This story happened at the beginning of the 1980s in the People's Republic of China, at the time when the cultural revolution converted the whole nation into an asexual revolutionary creature, while the great Chairman Mao Zedong was amusing himself at his swimming pool with numberless playmates. At that time love meant the betrayal of revolution and was only allowed with an official marriage certificate. From central government to local government, even people to people, they fought and denounced each other.
A discovery of love letters and a love relationship without formality could result in public humiliation, various kinds of punishment, loss of job and even labour camp.
According to studies of the famous Chinese sexual scientist Li Yinhe in the PR China in 1989 only 15% of the engaged adults had had sex before their marriage, whereas in 2013 70% of the Chinese had had sex before their marriage.
Inconvenient memories of real life seldom give you a complete story. Some incidents excite your interest and you deeply regret the persons concerned. Often the inevitable catastrophe you foresaw wasn't inevitable after all, and sometimes high tragedy was only an absurd event in a certain period of history. As time went by you gave up remembering the outcome of certain events you witnessed long ago, but then, all of a sudden the forgotten is being handed to you on a platter.
After my retirement my grandchildren and my very kind and quiet wife, my photo-graphing and my painting courses were not enough to prevent me from missing my formal career and especially my time in Hangzhou, where thirty years ago I had been in charge of opening a branch of a state owned corporation for technical equipment import and export at the Shangri-la Hotel, because in China at the beginning of the eighties only five star hotels offered modern facilities, a perfect location with public tele-communication, conference rooms and delicious southern Chinese cuisine for the home buyers and for the foreign exporters.
So in 2015 I decided to visit Hangzhou again. After more than a quarter of a century, my taxi was passing by the famous West Lake and slowly reached the entrance of the Shangri-la hotel, my secret erotic moments at the Shangri-la Hotel appeared to my mind again. At last I was here again. I could not wait to sit down again at the hotel terrace, from which you have a superb look at the bright green West Lake, Xi Hu in Mandarin, the white skyline of Hangzhou and the surrounding green hills. I ordered a Xi Hu-cocktail, lit a cigarette and stretched my legs and leaned back to the chair, breathed deeply, and admired the familiar surrounding beauty of the West Lake, in which you could be lost in nature's emerald treasury like in the story from the "Song Fan Chengda Wu Jun Zhi" proverb, which says: "δΈζ倩ε οΌδΈζθζ." "There is paradise in heaven, on earth there are Hangzhou and Souzhou." The refinement of the view from the hotel terrace makes you feel like an erstwhile Mandarin sitting on the terrace of his mansion overlooking the West Lake. This paradise-like beauty of the West Lake I had missed so much. We all have our own paradises in our minds, love in our souls.
A porter came to me and said that a lady had been asking for me.
"For me? Who is she?"
"She wants to see you very much. Her name's Astrid Wagner."
I knew no one of that name.
"It must be some mistake. Please tell her I'm ..." My words had not been finished, when a lady came up to me with outstretched hands and a bright smile on her lips. She seemed to be a little bit excited. I liked her at first sight without knowing who she was, but I felt very familiar with her. I was nervous for her warmness and I also hated myself for not knowing her, and I said to myself:" Good heavens I never seen her in my life." She seized my hands, both of them, and shook them warmly. She spoke in fluent English.
"My god, I never dreamed that I would see you again in my life. I read in the newspaper that you were staying here, I can't believe my eyes. How many years is it since we have danced together here at the Shangri-la? Ha, that night, do you still remember? Do you still dance? I never dreamed, we could dance here again. I still dance. It keeps me from getting fat. I'm already a grandmother and put on some weight, but I don't care." She talked without breaking and took my breath away. She was a stout, more than middle aged woman, very much made up, with light pink framed glasses, with chestnut-coloured hair, short cut, obviously dyed, she was wearing an elegant light pink costume with low round collar, pearled jewellery and black high heels. She had such a cheerful laugh that it made you feel you also wanted to laugh. I could image that she was a beauty, when she was young. Anyhow I could not place her.
"Come on, let's have a glass of champagne, and we could talk about our old days," she said. We went to the hotel bar where a live band played light romantic jazz music, and her steps were already in slow moving rhythm. The old days were again present to me. This bar here was one of the unforgettable parts in my memory about Hangzhou. Here I had had such a beautiful time with some ladies, who had given me courage and wisdom for the years I had had to work in Hangzhou without my family, but after 30 years names were difficult to remember. People you meet through dancing make a different im-pression on you than those you meet through talking.
She let us sit by the side of the dance floor. I could not pretend to be at ease. "It's terrible stupid of me, alas, I am unable to remember your name."
She intended actually to make an experiment, if the old director could still recognize her without knowing her Chinese name after 30 years. "You knew me of course, Zhang Hong Yan." She interrupted and took her glasses off and spoke in Chinese. I looked at her again and shouted "Hong Yan?". Then she said, "I have only another hair colour, another name and new glasses and much more weight, but the rest I didn't change much. Am I so old?" "No, not at all," I said quickly. "I was only fixed on remembering your name, that bothered me all the time."
Of course I'll never forget her. Hong Yan asked me to excuse her for a moment and she went away.
I sat at the bar and was immersed in all the old memories.
Hong Yan had with me a kind of all round work relationship, but actually no personal or private relationship at all.
I had been sent from our Beijing head office to open a branch in the southern coastal city of Ningbo, but at that time Ningbo belonged to the Zhejiang Province and Hangzhou was the capital city for the province. As a first step I opened a Hangzhou Office. Hangzhou is located south of Shanghai, which for me was like a foreign country especially in mentality and because of the variety of Mandarin spoken there. Hong Yan was introduced to me through our Shanghai office. She had a father from the north and a mother from the south, and she had been born in Hangzhou. She was very slim and rather tall for a southern Chinese girl, with a bit round face and a pair of big thinking brown eyes with fire. Her skin was difficult to describe, peach like. She wore her abundant, shining black hair dressed very modern at that time.
When I met her she was 26 and charismatic, with a warm smile and talking eyes, an attractive modern woman with wit and character, a member of the young generation which was straining to break the old conventions, in business a capable importer-executor in the field of textile factory equipment and beer bottling lines. Our negotiations with European exporters were much easier when she was present. She also was my bridge to local people and my right hand in all aspects of my work. She was quick in thinking and in action. At almost every evening we had business dinners with our buyers, most of who were factories directors from the Zhejiang province, or with foreign sellers. Often we talked and negotiated in our office till midnight. Hong Yan gave up her favourite high heels, because we had almost the same size. Once she said, "If I am taller than you, I feel not good."
Our Hangzhou Office was in the Shangri-la Hotel, building No. 4. She usually began her work in the morning and went home very late in the evening. When she went home, I called her very often into my office for a final assessment of our workday, and very soon I liked her assisting me in my tasks. But she did not show any feelings about myself, neither did I about her. Our relationship only concerned our work, and nothing else. That today at the hotel she had introduced herself as Astrid Wagner seemed to be connected with what had happened to James Lee, her immediate superior manager and later lover.
In 1985 I chose James to become the director of our Hangzhou Office, so that I could work most of time at our Ningbo office. I would have liked to take Hong Yan with me to assist me in Ningbo, but at that time in our corporation it was forbidden to take assistants with you if you took a new position.
Hong Yan came back and interrupted my deep memory trip.
The music was very slow and melancholic; she suddenly said in very deep voice, "James died 10 years ago."
I stood up abruptly and slowly sat down again, I didn't know that James had died or what exactly happened to him after he had left the corporation, but I knew from that time, that it must have been only unfair to James, and as his old boss, I felt ashamed that I had not been in the position to help him.
It had happened after our new southern branches were running normally. Then my task had been fulfilled and I returned to our Beijing head office. I feared that James and Hong Yan could become the victims of power struggles and victims of the ideology of that time, but I also hoped they would be careful enough to not to be forced into that role. Even today in China all the leading positions are controlled by the strong hand of the party and its agents or willing helpers.
As I seemed puzzled, she had fetched her flat computer, an IPad, from her room, and now, returned to the bar, she opened it and showed me her writing, titled " Love in Soul". I took her IPad and read the following story: