Male thieves and female prostitutes: sex, strange love, part two

My knee was scraped against the small bloodstain, staining my white pants a dirty red.
Countless security guards rushed over, lifting my arms and legs. I was still conscious, but dazed, feeling my strength draining away.
The young girls cried and screamed, and I was carried away from their lecherous gazes and into a white ambulance.
The ambulance wailed incessantly. I covered my ears, my eyes filled with a hazy, layered vision of those two figures and that umbrella.
I was taken to the hospital, and everyone thought I was unconscious, but I was actually fully conscious, just in a daze.
I heard someone talking to the doctor, and then suddenly more people chased away all the acquaintances around me.
I was put into another car and left the hospital.
Then I recognized the researchers in front of me, and suddenly I snapped awake, becoming incredibly clear-headed.
"...It's you." Global Life Sciences Institute.
"Don't move. Your body has undergone a slight change. We will study it carefully, protect you, and at the same time figure out the mechanism behind your erection and ejaculation."
The car swayed, a sedative spread from my arm to my whole body, and I was forced to sleep.
In my sleep, I encountered the wisp of dust that had once saved the woman from falling from the building for the second time.
This time, I vaguely saw its shape… It sat gracefully atop a cluster of flowers, its features almost human-like.
Fate spoke to me. “How are you? How have you been lately? You didn’t regret taking that wish, did you?”
“No regrets.” I smiled with relief.
“You’re drifting further and further away from what you wanted to get closer to.”
“I will eventually share everything that’s left with him, forever and ever.”
“You’re delusional.”
“I can definitely do it.”
“Shin Ya-na, do you want to see the future?” A wisp of nothingness, like a crystal ball, floated in front of me.
“No!—” I screamed, covering my eyes with my hands. "If you have so much free time, why don't you go and care about Zhang Rong? I've already fallen, I'm already dead, don't worry about me anymore!"
"You don't have to look, I'll tell you. Zhang Xu will try to kill you, Zhang Rong was mistakenly killed for trying to stop him, and then Zhang Xu will serve his sentence in prison, suffer all kinds of humiliation, and then commit suicide."
I was stunned and let go of my hands covering my eyes. "Then... what about me?"
"Every time you ejaculate semen you didn't originally possess, you get one step closer to death. Before Zhang Xu went to prison, you made love to him for the last time, ejaculated, then went home, took a shower, lay quietly on the bed, closed your eyes, and died."
"...I made love to him... then why did he kill me?"
"Because he finally found out you were Shen Yana. He was deeply troubled; he didn't like someone loving him so madly; he hated you and wanted to get rid of you completely." "
What a joke." I scoffed. "How could Zhang Xu hate me? How foolish! How could that be? Zhang Xu hate me? Ha, do you know what you're saying? How could Zhang Xu hate me? What reason could he have to hate me? He actually hates me? How could he hate me..."
My tone gradually shifted from sharp sarcasm to mournful wailing.
Finally, I cried. "...I did so much, just so he wouldn't hate me. Why, why does he still hate me... How... How could..."
"He hates creatures that can't control themselves, like vines. You know that, right? Your request to change your gender, your efforts to become famous, your feigned brutality—all of these were to cover up the fact that you can't control yourself, all of these were performances for Zhang Xu to see, to prevent him from hating you. Don't you understand that at all?"
"Yes!" I roared at fate. "I know, I understand, I know! But so what? I can never fight against this world... Zhang Xu is wrong, people can't be independent! Where would he find so much, so much strength to support him against everything... Besides loving each other, besides finding some support among equally lowly beings, what else can we do, what else can we do!"
"Even if he's wrong, he hopes someone can be wrong with him. Shen Yana, what exactly do you love about Zhang Xu?"
"I love him."
"You only love your love for him. Shen Yana, why did you undergo gender reassignment surgery to become a man?"
"Because I want to follow in Zhang Xu's footsteps. I want him to love me."
"Then why did Zhang Xu undergo gender reassignment surgery to become a man?"
"Because he's unwilling to forever be the oppressed and conquered gender... He wants to be superior."
"You followed in his footsteps, did you follow his heart?"
"...Don't ask me that. Don't force me to do what I can't do. Please, don't." I knelt on the ground, tears streaming down my face.
Zhang Xu hates it when I cry.
Right, Zhang Xu hates me crying.
He hates me begging for mercy.
He hates me being submissive.
He hates my ambiguous, negative attitude.
But can a person cut off their tear ducts?
Zhang Xu hated me for so many things, for so long. Perhaps I already knew the truth the moment he suddenly disappeared from the magnificent palace. And everything that followed was just an illusion… From amnesia to gender reassignment to singing, everything was just a fabricated, absurd story to cover up my being hated… Zhang Xu is gone, never to return. He sings on his imagined stage, the center of attention; he becomes a man in his free space, conquering one hole after another, indomitable…
Fate sighed softly.
“Don’t cry.” The air around me softened, as if caressing my shoulders. The pressure beneath me changed, I was lifted up, as if leaning against a sofa bed, and my sobs miraculously stopped.
“Would you like to hear my story about your past life and Zhang Rong?” The cat demon stood up, finally transforming into a blurry human form, standing before me.
I neither nodded nor shook my head. So the cat demon began to narrate.
“Zhang Rong was once a large banyan tree, and you were a child who often played under it. When you were seven years old, Zhang Rong had cultivated for a thousand years, but encountered a heavenly tribulation. Heavenly lightning struck down and scorched the banyan tree, and it was about to be annihilated. You, in a daze, suddenly walked nearby, causing the heavenly lightning to hesitate and stop striking, allowing Zhang Rong to catch its breath. That night, the banyan tree appeared to you in a dream, and the next day, you followed the instructions in the dream, cutting off the lifeless branches of the banyan tree and planting them in your backyard. The banyan tree had died in its previous life, but in this life it cultivated again, and finally, three hundred years later, it regained human form, appearing under the tree as a crying baby. It was picked up by someone, adopted as their son, and has remained so ever since.”
“Ah?” I opened my mouth, unable to close it. "...He...isn't a person, but a tree?"
"He is a tree, a tree that can never return. His tribulation in this life isn't lightning, but love. He can no longer return to his world. He will die in this world." "
...Perhaps he'd be happier not to go back. Then let him not go back."
"You saved him once in your past life; you can save him again in this one."
"Save him?"
"If you let go of your obsession with Zhang Xu, I can take you away, far away, to another place, to live a happy and fulfilling life. Then Zhang Xu won't come to kill you, and Zhang Rong won't be mistakenly killed trying to stop him. None of the three of you will die, and Zhang Rong will eventually realize the truth. In that case, everything will change, and none of the three of you will die. Shen Yana, the future depends on your decision. And the fates of Zhang Xu and Zhang Rong are only in your hands."
"In my hands?"
"You've never tried to control your own destiny. Why not try?"
I was silent for a moment, then suddenly burst into laughter. "If I could try just once, to take control of my own destiny, then I would choose to be with Zhang Xu forever, forever and ever."
"Impossible!" Destiny roared in anger.
"Since it's impossible, how can I possibly control my own destiny?" I asked sadly. "I beg, but I can't beg. I can't control my destiny anyway. Humans can never truly fight against fate. Zhang Xu is wrong, I'm right. We are inherently powerless. No matter where we are, with whom, or what we do, there is always a force stronger than us controlling everything. We can do nothing, we can do nothing! You are destiny. So, what's the difference between being controlled by you and being controlled by destiny?" I became more and more agitated as I spoke. "If Zhang Rong's fate is to repay me and then leave, then he has already transcended fate. If Zhang Rong's fate is to succumb to love, then he has submitted to fate. However, what exactly is fate? The path that happened, or the path that didn't happen? — In short, not the path one wants to take. Everyone wants to live a long and prosperous life. But ten years, a hundred years, a thousand years, thirteen hundred years, it still all comes to an end. Before it ends, all I can do is love, only love the people I love!"
"Love is the root of all this tragedy."
"Without love, there is no tragedy either, the stage is empty, isn't that even more desolate?"
"Very well, you stubborn fool. Remember, there is one month left, and the future I spoke of will happen. Think it over carefully, you have one month. If you let go, everyone will be transcended. If you cling to it, you will be trapped in eternal damnation."
Fate flashed and suddenly disappeared into the void.
"Ana, ana?" The familiar researcher called my name.
I woke up with a splitting headache.
"Your pneumonia is no longer a major problem; you'll recover after some rest. But there's a problem: we've tried many methods, but we still can't get you to ejaculate. However, our intelligence shows that you do have a history of erectile dysfunction and ejaculation. Perhaps you should tell us the specific background and details of this miracle?"
He handed me a glass of water.
I drank it while smiling. "There's no miracle... it's a person. As long as the person is right, I can do it."
"You mean a sexual partner?"
"Zhang, Xu." I uttered the name.
The experimenter was surprised. "Zhang Xu?"
"That's right. It's your last client, Zhang Xu. If you invite him, I can demonstrate to you how I can get an erection and have sex like a real man."
I knew they could definitely do it. They would definitely bring Zhang Xu to me. I wouldn't dare do it myself, but I dared to borrow power stronger than myself. I was looking for advantages and avoiding disadvantages.
While comfortably soaking in the sauna they arranged, I lazily received a call from Qiu Ling. Qiu Ling said the mayor had specifically instructed me to temporarily suspend all my activities for three days so I could focus entirely on receiving the "distinguished guests" from abroad. "Little Cha, just concentrate on receiving them. I'll arrange everything at the company," he chuckled.
Sulfur-smelling hot spring water flowed from the marble dragon's mouth. I was enveloped in steam; my unnatural chest, and the phallus beneath it connected to my very being, all seemed dreamlike.
Send Zhang Xu here.
What did someone say to me in my dream?
That too much sex would lead to exhaustion and death? —How wonderful.
How much like the best possible ending I had envisioned.
The pain of slitting my wrists, the horror of jumping off a building—I've already experienced them all. Now I only want to indulge in lust, to indulge in love.
The phone rang again.
I answered. The phones here are monitored; no unauthorized person could dial my number. Who could it be this time?
"Hello?"
"Ana, it's me."
"Zhang Rong?"
"Don't speak, listen to me. Don't have sex with Zhang Xu, don't let them know you can get an erection and ejaculate. They'll kill you and then dissect you for research. No, Yana."
"It won't happen." I chuckled. "Fate has already told me that our future will be that Zhang Xu tries to kill me with a knife but accidentally kills you instead. I have sex with him, and then I die from exhaustion."
"It's already changed. Yana, once you know your fate, fate will change."
"What?"
"There are only two ways to change this ending: either you can let go, or you die."
"If I die, everything will stop?"
"So if you can't let go, you will definitely die a violent death."
"Die a violent death... what's the difference between that and dying?"
"Yana, don't die."
"It's only a matter of time."
"Don't have sex with Zhang Xu. Don't give up. And don't let go. Ana, persevere, just like Zhang Xu always persevered in resisting and conquering everything, don't give up."
"Zhang Rong..."
The phone line suddenly snapped.
A long crack suddenly appeared on the screen. I only heard a hissing sound and could no longer communicate with the outside world.
I vaguely felt that fate was approaching me. "Don't make love with Zhang Xu? I don't care about death..." Zhang Rong would never understand that there are people in this world whose instinct to survive is far less strong than their instinct to destroy themselves. They don't deserve happiness, they can't see through things, and they can never transcend.
I no longer had the courage to commit suicide. But I vaguely knew that death had once been my only freedom. Now, even the right to die was reduced to obedience and waiting.
But death cannot take away the love in my heart.
Whether this love is lust, obsession, or love itself. What is love itself? Who can see clearly?
I stood up from the bathtub.
A thin mist condensed on the bronze mirror opposite me, then quickly dissipated. I saw my face, my body. A beautiful and handsome face, lifeless. A thin, stiff body, adorned with water droplets, dreamlike and perfect.
My hair had grown long, past my ears. I tilted my head, turning my eyes back to look at my profile. The silhouette of that woman from the past slowly returned to my memory. I pinched the tip of my nose, then tilted my head back, imagining the feeling of long hair flowing. Scenes from the past assaulted my eyes. I saw my life irresistibly. Ordinary, humble, resentful.
My parents left me so early, how I longed for the light and warmth of the world. But I had nothing but my own body. I was punished by my English teacher, standing in the hallway, that woman not much older than me pointing her finger at my nose and saying, "You'll never be able to speak a complete, decent sentence in English in your entire life." Then my stepmother abused me, kicking and beating my groin, whipping me with a three-finger-wide belt until I was covered in bruises.
Occasionally I stayed at my aunt's house, watching my uncle's stern face, acting cautiously. I never had a self from childhood. I spoke to people in the same tone and manner, trying my best to please them, but I never indulged in my own happiness. I always endured, always quietly turning bad. I lost my virginity to a cute boy in my class, but there was no bleeding. I endured the pain as he entered me; he showed no mercy, thrusting violently. I had to endure it until I was released. Then, when that feeling, almost like love, came, I whispered to him that he was my first man.
He laughed in surprise, telling me not to lie and to waste my time.
I was speechless, biting my lip. Then I went to a hotel with an older student. As I took off my clothes, I suddenly felt afraid. I wanted to turn back, but I said no. But he slapped me and said, "Bitch, how can you stop now?" Then he penetrated me, and then he gave me a bottle of designer perfume. I finally understood what sex could give me. So I seduced many men, old and young, those who loved me, and those who might love me, until finally, I became a prostitute with a price tag. Finally, when I faced life for the first time and wanted to give up, when I faced my first sadomasochistic client, I couldn't bear it anymore, but I didn't know what else I could do besides endure it, I saw Zhang Xu. She blocked the client for me, and then, at the height of the client's arrogance, she coldly said, "What the hell are you so proud of? I'm a lesbian, and I will never have an orgasm with a man."
Then I hugged her, she hugged me, and we kissed.
We were covered in wounds, comforting each other, and then left the nightclub together, becoming a pair of free-spirited gay prostitutes on the street.
Sometimes it's selling, sometimes it's giving.
How can you take back what's given away?
Zhang Xu, why don't you love me... why do you hate me?
I plunged my hand into my perineum.
The terrible erection made my whole body tremble.
My only entrance was behind me, just a little further back. I probed my anus, my intestinal wall. My nails hurt me. But the feeling of expansion was exhilarating. I groaned loudly.
Zhang Xu once cursed me, saying I was a brainless woman.
I felt that my brain must be between my legs. I could make myself happy so precisely, so easily. Zhang Xu, it's you who should be let go. We made love together, went to the streets to solicit customers together, and then grew old together, what a wonderful life that would be. If men are stronger than women, then they are stronger than women. If those who went to university are stronger than us, then they are stronger than us. If clients are stronger than prostitutes, then they are stronger than prostitutes. What does it all matter? As long as I hold you, and you hold me, comforting each other, this world will breed, grow, and perish in that small space between us.
A knock came at the door.
"Are you done showering?"
"Almost." I wrapped myself in a towel, dried my hair, and went out with a satisfied smile.
After waiting a while in the bedroom, finishing the last bit of red wine in my glass, I was wondering why this group was so inefficient and hadn't brought Zhang Xu yet. At that moment, two staff members in white coats walked in.
"What's wrong?" I sensed the tension in their expressions.
"I'm sorry. We're afraid we can't bring Zhang Xu."
"...Why?"
"He's dead."
I took a step back, shook my head, and then smiled. "What did you say?"
"He's dead. A Chinese man named Zhang Rong killed him."
I sat on the sofa, opened my mouth, and then found myself speechless.
"You can rest for a bit, and then leave anytime. If your pneumonia or other problems recur, a doctor can usually help you." Their expressions were cold. It was a familiar expression, an expression of dislike.
Seeing that I didn't answer, they left.
I sat there.
Suddenly, I felt as if the sofa I was sitting on was a living thing, frantically vying with me for the oxygen in the room.
Why couldn't I breathe?
Where was the air?
I stood up numbly, gathered my things, and opened the door.
The staff outside led me away expressionlessly.
I stood blankly on the sun-drenched street. There were no pedestrians, not a single one. There was no wind, not a breath. There was no life, not a trace.
I felt like I was standing on a dead Earth.
Zhang Rong killed Zhang Xu.
Zhang Xu is dead.
Zhang Xu is dead.
Zhang Rong killed him.
Dead.
Killed.
I walked forward step by step.
Qiu Ling's car stopped beside me. "They notified me to pick you up. What's wrong, Xiao Cha?"
"Is Zhang Xu dead?" I asked. The skin on my lips cracked, and when I tore it off, I found it was covered in blood.
"You know? I just heard the news too. Apparently, his live-in boyfriend killed him, stabbing him only once, once through the heart. I'm telling you, Xiao Cha, you absolutely mustn't go down their path. Homosexuality is terrifying; anything can happen..."
I couldn't quite hear what he was saying.
The car moved forward. The scenery receded.
The scenery receded, the car moved forward.
I found my thoughts sluggish.
The scenery rushed past; where was I going? What was I going to do?
"Xiao Cha? What's wrong?... You liked that Zhang Xu?... He's dead, don't think about him anymore. But let me tell you, you absolutely mustn't go to hospitals or crematoriums, okay? This has already caused a sensation throughout the city; don't get involved."
There seemed to be birds chirping outside the window. I looked out; the trees were lush and green, the birds and flowers were beautiful. The outskirts of this city were so charming, so naturally idyllic. I smiled foolishly.
Everything was resolved.
My beloved Zhang Xu was dead.
Zhang Xu, who didn't love me, is dead.
Zhang Xu, who hated me, is dead.
Zhang Xu, who competed with me, is dead. Zhang Xu
, who wanted to conquer men, is dead.
Zhang Xu, who was once a woman, is dead.
A person named Zhang Xu is dead.
He is dead.
She is dead.
Dead.
What's wrong with that?
The Zhang Xu who sat in front of the mirror, shredding her semen-stained hair, is dead. The Zhang Xu who laughed as she took a picture of me bending over to greet customers, is dead. The Zhang Xu who hit me with a belt, forbidding me from having sex with customers without a condom, is dead. The Zhang Xu who dragged me to the hospital, holding me tightly while I was getting stitches, is dead. The Zhang Xu who bought mink coats in the summer, who loved wildlife products, is dead. The arrogant and domineering Zhang Xu, who only allowed herself to betray the world but not the world to betray her, is dead. The Zhang Xu who went shopping with me in a miniskirt whose legs were longer than mine and who laughed at my figure, is dead. The Zhang Xu who suddenly left me and then suddenly returned, is dead. The Zhang Xu with short hair who stood below the stage watching me sing and then disappeared in a flash, is dead. Zhang Xu, who hugged and kissed someone else right in front of me, is dead. Zhang Xu, who penetrated me, is dead. Zhang Xu, whom I penetrated, is dead. Zhang Xu, who was blind in one eye yet remained so calm and collected, is dead.
I remember the song we sang together. Unworthy to embrace. Love remains love even in separation.
The melody is a jumbled mess in my mind.
I hummed it softly.
Qiu Ling turned around and praised, "Xiao Cha, your singing is getting better and better."
A person is most clear-headed at the moment of death.
Ultimately, laughter and tears are fleeting. If you stop on my path, will you still be you?
See clearly that love and hate are predestined.
Zhang Rong, the destiny you spoke of has arrived.
No matter how it changes, I recognize it.
No matter how it changes, it's fate, something I can't escape, can't obtain, can't avoid, and can't get over.
Man can't fight against fate. Zhang Xu is human
; he's born, and he'll die. If he doesn't die now, he will die one day.
This world will one day be a world without Zhang Xu. Just like before Zhang Xu appeared.
I'm right, Zhang Xu, you know, I'm right. Man must obey fate. Woman must obey man. The weak must obey the strong. The seller must obey the buyer. I'm right. You're wrong. Zhang Xu, Zhang Xu! "Stop the car," I said. For some reason, sweat dripped down Qiu Ling's forehead. He looked at me fearfully. Did I look that scary? I got out of the car, looked up at the sky. "Zhang—Xu—" I shouted to the sky in the bustling city center. Countless people stopped. Countless people looked at me, recognized me, and pointed. My voice trailed off, as if I were calling for someone very, very far away. I stared directly at the blazing sunlight, my vision blurred, and colors swirled around me. Zhang Xu… this is the last time I'm calling you. The last time. The sky was silent. My tears, however, remained hidden in my eyes, unable to fall. (8) I went to see Zhang Rong in prison. He looked quite well. “How are you…” I didn’t know what to say. “Are you alright?” He deliberately avoided my eyes, looking at the sunlit window behind me. “The verdict is in.” he said. “Isn’t the trial supposed to start next month?” “It’s not a verdict from the mortal world, but a verdict from fate.” “…Huh?” I didn’t quite understand. “…So, what was the verdict?” “I received an award.” “Huh?” How could that be? "Although I'm a murderer, from the perspective of Heaven's will, I avoided a death I shouldn't have had, allowing fate to return to its proper course." "...Then?" "After this life ends, as a reward, I will become a true human." "A human?" "Yana, being able to be human is a remarkable thing. You should cherish it." "Nonsense." "As for the verdict here, I already know it in advance. Whether from the perspective of Heaven's will or the law, it's bound to be death." "Zhang Rong..." "He and I died one after the other, a double suicide for love. I think it was worth it." "What about me?" I looked into his open and unrestrained eyes. "What about me? What about me?" "You will be happy." ...I was silent for a moment. Then I said, "Zhang Rong, I'll fuck your mother." Zhang Rong laughed. "I don't have a mother. You personally penetrated me, so perhaps in a sense, you are my mother." I was speechless with anger. "Where is Zhang Xu?...Where is Zhang Xu now? In some corner I can't see? Does he still exist? He does, right?" "Ana, Zhang Xu is dead." Zhang Rong looked at me peacefully. “Give up.” I wanted to hit him. “You killed him just to make me give up?” “Maybe to make myself give up…maybe also to make him give up.” “But you told me to persevere before.” “Give up Zhang Xu, persevere in yourself.” “Why should you concern yourselves so much about my fate and my life?” “Didn’t you already accept it?” “Is this how you repay a debt of gratitude?” “Yes.” The conversation with Zhang Rong was like a troubling tug-of-war. To this day, I still don’t believe in fate, stars, or the way of heaven. I’m just used to accepting everything that has happened. No matter the reason, it’s always reality. Qiu Ling was waiting for me in the car. “Alright, I’ve done everything I can to arrange things for you. Hurry back to the company.” He looked around furtively. “To the cemetery.” I took off my sunglasses and smiled wearily. Qiu Ling almost fell off the driver’s seat. I don’t know how Zhang Xu was buried. Who watched over him and saw him off? He had no relatives in this world, and vaguely no friends either. He always told me coldly that he wouldn't cherish anyone, because cherishing makes one weak. He said that when he was with anyone, his first thought was always about what would happen if they parted, if they became enemies, if they severed ties—would his heart be unsettled? But that funeral ceremony would definitely not be quiet. Although he had no one to love, cling to, or rely on, countless people were infatuated with him, adored him, and willing to risk their lives for him. From me, to Zhang Xu, to sixteen-year-old girls, to countless fans and passersby who were crazy about him. I think even if he died, those who loved him would still love him. Sometimes I wonder, why did Zhang Xu receive so much love? Why can't I? Zhang Xu doesn't love me. Zhang Rong doesn't love me. Even countless fans don't love me. I can't expose myself to the public. They would be utterly disgusted. But Zhang Xu just stood there casually, wearing a slanted eye patch, without hiding anything, without being nervous, and he could captivate people. I'm jealous of Zhang Xu, yes, I'm jealous of him. He was a proud prostitute. A proud singer. He was never humble. I desperately tried to prove him wrong. I proved him wrong. But his death, so cold and silent, rendered my efforts futile. Why did I have to meet such a person? The cemetery was bathed in bright sunlight. I stood far away from Zhang Xu, watching quietly. I didn't think this tombstone had any connection to my Zhang Xu. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine the pile of ashes beneath the tombstone. Burn him, burn him to ashes. I had heard that during cremation, corpses often suddenly sit up due to muscle stiffness and heat, stretching out their arms. I wondered, what would Zhang Xu look like sitting up in the crematorium furnace? His face must still be as beautiful as ever, his lips still carrying a very polite, slightly disdainful expression. Was there really a beautiful body in that mound of earth? I squatted down, touching the damp earth with my fingertips. A vast, endless silence. I felt nothing. A lazy cat came over, wagging its tail. I instinctively picked it up.

"Qiuling, how much money do I have now?" I asked, holding the cat from the cemetery in the back seat.
"A little over three million... including the four previous ads, one EP, and other commercial expenses. After deducting the company's commission, it's probably just a tiny fraction of three million."
"How much would I have to pay if I terminated my contract with the company?"
"Five million."
I nodded.
For six months, I didn't record any new songs.
I spent all my time shooting various commercials, some high-quality, some low-quality.
Gradually, my singing career began to be criticized, and my popularity plummeted.
Six months later, I paid the company back five million, leaving myself with about a million, and quietly disappeared into the morning mist of the city.
I crossed the ocean overnight.
I returned to the United States. I brought nothing with me except the cat I had found.
This time, I didn't need to go to the Global Life Sciences Institute. I went directly to the equally cutting-edge but very commercial Bethlehem Hospital, booked my second sex reassignment surgery, and prepaid $150,000.
The waiting time was long, and I stayed in the United States for four or five months. Finally, my expenses ran out, and I couldn't even afford cat food. I looked at the pregnant cat rubbing against my leg with pleading eyes, and had no choice but to leave home and go to the newspaper office.
I placed an advertisement in the newspaper.
It felt wonderful to be back in my old ways. Holding the newspapers and magazines with my picture that I had brought from China, I told those silly Americans that I was an Asian star.
They asked if I was like Ziyizhang.
I said yes, yes.
So they had sex with me with great enthusiasm, paying a lot of money. I could start buying diorhommon again.
My body was in good condition, and many times, I could go all the way without lubricant. They praised me as an angel, a god, the cutest little boy in the world. I spread my legs, embraced the black man's thick penis, swallowed hard, spat gently, and moaned in Chinese.
Finally, one day, Bethlehem Hospital called to inform me of my surgery.
I sent the mother cat to a free animal shelter.
Last time, I had my uterus removed, but for some reason, I kept my ovaries.
The people of Bethlehem were very interested in my body, which had been transgender and was now trying to revert back to its original state. Their anesthesia facilities were excellent, so I didn't suffer too much.
"Yay!" the doctor shouted one day. "You can produce eggs again."
Really?
I smiled foolishly.
They made me an artificial uterus and made sure my fallopian tubes were open. I stopped taking my previous androgens and started taking estrogens. As for my breasts, Adam's apple, and the implants in my face, none of that mattered. Little by little, I returned to my original appearance. Except for the jawline that had been shaved down and couldn't be restored, I had basically shed the image of "Chayan" and returned to the look of "Shenyana."
Just a little taller and prettier.
My breasts, inexplicably augmented to a D size according to American aesthetic tastes, and they kept asking me if I thought they were too small.
Before being discharged, I shaped my eyebrows and put on makeup.
I wore a bra and stockings again. My hair grew long and fell to my shoulders.
A messy, unrecognizable version of myself.
The blurred years, all merged into one.
I went home to pick up my cat and its litter of kittens.
I stared at them for a long time, thinking they were a nest of elves. I
pondered for ages, unsure what to do next. Every day I flipped through the newspaper, and suddenly saw an enticing recruitment ad.
So I applied to the community college, easily got accepted, and obtained a long-term residency visa. The course I took was strange: "Asian Studies." A Chinese person coming to America to study Asian Studies—it was truly odd. My classmates were almost all blond and blue-eyed, and the professor liked me a lot, often asking me to talk about various aspects of contemporary China. I didn't dare tell them about prostitution. Soon, the professor hired me as a teaching assistant.
I worked at the school during the day and at a luxury hotel at night. All I had to do was change the newspaper and the gender in the ad. Men and women, chickens, ducks, fish—it didn't matter. My vagina, after all the fuss, became less sensitive, but still incredibly suctiony, which was popular with customers. I also provided thorough and skilled anal services, displaying a strong professional spirit. The two jobs brought in a considerable income, and my cats at home grew as fat as pigs.
Two years later, I received my bachelor's degree, and my professor enthusiastically wrote to recommend me for a doctoral program at a prestigious university in the South.
Something I never imagined in my life had happened.
I, who had harbored resentment and fear of school since childhood, was actually able to pursue a doctorate in America. What is impossible in this world?
I drove my secondhand car, enjoying the scenery, smoking, drinking, with a few cats in the back seat eagerly waiting.
Cowboys rode past on horseback across the fields.
Small planes spraying pesticides circled closer and closer, until finally the pilot jumped down and struck up a conversation with me.
I enrolled in a new university in a different city, continuing my carefree life.
Finally, while working on my doctoral dissertation, my advisor visited me, and the two of us had a somewhat awkward sex session in a hotel.
The next day, my advisor emailed me, instructing me not to let my nighttime work interfere with my classes; he also sent me a medical check-up card from a private hospital.
I went for the check-up and found I was perfectly healthy, without AIDS. The medical center asked about my occupation, and I frankly told them I was a student prostitute, a student prostitute. The medical center told me to come for regular checkups and gave me a dozen of the latest condoms as a gift.
Zhang Xu was right. Wearing condoms with clients is such an important habit.
After graduation, I worked at the school's publishing house. I spent my days reviewing Americans' grand conjectures and novel reports about China, then offering my professional opinions.
The day before the immigration office called to ask me to sing the national anthem, the cemetery cat died.
I was so sad I couldn't see any clients all night.
I got my green card.
I continued my life with some cats, some clients, and some book-writing idiots.
Before I knew it, I was forty.
More than ten years had passed.
One day, my boss said to me, "I haven't taken a vacation in a long time."
I thought about it: Maldives? Hawaii? Europe? Japan?
I travel the world every year, find a place to vacation, and then hook up with a man.
"Why don't you go back to China?"
I looked at my boss, speechless.
“Anna, after I retire next year, you'll be in charge of the publishing house. You'll be so busy you won't have time to go home,” the American kindly reminded me. “Find a boyfriend to go with you, let them experience beautiful China.”
The boss was adopted by a Chinese couple as a child and spent eight years of his childhood in Beijing. In his mind, the place I came from was a sacred land. He goes to China every year during his holidays, traveling from Qingdao to Jiuzhaigou.
I seriously considered his suggestion and then accepted.
Except, not with my boyfriend.
Of the second-generation offspring of that cemetery cat, only one is still alive, while the third generation has four lively young kittens.
I took them all back.
At the airport, I ran into an acquaintance.
"...Excuse me, are you Chinese?" a lady waiting for her flight asked cautiously.
"Yes."
"Excuse me, are you from S City?"
"...Yes." Could she be a fan of Shin Ya-na from back then?
"Excuse me, have you ever stayed at the Deokdae Apartments?" The lady excitedly took off her glasses and smoothed her dark, shiny bangs.
I stared at her for ten seconds.
"...Wu Enbao?"
"Shin Ya-na!"
She hugged me.
I hugged her back.
A thousand miles away, it felt like a lifetime ago.
"How are you now?" I asked excitedly.
Bao Bao giggled. "Peter, Peter!"
I thought she was calling her husband, but unexpectedly, a blond little boy ran over, his mixed-race features strikingly cute.
"Auntie," the little boy greeted me obediently.
I was stunned. "Your son? He's so big already?"
"Yes, thirteen."
I wanted to chat more, but Wu Enbao had to board her plane. She was also returning to China, but to her hometown, T City, on the same route as me, not on the same flight.
Childhood friends, separated by thousands of miles, left two shallow footprints.
Before parting, Bao Bao kissed me and quietly asked, "Have you reformed?"
My heart pounded, and I didn't know how to answer.
"You haven't either, have you?...Me neither." This slut smiled sweetly. "I often do it secretly behind my husband's back, then have the other person transfer the money to my Bank of China account so I can take it back to my mother."
Once a prostitute, always a prostitute.
Forever selling, but finally able to sell happily and calmly.
The plane landed in my familiar city at midnight.
I stayed overnight at the Regal Hotel next to the airport. Even in a four-star hotel, there were still disturbances at night. At 1:30 AM, a sweet, coquettish female voice called. Hearing my voice, she politely said, "Sorry, wrong number." Calm and collected.
The next day I moved to the city and rented a car. With my international driver's license, I could drive freely.
I slowly explored this city that had exiled me.
Young artists were signing autographs and selling things on the streets. The drizzle couldn't dampen the youthful enthusiasm; the crowds surged and shouted.
The once magnificent, opulent buildings were gone. They had become open green spaces, and I stood there stunned for a long time.
The dilapidated apartment building, however, remained. I walked around and found that some young men and women still lived there, nocturnal, their miniskirts reflecting the darkness, their shirts ripped, ready to slip their hands inside.
Time changes, but society doesn't.
Prostitution is the oldest profession in the world; perhaps it will only disappear when humanity disappears.
Back at the hotel, I went online on my laptop. A professor from the University of Washington, whom I had previously collaborated with, was overjoyed to know I was back in the city and sent me a very enthusiastic email, inviting me to dinner.
I replied, "OK," and left my hotel number.
Five minutes later, the phone rang.
Damn, the Dynasty Hotel, the most luxurious and upscale restaurant in the city, and the deputy director of the Cultural Bureau is even there. I hung up the phone and couldn't help but curse the academic corruption in my country.
I opened my suitcase and found I had nothing to wear to the banquet. I'm forty years old, have lived in the American South for a long time, and usually wear oversized shirts and men's trousers, only my underwear is a carefully chosen, brightly colored piece.
Before the banquet, I went out to buy clothes.
The mall was vaguely familiar; I remembered the first time I came here, Qiuling took me, and I bought seven miniskirts and a fur hat.
It still stood there old-fashioned and luxurious.
I went in with my Westernized air, and my eyes suddenly locked onto those beautiful Scottish tartan kilts.
I had never even worn such a lively and elegant style in my youth, and suddenly I really wanted to wear them.
But the saleswoman had already come over and introduced me to this season's suits, gray with white trim.
In the end, I compromised with myself and bought a silk shirt and a pair of tight pants. So many years have passed, and my pants size hasn't changed. I maintain my figure, but I see a face that is no longer young in the mirror.
It wasn't that my skin was wrinkled or my face was sagging. It was just that the luster and elasticity were gone, and the vibrant energy that used to radiate outwards had become withdrawn. My shoulder-length straight hair looked monotonous and dark, so I asked for a hat.
Finally, I couldn't resist and asked the shop assistant to wrap up the plaid skirt.
The shop assistant thought it was a gift and smiled.
Perhaps I should have a daughter, the kind people imagine, to continue my winding, mundane life?
Coming out of the mall, I suddenly saw a woman. Although she was middle-aged like me, she was still charming and lovely, with beautiful features.
She looked so familiar… it was Qiu Ling's wife.
She had a young man on her arm, tall and handsome, looking no more than twenty years old, his sensual lips intentionally or unintentionally close to her ear.
As I brushed past her, I heard the young man pleading, "Can you buy me perfume…?"
Heh.
All my old friends, whether close or distant, are doing well.
At 6:30, I arrived at the banquet on time, my carefully applied makeup making me look a little younger.
“This is Deputy Director Zhou Jingzhou. This is Ms. Anashan, the head of the University of Southern California Press…”
I stared wide-eyed, speechless, unable to move.
A…scoundrel?
Truly, a long drought breeds monsters.
Is this city really that small?
“A…Ana?” The deputy director also seemed dazed. It seems he still remembers me.
The scoundrel who beat me and caused my miscarriage when I was pregnant. The idiot who later proposed to me.
How could it be him? How strange, before all this happened, in that golden age. I thought the past was all gone.
“Director Zhou?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, it’s nothing, I think I mistook you for someone else.” He wiped his glasses, trying to cover it up. “Come on, let’s order.”
I ate the meal with great unease. After the meal, the scoundrel subtly dismissed the university professor, his wife, several other guests, and his own secretary, then intercepted me before I could leave.
"You're ANA, right? I couldn't find you anywhere. So you went to America," he said softly, pretending to light a cigarette.
I unceremoniously snatched a cigarette from his hand and took it.
This guy must be almost sixty, right? Bald, slightly overweight, but he hasn't changed much from back then. Men are always like that.
"Shall we find somewhere to talk?" he asked, looking at me earnestly.
I suddenly had an idea. "What's the biggest and best nightclub around here right now?"
His eyes lit up. "Are you going? It's called 'National Beauty and Heavenly Fragrance,' on Puchuan Road."
Magnificent and resplendent, "National Beauty and Heavenly Fragrance."
A world of pleasures, male thieves and female prostitutes.
I rode in the bureau chief's car, exploring the city's vagina once more. The warm night was like water, tightly constricting the pleasure-seeking bodies.
I walked into my past like a sleepwalker. Girls, heavily made up, moved through the corridors. The hems of their evening gowns were short and exquisite. The smell of alcohol filled the entire floor. Laughter, joy, insincerity, dew.
In one private room, the curtains weren't fully drawn. I saw a girl, amidst the cheers of the room's patrons, throw down her wine bottle and remove her last piece of clothing, a bra. A
considerate waiter came over and drew the curtains for them.
The bodies being viewed for a fee shouldn't be exposed.
"Ana, which private room should we go to?"
"I want to sing."
My lips, accustomed to speaking English for over a decade, returned to the memories and habits of their youth the moment the music started.
Ten years ago, only the most famous songs remained. I picked: "A Kind Breakup," "A Chinese Ghost Story," "Spending Time Together," "Old Love Lingers On," "Li Xianglan"... So few, many songs are gone. The songs from my memory are all gone.
"What are you singing?" I looked up and asked the scoundrel.
"I'll choose myself." He actually knew how to choose songs. I remembered when he was just a low-ranking official, he was already used to being bossy and enjoying others' services.
He used the remote control to input some numbers.
I heard a familiar piano prelude, but I couldn't name it.
Then the nearly sixty-year-old scoundrel picked up the microphone.
His voice was old and desolate. "
Is there a window that can keep you from despair? Look at this colorful world, it's all just a dream."
In an instant, my tears suddenly fell, blurring my black-rimmed glasses.
Tears and pain accumulated for more than ten years. An old man, a song like the end of the world.
He sang, each note like an urging.
Some cry, some laugh. Some lose, some grow old.
In the end, isn't it all the same?
Is there a kind of love that can keep you from getting hurt?
Over the years, so many heartfelt words have piled up for you.
What wine can't sober you up, what pain can't be forgotten? Keep moving forward, there's no turning back.
Friend, don't cry. I'm still your refuge.
Friend, don't cry. Believe in your path.
In this mortal world, there are too many aimless and foolish pursuits.
I feel your pain too.
Too many… aimless… foolish… pursuits.
Some cry, some laugh, some lose, some grow old.
It's impossible to look back. In the sea of people.
A scoundrel looks up at me, his eyes filled with a murky light.
"Ana, I've never remarried."
Three months later, Mr. Zhou Jing, deputy director of the S City Cultural Bureau, happily married Dr. Anashen, a Chinese-American.
The man was fifty-nine, the woman forty.
Six months after their marriage, because his wife was unwilling to give up her American citizenship, Deputy Director Zhou voluntarily submitted a retirement application. After approval, he registered a Sino-US cultural exchange organization in his private name, which was actually a well-connected agency for students seeking to study in the US.
A year later, Mr. and Mrs. Zhou wanted a child to keep them company in their twilight years.
Bethlehem Hospital admitted this couple, who belonged to the upper class in both America and China.
They retrieved sperm from Mr. Zhou Jing and eggs from Ms. Ana, combined them in a test tube, and then allowed them to grow in an artificial womb in the laboratory.
A year later, we had our first daughter.
3700 grams, weighing seven pounds and four ounces.
I named her "Zhou Xu."
Two or three years later, on Mr. Zhou Jing's sixty-fifth birthday, we had our second child, this time a boy.
"What should we name him?" he asked.
"Should I decide?" I asked.
"Of course you decide. You're a PhD."
"Zhou Rong."
A cat ran over, peeked at the cradle.
How many generations of the cemetery cats were there? I'd lost count.
We lived in a large courtyard; I was no longer a prostitute, but the mother of a dozen cats and two children.
The children grew day by day. Xu was a domineering older sister, and Rong was a sunny younger brother.
One day, Zhou Jing took them fishing. Rong caught a 25-kilogram fish, and the excited ten-year-old boy ran to nudge his elderly father.
"Daddy, Daddy, I caught it! I played it for over an hour, and I still caught it!"
The old father looked at him peacefully, a smile on his lips, but remained silent for a long time.
Zhou Jing died of a sudden cerebral hemorrhage at the age of seventy-five.
I was with him in the hospital, watching this wretched man rest so happily and peacefully.
Rong ran over to comfort me. "Mommy, Daddy and Snoop went to the same place. Don't be sad."
Snoop was the white cat who had passed away two months earlier.
Sunlight streamed down, and I reached out to gently touch the only legal husband in my life, trying to smooth his age-spotted skin.
After the burial, summer vacation began. As usual, I took Xu and Rong back to China for a vacation.
The children grew up so fast. Xu told me that she had met someone online in S City and that she definitely wanted to meet them when she went back. I said okay, okay.
That day, I drove her to the party, but we got lost.
It was raining, and Xu was pouting, constantly whining to the guy on the phone, but she didn't even bother to ask for directions. The city has changed so much, and my GPS malfunctioned.
"Mommy, we're getting further and further away from the road. I need to go to 21st Century Park, not the suburbs!"
"Mommy's getting old." I turned around and finally saw a large green area. "Is that it?"
We got out of the car and started walking.
"Ah… this isn't where I'm going, it's another park." Xu was extremely disappointed.
I stopped.
"Nanshan Park…?" I murmured. "Xu, this isn't a park."
"What is it?"
"It's… a cemetery."
Xu was startled.
But I couldn't resist going in.
Zhang Xu and Zhang Rong were both buried here.
I even paid for Zhang Rong's grave. I remembered this place, this name.
I could see it in the distance.
Old tombstones, overgrown with weeds.
"Mom...Mommy." She followed me obediently. "Are you unhappy? Mommy, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have talked to you like that."
"Sweetie." I forced a smile. "Mommy isn't unhappy. Mommy has friends buried here, would you like to come with me to see them?"
I took my daughter's hand and walked closer.
The rain was fine and pattering on my shoulders.
I looked for a while.
"Mommy." Xu shook my hand. "They must be Mommy's best friends, right?"
"How do you know?"
"Look, my name and my brother's name."
Zhang Xu. 1979-2006.
Zhang Rong. 1980-2006.
The tombstone was empty.
Empty enough to make one completely forget, or to remember everything.
A whole life had passed.
"Mommy, why are you crying?" Xu reached out and wiped away the tears that had accidentally fallen from my eyes.
She was thirteen years old, well-nourished, and almost as tall as me. Her breasts were full, like two small watermelons.
Two years ago she had started menstruating, and recently she was discussing the specific steps of making love with me.
She had grown up.
And I, I hadn't finished yet.
I was already getting impatient.
"Mommy misses them." I replied softly.
"Missanderson said that people are lucky to have friends worth crying and remembering."
I lowered my head and looked at Xu's face.
Her lips and teeth are so cute, and her eyebrows are so bright.
For a moment, I saw some secrets of fate in her eyes.
"Continue." I knelt down and hugged my daughter.
Tightly.
I know that at this moment, she is continuing.
She is.
The rain continued to fall, but the sunshine had already dispersed.
We left the cemetery and finally found the right path.
The little netizen who continued is seventeen years old and a quite cute Chinese boy.
That night, I called again to say that I would not go back to the hotel to sleep.
I reminded her to use condoms. Definitely.
"You must use a condom, otherwise I will beat you!" Zhang Xu pointed at my face aggressively.
I was wearing a miniskirt and gently caressing Zhang Xu's gorgeous curly hair.
Her red lips were bright and she turned to look at me.
As soon as I lowered my head, I kissed her.
"Xu, will you ever hate me?"
"If I hate you, I'll kill you." She tightened her grip on my waist.
We made love in the sunset.
"Don't kill me, and don't stop loving me,"
I said to her during my climax.
She just smiled brightly. "Yana, you're a little fool."
Yana, you're a little fool.
I woke up from my dream, unable to come to my senses for a long time.
Rong had entered my room sometime earlier, looking at me curiously. "Mommy, aren't you going to have breakfast?"
"Mommy's a little... tired." I tried to get up, but found my limbs wouldn't obey me.
"Rong, can you help Mommy call the doctor?" I asked calmly.
At fifty-four, I had suffered a stroke.
Perhaps the struggles of my youth had drained my life force.
I began my life in a wheelchair.
My two children became increasingly filial and obedient. Three years later, Xu participated in the Miss Chinese International Pageant and won the runner-up title.
"Mommy," Xu fed me spoonful by spoonful of porridge cooked by the maid. "I don't want to go to college. I want to go to Hollywood to make movies."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Won't you regret it?"
"How could I regret it? Mommy, people should do more adventurous things while they're young."
"Who will take you?"
"Allen Dejinsheng. My boyfriend, and also my producer."
"Do I have a veto right?"
"No." She continued giggling. "Mommy, I'll take good care of myself."
"Do you love that man?"
"No, I don't. But I love the future he can give me."
The girl was cold-hearted, yet her smile was sweet.
Three years later, Zhang Rong applied to military academy.
"Are you leaving Mommy too?" I clung to life, yet remained energetic.
"This is my ambition, Mommy. I want to do more for this world."
"Fighting evil and upholding justice, or invading other countries?"
"Making more people happy." The boy spoke briefly, his skin dark, revealing a set of white teeth when he smiled.
"Then what about Joeyce? What are you going to do with her?"
The neighbor's little girl and my son had been dating for eight months.
“We’ll have a good talk tonight. Mommy, don’t worry. We’re all adults, we’ll be responsible for our own actions.”
In other words, we’re only responsible for ourselves, not for anyone else.
I smiled bitterly.
But I was too old to say anything more.
Rong kissed my forehead. “One day I’ll make you proud like my sister.”
Xu had already made a name for herself in Hollywood, the center of attention.
More than a decade had passed.
In the blink of an eye, everyone around me had left like a revolving lantern.
I was sixty.
Wasn’t that enough?
The black maid pushed me to the balcony to get some fresh air, then poured me some orange juice.
I called to her. “Della, look, that direction, that’s China.”
“Really, madam.”
The waves rolled in.
Two seagulls chased each other.
I looked down at my hands, which were as white as tree bark.
“Book me a special ticket, Della. I want to go back one more time.”
“Madam, the doctor won’t agree to you doing that.”
“Go ahead and book it. He will.” Returning
to one’s roots.
I was alone, finally back again.
Like the world before I was born. Always alone, moving forward. Everyone, no matter who they are, seems like a reflection of this world, sometimes clear, sometimes blurry, moving yet fleeting.
A kind nurse wheeled me out of the airport. Zhou Jing's distant relatives back home rushed to greet me.
I'm dying.
And people still want my inheritance.
I smiled and shook my head, finding the young people's bickering rather endearing.
"Grandma, a banquet has been booked tonight at the Hongbinlou Peony Hall, with your favorite shark fin soup..." The noise was deafening.
“Nana.”
I suddenly heard a familiar voice.
I turned my head, but couldn’t see anyone.
“Nana.” The blurry figure in front of me became real.
“Dad?”
“Nana. How have you been all these years?”
“Dad…where’s Mom?”
“I’m here.” A beautiful, gentle woman walked over. “Nana, let Mom see you. Mom had a hard time giving birth to you. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay and take care of you.”
“Grandma? Grandma?” The young man was startled and pushed me away. “Grandma, are you alright?”
I opened my eyes drowsily. “I’m fine, I’m just a little tired.”
2040. Shen Yana died at Hongbinlou Restaurant in Shanghai at the age of sixty.
1980-2040.
Owned two companies, three properties, and was involved in numerous lawsuits after her death.
“A doctorate, two children. She was a happy woman, wasn’t she?” A reporter interviewed Hollywood star Zhou Xu, flipping through Ms. Shen’s file.
“…Yes.” Zhou Xu smiled politely.
“Is your mother buried in America?”
“No, she’s buried in Nanshan Garden.”
—The End—

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