That night when I'd gone back to my room, I lay in bed without any feeling of sleepiness. The room was so empty. Originally three people shared it; now one had moved, one had gone home, and I was the only one left. The next day I would also leave as soon as it was light. My mind was in a whirl. I thought of Mei Cun, I thought of the people from the village, I thought of Kunsheng, I thought of the children lying in incubators in the hospital, and I thought of my future. Everything was unknown. If I were to leave this city, I said I would cut off all my contacts … including Mei Cun. But in the small hours of the morning I suddenly heard a knock at the door. It was a gentle tap tap tap, but impatient.
When I pulled the door open, in the moonlight, I was embraced by a sweet breeze, carrying the scent of a warm body. It was Mei Cun. She threw herself into my arms and gasped, "I couldn't sleep. I want to—warm you. Let me warm you up …"
I burst into flames!
I don't know how to tell you what happened next. I fell apart … I came before anything started.
I had failed again. It was a crushing defeat. I can't find the words to express my pain. I cried, my face covered in tears. I had really wronged her. I was embarrassed. I held such a gorgeous body in my hands and yet … She comforted me gently, "What's wrong? Mr. Wu, don't cry. I don't blame you. It's my fault …" I was speechless. I didn't know what to say. Nobody had ever been like that to me. I was a full-grown adult, but nobody had ever before said to me, "Let me warm you up." That sentence will stay in my memory all my life!
That night, Mei Cun and I lay naked on the bed, baring our souls to each other, but we didn't actually …
This is my disgrace. Maybe those twins scared me. Those twins lay in their incubators in the hospital, eyes wide open, watching me silently, mocking me.
"You are … wonderful," I said.
"The truth is," she said, "I'm not a virgin."
"My childhood was unhappy too," she said, "when I was seven my mother married my step-father. He was a bad man …"
Mei Cun was good-hearted. Because of my honesty, and maybe also my failure, perhaps to comfort me, she confided in me the truth of her own difficult past. Her voice started, stopped and started again, falling like grains of corn into my ear. But as she talked, my body was like a dead fish. I felt torn apart by remorse and shame. My mind was buzzing, I wasn't in the mood to listen to what she said. I simply cursed my inability over and over. I was in despair.
When dawn came, I heard the door close. Mei Cun was gone. She didn't blame me. She just dressed silently, and left.
We didn't say goodbye. Mei Cun, the one who broke my heart, the only woman I've ever loved. We parted so silently.
I had said I would send her roses. Those almost-made-up "Abyssinian roses" .
Only many years later, when I was rich and could afford any kind of roses, did I learn that "Abyssinian roses" are not the most beautiful roses in the world. They're just a variety with a long blooming period, and large blossoms.
Yes, when I was rich, and could afford any kind of roses, I didn't have love anymore. I had money to buy the flowers but nobody to give them to.
When I saw Mei Cun again, she was a two-time divorcee, battling her third divorce case, worn down and haggard. I saw her on a very windy day, and she was walking on the street, head wrapped in a scarf, hand in hand with a child. I have always believed that Mei Cun was good-hearted, even to this day. In this sense, goodness does not mean happiness. Good people are often over-trusting, and they're easy to manipulate. But that comes later in the story.
I don't know much about flowers and plants. But I can say that in my experience, the most deeply disturbing flower is the Blood Pomegranate.
