ourselves in here for a full three days and three nights before he comes back. Then, when he does, I'll go back to my company. Whatever happens, I can't stay here.'
Why not?'
`D'you think I could face him after everything that's happened between us?'
A silence spun out between them, as he waited to hear what she thought would happen between the two of them when the Division Commander came home. Instead, she eventually asked him: `What did you buy in town?'
He told her about the food he'd bought.
`How long will that last us?' she wanted to know next.
Over a month.'
She sat up and combed a hand through her tangled hair. Standing up, she glanced down at his naked body. Then she wandered, smiling, downstairs.
When he heard her go outside, he picked himself up from the floor and went across to the window. He saw her walk over to the entrance to the com pound with an iron lock in her hands, check to left and right that no soldiers were approaching along the road, and pull the two iron gates shut. Putting her hands through the gates, she padlocked them together on the outside to give the illusion that no one was at home. Returning to the house, she locked both front and back doors.
The stage was now set for the culminating seventytwo hours of their affair. He dressed while he waited for her. By the time she reappeared, however, she'd already taken off all her clothes again. They stood facing each other across the bedroom doorway.
`I've locked everything up,' she said.
We haven't much rice,' he replied.
`I've checked. There's still half a bag in the cupboard.'
'That should be enough.'
'Why have you put your clothes back on?'
He undressed again, folding his uniform carefully away in her wardrobe as if he planned never to put it back on.
FOR THREE DAYS AND THREE nights, Liu Lian and Wu Dawang imprisoned themselves within the house, attending only to their most primitive needs. The compound began to seem like a wholly autonomous domain, answerable only to its own laws, independent of the world beyond its steel fence. They came together whenever and however they wanted, and when they were tired they rested as they were -- sitting or lying, his head resting on her thigh, prickling her tender skin with its bristly crew cut- until their energies returned.
But after a certain point--on the afternoon of the third day-primitive joy gave way to primitive fatigue; a fatigue that was not only physical, but also psychological.
The position of the Division Commander's house, within the senior officers' compound, made it easy to keep their wanton confinement hidden. Over the road in front of the compound was the back wall of the Division Social Club. With the barracks deserted, the gate to the club was permanently locked. Its gongs, drums and more exotic musical instruments (an exultant French horn, a dazzling bronze flute and a set of huge scarlet timpani, wheeled out only for the promulgation of Chairman Mao's highest directives, for important conferences in Beijing or for great matters of state) were all deathly silent. Even if the gate was thrown open and the drums brought back to life, much of the noise would have been muffled by its thick red-brick walls; only a faint, indistinct rumble would disturb the peace of the Commander's house. Likewise, anyone in the club would be oblivious to noise generated by Wu Dawang and Liu Lian.
The vegetable garden and a copse of willows screened the back of the house from the headquarters of the Signals Company. Neither had ever heard anything of the other's existence.
To the east was an abandoned building site. The Division Commander's predecessor had planned a recreational conference facility for the senior officers, in which they could read the papers, chat, play chess or ping-pong, and so on, after dinner. And when it came to meetings, of course, the conference room would only be a few steps from their front doors. But one evening, shortly after the current Division Commander had
Why not?'
`D'you think I could face him after everything that's happened between us?'
A silence spun out between them, as he waited to hear what she thought would happen between the two of them when the Division Commander came home. Instead, she eventually asked him: `What did you buy in town?'
He told her about the food he'd bought.
`How long will that last us?' she wanted to know next.
Over a month.'
She sat up and combed a hand through her tangled hair. Standing up, she glanced down at his naked body. Then she wandered, smiling, downstairs.
When he heard her go outside, he picked himself up from the floor and went across to the window. He saw her walk over to the entrance to the com pound with an iron lock in her hands, check to left and right that no soldiers were approaching along the road, and pull the two iron gates shut. Putting her hands through the gates, she padlocked them together on the outside to give the illusion that no one was at home. Returning to the house, she locked both front and back doors.
The stage was now set for the culminating seventytwo hours of their affair. He dressed while he waited for her. By the time she reappeared, however, she'd already taken off all her clothes again. They stood facing each other across the bedroom doorway.
`I've locked everything up,' she said.
We haven't much rice,' he replied.
`I've checked. There's still half a bag in the cupboard.'
'That should be enough.'
'Why have you put your clothes back on?'
He undressed again, folding his uniform carefully away in her wardrobe as if he planned never to put it back on.
FOR THREE DAYS AND THREE nights, Liu Lian and Wu Dawang imprisoned themselves within the house, attending only to their most primitive needs. The compound began to seem like a wholly autonomous domain, answerable only to its own laws, independent of the world beyond its steel fence. They came together whenever and however they wanted, and when they were tired they rested as they were -- sitting or lying, his head resting on her thigh, prickling her tender skin with its bristly crew cut- until their energies returned.
But after a certain point--on the afternoon of the third day-primitive joy gave way to primitive fatigue; a fatigue that was not only physical, but also psychological.
The position of the Division Commander's house, within the senior officers' compound, made it easy to keep their wanton confinement hidden. Over the road in front of the compound was the back wall of the Division Social Club. With the barracks deserted, the gate to the club was permanently locked. Its gongs, drums and more exotic musical instruments (an exultant French horn, a dazzling bronze flute and a set of huge scarlet timpani, wheeled out only for the promulgation of Chairman Mao's highest directives, for important conferences in Beijing or for great matters of state) were all deathly silent. Even if the gate was thrown open and the drums brought back to life, much of the noise would have been muffled by its thick red-brick walls; only a faint, indistinct rumble would disturb the peace of the Commander's house. Likewise, anyone in the club would be oblivious to noise generated by Wu Dawang and Liu Lian.
The vegetable garden and a copse of willows screened the back of the house from the headquarters of the Signals Company. Neither had ever heard anything of the other's existence.
To the east was an abandoned building site. The Division Commander's predecessor had planned a recreational conference facility for the senior officers, in which they could read the papers, chat, play chess or ping-pong, and so on, after dinner. And when it came to meetings, of course, the conference room would only be a few steps from their front doors. But one evening, shortly after the current Division Commander had
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