Five Spice Street

The young coal worker got up his nerve to reveal his private life. The first assumption was apparently unfounded, so he talked of the second. He confessed his unrequited love over a long period of muddle-headedness-the dirty images in his mind in which he was always the master, as naked as the day he was born, incomparably ugly, while Madam X was seen only in shadow from the rear. He described every move he might possibly make, confusing his fantasies about Madam X with his carnal experiences with Old Woman Jin. Not blinking an eye, she urged him to continue. She stroked his lower abdomen and lightly kissed his cheek as if comforting a baby. Whenever he dozed off, the widow mercilessly woke him. “You’re still a long way from your new life!’’ she would say. And so he summoned energy and went on talking, and then dozed off again. Hard as nails, the widow woke him up again. His face gradually started tingling, his eyes bulged out in a scary way, and he started to drool. When he finally closed his eyes and fell sound asleep, the widow went to the kitchen, ladled out some water, and splashed it over him. ‘‘This is good. This is effective. Don’t relax. Go on talking. It’s your only way out!’’ she chided.

In the work shed facing the street, these two had become the vanguard of Five Spice Street. They weren’t at all isolated from the outside world. One piece of information after another leaked out from the work shed, causing tidal waves among the people. They dreamed in their rundown homes, and a world of dreams hung over all of the ordinary people. It was the world in which they lived their daily lives. A little forgetful, a little absent-minded, they always shoved ‘‘the matter’’ to the back of their minds. But now their enthusiasm for life was greatly elevated by these two vanguardists. Something that had happened not long before also substantiated this. Not long ago, Madam X’s husband’s good friend announced that Madam X’s new lover, P, known only through hearsay, had already made contact with the lady! With this news, the people who had begun to relax were aroused again, and they felt they couldn’t survive without these two vanguardists, never mind that they lived in the work shed and slept on stones. Finding other such selfless civil servants would not be easy.

Approaching fifty, the widow now had an even more transcendent demeanor. After acting as the young coal worker’s mentor in the work shed for five days and five nights, she donned her oversized black robe to cover her generous curves. Walking soberly ahead on the main road like a mass of black clouds, she commanded the respect and admiration of the people on Five Spice Street. The people no longer referred to the widow’s past ‘‘sex appeal.’’ Or if they did, it had nothing to do with her present state; rather, they spoke of the seductive person she used to be, like the ‘‘pretty girls under the camellia trees.’’ Wrapped in the black robe, she was even more charming, in a way that excluded sexual desire, like the ocean, the rainbow, the primeval forest, the distant stars all over the sky. It was mysterious and serene, as pleasant as fresh air-healthy, solemn, and graceful: it drew people from the ground to the clouds; it was as magical as a meeting in paradise. Just one glance at her would turn even a lusty, wild young guy into someone earnest and noble. Your lust would turn into fuel for work, or the inspiration for art, or the pursuit of ideals.

Third, the widow’s penetrating vision (this manifested itself in discussing sexual problems, in vindicating traditional standards of taste, in sizing up our male compatriots, and so forth) precisely represented our Five Spice Street’s people’s extraordinary talent. Every one of us has eyes like a structurally complex microscope and telescope. (Who needs the stuff Madam X played with?) We maintained our composure because we were so excellent. Otherwise, X’s puzzling sorcery and her preposterous behavior would have disturbed our social system. Instead, we advanced. Outsiders thought it inconceivable! Madam X talked a lot of nonsense, such as ‘‘no one here paid attention to his or her eyes,’’ they ‘‘didn’t look in mirrors,’’ and so forth. Her superficial mind could not possibly comprehend our self-knowledge and ability to take the initiative. We were born with this ability, this vision. We had long since observed our physiological structure and its function. What good would come of racking our brains or playing with mirrors and other such things? Madam X’s ‘‘narrow views’’ weren’t worth refuting. The facts contradict her remarks: Madam X didn’t discover something in the mirror (even though, time after time, she announced her discoveries); rather, our innate vision penetrated her and revealed her plain as day. Her deceit didn’t help. We sat down quietly and solemnly under the eaves, and all our problems were ‘‘automatically solved.’’