The Bathing Women

1

Dr. Tang came again, and this time he brought his niece Fei.

Tiao was immediately drawn to Fei, who was fifteen that year, but to Tiao she already appeared to have the body of a grown woman. Her dark eyebrows, red lips, and deep chestnut curls on her forehead lit up Tiao’s eyes. It was a time when makeup wasn’t allowed, so how were Fei’s lips so brightly coloured and gorgeous? It was also a time when perms were banned, so how did Fei get her curled fringe? How did she dare? The vivid lips and curled fringe made Fei look like a visitor from another planet; those slightly skewed eyes of hers gave her a touch of boldness and decadence. Tiao learned the word “decadence” from political posters. It was a bad word, but for some reason this bad word made her heart race. Even though she didn’t completely understand the meaning of decadence, she was already sure it applied to Fei precisely. Perhaps by associating this word with Fei she unconsciously expressed her own attraction to evil: the female spy, the social butterfly … in the movies she used to watch, those women, constantly surrounded by men, always wore expensive and beautiful clothes, drank good wine, and looked mysterious. That would be decadence, but why were decadent people so pretty? Fei was decadent, and that vague decadence in her excited Tiao. She had never met a female before Fei who thrilled her so much. She felt that somehow she’d already started to worship Fei, this beautiful, decadent girl. Because of this, her loathing for Dr. Tang lessened somewhat.

Dr. Tang brought two movie tickets, distributed by the hospital, for an Algerian film, Victory over Death. “Let Tiao and Fei go, otherwise who knows how long they’ll have to wait for the school to buy them group tickets,” Wu said very agreeably, seemingly eager to please, which annoyed Tiao a little. Although she liked going to the movies, especially with someone like Fei, she didn’t like Wu’s tone. The more ingratiating Wu sounded, the more she heard a dismissal—she was sending Tiao and Fei off so she could be with Dr. Tang. So Tiao said she didn’t want to go; she had to do her homework. She just wanted to make a little trouble for Wu.

Then Fei stretched out her hand to her uncle, not her entire hand, but two of the fingers: index and middle. She wiggled her fingers at her uncle and said, “Tickets. Tickets. Give me the tickets.” Tiao wasn’t surprised by her Beijing dialect; she believed a person with Fei’s looks had to speak Beijing dialect. It would have been strange if she hadn’t. The way she wiggled her fingers seemed indecent, and the tone in which she spoke to the adults made her sound impudent. Tiao had never come across anyone who behaved in this manner and spoke in that tone. She was probably stunned, so when Fei almost grabbed the tickets from her uncle’s hand and gestured with her head, Tiao stood up and left with Fei as if she had received an irresistible command.

The movie was showing at Da Guangming Theatre, three bus stops from Tiao’s home. They didn’t take the bus—they walked. For a shortcut, they wound through some alleys single-file. Fei walked very fast, pretending not to notice Tiao’s quivering eagerness to follow her. She didn’t talk to Tiao and didn’t bother to walk beside her. She wore a plissé shirt, white background printed with bean-sized strawberries, and a pair of blue khaki uniform pants that perfectly hugged her swaying bottom. On her feet, she had on a pair of black T-strap leather shoes, which weren’t for adults, but were hard for a middle school student to get. The shoes didn’t just represent wealth, but also a style and taste beyond those of an ordinary Fuan family. Shoe factories in Fuan didn’t make leather shoes of this kind; one could immediately tell they came from a big city, even though they were just made of fine pigskin. Fei swung her bottom, raised her chin slightly, and stuck out her already-developed chest, walking in front of Tiao all the time. She rolled her plissé sleeves above her elbows, revealing the layer of soft, fine yellow down on her forearms, dazzling in the sunshine. She was so striking that there were always passersby who stopped to look at her: men, women, adults and children … Two young men in worker’s clothes came toward them on their bikes. They swung around after passing and caught up with Fei from behind, purposely sandwiching her from both sides. Swaying and squirming on their bikes, they brushed their sleeves on her bare arms and then darted off. She didn’t call them “Obnoxious!” or “Pervert!”—just walked more proudly, as if no one else existed. She didn’t pay attention to them at all; they were not worthy of her spit or her curses.

At last they entered the narrow, quiet alley that led to Da Guangming Theatre. Noticing there was no one around, Fei suddenly stopped, as if waiting for Tiao to catch up. Excitedly, Tiao caught up with her, feeling it was a gesture from Fei showing that she regarded Tiao as her equal and would finally walk with her side by side. Tiao rushed to her, only to be forced by Fei into a corner. Backed against the wall, face-to-face with Fei, Tiao thought she was going to tell her some secret, which sometimes happened when two girls walked together. But before she could react, Fei slapped her hard across the face. The crisp, loud slap, echoing in the alley, made Tiao see black in front of her eyes, followed by thousands of golden sparkles dancing around her head. It didn’t hurt; she had no memory of pain. Maybe what Fei said blocked the pain that Tiao might have felt, or transferred the feeling to somewhere else in her. After she slapped Tiao, Fei got very close to her face and said something terrible with that pretty mouth of hers. She said, “Your mum is a bad woman, a whore!”

Tiao opened her eyes; the alley was still the same alley, and Fei stood before her, with her hands on her hips and sweat on her face, as if awaiting Tiao’s counterattack. “Your mum is a whore.” Tiao couldn’t believe she had really heard it, that the vulgar, explosive words had really come out of Fei’s mouth. She never wanted to hear those words again in her whole life, but she felt compelled to repeat them over and over in her mind. Her heart raced, every hair on her body seemed to stand up, and hot blood rushed to her face, the swollen face that Fei had slapped. Tiao was angry, but a terrible shame kept her from raising her head. For a moment, she was about to agree with Fei. She suspected that her mother’s being a whore involved Dr. Tang, and the things she had written about in the letter to her dad. She now believed the only people who knew about Wu and Dr. Tang were her and Fei, but her instinct was to protect Wu. For a stranger to insult her mother this way was intolerable. She intended to retaliate but didn’t know how; she felt guilty because what Fei had said was true, and she couldn’t quite find the words for a reply. Tears started suddenly and she tried to turn around to walk back. The good things about home came to her mind and she wanted to go there. “Don’t you dare leave!” Fei said behind her, and she stopped, compelled by Fei’s voice. She really didn’t know why she would listen to Fei.

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