The experience of rape

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In July 2000, I completely lost faith in life. I started hiding in my room playing a kind of fantasy game, feeling drowsy all day, and hardly anyone contacted me

. It was at this time that Gu Xing called. "

Let's meet up," he said calmly. I was stunned for three seconds before realizing it was indeed him. Memories of three years ago surfaced faintly in my mind, without any ripples.

Yes, he had indeed tried to rape me back then.

We sat on his small bed talking, the evening sunlight shining perfectly on his delicate, almost feminine face. This was the first time I had been to his house in six years of being classmates. I didn't dislike Gu Xing; he had given me a birthday card in the first year of junior high, mentioning, "You are a good girl in my eyes"; but I definitely didn't like him. He was too effeminate, always hanging out with girls, and always speaking softly and gently to everyone.

We were about to graduate high school. He said he was probably going abroad and that we probably wouldn't see each other again. I just agreed, without feeling particularly sad. From that moment on, I developed a deep-seated indifference, becoming indifferent to everything.

Then he leaned in and put his hand on my shoulder. I was surprised that such a gesture came from someone so usually so gentle, but I didn't move. Within the boundaries of our six years of friendship, I unilaterally tolerated him. I thought he would probably confess his feelings to me soon, and I was happy to discover such a long-term admirer at the end of high school. But he chose a brutal approach.

He didn't say anything, didn't even try to kiss me, but simply pushed me down onto the bed. My light green sweater rode up a little, revealing a narrow strip of skin. I desperately wanted to cover it up, but I forgot how to scream. He still didn't speak, frantically trying to unbuckle my belt. I watched all this in astonishment, as if I were watching a suspenseful scene in a poorly made movie. By then, he had unzipped my pants halfway, and then, as if in a poorly staged play, he got stuck. He hurriedly reached in and pulled down my underwear. My stomach began to churn, and I felt an unbearable nausea, as if caterpillars were crawling on my skin.

I tried to pull his hand away, he tried again, I pulled it away again, and we remained silent, locked in a standoff, as if playing a game of patience. Finally, he gave up.

I watched him zip up the pants again, fasten his belt, and straighten my sweater. The nausea persisted, and I could barely make a judgment about the situation. He began to apologize. The sun had moved a little further west, and his handsome face was now in shadow. I jumped out of bed and ran out like a rabbit. Leaning against the wall in the stairwell of his building, I started to vomit.

After graduation, we never contacted each other again.

I waited for Gu Xing outside a steakhouse, wearing a simple white dress, my sun-deprived skin listlessly drying in the warm evening breeze. He arrived right on time, looking much the same, but I had a gut feeling he'd become more experienced. I even fantasized about him raping half a dozen women on his small bed.

We walked slowly along the city's riddled streets, him talking incessantly. I forced myself not to hear a word, my eyes occasionally glancing at his more feminine profile, like looking at an empty television screen.

I wondered why all my memories of Gu Xing were frozen on that evening three years ago. That experience felt like a sharp knife, slicing my chaotic memories in two like cheese. Both halves melted away, vanished, leaving only that deep scar.

At the end of the road was a park under construction, its iron gate locked. In the distance, I could see a few lights shining in the darkness—the lights of the construction workers. Gu Xing suggested we climb over the fence and go into the park. I still didn't hear what he said, but I knew what he meant.

We chose a section of railing in a dark corner, and tumbled onto the damp earth of the park. My skirt billowed open like an umbrella as I jumped, the wind caressing my legs lightly. Gu Xing grabbed my hand and we started running. We passed the row of lit workshops, circled a pretentious artificial lake, and in the immeasurable desolation of the night, I realized I still needed to hide.

The summer leaves lay softly on the damp earth. There was no moonlight, and in the woods behind the mountain, we finally completely concealed ourselves. I started talking to Gu Xing, the first time I'd spoken to anyone this month. I said a lot, but I knew he was forcing himself not to hear a word. Occasionally, his gaze would sweep across the dark outline of my face; he seemed to be looking at an empty television screen.

I discovered that despair itself is a form of rape, which is why I so submissively obeyed Gu Xing. I even opened myself up to his violation again, just as I submitted to a life of despair.

We fell silent. The near-midnight wind blew against the two of us, frozen in place. Parts of my body felt broken, unable to heal. I think Gu Xing understood my tacit consent. He moved closer, untying the ribbons of my skirt.

Gu Xing pulled away, straightened my clothes, shook the fallen leaves from my hair, then sat down and lit a cigarette—a man's habit. My stomach didn't churn, nor did I feel shame. I accepted this filthy man, slowly surrendering myself to the lowly dust, large clumps of earth engulfing me, and I... I didn't care. Everything had no beginning, no end, not even a process.

I asked the man before me, "Did you rape me just now?" He raised his head slightly, his chin illuminated by the smoke. He was a stranger. He said, "No way, you barely resisted." I said, "Oh, so it was adultery." I found my mind a blur. Then I stood up and said I was leaving. He said, "What's the rush? I'll see you off."

I had already started walking when he caught up and tried to put his arm around my waist. The nausea returned, I pried his hand away, and started running…

That July, I completely lost faith in life. I locked myself in my house and played a kind of fantasy game. Almost no one contacted me.

Occasionally, I would receive a call from someone I knew, and I would say, “Look, I gave myself an extreme experience; I was raped.”

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