Shifu, You'll Do Anything For a Laugh

outstretched hand and, still clutching her handbag, walked out the door straight into the downpour. Quickly settling the bill with the two sharp-eyed waitresses, he started after her. Standing in the bakery doorway, he stuck his head outside; the sound of rain beating down on the sheet metal eaves threw his mind into turmoil. He strained to look through the curtain of rain running off the awning like a waterfall and spotted her plastic handbag over her head as she dashed across the street. Taxis speeding past through the puddling rain soaked her skirt, which accentuated the outline of her bony figure. From where he stood under the awning, looking down the street he could see the gray apartment building where he lived and, it seemed, a kaleidoscopic flow of rain coursing down the newly installed sea-blue balcony windows. He even thought he could detect the rich fragrance of brewed tea and the sweet voice of his daughter calling out: “Come here, Papa!”
    She stood across from him in the rain, trying to hail a taxi or any car that would stop for her. The blurry outline of her face brought to mind a cold, rainy day nearly twenty years before, when snowflakes swirled in the air: he stood outside the window of her dormitory, looking in at her as she sat in a chair, wearing a white turtleneck sweater, a faint smile on her lovely face as she happily played an accordion. There were times after that when he wanted to tell her about that night, when he'd nearly frozen to death, but he always suppressed the impulse to show his emotions. The young woman playing her accordion seemed to come alive again in the pouring rain, reigniting the remnants of passion deep in his heart.
    He rushed out into the rain and across the street to her. In a matter of seconds, he was as drenched as she was, and just as cold. The freezing rain, now mixed with tiny hailstones, felt as if it were boring right through him. Taking her by the arm, he tried to move her over next to one of the commercial buildings, out of the rain, but she resisted, and he gave up trying. His back felt as if it were being pricked by tiny barbs, and when he looked over his shoulder, he saw people under the overhangs casting furtive glances his way. Some of those faces looked familiar. But by then he knew he was stuck. If he let her walk off, his conscience would bother him from that day on.
    Finally he managed to drag her over to a roadside telephone booth, where at least the upper halves of their bodies were protected from the rain by a pair of semicircular shades. He said:
    “I know of a quaint little Taiwanese teashop in that lane up ahead. Let's go get a nice cup of hot tea and wait for the rain to let up. Then I'll take you to the train station.”
    The upper half of her body was all but swallowed up by the semicircular shade, so he couldn't see the expression on her face. About all he could see was the dark skirt clinging to her legs to reveal her unattractive, protruding kneecaps. She didn't make a sound, as if his suggestion had fallen on deaf ears. Fewer and fewer cars passed up and down the street, but she kept hailing them, taxis and non-taxis alike, trying to get one of them to stop.
    After the rain died down a bit, they finally managed to flag down a red Xiali taxi. He opened the door and let her in first. Then he climbed in and closed the door. “Where to?” the cabbie asked impassively.
    “Shen Garden!” she said before he could answer.
    “Shen Garden?” the cabbie replied. “Where's that?”
    “Forget Shen Garden,” he blurted out. “Take us to Yuan-ming Gardens.”
    “No, Shen Garden!” she said in a flat but insistent voice.
    “Where is Shen Garden?” the cabbie asked again.
    “I said, forget Shen Garden,” he repeated. “Take us to Yuanming Gardens.”
    “Would you make up your minds?” the cabbie said impatiently.
    “I told you we want to go to Yuanming Gardens, so take us there.” He was beginning to sound shrill.
    The cabbie turned back to look at him. He nodded to the gloomy driver. Three times she repeated her desire to go to Shen Garden, but the driver sped down the wide-open street without a response, sending water spraying to both sides. A strange sense of tragic solemnity overcame him as he sat there. Sneaking a look at her, he saw what looked like a pouting smile on her lips. He also noticed that her hand was shaking as she gripped the door handle, as if she were trying to make up her mind to do something rash. He held her