Thirteen minutes later.
Chen Qi lay on the bed, Gong Xue pillowed on his chest, their clothes somewhat in disarray.
In a tongzilou, of course, nothing much could happen—at most a little kissing and fondling, and a pouring out of their hearts. Besides, winter had already come, and long johns were hardly convenient. Long johns were among the surest things for killing a mood.
Never mind wool pants and cotton-padded trousers. Not one of those domineering CEOs ever fell for a girl from the Northeast.
Come on, tear my long johns to shreds!
Come on, tear my yoga pants to shreds!
Those two did not feel the same.
Chen Qi stroked her hair and told her his stories from Hong Kong. Most of it had already been in his letters, but said aloud it was what Gong Xue would rather hear, and now and then she asked a question.
"When are you going over again?"
"After Spring Festival."
"Then we don't have much time together..."
Gong Xue pushed herself up and turned onto her stomach, looking at him with eyes full of tenderness. "Next week I'm going to Guangdong with the crew. We'll shoot for about a month, and then I have to go home for New Year. Counting every day, half a month together at most."
"Half a month? Then we're living apart again. Forget it. I'm not going to Hong Kong."
"What nonsense is that?"
Gong Xue covered his mouth. "The country has entrusted you with a task this important. How can you say you won't go and simply not go? I'll be fine. When I'm working I'm fulfilled too. The time will pass in a flash."
"Wow. Your consciousness is a lot higher than mine!"
Chen Qi thought a moment. "I should still be in Hong Kong for the first half of next year. In the second half we can work together."
"Hm? How's that?"
"I've had an idea lately. Next year I'll start a film, and you'll be the female lead."
"You've got another film? Having me play a madwoman pining for her son again?" Gong Xue laughed.
"This time it's a proper film. My company produces it on its own. A huge investment, a serious subject, profound content, deeply moving and freshly original. It's going overseas for the film festivals..."
"What film is that?"
"You'll know when the time comes!"
"Tell me!"
Chen Qi was all mystery, and would not give it away no matter how she asked. Gong Xue feigned anger. "Fine, don't tell me. Don't count on me coming over tonight."
"I never said I was asking you to come!"
"You said it yourself. Don't take it back."
Gong Xue gave him a poke and made as if to rise. Chen Qi caught her in his arms, and they tumbled onto the bed again. "It's only just an idea. Nothing worth telling yet. When I finish the script, you'll be the first to read it."
"Let go of me!"
"Mm!"
They kissed and cuddled a while longer. Near evening, the two of them finally straightened their clothes and got up.
Gong Xue said, "You head back first. I'll eat, then come over."
"We can go together."
"I won't. There are so many people over there!"
"Then I'll go on ahead. Oh, right—I need a bath... You should take a bath too."
"Aiya!"
Gong Xue flushed and pushed him out.
After that she tidied the room, found a few changes of clothes and some wash things, stuffed them into her bag, and went to the canteen to eat first.
Wang Haowei was there too. She called her over. Off the set she had gone back to her kindly manner, and she teased, "Xiao Gong, how's that state coming along? Have you got it adjusted? Can we shoot tomorrow?"
"Director Wang, count today as me taking half a day off. Tomorrow I'll be fine."
"Is that so? You look awfully happy to me. Tomorrow you still won't be able to cry, sure as anything!"
"Aiya, stop making fun of me!"
Gong Xue pouted, made short work of supper, then went to the studio bathhouse to wash, and rode her little bicycle out.
In those days a place for a tryst was hard to find. When Zhang Yimou and Gong Li were in the heat of their affair, even getting a hotel room meant searching up and down the streets. That Chen Qi had a courtyard to himself—how much easier that made things.
But Gong Xue was too bashful. Had it been only Liang Xiaosheng, that would have been one thing, but the front courtyard was full of strangers.
She was too embarrassed to show herself in front of everyone.
At No. 6 Lechunfang she went in by the side gate, knowing the way, and glanced toward the front courtyard. She could see nothing and hear nothing—only a dividing brick wall, and the rear eaves of the main house in the front court...
She could not help letting out a breath. Good thing the courtyard was big enough. The privacy was decent.
With a creak, Chen Qi came out of the study, putting on a thick translationese delivery. "Oh~ my dear elder sister, you've come at last! You are purer and brighter than the moon in the night sky; the splendor of the starlight is not one ten-thousandth of you!"
"Where is there a moon today?"
Gong Xue did not take the bait. She parked the bicycle. "Why aren't you inside watching television?"
"What's worth watching in that junk? Those few little imps are lapping it up, though. I bought the editorial department a television, and they've gone mad over it. They're still watching."
"You think everyone's like you?"
The two of them went into the study. Gong Xue picked up the book he had been reading, a foreign novel, I, Robot, by Isaac Asimov.
"What book is this?"
"Science fiction!"
"Science fiction?"
"It takes up questions of morality, ethics, and social relations between people and robots. I brought Old Liang a great pile of Western novels. Enough for them to copy—pah, enough for them to reprint!"
Gong Xue leafed through it, uninterested, and only said, "Have you seen my painting?"
"What painting? I only just got back."
"In that porcelain scroll jar."
A porcelain scroll jar was a porcelain vessel made specially for calligraphy and paintings: wide at the mouth, big in the belly. Once the works were mounted, they were made into scrolls and set inside.
Chen Qi looked, and there really was one. He drew it out and opened it: a traditional Chinese painting of flowers. The pink blossoms were like little fans, their posture rather singular; emerald branches and leaves spread downward, reserved and lovely.
The inscription read: Mid-Autumn of the xinyou year, painted by Gong Xue at Lechunfang!
In his previous life he had been a collector as well, and he had some eye for calligraphy and painting. This elder sister's level was quite good among amateurs, but of course his mouth had to praise. "Spare and clean, lucid and free, bright and quietly elegant. What flower is this? Cockscomb?"
"This is silk tree! Silk-tree flowers!"
"At Mid-Autumn you don't paint the moon, you paint silk-tree flowers? Missing me that much?"
"Mm. I was thinking of you!" She did not deny it in the least.
"Ai."
Chen Qi sat in the chair, drew her onto his lap, and sighed. "In Hong Kong I was walking on thin ice, careful at every turn, facing nothing but savage and vicious people, and one slip would have put me in danger.
I missed you too; only when I came back did my heart settle, and seeing you made it settle even more."
The first sentence was pure fabrication; the second was sincere to the core. He buried his head against her chest and savored a rare quiet of body and mind.
Gong Xue held him gently and stroked his hair.
When the feeling ran deep, they could not help themselves.
The next second, they were already kissing, tongue to tongue.
...
That night, once again, a wild wind swept the fallen leaves, and rain beat the plantain to tatters!
Chapter 252