A Decade of Nightmares: A Cultural Revolution Novel

By Xiang-wu Liu

Written in the form of satire, this tragic story begins with a false report of two signal flares fired by a class enemy in a small town in South China during Mao Zedongs Cultural Revolution. From 1966 to 1976, a haze of persecution, confusion, and hate befell China. The so-called class enemies were paraded through the streets, and schools were closed.

Domestic calamities went head to head with political rebellions while spies ran rampant and property was cruelly confiscated. There was an eventual fight for power as brothers mistreated brothers, wives were stolen, and families murdered. Now, decades later, these silenced voices are remembered in order to avoid the repetition of history.

A Decade of Nightmares reminds us of what is true, good, and beautiful but also what is false, evil, and ugly. This book dissects the soul of a nation from a historical cross-section. It calls for the return of dignity and reveals the brutal persecution of the soul. From the vicissitudes of fate, we see clearly the extent and depth of the devastation caused by a decade of disaster.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 8, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546249023

Xiang-wu Liu

Xiang-wu Liu was born in Nanxun, an ancient water town in South China in 1954. He dropped out of school in 1966 when Chairman Mao launched the so-called Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution. He educated himself by reading books about politics, history, literature, medicine, and nature.

Book preview

Contents

Chapter 1 Signal Flares

Chapter 2 Men

Chapter 3 Bu Yuelian

Chapter 4 Hua Jiansen

Chapter 5 Hong Qiuying’s Diary

Chapter 6 We Got Him!

Chapter 7 A Bad Surprise

Chapter 8 Chili Powder-Afflicted Soul

Chapter 9 A Happy Release

Chapter 10 The Magpie’s Call

Chapter 11 Hooking Up

Chapter 12 Down and Out

Chapter 13 Revenge

Chapter 14 The Throes

Chapter 15 Offensive by the Pen and Defensive by the Sword

Chapter 16 Safeguarding the Mango

Chapter 17 The Great Expulsion

History is no child’s play. To write about history in a playful way is a tragedy of history. May that tragedy never befall us again!

Foreword

A person who forgets kindness is ungrateful and immoral.

A person who forgets shame is shameless.

A nation that is good at forgetting is a weak one without a future.

As early as the late 1970s, Ba Jin, a literary giant in China, urged the whole society to think seriously about the Cultural Revolution and to establish a Cultural Revolution museum. It was meant to awaken the conscience of the Chinese nation and to bring the people to reason so that our offspring would keep a cool head and do everything within their power to prevent the chaotic Cultural Revolution from repeating itself on this land of wonder.

For various reasons, the Cultural Revolution museum was not established as Ba Jin had expected. However, the Cultural Revolution museum in the hearts of the Chinese people is not eroded with the passage of time, because the Chinese nation is not a nation that is good at forgetting.

The Cultural Revolution is a grave disaster for the whole nation, yet it is an unusual gift for the literati. A random selection of a dust-laden event of the past shows that whatever happened during that disastrous decade, be it a tragedy, a comedy, a farce or a murder mystery, provides sufficient sources for literary creation. As a man who has gone through it all, if I rack my brains to make up some lovey-dovey stories to cater to the interests of some readers while ignoring these materials, it would be like begging with a gold rice bowl, or letting the meat and vegetables in my kitchen go bad while rushing to a restaurant for the leftovers. If so, isn’t it a typical case of putting the cart before the horse? Isn’t it a huge waste?

I was forced to leave school when I was a fifth-grader owing to my class origin. Arguably, even if someone insists on throwing his seafood and mountain delicacies away for the leftovers of a restaurant, I am not in the position to say anything about it, let alone feel pity for them. However, to ensure that our descendents have a good knowledge of the catastrophe, bear it in mind and try to avoid the mistakes we made, I began to work on this book like a crab digging a hole. Figuratively speaking, I finished the 100-meter race in a time required of a marathoner. While writing, I was kindly reminded by some friends, who said, Nowadays love is the most important element in a contemporary novel. Without it, no one would like to read your book. But I argued, defiantly, It’s like having coriander. If you don’t like it, it’s smelly; but if you love it, it’s tasty. It is not that they don’t know if it smells good or bad. It’s just a matter of taste. And there’s no accounting for tastes.

To be honest, as far as this book is concerned, I always hope for the best. I hope that it will have a wide readership. This reminds me of a story about a barber who went through streets and alleys in the villages. Whenever he was asked why he always gave people a toilet-ring type of haircut, the survivors of the Qing Dynasty (1636-1911) would come to his rescue, saying, That’s the fashion in the Qing Dynasty! This indicates that some people will surely like to read my book, for each era has its own fashion. When this book of mine gets published, maybe it will become some people’s cup of tea, be they coriander lovers or toilet-ring haircut admirers.

So I have decided to leave my book to chance.

Words by a Friend

A Decade of Nightmares, a Cultural Revolution novel which the author has put a great deal of his heart into, tells us what is true, good and beautiful, and what is false, evil and ugly.

The Cultural Revolution, an unprecedented political movement initiated by Mao Zedong himself, took place in 1966, right after Mr. Liu, author of this book, finished his 5-year elementary school. His frustrated life experience and unfortunate family encounters became a primary motivation for his writing of such a thick book, which truthfully and objectively describes the people and things of the absurd age – a miracle for a man with so little schooling.

The Cultural Revolution, a historical period inconceivable to the younger generation, remains vivid in the memory of the middle-aged and the elderly, who experienced the political fervor themselves. The characters in this book, such as Hua Jiansen, Su Qin, Bu Yuelian, Qu Jincan and Quan Bizheng, are all too familiar to us.

As the author says, History is no child’s play. To write about history in a playful way is a tragedy of history. May that tragedy never befall us again! That is exactly what this book is trying to tell us. We all should live with dignity, which can only be ensured by democracy and the rule of law. This book dissects the soul of this nation from a historical cross-section. It calls for the return of dignity, and reveals the brutal persecution of the soul. What is worth mentioning is that the author raises a big question, honestly and frankly, "In those days when everybody was supposed to make revolution in the depth of their soul, who didn’t piously and blindly follow the crowd and add fuel to the revolutionary flame, with the Little Red Book of Chairman Mao held high in the air?" If, after the end of the movement, both the national policy makers and the people from all walks of life could reflect on its disastrous consequences, it would be a blessing for the whole country. If the common people get carried away, the result would not be that devastating. However, if the leaders of the nation lose their marbles and make decisions as they choose, the result would be a calamity or catastrophe. Qu Jincan, a good guy, becomes mad towards the end of the book. So does Quan Bizheng, a bad guy. The same tragic fate shared by the good man and the bad one is an extremely pungent satire of the fiery revolutionary movement.

When the young readers finish this book, they will probably think that it is pure fantasy. They must have had a hard time understanding that their parents were so retarded! In fact, this story is a pocket edition of real history, for it all happened only thirty years ago, and many of the parties or witnesses, like Hua Jiansen, are still alive and well. So what kind of perspective would they actually take to reflect on this period of history? How would they face the drastic changes in today’s society? How would they probably end up? The author has not told us explicitly in the end of the book. Yet he has left us a series of question marks and exclamation marks, which allows the readers to continue the story with their own imagination.

The early works reflecting the Cultural Revolution have been classified into what are termed scar literature and exposure literature. In those works, the hero or heroine is, in nine cases out of ten, an intellectual in and from a city, and one can rarely find a book that deals with the people or customs of a small town or a village. A Decade of Nightmares, however, can be said to be a typical book about common people in a far-away place. The characters in the book are small potatoes who are as ordinary as can be. From the vicissitudes of their fate we can clearly see the extent and depth of the devastation caused by the decade of disaster. In other words, we may know by a handful the whole sack. That is exactly how the author describes what had happened during that chaotic decade.

In fact, that is all I think I should say about this book. As the author’s contemporary, it is indeed a great pleasure and privilege for me to write something as a preface on his behalf.

All are past and gone. Today, the people in the small town of Tiaodong are talking about the glory of their rich and wealthy descendants returning from Hong Kong, Macao and Taiwan to invest in tourism and establish one Sino-foreign joint venture after another. The mansions accidentally left untouched during the Cultural Revolution, the manhole covers, and the door plates and plaques used to pave the roads have become cultural relics, which reveal the brilliant cultural background of the locality and attract tourists from all over the world. In short, with the rapid development of a market economy, the small water town has again emegered as a land flowing with milk and honey.

Yan-min Qian

Victim of the Political Movement

July 15, 1999

PART I

CHAPTER 1

Signal Flares

Tiaodong is a small town in South China. Before the founding of the People’s Republic of China in 1949, it was well known in East China as the land of the rich and wealthy. However, what makes it even more notable is the fact that it produced a handful of elites who were on friendly terms with Sun Yat-sen, first provisional president of China, and Chiang Kai-shek, former president of the Republic of China. That is why people used to say that half of the members of the Central Committee of Kuomintang (KMT), or the Nationalist Party of China, were born here.

Dozens of years ago, this was the talk of the town. But then, in 1966, the pride disappeared from the faces of the local people. What they had enjoyed talking about became the curse of the town and the investigated materials of the rebel groups.

They probed into the matter in a way that reminded people of the heyday of the town, which brought back a sense of pride to them again, namely the rebel groups in this town were second to none.

The head of the strongest rebel group was Su Qin, Commander-in-Chief of the General Command of the Red Revolutionary Rebels, the earliest and largest revolutionary rebel group of its kind in the town.

True, there were never any rumors about Su, a man who looked every inch like a suave gentleman. However, he was a heavyweight figure among the rebels in the town. It was he that started an upsurge of the Cultural Revolution movement in the locality. It was also he that showed the bravery of a construction worker in the body of an intellectual. One day, he climbed onto the scaffolding of the only three-story building in the area, the commanding height in the center of the town, and wrote, with a fighting brush as thick as an arm, four big words Down with Sanjia Village, in regular script.

These four big words enkindled the flames of the Cultural Revolution movement in the town, like the spread of a fire in all directions. Rebel groups mushroomed in enterprises and institutions overnight, and the movement was in full swing.

Su wrote a beautiful hand. That was for sure. Besides, he was tall, strong and handsome. The loose muscles of his square face assimilated more than enough of the trends of the society detected by his keen eyes, imparting an awe-struck appearance to him, as if he was ready to give anybody a hard time. His straight hair was primly pomaded and combed backwards, as if to leave some leeway to his active mind.

Since the movement, he, together with the Red Guards under him, had remained consistently at the forefront of the battle. They destroyed temples, blew up tombs, smashed the statues of Buddha, dismantled ancestral tablets, and confiscated property, turning the peaceful town into an incredible battleground of the Cultural Revolution.

Everything was bright under the sun. But this did not necessarily follow that the proletariat had a landslide victory in the class struggle in the town. The class enemies, who had been deprived of their rights, would not take their defeat lying down.

October 10, 1966 was a day like any other in Tiaodong. It was nice and sunny, with some white clouds floating in the clear sky. A bird or two flew by, leaving behind a chirping sound. The air was filled with the sweet scent of osmanthus flowers, brought by the refreshing autumn wind. Nothing indicated that something significant was going to happen.

However, as is always the case, a major event usually takes place without warning.

Ring…ring… The hand crank telephone on the desk in Su’s office rang, and an excited voice said hastily, Last night at 12 o’clock, I saw a class enemy fire two red signal flares along Fuxing Bridge…

It was a strange call. The time and place regarding the incident were reported, but the caller’s name and place of work were not identified. Last night! At 12 o’clock! That was the zero hour of October 10 today. October 10 was exactly the national day of the KMT. And something happened on this special day. That was really a serious matter. Obviously the caller was an ordinary man, vigilant yet timid. Perhaps because he realized the seriousness of the matter, or perhaps because he did not want to bring trouble upon himself or to face retribution, he reported nothing but the time and place of the incident.

Earlier on, people were busy talking about the characters in Spark in the Reed Marsh, a model Beijing opera ¹. They said that Hu Chuankui, Commander-in-Chief of the Loyal and Righteous National Salvation Army ², was discovered and ferreted out, that Pu Zhigao, the traitor, was still alive, and that two scars from gunshot wounds were found on his back while he was taking a bath. All of these seemed like rumors. However, they described them so vividly that they sounded like real facts.

Furthermore, the accident today took place in the very town he lived in. And because of historical reasons, it was nothing surprising for strange things like this to happen here on the Double Tenth Day. At present, the struggle between two classes (e.g. the proletariat and the bourgeoisie) and two political lines (e.g. socialism vs. capitalism) was fierce. This incident further illustrated the point that class enemies would not submit to defeat. When they realized that their class was going to perish, they would put up a last-ditch fight and launch a counteroffensive on the proletarian revolutionaries.

This is the most important clue on the enemy’s side since the Cultural Revolution, said the Commander-in-Chief, whose face turned stern when he put down the receiver. The revolutionary masses have kept their eyes open. We revolutionary rebels should be even more alert about class struggle. Now a clue about the activity of some secret agent has been reported to us. It only means they trust us. So we have a duty to find out the truth. It’s not only a sacred mission entrusted to us by the times, but also a true test of our battle worthiness. Otherwise, how can we proletarian revolutionary rebels expect to play our role of a fighting bastion in the ambitious Cultural Revolution?

Once the theory of class struggle is grasped, all problems can be solved. These words were written by Su himself on the white wall across his desk. Before that, a photo frame was hung there, one of a couplet –Be a champion of righteousness and justice; Be a protagonist of truth and socialism. Righteousness, justice, propagation of communism, and class struggle, all used to be his motto. However, with the passage of time, class struggle, and class struggle alone, was prioritized.

Class struggle… He was lost in thought while looking at the words written in his own hand. Suddenly the image of a person came across his mind. He was by no means a weak and pedantic scholar. In fact, he was a go-getter. It would be just right to ask him to crack this counter-revolutionary case.

Notify Bu Yuelian, Commander of the Field Regiment against the Monsters and Demons of the Paste Factory, immediately. Make sure he’s going to seek and find the class enemies and covert agents within one month by leading off a hurricane-like attack on them. Make sure he’s going to solve the counter-revolutionary case code-named 10/10.

Notes:

1. Beijing opera: Also known as Peking opera, it is a form of Chinese opera, which combines music, vocal performance, mime, dance and acrobatics. It arose in the late 18th century and became fully developed and recognized by the mid-19th century. The form was extremely popular in the court of the Qing Dynasty (1636-1911), the last dynasty in Chinese history, and has come to be regarded as one of the cultural treasures of China. However, it was denounced as feudalistic and bourgeois during the Cultural Revolution of the 1960s and replaced with the eight revolutionary model operas as a means of propaganda and indoctrination. The model operas, a tool to transmit communist ideology, were considered one of the great achievements of the Cultural Revolution, and were meant to express Mao Zedong’s view that art must serve the interests of the workers, peasants, and soldiers and must conform to proletarian ideology.

2. Loyal and Righteous National Salvation Army: a guerrilla force led by the Kuomintang (KMT) during the Second Sino-Japanese War, a military conflict fought primarily between the Republic of China and the Empire of Japan from July 7, 1937 to September 9, 1945

CHAPTER 2

Men

Nothing is too strange in this world. Some of the things seemed to violate an unwritten rule, but, in the eyes of Pu Xia, they were unexpectedly special. Take Qinghai, a place where her husband worked in. What she liked most there was the river that flew westwards, with its limpid water and picturesque scenery along the banks. Such a beautiful river in the drought-inflicted Northwest put to shame all the rivers and streams in the water towns in the South, with its unique charm. Also special was the plum rain season ¹ in the South. It was so sultry and so sulky that one had to wave a palm-leaf fan all the time, expecting a rain that would refuse to come down. However, as if by magic, it would clear up in the twinkling of an eye, and a rain would begin to drizzle, and out of nowhere. It would come all too sudden for one to bring the laundry in. What confused her most was the long line of wattle sprigs, which, though easy to grow, died one by one. Instead, the toon twig, which was inverted on one side, produced many green shoots. Although these phenomena went against the rule, they did no harm to the natural environment.

It was Sunday. With no homework to correct, she lay down in Grandma’s cane chair immediately after the meal. She was in a trance. Suddenly that man, one that she had been dreaming of, came over. He stayed close to her, and began to touch her in a way that made her feel comfortable. He put his left arm around her neck, his right hand gently stripping away her clothes…

He was her type in terms of appearance. He had a square face, bushy eyebrows, thick lips, and a beard, which was not too hard and therefore comfortable to touch.

He was tall and sturdy. Honestly speaking, if she had to choose between handsome and sturdy, she would choose the latter, for a tall and sturdy man could satisfy her desire.

The man was clumsy. His heavy body gave her a sense of pressure. She was a bit out of breath and her heart beat faster. He was licking her chest, and the newly-grown beard gently stroked her breasts, making her feel itchy and electrified at the same time.

Suddenly, two thick lips closed around her cherry-like nipple…His taste buds must be very rough. Otherwise, how come she had a feeling of being filed?

How could the sensitive parts of a woman’s body be rubbed with a file? Overwhelmed by a strong sense of erotic pleasure, her pussy, which had a feeling of an empty stomach craving for food, was eager to have itself filled with a powerful thing.

She instinctively spread her legs, wider and wider, as if to welcome the earlier entry of that desired thing into her in a special language.

The rubbing of the file became faster and harder, and her private parts swelled up. She was totally beside herself and began to moan and groan.

Mom…

Was that her daughter?

…

Mom, are you all right? asked her daughter again. I heard you moaning!

Although they lived in Tiaodong in Zhejiang Province, they used the standard Suzhou dialect of Jiangsu Province. One year ago, in order to take care of her dying Grandma and to wait for her shoes, she, upon the approval of her husband working in Qinghai, moved, with her daughter, to Tiaodong, the birthplace of her mother, a place which was entirely foreign to her, to teach in No. 5 Elementary School. Perhaps because of a sense of superiority that she came from a big city, she kept her accent and did not sound like a local.

She slowly and involuntarily opened her eyes. But the man, who had made her wet and wild, was nowhere to be found. And standing over her was her daughter, Pu Honghong, instead.

Honghong was not yet thirteen years old. She took the surname of her mother for family reasons. Mom, you had a short noon nap just now. Are you OK?

I’m OK…Yeah, I’m OK… She was still engrossed in her dream. At the very moment, she would rather let her daughter stay away than enjoy her tenderly care. If she had not woken her up, she would have finished that soul-consuming job with her husband, who went to help the Northwest for the sake of the revolution.

No! No! The man in her dream just now was definitely not her husband. Her husband was fair-complexioned, with a pointed jaw and a pair of large-framed glasses that made him look like a quiet and gentle man. And whenever he opened his mouth, he would speak in a soft voice. However, this man must be a manual worker, rough and rugged. Oh, what an inconsiderate good-for-nothing girl! What a shame!

The other day, a major event took place in the town. An old woman and her grand-daughter, who had got off a night plane a while ago, were stopped in a remote place in the suburbs by three gangsters. Word had it that at first the big parcel they took back with them from Shanghai was the target. Later, when the gangsters found that the girl before them was so attractive, they decided to rape her. The girl was so scared that she simply left herself at the mercy of them. However, seeing her budding grand-daughter was deflowered by the inhuman ruffians, she shouted Help! Help! again and again. This enraged the scoundrels, who tied her arms behind her back with a handkerchief, and gagged her with a handful of muddy grass.

The old woman was silenced for the time being. However, her shouting and crying a while ago startled the early-rising people in the village nearly. When the second rapist was about to attack her grand-daughter, a sound of old dustpans being beaten suddenly reached her ears.

Stop bad guys! Catch bad guys!

Two of the gangsters were caught on the spot, and were bound hand and foot with hemp ropes before being escorted to the newly-established General Command of the Red Revolutionary Rebels. The third one, who had run off, was turned in with his arms tied behind his back three days later.

Unlike public security organs, the General Command of the Red Revolutionary Rebels developed a series of punitive measures, which turned out to work very well. They said that whichever part of your body committed a crime would pay a penalty accordingly. As a result, the trousers of the three offenders were pulled down by the revolutionary rebels, and their guilty cocks got what they deserved. Actually they were cleaned up the day before, and now they were tied with the threads used to stitch shoe soles, just for a change. The three of them were frightened out of their wits, and shouted themselves hoarse whenever a shadow approached. As a matter of fact, whenever the criminals began to scream, the revolutionary rebels would split their sides with laughter.

It was at the ten-thousand-people public accusation meeting that Pu Xia first saw the three thugs. She also saw the dishonored girl on the stage. It was not difficult to imagine that she was invited to be there just to expose their crime. However, she remained silent from the beginning to the end. She simply stood there, with her hands over her face, sobbing bitterly. Why was she crying? Pu Xia, the school teacher, made a good guess, and looked at her with pity. As a woman, especially as a pretty girl like her, it was better for her to keep it a secret after the event than to make a show of herself in public. Now the secret was disclosed, and she became a laughing stock and the talk of the street. How could she expect to get a husband and become a mother in the future?

On the day when the public accusation meeting was held, the three thugs had a really hard time. They were treated in a way that they could hardly stand still, which was nobody’s fault but their own. To be fair, the three of them, all twenty-something, were by no means malicious-looking. If they had chosen the right path, say, asking a match-maker or a relative to propose to the girl on their behalf, her father might have taken a fancy to one of them and made him his son-in-law.

Actually we should feel sorry for these three young men, who were the real victims of feudal ideology. They had no idea that libido is a desire shared by men and women as well, and that what distinguishes men from women in this aspect is that the former are believed to be more aggressive and more offensive. In their minds, women, as the weaker sex, were always shy, passive, and born to be insulted and humiliated. It was also their belief that women suffered great pain during sexual intercourse, and that men built their happiness on the unhappiness of women. This misconception led them to ignore the common sense that women, instead of being the victims of sexual intercourse, are, in truth, its beneficiaries. It was their ignorance and impulse that turned them into criminals who dug their own graves.

In fact, they knew nothing about women. As far as sex is concerned, it is something that women enjoy more than nervous and distressed men, especially in a quiet and safe environment. Sex is like a dish. Men take delight in eating as much as possible while women spend a lot of time slowly savoring its flavor. Therefore, you can hardly say that subconsciously women do not want to take advantage of men. It is only because of the deep-rooted feudal thinking that women, who are bold and vigorous, are condemned as unchaste and loose. And it is the old criteria that a good woman should restrain herself, walk slowly and smile without revealing the teeth that prevent modern women from baring their hearts to the men they love.

Women have been oppressed for thousands of years, and their carnal desire has been depressed by the hypocritical Confucian code of ethics. They are not supposed to shout or to show their feelings. They are expected to keep their admiration to themselves even if they chance upon their loved ones, like a cow chewing the cud in silence. Their sexual desire is so suppressed that they feel inferior to animals, who troat and caterwaul in heat. Even the ducks that swim slowly on the river put their necks in and out when they happen to see some drakes to show their affection. These things, which are so common in the natural world, are forbidden to us men and women with flesh and blood. While maternal instinct is lauded to the sky, bestiality that goes before it is falsely barred from attention.

On the other hand, men should be envied. They can use strong language in the street, and brag about their relationships with older women without being labeled as freaking monsters. On summer days, they can sprawl on a bench or in an armchair in the street with their unruly cocks peeping out of their underwear, which never invites any public comment. However, this is not the case with women. The hotter the days, the more attention they should pay to their clothes and their behavior in case they are considered perverse and unprincipled if their unspeakable parts are exposed by accident. And they will be seen as lunatics if they curse and swear in the street as men do.

So the word sex or anything sexually suggestive is a taboo for women, a fact that they have been made to accept since ancient times. And Pu Xia was no exception.

She did not know how it felt to be sexually assaulted, nor did she know if she was raped by the man in her dream. If that was a case of rape, she would rather be raped every day. It had been more than ten years since she got married. However, as her husband was away in the Northeast, what he could give her was nothing but boredom and loneliness, for, at most, he came back only two or three times a year, and those soul-consuming moments did pass quickly. Even if she was fascinating beyond measure, whom was she going to pour out her heart to? Was she going to spend all the days and nights alone until she became a grand-mother?

She was well educated, and therefore a civilized person. She made a living by teaching. However, deep down, there was a frightening surge of desire, a strong one like that of a rutting animal, which ran counter to her alleged code of conduct as a teacher. She was tortured by her own instinct. Why can’t a lady chase after the man of her dream?

Before she got married, she enjoyed reading the love poems written by Russian poet Pushkin, and those from the Book of Songs, the first mythology of poems in Chinese history, like By riverside a pair / Of turtledoves are cooing; / There’s a good maiden fair / Whom a young man is wooing.

Love is almost always described as pure, beautiful and sublime in the works of a poet. Back then, she, a teenage girl, was so touched that she would spend one sleepless night after another. It was only after marriage did she come to understand what true love really meant. In her opinion, true love came down to an intimate relationship between a man and a woman, namely the knocking of two naked bodies against each other, and the joy of telepathy. Put in immoral terms, it was an ugly, dirty and nasty act. The rhetorical flourish or flowery language of Pushkin paled before the crazy and violent sexual desire. And the poetic lines that intoxicated so many teenage girls fell flat before grown-up women.

She loved her own looks and her own body, and she had a strong narcissistic complex. She believed that she was one of the most beautiful ladies in the world, and that the exposed parts of her body were definitely not the most charming ones. And the most ravishing parts could be appreciated and enjoyed by none other than herself. Every time when her clothes were gone before she took a bath, the mirror in the wardrobe would tell her, You got curves. You got fair skin that would captivate each and every man. You got a fine figure, a divine form. It’s a perfect combination of red, white, and black, and of softness and hardness. Big boobs, firm abs, a slender waist, a tight ass…Yes, they name it and you have it. In short, you are beauty personified. You are every man’s dream lady. You’ll never feel sorry for yourself, because you are victory itself.

Sure enough, a beautiful lady is a flower, whose value is recognized only when it is appreciated. So it is a total waste if a flower-like lady in the prime of her life is neglected or unnoticed.

Feminine beauty exists simply because of men. Therefore, the more beautiful a lady is, the more likely she will be harassed or forced. Put another way, if a lady is never molested, you can imagine what kind of life she has been leading.

Although she had no idea if any man other than her husband had ever coveted her beauty in the dark or waited for an opportunity to harass her, she firmly believed that it was only too natural for any man to harbor evil intentions on a beauty like her.

It turned out that that man, the one in her dream, was genuine. Pu Xia just could not believe her eyes. He had square shoulders, bushy eyebrows, thick lips and a sparse beard. He was very much like the man in her dream. No, the man in her dream resembled him a lot.

With an oil-paper umbrella in his hand, he, wearing a white gunny-sack over his shoulders, the kind of gunny-sacks that belonged to the Grain Management Office, was looking into the classroom, like a drowned rat.

Are you Ms. Pu Xia? I want to give the umbrella to my son.

Your son? asked Pu Xia, her gaze fixed on him. Although he looked like a mess and was not as awesome as the man in her dream, his looks…Oh, what a happy coincidence! It was indeed a dream come true!

He was standing there, very close to her, with raindrops coursing down his cheeks. And she was so excited that her eyes were glistening with crystal-like tears.

Judging from the denim work clothes on him, he was nothing but a plant worker, which made her fully at ease. And with a sense of superiority, her heart did not pound as violently as it did a while ago. Although the man in her dream turned her on and swept her off her feet, it was a virtual reality. However, the man before her, one that she could look up and down, was a hundred percent real.

His beard was soft yet long. Maybe because he knew his handsome face was a living magnet that would surely attract a long procession of ladies, he deliberately put on an appearance of slovenliness just to avoid unnecessary trouble. Perhaps the beard gave him a sense of manliness. Whatever the case, the fact that he let ladies enjoy his masculine beauty in such a way was an expression of friendliness and generosity itself. Of course, Pu Xia would not want to let the golden opportunity slip by for nothing.

At first, he was a little bit self-conscious. When their eyes met, his face flushed for a second. Soon the flush gave way to a kind of demeanor that was sexy, graceful and well liked by ladies. The expressions on his face seemed to say to her, Come on. I’m here. Get an eyeful of me if you like. I’m natural, relaxed, willing, acquiescent, and friendly, body and soul.

Ladies do not have to be nervous when they look at men. Nor do they have to be shy or do it in secret. On the contrary, if men look at women in the same way, they will certainly be seen as goats or perverts.

It was indeed an enjoyable experience. However, Pu Xia thought the time was too short.

I work in the Paste Factory. My name is Hua Zhongyong, and my son’s…

Your son’s name is… Normally she spoke Mandarin in class, but she preferred to use Suzhou dialect outside class, a dialect known for its soft tone.

Hua Jiansen, they said, almost at the same time, the name of the naughtiest student in the class.

He just popped out. I saw him. See, it’s raining hard, and he ran away, jumping up and down, with his schoolbag on his head. Then she added, Your son is something of a mule.

Yes, you’re right. I’m worried about him. Speaking of his son, Hua Zhongyong became talkative, for his son was the apple of his eye. I can see that he has changed a lot recently.

In what way? she asked, with an expression of great enthusiasm and concern on her face.

He was a bit wild when he was little…I remember, when he learned his first geography lesson in his fourth grade, he thought he had already known everything about China’s territory, and he began to imagine that he would become a celebrity not only in the Yangtze River Delta but also in every part of China on the map…Now, with the launching of the campaign to publicly accuse Sanjia Village on the schoolyard, and to teach the kids never to forget class struggle, he was beside himself with excitement. The other night, he shouted in his dream, ‘Stop spies!’ ‘Catch special agents!’ While shouting, he gripped a corner of his comforter. He held it so fast that you could hardly pry open his hands. When he was awake, he asked, ‘Are the special agents really like those described by Ms. Pu? Do they all have golden teeth, sharp jaws, and aquiline noses? Do they all wear a casquette?’…

That’s from the textbook. So he believed it?

Ms. Pu, would you be kind enough to spare some time for him, talk to him and bring him to his senses? You know, his mother was gone since he was a kid. So he’s sort of spoiled, and very stubborn.

What? His mother was gone? thought Pu Xia, startled. It seems that we two are meant to be together. If she was going through the motions a while ago, her interest was greatly aroused now.

His mother is still alive. Only she’s in Shanghai, working as a house maid. She seldom or never comes back.

Really? Pu Xia’s beautiful eyes brightened, which gave Hua Zhongyong a start.

Yes, yes. I should pay more attention to him. Realizing that she had forgotten herself just now, Pu Xia tried hard to recover her reservedness. If I’m free this coming Sunday, I’ll go to your home to help him make up his missed lessons. By the way, where do you live?

To the east of Fuxing Bridge. And our house number is 15.

Although there was no need for a home visit, Ms. Pu Xia still went to their home. As a teacher, it was simply a matter of course to visit a family to stay in close contact with a student’s parents. However, she knew very well that her purpose of visit was not about the student. She had been in another world ever since she met Hua Zhongyong the other day, and his image came across her mind time and again. And the scene of them – she and that man having sex in her dream – came back to her more than once, which, as if at the behest of supernatural powers, egged her to take the once-in-a-lifetime chance.

Comrade Hua, you raise some chickens? Her pure Suzhou accent was really attractive. After an exchange of pleasantries, she immediately switched the subject from Jiansen’s studies to small talk.

Yes, four hens.

Do they lay eggs?

Yes. Because of them, our life has become better and better. In spring, when they lay too many and to spare, I’ll have them salted. Ms. Pu, if you like eggs, I’ll ask Jiansen to take some to your house.

No, thank you. You know, I have many egg coupons. They are more than enough.

Ms. Pu, have you ever raised some chickens?

Yes, I have. But when it comes to keeping chickens, I should say it’s really irritating.

How could it be?

Well, it’s a long story.

Ms. Pu Xia looked at Hua Zhongyong with a broad smile. She was busy figuring out a way to change the subject to her dream. "That year, when I first came to Tiaodong, a student’s parent gave me two spring chickens. They were very cute. One was very small, with black feathers and greenish blue feet. The other, a spotted hen, was very special in that it had a ball-like thing on its head. It was also very cute. Its face was ruddy and it didn’t eat much. It was laying well, like a duck. People joked that of the two chickens I had, the black one was worth one thousand yuan ², and the other, ten thousand. My daughter regarded them as treasures. Who knew that one day the black hen cackled day and night after laying an egg without eating anything? I asked the neighbors what had happened to it, and was told that it was probably brooding its eggs. I thought, ‘Go ahead then. We humans also give birth. What’s all the fuss about?’ However, I didn’t expect it to sit on her eggs for a whole month. What was worse, there was a brood of lousy lice, too. The neighbors said that if I didn’t want it to hatch the eggs anymore, what I needed to do was to scare it away. So I tied two small red flags to its tail, and it got a start each time it moved. It was funny indeed, but it didn’t work. Then I poured some cold water from the well in the courtyard over its head, but it didn’t work, either. Later, when I touched it and felt it, I found that it was nothing but a bag of bones. There was nothing I could do. So I asked a neighbor to help me. Together we caught it, pinned its head to the chopping board, and cut it off."

So there was only one chicken left?

That spotted hen almost drove me nuts. It didn’t sit on eggs, and it also laid well. However, what got me mixed up was that when the black hen was still alive, it always chased after it. After the black hen got killed, it jumped onto walls and beams, and later, it even crowed like a rooster. It crowed before daybreak, and it did well. As a result, all the neighbors thought I kept a rooster. At first, I thought it was interesting for a hen to crow. But later I was told by the neighbors that it was an omen of evil. I was so scared that I killed it…So, you see, Comrade Hua, I don’t eat eggs as often as I did before. And I’m afraid of keeping chickens, too. I don’t want to see lice on me, for lice spread diseases.

Actually the lice found in the roost won’t bother people.

No, no, no, Comrade Hua. As a man, you are not afraid of such things, but we women are otherwise. If the lice happen to climb onto you, you’ll get red pimples on your skin and you’ll feel very uncomfortable.

Hua Zhongyong felt ill at ease when the subject was switched to women. He was very stiff, and unaccustomed to flirtation with them. So he changed the topic. Ms. Pu, it’s hot nowadays. You may get a skin rash.

That’s not it, said Xia Pu flatly. Red spots appear on your skin. But I feel itchy under the skin. The doctor says I was born with a skin disease, called skin irritations. I’ve got to take diphenhydramine. You see, Comrade Hua, I got a skin illness at the mere mention of keeping chickens. Can you help me and see what’s wrong with my neck? Any red spots?

She held her collar low, so low that her big boobs and deep cleavage were thoroughly exposed to Hua Zhongyong’s eyes.

Suddenly Hua Zhongyong looked very nervous, and his face reddened. He was no spring chicken, and he knew very well the meaning of seeing. He was so embarrassed that he gave a hollow laugh. Even so, Ms. Pu still indulged in her own world of fantasies, trying to bring him to the lure.

It doesn’t matter, Comrade Hua. There are only the two of us in the room. Come on. Don’t think twice.

She arched her neck, her eyes slightly closed. He was not unfamiliar with this posture, which his wife often assumed when she was eager to make love. Obviously the woman before him was seducing him, or she was expecting Hua Zhongyong to touch her sensitive skin.

Honestly speaking, he also had this kind of expectation or desire, and he had had it for a long time. If the lady sitting opposite him was an ordinary worker like him or just a country girl, he would be very confident to go ahead with it. However, the lady before him was a celestial princess and his son’s class teacher as well. He was too cool-headed to be brave. He dared not harbor sinister designs on a lady with such a refined and graceful temperament, for it was a sin he couldn’t afford to commit.

No…Ms. Pu, I don’t deserve you…And I daren’t. It’ll cut short my life span. Hua Zhongyong’s heart beat so violently that he was lost for words.

Not a word… Now Pu Xia was hot and horny, and the images of the three thugs flashed across her mind again and again. She was clear that once a man’s sexual desire was fully aroused, he would stop at nothing to satisfy it and he would even run the risk of getting shot. So she screwed up her courage and, without her realizing it, moved quickly to Hua Zhongyong’s bench. She threw her arms around his neck and held him tight, whispering into his ear affectionately, Comrade Hua…No, I don’t want to call you that. Kiss me…Excuse me, you see, my heart is in my throat…Touch my chest, and feel it…

For a moment, she felt short of breath. Her chest heaved and her breasts slowly rubbed against Hua Zhongyong’s shoulders. She gently stroked his beard with her ruddy face, and showered kisses on his cheeks, lips, earlobes, and sideburns.

It was so unexpected, and it came all too sudden. In Hua Zhongyong’s mind, those foxy and amorous ladies in the folklores were nothing but imaginary characters created by story-tellers and they existed in stories only. So when this unexpected romance came, he was at a loss as to what to do. He did not know when his hands found their way to her breasts, nor did he know if they were dragged there, but what he did know was that when his hands spontaneously felt her fine and smooth breasts, his heart went thump-thump-thump. When he caught sight of her secret parts, especially the cherry-like clitoris, which was partly hidden under her underwear, he felt the sudden release of his vital energy.

Oh, Ms. Pu…Please…don’t do that. He struggled and struggled, and finally his head got free. You’re such a dish, a dreamboat, so drop-dead gorgeous, like a fairy in the heaven. And you’re so learned, so knowledgeable. I’m nothing but a rough hand with a smoker’s breath. I…I don’t deserve you, and I…dare…not…

Finally Pu Xia moved her arms away from him. Then, she cupped his face in her hands, gazed at him and asked irrationally, You mean, I, a petty intellectual, is not worthy of you, a member of the leading class?

No, no, no. I didn’t mean that. I mean, I’ve been living like this for more than ten years, like a bachelor. You know the old saying, ‘A man can live alone, but not a woman.’ See, we men are…worthless. And I’m used to a…sexless life already.

You mean you don’t want it?

No…oh, yes, I do…I do. Only I miss his mother more. She left us because I was no good. I owe her so much that I don’t think I can pay her back. Besides, I daren’t lust after someone else. If I do, and if she accidentally finds it out, she’ll never ever come back.

She has been away for over ten years. And she may have lots of lovers for aught I know.

No. She wouldn’t do that.

Oh, I see. Your wife is much more beautiful than me, right?

No, no, no. How could she compare with you? You’re a princess in heaven…

If so, you are my prince charming…

So saying, she became crazy again. She undid his belt, and unbuttoned his clothes…But this time, Hua Zhongyong was very obedient, and left himself completely at her mercy. However, when that piece of flesh between his thighs was revealed, her passion vanished without a trace, for a pool of milky stuff was seen in his crotch.

Her heart suddenly sank. The Hua Zhongyong in her dream was so bold, so powerful, yet the Hua Zhongyong here was so…

She did not want to think about it anymore. In fact, she hated to think about it. A current of hidden bitterness welled up in her heart.

If you have an erectile problem, why not tell me earlier?

Anyway, as it was she who had made advances to him, so she had to find a way to save face and a way for her to forgive him.

"You are not to blame. I am.