her hot skin begin to stick to Kongzi’s, she edges back a little, then pulls her squashed right breast out from under her side.
‘We went to the same university, but were assigned jobs in different towns. She’s the sub-director of a circuit board factory in Dunhuang. Her salary’s much higher than mine.’
‘You may live apart, but at least you’re still married.’
Kongzi has sunk into a deep sleep and is snoring his head off.
‘Doesn’t feel like we’re married. When I phoned her to tell her my mother had killed herself, she didn’t offer to come down and see me. She doesn’t care about me any more.’
‘Marriage is for life. Perhaps you should show her more affection, try to win her round. Persuade her to move back in with you.’ Meili is embarrassed by the smell of alcohol on Kongzi’s breath. She knows that town people brush their teeth twice a day.
‘No, she wouldn’t give up her job for me. She didn’t want to go to Dunhuang at first, but we needed the money to support our family. Now she’s so used to it there she doesn’t want to come back.’
‘You don’t know how important something is until you lose it. You mustn’t let her slip away. Even if a woman flies off for a while, she’ll always want a nest to return to.’ Meili remembers the woman with the crimson lipstick she met on the boat to Sanxia, and suspects that her husband in the countryside had no idea she worked as a hair-salon prostitute.
Suddenly Meili wishes she could put her arms around Weiwei. Her body feels as hot as beans frying in a scorching wok. She picks up a jacket lying beside her and drapes it over Kongzi’s chest, letting her hand brush against Weiwei’s. Immediately, he grasps hold of it, and she feels the heat inside her explode. His hand then slides over her body, moving slowly, then fast, then slowly again. She curls up and lets him caress her to sleep, as she rocks dreamily back and forth inside the dark cabin . . .
At dawn, Weiwei leaves his address, telephone number and two packs of cigarettes on the bamboo stool beside her, and stands at the stern, his face looking slightly calmer than yesterday.
Meili goes out to join him. ‘You should give up your search and go home now,’ she says. ‘Your mother will be more at peace in the river than she would be buried in the earth.’
‘No, I must keep searching until I find her, for my own peace of mind,’ he replies, then without saying goodbye, he steps onto the jetty, climbs up the bank and walks away.
Meili grabs a bag of preserved mustard greens from the galley area, runs up the bank after him and tosses it into his hands. ‘Soak them in water overnight, then simmer them with beef and tomatoes – the longer the better.’
‘I’m a terrible cook,’ Weiwei says.
‘But you must eat them. I preserved them myself.’
He turns and continues along the path. As she watches his departing figure, her stomach churns as though a mudfish were writhing inside it. Without stopping to think, she chases after him, grabs the tortoiseshell glasses from his face to keep as a memento and runs back to the boat with them.
‘THERE’S GOING TO be an almighty downpour any minute!’ Kongzi says, pointing to the leaden sky above Dexian. Seconds later, the dark clouds crack open and unleash torrential rain. ‘The deck’s too slippery,’ Meili cries out to Kongzi. ‘Quick, come into the cabin.’ The rain crashes against the bow then streams into the river. Inside the bamboo cage, the ducks shake their wings and hoot.
‘Look, the rain’s so polluted, it’s almost metallic,’ Kongzi says. ‘The boat will get corroded if we stay any longer. Let’s lift anchor and get going to Guai Village. Pass me my straw hat and raincoat.’
‘But you won’t be able to see a thing through this rain,’ Meili says. ‘What if we crash into something?’ Kongzi transported a cargo of quicklime this morning, and when the rain makes contact with the powder that’s fallen into the cracks of the deck, white fumes reeking of rotten eggs rise into the air. Nannan vomited last night and has eaten nothing all day apart from a dry biscuit and a cauliflower floret. She’s lying on her back in the cabin, gazing out at the pelting downpour through a gap in the door