Five Spice Street

The widow discovered they were in a kind of helpless state. They sat next to each other, propped against the wall, staring into little mirrors taken from Madam X’s table, unmoving-like porcelain dolls. They kept this up all night long: it was deadly boring. The widow stood in the middle of the room, feeling an immaterial blast. Weird multi-colored flames seemed to leap from the mirrors into midair and broiled her until she perspired. She thought of leaving, but felt uneasy, so, gritting her teeth, she stood and stared: there wasn’t any fire, and the porcelain figures sat leaning against the wall, unmoving, as always. Her expression tense and absorbed, Madam X was observing things on the glass plate with her microscope. At last, she said, ‘‘That’s all.’’ Then everyone’s face glowed red. (Clear-eyed people could see that actually Madam X was talking to herself when she said ‘‘That’s all.’’) On the way home, these kids were high as kites, chasing and teasing each other, all of a sudden climbing trees and leaping down, and at the same time loudly cursing Madam X as a ‘‘scoundrel,’’ ‘‘making fun of people when she has nothing better to do,’’ ‘‘experimenting with our nerves.’’ ‘‘She thinks she’s a fantastic genius, but in fact she’s no better than dog shit.’’ ‘‘What would happen if everyone played this kind of game?!’’ ‘‘Should the government restrict such activity?’’ And so on and on. It seemed difficult for them to supply any information, because they couldn’t grasp what they had experienced. They were indifferent to its significance. Perhaps we can say that they went into Madam X’s home because of a mysterious summons which often appeared on a starlit night. At the time, they didn’t analyze it carefully and quickly forgot the intermittent disturbing sound. Now the strange sound is particularly intense, like bees singing. It comes from the demonic mirrors Madam X is fiddling with. Each mirror is a wonder that sends indescribable things into those numb eardrums, thus causing young people unwittingly to open their mouths wide as if inspired. We can also say that they go to Madam X’s home because they mistakenly believe that she is one of them; they want to advance with her hand in hand. But after entering her room and seeing Madam X’s numb expression and her deliberately superior act, they can’t help but feel indignant. And then how can they still remember the original notion?

The widow was very disappointed. But she didn’t believe in demons and had to get to the bottom of this. One after another, she took each by the scruff of the neck and shook the truth out. They were as if in a trance, all vague about the matter: ‘‘My body felt as if it wasn’t my own-I was speechless with happiness.’’ ‘‘I became confident of my lungs and heart.’’ ‘‘Starlight blazed overhead; I was flying.’’ ‘‘Secretly getting revenge, but abhorring the one who goaded me into it’’-and other strange talk like this. They might as well have said nothing. So, did the widow draw a blank? Could she think of no other way to get to the essence of this business? Hardly. Our widow did not back away from difficulties. After several days of painful vacillation, she had a brainstorm. She made up her mind to find another way to break through. She gave chase for a long time. In a corner of a remote alley, she nabbed Madam X’s husband-this strapping guy, this virginal and handsome man. Rubbing her breasts against his arms, she brought her face close to his arm and caught him completely off guard. Below is their conversation:

The widow: Which part of a woman’s body is the most attractive? (She repeatedly hinted with her breasts and blushed with excitement.)

Madam X’s husband: Why are you blocking my way?

The widow: I’m asking: What part of a woman’s body does a man look at first? What causes his blood to boil until he can’t control himself? Answer this question or I won’t let you go.

Madam X’s husband (looking embarrassed): It’s complicated.

I’m not an expert. It depends on the man, and there are all kinds of men with different standards… The most attractive? Hey, why won’t you leave me alone? Do you take me for a fool?

The widow (despairing): There’s no single criterion? Is there no justice in this world? If demons control men, what’s the meaning of life? You guys really are pathetic!

Madam X’s husband: Don’t be unreasonable. You’re asking for trouble.

The widow: What do you know? You mama’s boy: have you ever experienced overwhelming joy? Have you ever been excited by a mature woman? You’re afraid even to try, aren’t you? You must be suffering from a disease! Is your wife’s ‘‘dispelling boredom’’ connected to your illness? Answer me. Don’t think I’m interested in you. All my life I’ve abhorred baby-like men, androgynous men like you! Can such a person kindle anyone’s desire? I’ve always looked down on you. Sorry, what did I just ask? Oh yes, what does your wife do at night?