Five Spice Street

The men of Five Spice Street-consumed with Madam X’s secret-became more sentimental and affectionate. Quite a few dashed to the riverside to ‘‘take in the scenery,’’ waiting to catch that ‘‘great nude scene’’ (the widow’s words) and then play things by ear. Each did this on his own, fearful that others would see through their intentions. If acquaintances ran into each other, their faces flushed as they exchanged small talk: ‘‘It’s a sunny day, isn’t it? No? But don’t you feel a little hot? Haha…’’ Then they would turn and walk away, but not too far; they would just make the rounds in the vicinity. Naturally, this scheming was all for nothing. They didn’t glimpse even Madam X’s shadow. Miffed, they would whisper to themselves: this was a hoax from the beginning-how could this kind of thing go on? If the woman had the guts to strip in a public place, wouldn’t it be better to screw some guys at home? Although stripping sounded exciting and even romantic, it certainly wasn’t the same as making it with some men: it wasn’t even close to the real thing. Why bother running over to a deserted wasteland to do this? It was incomprehensible. Was this some kind of symbolic act? Perhaps just camouflage? Was the real thing behind it? What kind of scene was it when a woman jumped around naked in a deserted place like this? If she couldn’t control herself, she should have done something quietly at home. What did this ‘‘naked act’’ count for? The crowds on our Five Spice Street always had to think everything through every which way: they never reached a verdict lightly and would never give up on a riddle just because they were temporarily stumped. They had to give it hard thought; if they couldn’t solve it, they would keep their eyes open. Sometimes, a small matter could trigger thoughts for a long time, and another small matter could suddenly enlighten them.

Our Madam X might be the world’s most volatile and unpredictable person, whose every action and word was an inexplicable riddle. No experience or common knowledge could help in dealing with her. You’d have to treat her like an extraterrestrial. We’d have to come up with some totally new, extraordinary, non-logical approach. No flippancy, no emotionalism. Maintain composure at all costs. Even if we accomplished nothing, this would be better than shouting and reckless action. Up to now, though there’ve been some small mistakes, and one or two people have disturbed the main process, in general, our people are still observing: they haven’t been indiscreet, nor have they been swayed. This is sensible and shows their good breeding. After Madam X took off her clothes, Five Spice Street became lively for a while: everyone was talking about it, and the talk led to continuous profound analysis and a rich association of ideas. Everyone’s surplus energy now had a place where it could be vented. This in itself was noble-a great opportunity for everyone to refine his or her soul until it was sanctified. But unfortunately, among the people on Five Spice Street there were a few uncouth degenerates who didn’t behave. They charged around everywhere, upsetting the social order and turning good into bad. They messed up everything. They themselves were in the dark about what they hoped to achieve. They just loved showing up all of a sudden and catching you off guard, leaving everything a mess, and then taking their time walking away.