man call himself a man if he gets angry with a woman in pain?’ Have you ever heard such tenderness? All right, I won’t disturb you any longer, I just didn’t want to keep anything from you. Good night, my dear.”
‘I couldn’t get to sleep for ages, wondering if such ideal love between men and women could really exist. I hoped Ying’er would prove it, and give me a bit of hope.
‘I didn’t see Ying’er for the next few months as she withdrew into the bliss of love. When we met again, I was shocked at her thin, drawn appearance. She told me that Wu’s wife had written to him, ordering him to choose between divorce and leaving Ying’er. Naively, Ying’er had thought Wu would choose her since he had seemed unable to live without her. Besides, the Wu fortune was so large that dividing it wouldn’t affect his business too much. However, confronted by his wife, who came over from Taiwan, Wu announced that he could let neither wife nor fortune go, and ordered Ying’er to get out of his life. He and his wife gave Ying’er 10,000 dollars as a token of gratitude for her help with their affairs in Nanjing.
‘Ying’er was devastated, and asked for time alone with Wu to ask three questions. She asked if his decision was final. Wu said it was. She asked if he had meant his earlier declarations of affection. He said he had. Finally, Ying’er asked him how his feelings could have changed. He replied brazenly that the world was in a constant state of flux, then announced that her quota of three questions was up.
‘Ying’er returned to her life as an “escort”, now firm in the conviction that true love did not exist. This year, less than two months after she graduated from university, she married an American. In the first letter she sent me from America, she wrote, “Never think of a man as a tree whose shade you can rest in. Women are just fertiliser, rotting away to make the tree strong . . . There is no real love. The couples who appear loving stay together for personal gain, whether for money, power or influence.”’
‘What a pity that Ying’er realised this too late.’
Jin Shuai fell silent, moved by her friend’s fate.
‘Jin Shuai, do you plan to get married?’ I asked curiously.
‘I haven’t thought much about it. I can’t figure love out. We have a professor who abuses his power to determine exam marks. He calls up pretty students for “a heart-to-heart talk”; they talk their way to a hotel room. This is an open secret, everybody except his wife knows. She talks contentedly about how her husband spoils her: he buys her everything she wants and does all the housework, saying he can’t bear for her to do it. Can you believe the lecherous professor and devoted husband are the same man?
‘They say, “Women value emotions, men value the flesh.” If this generalisation is true, why marry? Women who stay with their unfaithful husbands are foolish.’
I said that women were often slaves to their emotions, and told Jin Shuai about a university lecturer I knew. Several years before, her husband, also an academic, had seen many people make a lot of money by starting their own businesses. He was chafing to leave his job and do the same. The woman told him that he did not have the business or management skills to compete, and reminded him of his skills: teaching, research and writing. Her husband accused her of looking down on him, and set out to prove her wrong. His business was a spectacular failure: he drained the family savings and had nothing to show for it. The woman became the family’s sole breadwinner.
Her unemployed husband refused to help her in the home. When she asked him to help with the housework, he would protest that he was a man, and couldn’t be asked to do womanish things. The woman left early for work and came home late, staggering with exhaustion. Her husband, who never got out of bed before one o’clock in the afternoon, and spent all day watching television,
‘I couldn’t get to sleep for ages, wondering if such ideal love between men and women could really exist. I hoped Ying’er would prove it, and give me a bit of hope.
‘I didn’t see Ying’er for the next few months as she withdrew into the bliss of love. When we met again, I was shocked at her thin, drawn appearance. She told me that Wu’s wife had written to him, ordering him to choose between divorce and leaving Ying’er. Naively, Ying’er had thought Wu would choose her since he had seemed unable to live without her. Besides, the Wu fortune was so large that dividing it wouldn’t affect his business too much. However, confronted by his wife, who came over from Taiwan, Wu announced that he could let neither wife nor fortune go, and ordered Ying’er to get out of his life. He and his wife gave Ying’er 10,000 dollars as a token of gratitude for her help with their affairs in Nanjing.
‘Ying’er was devastated, and asked for time alone with Wu to ask three questions. She asked if his decision was final. Wu said it was. She asked if he had meant his earlier declarations of affection. He said he had. Finally, Ying’er asked him how his feelings could have changed. He replied brazenly that the world was in a constant state of flux, then announced that her quota of three questions was up.
‘Ying’er returned to her life as an “escort”, now firm in the conviction that true love did not exist. This year, less than two months after she graduated from university, she married an American. In the first letter she sent me from America, she wrote, “Never think of a man as a tree whose shade you can rest in. Women are just fertiliser, rotting away to make the tree strong . . . There is no real love. The couples who appear loving stay together for personal gain, whether for money, power or influence.”’
‘What a pity that Ying’er realised this too late.’
Jin Shuai fell silent, moved by her friend’s fate.
‘Jin Shuai, do you plan to get married?’ I asked curiously.
‘I haven’t thought much about it. I can’t figure love out. We have a professor who abuses his power to determine exam marks. He calls up pretty students for “a heart-to-heart talk”; they talk their way to a hotel room. This is an open secret, everybody except his wife knows. She talks contentedly about how her husband spoils her: he buys her everything she wants and does all the housework, saying he can’t bear for her to do it. Can you believe the lecherous professor and devoted husband are the same man?
‘They say, “Women value emotions, men value the flesh.” If this generalisation is true, why marry? Women who stay with their unfaithful husbands are foolish.’
I said that women were often slaves to their emotions, and told Jin Shuai about a university lecturer I knew. Several years before, her husband, also an academic, had seen many people make a lot of money by starting their own businesses. He was chafing to leave his job and do the same. The woman told him that he did not have the business or management skills to compete, and reminded him of his skills: teaching, research and writing. Her husband accused her of looking down on him, and set out to prove her wrong. His business was a spectacular failure: he drained the family savings and had nothing to show for it. The woman became the family’s sole breadwinner.
Her unemployed husband refused to help her in the home. When she asked him to help with the housework, he would protest that he was a man, and couldn’t be asked to do womanish things. The woman left early for work and came home late, staggering with exhaustion. Her husband, who never got out of bed before one o’clock in the afternoon, and spent all day watching television,
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