A Loyal Character Dancer

hand, she bowed to Chen.
     
    Chen chose a song entitled “Sea Rhythm.”
     
    White Cloud had a beautiful voice enriched by a singular nasal effect. Kicking off her slippers, she began to dance to the song, swaying voluptuously to the ebbing and flowing of the music. At the beginning of the second song, “Weeping Sand,” she extended her hands to Chen. When he hesitated, she leaned over to pull him up. “Won’t you dance with me?”
     
    “Oh, I’m honored—”
     
    She took his hand, propelling him toward the center of the room. He had taken the required dancing lessons at the bureau, but he had had little time to practice. He was amazed at how easily he could be guided around by her. She danced with a sensual, effortless grace, her bare feet gliding along the hardwood floor.
     
    “Your clothes are like clouds, and your face is like a flower.” He tried to pay her a compliment, but he regretted it as soon as he uttered it. His hand was on her bare back— ”jade-smooth”—another quotation, but any reference to her clothes sounded like a joke.
     
    “Thank you for comparing me with Imperial Concubine Yang.”
     
    So she knew the origin of the lines. Indeed, a Fudan university student. He tried to hold her at some distance, but she pressed her body against him, melting into his arms. She made no effort to conceal her ardor. He felt her pointed breasts through the light material.
     
    He did not know when the microphone had come into Meiling’s hand. She was singing as captions appeared on the screen. It was a sentimental piece:
     
    “You like to say you are a grain of sand, / occasionally fallen into my eyes, in mischief. / You would rather have me weep by myself / than to have me love you, / and then you disappear in the wind / like the grain of sand…”
     
    White Cloud also quoted a couplet from Li Shangyin, the bard of star-crossed lovers, whispering in his ear, “It is difficult to meet, and to part, too. / The east wind languid, and the flowers fallen ...” She said it to evocative effect as the song was coming to a stop, her hand lingering in his.
     
    He chose to comment on the poem, “A brilliant juxtaposition of an image with a statement, creating a third dimension of poetic association.”
     
    “Isn’t that called Xing in the Book of Songs?”
     
    “Yes. Xing does not specify the relationship between the image and the statement, leaving more room for a reader’s imagination,” he expounded. He had no problem talking to her about poetry.
     
    “Thank you. You’re really special.”
     
    “Thank you. You’re marvelous,” he echoed in his best dancing-school manner, bowing before he moved back to the sofa.
     
    At Gu’s insistence, a bottle of mao tai was opened. Several cold dishes appeared on the coffee table. The liquor was strong, suffusing Chen with a new warmth.
     
    Between sips, Meiling started to talk about the zoning issue with regard to the parking lot.
     
    She was clearly conveying that it was in the power of her office to decide the future of the parking lot. She left a form on the table for Gu to sign as the first step.
     
    In the middle of their talk, White Cloud came back with a large black plastic bag. Carefully, she untied the string around the neck of the bag, reached her hand in as fast as a lightning, and came out with a snake twitching in her grasp, hissing, its scarlet tongue protruding.
     
    A monstrous snake weighing perhaps five or six pounds.
     
    “The heaviest big king snake available,” Gu said proudly.
     
    “It’s the custom,” White Cloud explained, “for our customers to see the living snake before it’s cooked. In some restaurants, the chef will kill the snake in front of the customers.”
     
    “We don’t have to do that today,” Gu said, waving the girl out. “Tell the chef to do his best.”
     
    “Is she really a Fudan student?” Meiling asked.
     
    “Oh yes. She’s majoring in Chinese literature. A clever girl. And practical too,” Gu said. “In one month here, she can earn about one year’s salary as a high-school teacher.”
     
    “She works to support her studies,” Chen concluded rather uncomfortably.
     
    White Cloud came back carrying a large tray with several small bowls and cups on it. One bowl contained snake blood, another held something like a small greenish ball immersed in liquor. At Gu’s request, she started listing the wonderful effects of the snake as medicine.
     
    “Snake blood is good for