Five Spice Street

Madam X’s husband: None of your business! You’re crazy! (He withdrew from her ample breasts and left, swinging his arms.)

The widow (as if waking from a dream): Ah!

Our widow had been humiliated. Should she retreat and distance herself from Madam X’s family? Of course not. Did she represent only her own bias? In fact, these blows only strengthened her belief, and consequently, she grew even more obdurate. Moreover, before long, the situation took a turn for the better. This time, the widow didn’t act as usual: she didn’t announce the results of her investigation. She didn’t say even one word. The inside situation she understood was exclusively in her mind, and that world was rich and colorful. When someone impatiently asked about the inside situation, she narrowed the spidery lines around her eyes and squeezed out a significant sort of smile. Hands behind her back, she circled around that person a few times and then slapped him on the butt and laughed out loud. She laughed and laughed until the one who had asked the question flushed purple and didn’t dare look up. Then she came up to him slowly and whispered in his ear, ‘‘Which do you prefer-a malnourished young girl or a healthy grown woman?’’ At the same time, she leered and pinched him until he was scared out of his wits. Finally, she shouted, ‘‘What do you take me for? Get out of here!’’

At the same time, all the passersby saw a strange design on the whitewashed wall of Madam X’s home. It was a charcoal drawing of a penis, a crude and childish work. Below it was a postscript: an illustration of a certain person’s second occupation. Madam X gave no evidence she was angry; instead it was as if she’d found a treasure. She was excited for several days and recited these words to herself over and over: had she finally met a kindred soul in the darkness? Where was this person whose feelings struck a chord with her own? Why did he (she) contact her in this odd way? She thought and thought and finally had an inspiration: she decided to go ahead regardless. She placed a long table in the doorway and, light as a swallow, jumped onto the table and lectured to the air. The Five Spice Street crowds thronged there to watch the show. Everything she said seemed to be about sex, including ‘‘sexual intercourse’’ and other matters offensive to their ears. She sobbed as she lectured, and her throat quivered in a few key places. She said a friend would arrive soon; she thought about him or her day and night. She also said the thing she was involved in was the best, most wonderful, lofty thing: one day, it would all be clear. To make this happen, she had lived through her microscope for a long time. ‘‘This thing is so powerful!’’

‘‘Her speech made us want to try it; I think she’s a great psychologist,’’ the coal worker said earnestly, sighing with admiration.

‘‘This kind of woman is so hot!’’ Old Meng, the fortune-teller from the pharmacy, was a little intoxicated as he narrowed his eyes. ‘‘I’m more than eighty years old-been with a lot of women in my time. Nowadays, some young people are quite unreasonable and don’t have any respect for their elders, and even say we’re just old rubbish. In fact, we might be better at it. One day, I’ll prove it: sexual prowess isn’t affected by aging. Not only isn’t it affected, but it gets even better with age. I can go on forever, but they can’t-these young sons-of-bitches!’’ He raised his skinny fist to show off his strength to the coal worker and the other young guys. ‘‘I’m much tougher than they are! If you don’t believe it, just try me! Madam X’s speech has made me feel young again. But her talking about this in public shows she has a problem. It’s okay if a woman is horny, but flaunting it in public is too much! How can that be acceptable? Have we all gone crazy?’’

‘‘She meant these words for me,’’ Madam X’s first youthful love said. ‘‘She’s been repressed a long time. I used to sympathize with her. Now she’s a complete mess-talking nonsense all the time, no matter what the occasion. This has totally ruined my impression of her. What does she mean by this publicity stunt? When I saw her standing there, I felt only hatred in my heart: all at once, my wild love for her vanished without a trace. Although everything began because of me, from this point on, I swear I am her enemy: she’s wounded my pride too much. How can a woman talk in public of her private affairs? Let’s say a woman’s lust is heating up and it’s hard for her to control herself-still, she should do things in secret. This woman is just the opposite: ordinarily she pretends to be decent. If you proposition her, she turns you down cold, holds you at arm’s length, and you would never imagine that she could pull something like this! I really can’t stand it!’’