would allow him to be together with this man
till their hair whitened, till death did them part, so that he could caress all
the laugh lines that would appear on the man’s face.
Because of this happiness, he eased closer to the man.
Amidst the continual weave of moonlight and time, he kissed the mole by his eye
and said in a sweet, endearing tone, “You’re my rouge mole, Mrs. Shen, and also
my moonlight.”
Shen
Liangsheng remembered the title of the novel on marriage as Red Rose, White Rose. The author gained
a huge wave of popularity from her serialized releases on Wan-hsiang, but they had read her works only after
the various chapters were collected and bound. The entire collection had few
stories with themes of happiness and reunion, but it had a spectacular name.
It was called Legend.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Ta lu mien (da lu mian), a traditional dish in northern China. The one in the picture is specifically the Tientsin version.
A copy of Wan-hsiang
For more information:
Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere, the concept which the security strengthening campaigns were aimed at achieving.
Resistance and Revolution in China: The Communists and the Second United Front (security strengthening campaign mentioned on pg. 268)
Zhou Enlai (speculations regarding his love for a man)
The Legend of Shu Shan Swordsmen (Amazon link)
Yaohua School
Gravy noodles recipe (da lu mian or Tientsin lao mien)
Longevity noodles recipe (shou mian)
Eileen Chang
A nice overview of Chinese literature starting from the very first texts.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
ayszhang: TuT I...I wasn't crying!!! *sniff*
I worked hard and finished early so I decided to post one day early! *u*
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Till Death Do Us Part - English Translation by ayszhang is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.
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