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Writing Global Hong Kong

爱妻 (Chinese version) - My Dear Wife, an excerpt (English version, presentation and translation by Jennifer Wong)

Ma chère épouse - extrait (présentation et traduction de Jennifer Wong)
鍾曉陽 H I Chung et Jennifer Wong

Texte intégral

Introduction by Jennifer Wong

1Set in 1960s Hong Kong, Dear Wife by H I Chung is a story about the complex dimensions of love, bodily and/or romantic, about friendship, about moral boundaries and the meaning of life. It also encapsulates the different, sometimes contradictory facets of womanhood, the woman's body and desires, loneliness, and the language of longing in a largely patriarchal society.

2
Kim Yuk, with whom he has fallen in love with and soon married, seems to fulfil with glad willingness the role of a wife, and subsequently a housewife, in a traditional Chinese society in Hong Kong. Growing up in a family of (9) and a daughter of a baker, Kim Yuk is what a man would want to have for a long-lasting relationship. Nonetheless, despite his conviction about his love for Kim Yuk, the narrator/husband soon feels unfulfilled in this relationship and begins an affair with his wife's close friend, Wah Tsuen.

3
Within this story, there is also the underlying individual's grappling with emotions and longings, as well as the social stereotypes to do with gender roles and ideals (especially the duties and image of a wife in Chinese society), and the unspoken taboos within the structure of a traditional Chinese family. Through the unreliable first-person narration, we catch a glimpse of how differently the wife and the husband long to be seen, and how they over and again try and fail to understand each other.

4
Above all, the story sheds light on the nature of language and communication. The subtle, complex and lyrical dialogues between husband and wife, together with the husband (narrator)'s interior monologue, shed light on the contrasting gendered consciousness between husband and wife, their bodily and romantic longings, as well as their coming to terms with the social expectations.

爱妻 (Chinese version)

5我與劍玉不久便到了談婚論嫁的地步—實則那距離我認識劍玉已有三四年光境了,但是在感覺上並沒有那麼長久,也許是快樂中的光陰去得特別匆促的緣故吧。我是不曾想過那麼早就結婚的,然而自我遇見劍玉,那卻成了最自然不過的事。那時我早已把霍家當作自己的家,閒來無事,是常去的。有時劍玉還在樓下餅房工作,我在樓下等她,坐在角落臨窗的一張椅子裡,對面矮矮立著一座木茶几,几上一盤灑金榕,一具電話,尚有熱茶杯燙成的一圈圈的印子;沙發上散發著書包、鉛筆、報紙、信、指甲鉗、劍玉正在編織的毛衣,盤著腿看畫報的劍玉的妹妹,椅墊的套子上有中國的亭台樓閣。油漆牆壁上有孩子們的小手印、風雨的痕跡,還有一幅手工精細的蘇綉,聽劍玉說乃親友所贈,綉著一隻栩栩如生的吊睛白額虎。再過去是孩子們在貼牆的方桌上做功課—看著這樣一幅很有家庭風味的景象,我不由得就要想像自己和劍玉婚後的情形⋯⋯

6
我與劍玉的婚後生活相當平靜。每天早晨我們一同出門,分頭到旅行社及餅店。下班後我就上團圓,在岳家吃過晚飯,再與劍玉一同回家。起初,我每上岳家,總有一種特殊的感覺,想起從前,多少個黃昏我送劍玉回家,送到那熟悉的街口,一直看著她直到看不到她了,再自己一個人離開,現在不然了。現在我來的時候一個人來,走的時候卻是同我的妻子一起走的。有時我簡直不能相信這是真的。晚飯席間,大家熱熱鬧鬧的,看著桌子四周一圈笑逐顏開的臉,我會以為那晚上她又要留在他們之間瞭,吃完飯我又必須單獨離去。這時我總要在桌底下握一握她的手。

7
劍玉念我下班後往返操勞,故不令我再上團圓,寧自己提早回家打點晚飯。我下班後直接回家卽可。去團圓次數既減,與岳父逾月不見麵的時候也有。岳父家不為意,逢週末,常來尋我們同上茶樓,每來必入門聲喊:我來看看我的女婿。大家談笑著也就上茶樓去。

8
劍玉性格溫柔,持家勤儉,對我尤備極體貼,噓寒問暖,日日不懈。我對她亦以禮相待,反覺過往行徑浮文居多,踏實的少,至此方領略古人所云夫妻「相敬如賓」的深意。

9
我一向居住的房子是我父母置下的產業,他們出國那年將它過戶到我外祖父名下,外祖父在遺囑中留瞭給我。地方尚算寬敞,足夠一家四口居住,婚前略施修葺,家具經添補。我任馮劍玉騰那佈置,只需她合意即可。她調度得甚是井然,惟稍嫌過簡。,放眼望去裝飾點綴之物全無。我跟她說,不如買個好看盆栽,挑個合適地方擺一擺。劍玉臉露不然之色。我以所以然問她,她笑道:「人住的地方,擺棵草在裏頭,豈不怪相。」我遂一笑置之。

10
劍玉慣著素淡衣裳,均她親手縫製。一回,我開玩笑的說:「你怎麼不穿鮮色一點的衣服呢?你穿得比我還素。我都覺得不好意思。」劍玉當時唯羞澀一笑,後來果真做了一件紅底小白花的小裙子。我們同時立在鏡前,打量她新試的衣裳。 「很好看,」我微笑道:「你像個新娘子。」劍玉笑道:「結兩次婚,你豈不是有兩個老婆!」自此她亦略略穿紅,曾自笑道:「現在還不打緊,將來年紀大了還只管穿紅,人家要說我老來嬌了。」

11
我自幼習慣獨寝,睡姿毫無章法,早晨每發現自己四肢大張,成了個『大」字。今興劍玉同寝,劍玉取笑我道:「你就是想我知道你是個大人吧,也用不著睡覺睡成個『大』字呀,都把我擠成小人了。」我笑道:「那我們何不加一筆,把它弄成個『木』字?」劍玉想了半天,方始悟解,幾不會紅破了脸,一整天都不睬我。

12
天侯轉寒,我睡覺往往手腳冰凉,熟水袋又嫌它燙肉,劍玉便常伸過腳來暖我的腳,又把我的手次在她手中揉搓著,直至我睡熟為止。有時我睡不安寧,在夢中翻腾,劍玉便拉過我的手去。放在她的心口上,或者她的頭窩裏,使我得以安睡的使我得以安睡「她將來一定是個好母親」我自己這麼想。

13
劍玉時作夢囈,醒而不記。有時我半醒半睡間聽到她在那裡囁嚅說話,便會一骨碌坐起,把耳朵接在她嘴邊,聽她到底說些什麼。屢次聽到了,當時雖覺有趣,然而一覺之後,便又忙得乾乾淨淨,劍玉追問,我也無法告訴她。自此便在床頭備下紙筆,一聽到即拆寫下來,待早上給劍玉看。所謂「日有所思,夜有所夢」,委實不虛。一次,我與劍玉旅行社和餅店兩地互打電話,幾次都陰差陽錯彼此錯了,當晚便聽見劍玉在夢裡說:「剛才有沒有人打電話給我?我照錄下來,早晨遞給她看,笑道:「我昨晚做夢打了個電話給你的,怎麼你沒接到?」

14
有一陣子,我因得微疾,去看一個中醫,照方服菜,日進二劑,劍玉早晚给我熬藥,因此那兩天家裏總是藥香不斷的。一個晚上,我因故夜歸,劍玉先上床睡了。我上床的時候,劍玉似有知覺,翻身向我,很清晰的道:「你怎麽還不給當歸我喝?』我還當是醒語,愣然著:「你說什麽?」待湊前把她相了一相,方知是夢囈。早晨我把此事告知她,她笑道·:「這倒不奇怪,中藥中我最喜歡當歸這名。」她呢喃著自己又唸了兩遍:「當歸,當歸。」開心起來,說:「你說不好聽嗎?」我笑道:「你那麼喜歡,不如另改個名字,叫霍當歸。一劍玉立字,覺得好聽。」劍玉立刻不悅

15, 我忙笑道·:「不是那個歸,是于歸的歸。」劍玉也禁不住笑了,笑著,又道:「你這樣天天寫下去,將來可以出一本『霍劍玉夢囈大全』了。」我笑道:「不對,應該叫『霍當歸夢囈大全』!」

16
劍玉喜吃瓜類,尤喜南瓜,辣老而不懈的,將它切片,擱油清煎,香甜可口。又極喜吃藕,每上市,必是每星期的例菜。有一藕做的甜品,於藕眼中滿塞甜綠豆,甚美味。我初次吃,很是錯愕,笑道:「本來是眼光光的嘛,怎麽現在變成眼光如豆了!」

17
一日,劍玉去買了藕,回來說:「我今天去求藕去了。」我知她是取「藕」「偶」諧音之巧,因道:「求到了嗎?」劍玉笑道:「求到了,是個佳藕。」我笑道:「那麽你是遇藕了,佳藕是可遇不可求的。」以後,劍玉買了藕回來,就說:「我今天遇藕了。」

18
我與劍玉惯到家附近的一個天橘底消閒。那原是一片政府官地,長年棄置在那裹, 鐵絲網牛圍了起來,豎著一面牌子,寫明「政府官地,人免進」。走進去,一個小丘,沙石堆成,遠看如一座陵墓,而那白底红字的牌子就是基碑。遍地野草長得高與人齊,日落時分,坐在草叢中,可以看見那鴨蛋黄似的一輪落日红得泛出油來,慢慢降落到草尖上。那裹常有一個賣滷味的老頭子挑擔經過,我們就向他買一些,到那天橋底下小坐。天橋上車行極勤,從橋底來,轟轟然有若列事飛過,連那幾人合抱的橋樑也岌岌響動,就像整條橋都要塌下來了。

19
我向劍玉說:「不知道這條橋會不會有一天塌下來,把我們埋在這裹。」

20
劍玉笑道:「要是兩個都埋了,那倒也擺了;要是一個生一個死,那時侯都不知道怎麼辦。」

21
我笑道:「不要紧,如果死的是我,我投胎做你的兒子;如果死的是你,你投胎做我的女兒。」

22
劍玉笑道:「怪不得古人說,不是同年同月同日生,也要同年同月同日死,原來死不同時,再有緣也只能做父女,或是母子,那多没意思。」

23
平時我下班回家,劍玉在屋內聽到我掏給匙的響勤,即會應聲而出,給我開門。一日,卻不會見劍玉出來,進得家門,又不見她的踪影,正疑慮著,循步走到睡房,卻見她坐在狀頭,就著窗外的光,看書看得入神,劍玉日常無事赚也愛找書看。然從不似此刻這般坐得定。我不由得挨在那門框上看了她一會。已經是黄昏,房中的光度漸趨微弱,她的一些散亂的頭變反映著餘光,一絲絲都成書看,了光,然而她的人已經需要用影子來形容了,使人覺得她那種静其實是一種消失。

24
須臾,我輕輕「喂」了一聲。劍玉一驚撩頭,忙把書藏在背後。

25
劍玉笑著超立,向我走了過來,道:「我先間你,『會經滄海離為水,除卻巫山不是雲』這兩句詩是什麼意思?」

26
我笑道:「看什麽見不得人的書?」

27
我笑道:「你是考我,還是間我?」

28
劍玉說:「我是間你,你解給我聽。」

29
我笑道:『你先告訴我是從哪裹看來的。」上前就摩她的書。劍玉盛管躲避。哪及我手快,早被我搶了過來。一看,我笑道:一原來是『浮生六記』!這有什麼好看的,你倒為了它速門都不給我開門。」

30
劍玉道:「你到底解不解給我聽?」

31
我笑道:「解呀,怎麽不解?你聽著,頭一句話的意思,就是說,曾經⋯⋯

32滄海⋯⋯難為⋯⋯」

33
劍玉懂道·:「跟你談正經的!」背過脸去了。

34
我繞到她面前,負手立著,笑道:「你叫我解,我不是替你解開來了嗎?說畢,我略偏頭往她臉上期了觑,不由得笑了,雙手環住她的腰,道:「老實說,這兩句詩我也不大懂,大概意思總是很多的。不過對我來說,它的意思只有一個:曾經有你,豈能無你;除了你,我誰也不要。

35
劍玉聽了,稍稍沉默了一會,卻忽然疑心起來,拿眼瞅著我,道:「這是你編的,是不是?你在哄我!」

36
我只是笑。

37
略止,劍玉臉帶愁容,又道:「那作者又說:『恩愛夫妻不到頭』,他自己就是前車之鑑,不知道⋯⋯」

38
我說:「我雖然没做過統計,但我想恩愛夫妻白頭到老的一定也不少,或者更多也說不定,不過他們没像沈三白那樣把生平事蹟記下來能了。像沈三白不過是個偶然的例子,他自己經過喪偶之痛,當然會有那樣的感慨,只有你這癡人,才會信他。」

39
劍玉方始稍釋。

40
劍玉喜粤劇,對於電影或電視則不感興趣。一次有劇團公演「紫釵記」,我帶她去看了一場。出得歲院,夜已去了三分剩七分了。還記得那初秋的風吹上身來是如何地柔軟,和月光一樣静,也像是一種肌膚相親,充滿柔情蜜意。

41
我和劍玉攜手走在街道上,劍玉說·「剛好你姓李,我姓霍,我們就好像是為那故事而生的,不知道我們的命運比起李益和霍小玉來又怎樣。」

42
我笑道:「要是像戲裏頭那樣的收場,那倒也不錯。」

43
「不知道真實的情形又是怎樣!」

44
「那就難說了,」我笑道:「也許根本没有這兩個人,也没有這回事。」

45
劍玉回眸望我,笑道:「不過我們的事,是真實的吧!」

46
我笑道:「但願如此。」

47
劍玉笑道:「我希望是真的,因為李益和霍小玉的故事迷没有完,應該由我們來續完。」

48
劍玉燙衣服時偶两會扭上收音機聽兩段大戲,興致來了也花指一括踏個功架。她日常舉止既持重幽靜,此時更添一種焦媚之態,今人憐愛。我暖她做給我看,她初不背,被我央不過,竟爾劍說一,眉峰随聚,目注我沉腔唱曰:「願——天折—李—十—郎,休—使—愛—妻—多—病—痛—L」

49
不祥之機,莫非由此而生?

50
猶記得,晚間我在廳裏看電視讀報,劍玉每與我相對默坐,為甥姪們編織毛衫。我們坐在各自的燈光下,良久不通片語。又有時,我們給輪流說日間所遇,或作家計商量,或議族中琐事,半夜斯守的時光就此度過。

51
回想從前我在霍家,也是坐在一張這樣的椅子裏,想像婚後和劍玉共同生活的情形,會經不止一次的嘲笑自己,做夢都做得癡了。如今自己的顾室是實現了,然而身心所感,何嘗不是夢境一樣的難以掌握?

52
我渐有不足之感。其因何在,我亦百思之而不得其解。朋友向我訴說婚姻的不美滿,往往對我表示羡慕,已成慣例。但我心裏老是那麼若有所失,感情也好像是無處寄託

53,不知道為什麼。難道那時候我就已經有了一種預感了嗎?

54
一日,環顧四周,我忽然凤的覺得很有些希清了,同時也感到了孩子的需要。

55
我笑向劍玉道:「你說,我們要幾個小孩子好?」

56
劍玉笑著反問道:「你說呢,你說要幾個?」

57
我笑道:「我是多多益善,不過為免家庭計畫找上門來,還是兩個吧。」

58
自此,我又開始想像有了孩子之後的情形了,我與劍玉將會如何地愛護他,晴天帶他上公園遊玩,看著他在陽光下學走路,半夜三更被他嘹陪的哭聲吵醒,不能安眠;如何看著他的性情習惯逐新成型,看著他快高長大,並開始為他的未來擔憂要。

59
時常,與劍玉在登下相對,為四周的寂静歷迫著,我會和她談起孩子的事,爽的為他取了許多名字。

60
劍玉會說:「如果是個女孩子,叫她李潔好不好?」

61
我問她為什麽,她說:「女孩子不是應該清清潔潔的嗎?像我的劍字就不好,殺氣太重了。」

62
我說:「好,就叫李潔。」

63
當日的期盼竟如落花流水,不過是一場無謂能了。

My Dear Wife (excerpt, English version)

64Not long after, we talked about the prospect of marriage. Three or four years had gone by since we first met each other, although it seemed much shorter than that. Perhaps good times always pass by more fleetingly. I never imagined that I would get married at such an early age, but ever since I met Kim Yuk, this seemed a natural course to take. By that time, I already felt like part of the Fok family, and would visit them whenever I had time. Sometimes, I would go up to her flat to wait for her before she finished the day’s work at the bakery. I would sit at the chair by the window, facing a small wooden coffee table. On the table there was a pot of croton and the handset, and the marks left by hot teacups were visible. Next to the table was the black leather sofa, scattered with belongings – a rucksack, pencils, newspapers, letters, a nail clipper and Kim Yuk’s half-finished hand-knit jumper. And sometimes her sister would sit cross-legged on the sofa, reading magazines. The armrest covers had patterns of oriental architecture. The painted walls showed some children’s handprints and traces of rainwater. The flat had a delicate embroidered piece made in Suzhou, apparently a gift from a relative, with the vivid image of a white tiger. Across the living room, right against the wall, was a square desk where the young ones did their homework. Surveying this domestic scene of homely items, I could not help but imagine how life would be after getting married…

65
After we got married, we led a rather simple life. Every morning we would set off together: I would go to work at the travel agency and she would make her way to the shop. After work, I would join her at the Reunion Bakery, have dinner with Kim Yuk and my father-in-law, before returning to our home. At the beginning, whenever I went to my father-in-law’s house, I was always reminded of the countless times when I would bring Kim Yuk home first before heading back to my own place. We would say goodbye at the familiar street corner, and I would not leave until I watched her go upstairs. But now things had changed. While I would still go there on my own, we would always leave together: my wife and I. Sometimes I found it hard to believe. During the family dinner—always so full of laughter and jokes – I was almost dreading how she would stay behind, leaving me to go home alone. At the thought of this, I would reach out to hold her hand under the dining table.

66
Concerned that I might get too tired, Kim Yuk suggested that she could come home earlier to make dinner for both of us, instead of having me go to her father’s place for dinner. So I returned home right after work. Since I did not need to go to my father-in-law’s so frequently, I saw him less often, sometimes even for more than a month. He did not seem to mind, and would instead come to visit us during the weekends, inviting us for dimsum together, saying: ‘I’ve come over to see how my son-in-law is doing.’ Cheerfully, we would then set out together for the teahouse.

67
Kim Yuk had a gentle temperament, and was content with life. She was always caring and patient with me. Naturally, I treated her with much respect. She made me realise my foolish ways, and I began to understand the ancient quote on the decorum of a good marriage: ‘respect each other as guests’.

68
I had always lived in the property I inherited from my parents in the year they went abroad. They transferred the property to my grandfather, who in turn passed it on to me in his will. The property was reasonably spacious, and would do well for a small family of four. So we did it up before we got married, adding a bit of furniture here and there. After our wedding, we moved into the flat. I let Kim Yuk manage the renovation. After all, I was happy to go along with it as long as she was pleased. She made our home clean and tidy, even though it looked quite minimalist for my taste. There were hardly any decorations in our home. I mentioned it, and suggested a potted plant somewhere, only to find Kim Yuk slightly displeased. I asked her why, and she merely smiled, saying: “It’s a place for us to live in. Putting plants in it would make it look strange.” I dismissed the matter with a laugh.

69
Kim Yuk liked to make her own clothes. Often they were of a modest or sober shade. I once teased her: “Why don’t you wear something more colourful? You are dressed in plainer shades than me. It’s embarrassing!” She responded with a shy, awkward smile. Afterwards, she did make for herself a red dress with white floral patterns on it. We stood there in front of the mirror as she checked how she looked.

70
“You look like a bride,” I said.

71
“If I do look like one, aren’t you saying that you have two wives?” She blushed at the joke, before explaining: “It’s fine to wear such a colourful outfit now. If I were to wear this in a few years time people might think I was trying to look younger than I am.”

72
I was used to sleeping alone, and so I never cared how I looked when I slept. In the morning I would often find myself sprawled across the bed, in the shape of the Chinese character "大" - which means "big". Now that we were sleeping together as husband and wife, Kim Yuk liked to tease me about it.

73
“I know very well you are Mr. Big, so there’s no need for such an exaggerated sleeping pose! You are squashing me into a tiny woman next to you.”

  • 1 In Chinese language, the visual appearance of the two characters for ‘large’ and ‘wood’ are ver (...)

74
“Now why don’t we add a stroke to the word, so the word large can be turned into the word wood?”1”Why don’t we make it into the character ‘mu’ [木], that way, Mr. Big and Miss Tiny can share the bed in harmony?”

75
Kim Yuk thought hard about it, and when she realised what I was saying, she could only blush. She did not speak to me for the whole day.

76
In cold weather, my limbs were often numb from the winter chill. As the hot water bottle was too burning hot for the skin, Kim Yuk would reach over to me and wrap her legs around my body, and warm me up with her hands until I drifted to sleep. She would put my hands on her chest or on her nape. I thought to myself that she would make a good mother.

77
Sometimes, Kim Yuk would talk in her sleep. Often she could not recall anything about it when she woke up. Sometimes, when I heard her speaking, I would sit up and listen to her intently in my semi-conscious state. There were occasions when I heard her dream talk, and although it was quite funny at the time, I was often unable to remember the words and share with her the next day. So I decided to keep a pen and paper at my bedside, jotting down whatever I heard and sharing with her what I got the next morning. As the old saying puts it: you dream what you experience in the day. Once, Kim Yuk and I missed each other’s phone calls on the same day, and that night she asked in her sleep, “Did anyone call me today?” I recorded this and showed her the next day.

78
“I dreamt that I called you. Why did you not answer my call?” I smiled.

79
For some time, I came down with a mild illness. I went to see a Chinese herbal doctor and took the prescribed medicine twice a day. It was Kim Yuk who brewed the herbal soup for me. Over those two days, our place was saturated with the smell of Chinese herbal medicine. One night, since I returned home late, Kim Yuk was already sleeping. When we went to bed, Kim Yuk turned towards me to say, “Why do you not give me dong guai to drink?” I thought she was awake and asked her what she meant. Then I looked at her more closely and found that she was actually asleep. When I told her about this in the morning, she laughed. “This is hardly surprising to me! Among all the herbal medicines, my favourite is dong guai, for it is such a resonant word!” Then she repeated the name to herself, asking for my approval.

  • 2 Dong guai, angelica root, is a Chinese herbal medicine commonly used for promoting blood circulatio (...)

80
‘It’s not dong guai, it should be yu guai: getting married to me.’2

81
‘If you take notes this way, you will end up compiling a somniloquy.’

82
‘No. It’s supposed to be Dong Gual Anthology!’

83
Kim Yuk’s favourite food was melon, especially pumpkin. She preferred fully ripened pumpkins, and loved to make deep-fried pumpkin slices. She also liked lotus root and would make dishes with lotus root almost every week. There was a kind of dessert made with lotus root

84
One day, Kim Yuk went to buy yam. When she came back, she said: “Look, I just went to find some lotus root!”

  • 3 In Chinese, the word ‘lotus root’ sounds similar to the word for spouse, hence the word-pun.

85
I know that she meant something else: to look for a husband.3

86
I teased her: “Any luck with it?”

87
She smiled, saying, “Yes I have found a very good one.”

88
“You made the best choice then. After all, it’s so hard to choose.”

89
I liked to tease her every time she came back with lotus root from the market.

90
Near where we lived, there was a flyover, and sometimes we would go there to the open space underneath, half fenced up by wire mesh, with a sign hanging in front: Government land. All persons prohibited. Inside there was a small sandy mount. When seen from a distance, the white sign with the red lettering looked just like a grave marker. The ground was filled with overgrown grasses, and in sunset you could sit there and watch the sun going down like a duck yolk, landing on the tip of the grass. Often, we would see the same old man passing by, selling marinated food, and we would buy some from him, and sit there to watch the sunset. Cars sped past on the flyover overhead, and we could hear the droning noise so clearly, even feel the vibration of the concrete, as if the flyover would collapse any minute.

91
I said to Kim Yuk: “I wonder if this flyover might really collapse and bury us here.”

92
“If it were to bury both of us together, that would be fine for me. But if one survives and the other doesn't, I would be at a loss for what to do,” Kim Yuk said.

93
“Don’t worry. If it’s me who ends up dying, I’ll reincarnate and become your son. But suppose you’d die, you must reincarnate and be my daughter instead.”

94
“They used to say that it’s fate that causes people to be born on the same day or die on the same day. If people can’t die on the same day, the only way left to be with each other is to reincarnate and become family members. How sad.”

95
Usually, when I returned home, Kim Yuk would come out to greet me at the door as soon as she heard my jingling keys. However, one day when I returned home, I saw no sign of her. I got worried, and found her in the bedroom, reading on the bed with the weak light coming through the window. Although she liked reading, I had never seen her looking so still and concentrated. I leaned there in the doorway, looking at her. As the sun was setting, the natural light in the bedroom was getting dimmer. Her hair was tinted with light, while her body was cloaked in shadow. It was as if her whole person was disappearing.

96
I called out to her. Kim Yuk hastened to hide her book behind her back.

97
“What book are you hiding?” I smiled.

98
With glee, Kim Yuk stood up and walked towards me.

99
“Let me ask you. What does this poem mean? Having been the ocean, it’s hard to be water. On the top of Mo Mountain, clouds are invisible, for they are everywhere.”

100
“Are you testing or just asking me?”

101
“I’m just asking. Explain it to me.”

102
“Then tell me first where you have read about this,” I said, reaching out for her book when she was caught off guard. No matter how she dodged, I was quicker than her, and so I got the book and scanned the title: Six Records of a Floating Life.

103
“What’s so good about this book that made you stay in bed reading for so long?”

104
“Please explain the poem to me first.”

105
“Okay…Now the first line of the poem refers to the fact that one has been…an ocean…then it’s difficult…”

106
“Come on. Be serious!” Kim Yuk said, turning away.

107
I walked over and, facing her, smiled: “You asked me to explain it to you. Didn't I do what I promised?” Then I kissed and hugged her.

108
“Look, I don't know this poem very well. But from what I gather, it has several meanings. To me, it means that it’s hard to live without you since I have already found you, and I do not want anyone else because you are with me already.”

109
Kim Yuk thought it over, then looked at me suspiciously, glancing up to say: “Is this your own version? Are you teasing me?”

110
I could only smile.

111
Then Kim Yuk explained, with a tinge of sadness, “but Shen Bai, the author, said that marriage does not always last forever. His own life story is a good illustration.”

112
“I haven’t got the evidence with me, but I should think that there are lots of couples who manage to live together for the rest of their lives. Perhaps it’s just that there is no evidence to prove it. The author Shen has lost his partner, so naturally he will be sad. Don't take his words too seriously.”

113
Kim Yuk seemed relieved.

114
She enjoyed Cantonese operas, and cared very little for TV and films. Once, we went to see The Purple Hairpin. When we left the theatre, it was already late. I remembered the mild autumn wind and the soft moonbeam. They offered such comfort, such sweetness.

115
I held Kim Yuk’s hand as we walked along the street. Kim Yuk said: “Since your name is Lee and mine is Fok, we share the same names as the characters in that play. I wonder whether our fate will be different from that of Lee Yick and Fok Siu Yuk?”?

116
“Their ending doesn’t seem a bad one to me!”

117
“I wonder what it would be like in real life?”

118
“It’s difficult to say. Perhaps they never existed, and the story is not real.”

119
“But at least our story is!”

120
“Of course.”

121
“I’m serious. It seems to me that their story is not quite over yet, and it is up to us to finish it.”

122
Sometimes when Kim Yuk was ironing clothes, she would listen to Cantonese opera on the radio, even mimic some stage gestures when she felt like it. She was an elegant woman, and whenever she did this, it seemed that her whole person had become utterly feminine and vulnerable. I asked her to show me some stage gestures, but she would only sing a few lines for me after much reluctance:

123
“If only a few years could be written off for Lee, in return for less suffering for Fok…”

124
Perhaps this was a foreboding.

125
I remembered what it was like when I watched TV or read the newspaper in the living room while Kim Yuk went on with her knitting. We would sit apart in silence, under the rings of light. Sometimes, we would recount for each other things that had happened in the day, or discuss some domestic trivia. That’s what it was like, those moments we spent together in the evenings.

126
Before our wedding, I used to imagine what it would be like to be married to Kim Yuk, as I sat in a similar chair in her father’s flat. I used to laugh at my own fantasy of being married to Kim Yuk. And my dream had come true. However, our own feelings, and life itself, were always beyond our control.

127
I became somewhat dissatisfied with life, although I could hardly understand why. Some of my friends complained about the imperfections of their married lives. They were envious of Kim Yuk and me. However, a certain feeling of emptiness continued to bother me. It was as if I could not set my feelings at rest. Did I foresee what might happen?

128
One day, as I looked around me, I was filled with loneliness, and a longing for children of my own.

129
“How many children should we have?”

130
“How many do you want?” Kim Yuk smiled.

131
I laughed. “I would like to have as many as I can, but to keep to the family planning rules, let’s not be too greedy, and have only two.”

132
I started wondering what fatherhood would be like: how Kim Yuk and I would bring up the child together, taking him to parks or teaching him how to walk; how the child’s cries might wake us up in the night, and make us unable to sleep. I would like to share his troubles, and watch him grow up, develop his own character.

133
Sometimes, overwhelmed by the oppressive silence around us at night, Kim Yuk and I would brainstorm names for our child.

134
“If it’s a girl, shall we call her Lee Kit?”

135
I asked her why, and she said: “Don't all girls love to be neat and tidy? My name, for instance, has too much violence in it.”

136
“Sure. Let’s go for Lee Kit.”

137
In the end we were disappointed. How futile were our anticipations!

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Notes

1 In Chinese language, the visual appearance of the two characters for ‘large’ and ‘wood’ are very similar, except for a vertical stroke in the character for ‘wood’, hence a sexual pun on the joining of the two bodies.

2 Dong guai, angelica root, is a Chinese herbal medicine commonly used for promoting blood circulation, and relieving abdominal and menstruation pain.

3 In Chinese, the word ‘lotus root’ sounds similar to the word for spouse, hence the word-pun.

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Référence électronique

鍾曉陽 H I Chung et Jennifer Wong, « 爱妻 (Chinese version) - My Dear Wife, an excerpt (English version, presentation and translation by Jennifer Wong) »Transtext(e)s Transcultures 跨文本跨文化 [En ligne], 18 | 2023, mis en ligne le 30 décembre 2023, consulté le 11 juillet 2025. URL : http://journals.openedition.org/transtexts/2465 ; DOI : https://doi.org/10.4000/12u20

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Auteurs

鍾曉陽 H I Chung

H I Chung, also known as Sharon Chung, graduated with a degree in film studies from the University of Michigan, and is the Guangzhou-born, Hong Kong-raised author of 10 books including My Dear Wife, I’d Stop My Car Here and Ask (made into a film directed by Liu De Kai in 2011, starring Zhou Xun) and Of Love and Diamonds (also called The Romance of Unending Sorrow). She has also written screenplays, lyrics, and penned film subtitles for productions including award-winning films by director Wong Kar-Wai. She now lives in Hong Kong.

Jennifer Wong

Jennifer Wong is the author of three collections including Letters Home (Nine Arches Press) and co-editor of Where Else: An International Hong Kong Poetry Anthology (Verve, 2023). Her book, Identity, Home and Writing Elsewhere (Bloomsbury 2023), looks at the works by contemporary Anglophone Chinese diaspora poets including poets from the Hong Kong diaspora. Her pamphlet, time difference, is published by Verve Poetry Press (2024).

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