Big Breasts & Wipe Hips: A Novel

prestige and manner froze him in his tracks. Unlike Lianlian, she wasn’t dressed in a revealing nightgown. Instead, she was wearing an old army uniform, buttoned all the way up to the neck. And she wasn’t smoking a cigarette or holding a glass of wine. Needless to say, there was no love potion on the pillow. In fact, she didn’t receive him in her bedroom. She was smoking a Stalin-era pipe filled with reeking coarse tobacco, and was guzzling tea from an oversized mug with chipped porcelain and the words “Flood Dragon River Farm” stamped on one side. Seated in a beat-up rattan chair, she had her feet, encased in smelly nylon socks, on the desk in front of her. She was reading a mimeographed document when he entered. She tossed it aside when she saw him. “Bastard! Lousy bedbug!” Jintong’s legs nearly buckled, and he all but threw himself to his knees in front of her. Taking her feet off the desk, she slipped into her shoes, caving in the backs, and said, “Come here, Shangguan Jintong. Don’t be frightened, that wasn’t meant for you.”
    In line with Lianlian’s instructions, Jintong should have bowed deeply at that moment, and then, with tears in his eyes, gazed at her soft bosom, but for only about ten seconds. Longer than that would give the impression of unwelcome intentions; less than that implied disrespect. Then he was to say, “My dear teacher, Ji Qiongzhi, do you still remember that useless student you once had?”
    But she’d called him by name before he could open his mouth and looked him over from head to toe, the same liveliness in her eyes as before. He felt prickly all over, and wished he could drop what he was carrying and get away as fast as his feet would carry him. She sniffed the air. “How much cologne did Geng Lianlian spray on you?” she asked mockingly.
    She got up and pushed open a window to let in the cool night air. Off in the distance, arc welders raised sparks on steel girders high above the ground, like holiday fireworks. “Have a seat,” she said. “I have nothing to offer you, except a glass of water.” She picked up a mug with a missing handle from the tea cart, studied the gunk at the bottom, and said, “Maybe not. It’s filthy, and I’m too lazy to go wash it out. I’m getting old. Time is unforgiving. After running around all day, my legs have swelled up like leavened bread.”
    “When she brings up her age and complains about getting old, Uncle, you mustn’t agree with her. Even if her face looks like a dried-up gourd, what you have to say is” — now he parroted the exact words Geng Lianlian had coached him to say: “Teacher, except that you’ve filled out a little, you look just the same as when you were teaching us songs all those years ago. You look like a woman of twenty-seven or twenty-eight, certainly no more than thirty!”
    With a sneer, Ji said, “Geng Lianlian told you to say that, didn’t she?”
    “Yes.” He blushed.
    “Jintong, you can’t sing a song well just by memorizing the lyrics. I assure you that that sort of ass-kissing is wasted on me. Under thirty, indeed! That’s crap! I don’t have to be told that I’m getting old. My hair’s turning gray, my eyesight’s getting worse, my teeth are threatening to fall out, and my skin sags. There’s more, but I’d rather not talk about it. People out there praise me to the sky to my face, but curse me behind my back, silently if not out loud. That old deadbeat! The old witch! Since you owned up to it, I’ll overlook it today. I could just as easily have thrown you out. But have a seat. Don’t just stand there.”
    Jintong handed her the array of peacock feathers. “Teacher Ji, Geng Lianlian asked me to give you these and told me to say, ‘Teacher, these fifty-five peacock feathers are a birthday gift that mirrors your own beauty.’” “More crap!” Ji said. “A peacock is beautiful. But a peahen is uglier than a roosting chicken. Take those feathers back to her. And what’s that, a talking parrot?” She pointed at the cage he was holding. “Uncover it and let me have a look.” Jintong removed the red silk cover and tapped the cage. The sleepy parrot inside ruffled its wings and said angrily, “How are you, how are you, Teacher Ji?” Ji Qiongzhi smacked the cage, throwing such a scare into the bird that it hopped up and down, its pretty feathers banging loudly against the cage. With a sigh, Ji said, “How am I? No damned good, that’s how.”
    She refilled