Shifu, You'll Do Anything For a Laugh

on the street grew worse as people fled from the downpour.
    He and she sat opposite each other at a table in the dark bakery, soft drinks-in front of both of them, bright ice cubes bobbing in the dark glasses. Two stale croissants lay on the table, around which a solitary housefly flitted.
    He cocked his head to the side to look at the chaotic scene on the street outside. Branches and leaves on the locust tree were buffeted crazily by the wind, which sent fine dust skittering across the ground. The stench of mud filtered into the shop, overwhelming the buttery smell unique to bakeries. Streetcars rolled slowly down the tracks from somewhere off in the distance, nipping at the heels of the ones in front. The heavy rain beating down on the tops of the cars created a cloud of gray mist. The streetcars were packed with passengers, many of whose heads were sticking out of open windows, only to be pelted by stinging drops of rain. The corner of a red dress, caught in one of the streetcar doors, stuck wetly to the step, like a flag of the vanquished.
    “Let it pour, the heavier the better,” he blurted out through clenched teeth. “It's about time. The city's almost dried up, after six months or more without rain. If this dry spell had lasted much longer, the trees would have withered up and died.” He sounded a bit like one of the villains in a revolutionary movie. “How is it there where you are? No rain for a long time, I suspect. I watch the TV weather reports every day to stay on top of your weather there. I was really impressed with that town of yours. I hate big cities, and if not for the kid, I'd have moved there long ago. Small towns are so quiet and cheerful. I wouldn't be surprised if people in your town live ten years longer than those in the cities.”
    “I'd like to visit Shen Garden,” she said.
    “Shen Garden?” He turned around to look at her. “Isn't Shen Garden somewhere in Zhejiang Province? Hangzhou? Or maybe Jinhua. You know, the brain's the first to go once you reach middle age. Four or five years ago, I had a terrific memory, but no more.”
    “I want to visit Shen Garden every time I come to Beijing. But I never get there.” Her eyes flashed through the darkness, and her gaunt, pallid face lit up with spirit.
    Inwardly shocked by the sight, he turned to avoid her penetrating gaze. He heard himself say hoarsely:
    “Here in Beijing we've got Yuanming Gardens and the Summer Palace, but I've never heard of a Shen Garden around here.”
    She quickly reached down under the seat for her things, put two small plastic bags into a paper shopping bag, and stuffed it into her large plastic handbag.
    “Leaving so soon? Aren't you on tonight's eight o'clock train?” Pointing to the croissants, he said casually, “You'd better eat that. You might not get any dinner on the train.”
    Clutching the plastic handbag to her chest, she stared at him stubbornly and said with downcast insistence:
    “I want to visit Shen Garden. I must go see it today.”
    A gust of cold, rainy wind blew in through the door. He shuddered, rubbing his arms.
    “As far as I know, there's no Shen Garden in Beijing. Oh, now I've got it!” he said excitedly. “It's clear now. Shen Garden is way down south in Shaoxing, in Zhejiang Province. I went there once, more than ten years ago. It's not far from the birthplace of Lu Xun. There's a famous carved dialogue between the separated poets Lu You and Tang Wan of the Southern Song dynasty. It goes like this: ‘Pink creamy hands,’ Yellow-labeled wine/Spring colors filling the city/Willows by the palace walls.’ If you want the truth, it's a rundown, sort of dreary garden, all covered with weeds. It's like the friend who went with me said, ‘You'll be sorry if you miss it, and even sorrier if you see it… .’”
    By this time she'd stood up and was straightening her clothes. As she smoothed her hair, she said, almost as if she were talking to herself, “This time I'm going to see Shen Garden, no matter what.”
    Holding up his hand to stop her, he said guardedly, “Okay, let's say Shen Garden is here in Beijing. We'd still have to wait for the rain to let up before we went, wouldn't we? And if you want to go to Shaoxing to see the real Shen Garden, we'll have to wait till tomorrow. There's only one train a day, and today's left hours ago. Airplanes won't fly in this weather, and besides, I don't think there are any direct flights to Shaoxing.”
    She stepped around his