Apparently, Shen Liangsheng had been joking when he had told Ch’in Ching to introduce his full name next time. The night after the show, he asked Secretary Chou to search through the staff records at Sheng Kung. Chou did not disappoint either, delivering the information he had obtained to his boss’s desk by the next afternoon. Not only did it include Ch’in Ching’s name, age and class schedule, it also contained his family background, education and past social interactions.
Shen Liangsheng skimmed through it. While he did want to get this man into bed, he didn’t have any plans for the long run. There was no need to delve so deeply.
His plan was to get this man but he couldn’t rush, since it might backfire on him if he pushed too hard. Shen Liangsheng was of the opinion that although the man did show some reluctance to befriend him at first, he did not harbour any dislike, judging from careful observation of his reactions. Hence, Shen Liangsheng had purposely left the theatre that night without notifying the man. It was not unlike casting a line into the water, a line that took two weeks to reach Sheng Kung Girl’s Secondary in hopes to catch the man after his lessons and invite him to dinner.
Sheng Kung was situated on Yich’ing-li in the French concession while Shen Liangsheng’s office was on Bristow Road in the English concession. The two were not far from each other and were easily accessible by motor car. The lessons had not finished when he arrived, and he parked across from the gates. He rolled down the windows and lit a smoke, planning to wait for him in the car. After a cigarette, however, he changed his mind and headed into the school.
Noticing the sedan, the gatekeeper let the well-dressed gentleman in after only a brief questioning. Shen Liangsheng had Ch’in Ching’s schedule so finding the classroom in the moderately sized school ground did not prove difficult. He stopped by the windows and peered in.
He had been wondering while puffing on the cigarette earlier, how the man would look on the podium. Now that he was looking right at it, the sight was close to his imagination but also a bit off.
It was mid-September but the Indian summer was especially notorious, leaving the weather hot and humid. Ch’in Ching had the black-framed glasses sitting on his face, as always, but was dressed in Western attire. Due to the heat, it only consisted of a white collared shirt and black dress pants. His shirt was not buttoned up completely and the sleeves were rolled up until the elbows. The tucked-in shirt accentuated his slim waist and legs. Shen Liangsheng’s gaze lingered on the figure standing on the podium with a textbook in hand, lecturing about what might have been a work in Classical Chinese. As for which piece it was, it was beyond Shen Liangsheng for his mastery of the Chinese arts was far behind that of the English. All that was going through his mind was that, like this city of which he had been an inhabitant for four years, the man was a distinctive blend of the East and West. The ancient incantations coming from his mouth didn’t seem odd with the imported fashion on his body.
Shen Liangsheng was not directly by the windows, but once one girl’s eyes wandered and caught sight of him, she would tap on the girl in front of her after a short moment of surprise. Like dominoes, this quickly spread through the window-side rows and soon, none of them were listening to their instructor anymore. All they would do was sneak glances out the window.
At this point, Ch’in Ching could no longer pretend not to see Shen Liangsheng. He nodded at him with a light smile and then tapped the book against the podium.
“Focus, girls,” he warned.
Unfortunate as it may be, the smile had not disappeared in time and made it sound more like a suggestion than a warning. What it did succeed in doing was alert the rest of the students that had been paying attention to divert it out the window.
The students were not interested in the lesson and the teacher’s mind was not entirely on it either. Ever since Shen Liangsheng left without a peep, it was as though his heart was a kite flying in the air. On that end were his museful ideas, swaying unsteadily far from solid ground.
Although no farewells were exchanged, he was of the opinion that Shen Liangsheng would come for him again. And thus, the kite flew higher and higher, his spirits riding along the wind into the crisp, autumn sky.
However, after a week without any news, it occurred to him that the man could have merely said it in passing. They belonged to different classes after all. The fact that Shen Liangsheng had been enthusiastic meant little and he most likely forgot about this matter afterwards. And thus, the current disappeared and Ch’in Ching’s heart, drifting along weakly, threatened to take a dive.
If the person in question happened to be a lady, Ch’in Ching would have thought this to be a wrong love at the wrong time. But instead, it was a man. Ch’in Ching could only ask himself one question: You wanted nothing to do with him at first and now you want to be his friend this badly. What’s going on in that head of yours?
It was a pity that he had not gotten to the bottom of that question by the time he was actually faced with the man standing outside his classroom basked in the glow of autumn. The man was still the same sparkling gem against a background of cobble, and Ch’in Ching felt that perhaps he had no need for an answer.
The minds of both the lecturer and the listeners had wandered elsewhere. Fortunately, only about ten minutes remained and Ch’in Ching managed to finish his lesson as the dismissal chime rang.
“Don’t get too out of hand. There is a test next week so be sure to review at home. Don’t come crying to me when you flunk it.”
Ch’in Ching reminded as he tidied his materials but the students were not listening at all. The girls quickly surrounded the podium in a frenzy.
“Mister Ch’in, Mister Ch’in, is that gentleman your friend?”
“Is he a movie star? How come I’ve never seen him in anything?”
“C’mon, tell us his name, Mister Ch’in.”
Ch’in Ching taught junior high and the girls had grown very close with him. They could get very noisy and unruly after class.
“Why don’t you ask him yourself if you want to know so badly?”
Ch’in Ching lost the facade of a schoolmaster, too, after class, and didn’t find anything wrong with taunting a girl ten years his junior.
The poor girl took another look at the man outside. Sure, he was good-looking, but also a tad bit intimidating. She pursed her lips and answered honestly, “He scares me.”
“Pfft!” Ch’in Ching couldn’t stop his laughter. He tapped her head lightly with the book. “Serves you right.”
Shen Liangsheng waited patiently as Ch’in Ching joked with the students. When the latter finally escaped, he nodded a greeting.
“I was in the neighbourhood so I dropped by to grab a meal with you.”
“Really? You were in the neighbourhood?” They had only met twice but already he felt close to this person. Ch’in Ching jokingly asked as he led the way to the staff room, “Are you sure you didn’t come just to see me?”
“That too.”
Hearing this, Ch’in Ching peered over only to find nothing revealing on Shen Liangsheng’s face. He couldn’t tell the integrity of his statement, so he continued in a casual tone, “Then it would be my honour. Since you treated me to opera last time, Mr. Shen, allow me to do the same for you. Though I must warn you, it won’t be much considering this awkward time of the month. I only hope it will be enough to please you.”
“Why, of course.” Shen Liangsheng didn’t refuse the offer since the exchange would naturally lead to more interaction. This wasn’t some fille de joie with whom he could do as he pleased. It would take a few more dates to bring in the home run.
Soon, they had arrived at the destination and Ch’in Ching immediately spotted someone sitting at his desk. With a round face, small eyes and a smile resembling the grinning Maitreya Buddha in the temples, it was none other than the idler, Hsiao-Liu.
“Well, well, well. Look who’s finally done with his lessons!” Hsiao-Liu did not teach at Sheng Kung but he came often to visit Ch’in Ching. Now he was sitting at Ch’in Ching’s desk drinking tea and reading the paper as if he was at home.
“Well, well, well. Look who the cat brought in.” Ch’in Ching grew up with him so he was not going to hold back. He snatched his cup back and took a sip from it. “I’d show you the way out but I don’t have time for you today, lad.”
Shen Liangsheng had not followed him in but only stood by the door, hands clasped behind his back. When the person with whom Ch’in Ching was engaged in conversation looked over at him, he returned a polite nod seeing the face to be familiar.
“Jesus. I let my eyes off you for a few days and this is what you bring home?” Hsiao-Liu asked in a hushed voice after blinking furiously. He wasn’t told about the second encounter with Shen Liangsheng and thought he was seeing things when the businessman appeared before him.
“Quit acting so suspicious,” Ch’in Ching responded as he sorted his things. “I’ll tell you about it later. Like I said, I don’t have time today. Say hi to mom for me. I’ll go back for dinner on Sunday.”
“C’mon, mate! Why is my ma first on your list? You should be looking out for me!” Hsiao-Liu’s brows furrowed. “It’s Wang-shih’hsiung’s night but he ate something bad yesterday and it’s been diarrhea the whole day today. He can barely get a word out, let alone stand. We’re all countin’ on you to save the day!”
“But there’s Lee Hsiao-ch’üan.”
“No, he can’t make it. He has another show. Ch’in-hsiung, please, O Mighty One, there’s no time to waste. Say yes!”
Some things had higher priority. Ch’in Ching knew he had to do this but felt bad towards Shen Liangsheng. He went up to him with an uneasy expression, contemplating on how to proceed.
“I am truly sorry, Mr. Shen Jr., but could I please borrow him for just one night tonight?” Hsiao-Liu knew that Ch’in Ching did not know how to start, so he walked over too, explaining. “It’s really an emergency. They say ‘saving a show is like saving a fire’ and I’m this close to being burnt alive. There’s no other way. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Um, Mister…?”
“Liu. Liu Pao-hsiang. Just call me Hsiao-Liu, Mr. Shen.”
“Mr. Liu. There is no need for apologies. I have no urgent business with Mister Ch’in anyway.” Shen Liangsheng did not seem too bothered. He continued politely, “Since saving a show is like saving a fire, please allow me to be your chauffeur.”
“Oh, no. We couldn’t. That’s too much to ask of you, sir. No.”
“Oh, but I insist, Mr. Liu.”
“Aw shucks. Call me Hsiao-Liu, please. I feel downright horrible making you say ‘mister.’”
“Please don’t. I’d like it if we both eased up on the politesse.”
The two’s back-and-forth left Ch’in Ching hanging awkwardly on the side. Once in the car, there was no stopping Hsiao-Liu. He could only sit there listening to his friend tell the driver practically everything about themselves.
“Say, why don’t you save the talking for the stage?” Ch’in Ching interrupted at last, impatient with his friend sitting with him in the backseat.
“No way. You’re the star of the night after all.” Hsiao-Liu waved his hand dismissively as he turned his attention back to Shen Liangsheng. “You don’t know, sir, how brilliant this fellow is atcrosstalk. My dad’s always been comparin’ me to him. Yet he ups and leaves the stage to be a teacher. My dad put in blood, sweat and tears into training him. I can’t even begin to describe how upset he was.”
Shen Liangsheng had not carefully read the files that Chou prepared. He only vaguely recalled that Ch’in Ching’s parents had both passed away and that his father was a crosstalk comedian. Now, thanks to Hsiao-Liu’s talkative nature, he learned how both men’s fathers studied under the same master, which generation of performers they were and how many other fellow pupils there were in the line of work.
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