Chapter Thirty-Nine: Visiting Relatives in Shanghai

The next day, I was set to leave for Shanghai. Thinking it over, I decided I ought to give Meizi a call. “My train’s tomorrow afternoon. If you’re busy, you don’t have to see me off,” I said, feigning indifference as I spoke to Meizi.

“I really can’t make it—I have to work,” she replied, her refusal as direct as ever, though I’d half-expected it.

I went along with her answer. “That’s why I told you not to bother.” Truth was, I’d only brought it up in passing. If Meizi actually came, I’d probably feel awkward with my mother present. Her declining was exactly what I wanted, yet for some reason, a faint sense of disappointment flickered through my heart.

“Safe travels, then,” Meizi’s voice suddenly softened in a way I’d never heard before. “Have a good time in Shanghai.”

“So, will you be so lost in thoughts of me that you can’t fall asleep at night?” I asked, searching for something to say.

“Oh, stop being silly…” I still hadn’t outgrown the habit of teasing Meizi. Even through the phone, I could feel her exasperation.

As I talked, my hand fidgeted with the photo frame beside the phone. After a little more chatting, just as I was about to say goodbye, something occurred to me. “Oh, right—congratulations!”

“Huh? What for?” Meizi sounded puzzled.

“You said you had work, so that must mean you got hired, right? Congratulations!” Clearly, my mind was a bit slow to catch up.

To my surprise, Meizi sighed deeply on the other end. “Actually, not yet! I don’t know if the boss will take me.”

“There’s still a good chance,” I hurried to reassure her.

“I’m really nervous right now—yes, really nervous!” Her voice trembled with emotion.

“Don’t worry! I’ll go talk to your boss for you,” I joked, grinning mischievously.

“Oh, get out of here! You’re crazy! I’m not chatting with you anymore—I need to sleep! Good night!” Meizi couldn’t help but yawn.

No sooner had I hung up than my mother’s voice sounded from the next room. “Xiaobei, go to bed early! You’ll be on the train for more than ten hours tomorrow, did you hear me?”

“Okay,” I replied absentmindedly, then crawled straight into bed and switched off the lamp.

This trip to Shanghai was mainly to visit relatives. Last month, my grandmother and uncle had just returned from America—it had been ages since we’d all been together, so naturally everyone wanted to reunite as soon as possible. Dad couldn’t get away from work, so it was just me and Mom traveling together.

Bored on the train, watching the passing scenery flicker by, my mind wandered unexpectedly to Haozi and Lele. Scenes from that winter break, when we traveled to Huangshan together, were still fresh in my memory; yet now, everything had changed. Friends who were once closest, lovers dearest to my heart, in the end, all go their separate ways.

Feeling low, I slowly settled onto the folding seat beside my berth. In my mind’s eye, I could almost see Lele again, sitting across from me, resting her chin in her hand, gazing out the window in a daze.

“Lele…” I whispered the name that was more familiar to me than any other, letting out a long sigh. Though I was with Meizi now, Lele, I still couldn’t forget you.

After a night of jostling, we finally arrived in Shanghai.

I’d slept well enough on the train, except for the piercing snoring from the lower bunk. As soon as I stepped off, a wave of muggy heat hit me full on. Was this the “cool” weather Shanghai was known for?

This was my second visit to Shanghai. The last time was in third grade, so long ago that my memories were hazy—a few round spheres strung atop the Oriental Pearl Tower like candied hawthorns, and the shabby hotel near the train station where we once stayed.

At the station’s exit, I immediately spotted my grandmother, whom I hadn’t seen in ages. She hurried over, beaming as she grabbed my hand and Mom’s, her eyes full of affection.

We dragged our luggage across the station square and flagged down a taxi by the roadside. Grandma sat in the front passenger seat, while Mom and I took the back. Soon, the car was zipping along the elevated highway.

Big cities really are something else. Our own city wasn’t small—it was a provincial capital, after all—but compared to Shanghai, it was utterly dwarfed. The towering skyscrapers left me dizzy with awe; I felt like a country bumpkin entering a grand estate, craning my neck the entire way, though there was no way to look down from inside the car.

The taxi circled endlessly on the elevated roads, and before long I’d lost all sense of direction. I really wondered if I’d get kidnapped if I ever tried navigating Shanghai alone.

It took over an hour before the taxi finally stopped in front of a quiet residential complex.

“Seventy yuan,” the driver said, pointing at the meter.

Mom was about to pay, but Grandma suddenly and calmly spoke a string of flawless Shanghainese to the driver. I wasn’t a local, but I could pick up the gist: the driver had taken us for out-of-towners and deliberately detoured on the elevated roads. Grandma, it seemed, had just played along. Caught out, the driver apologized profusely, and in the end only charged us thirty yuan.

I didn’t see my uncle at Grandma’s place—she said he was out on business.

After resting all morning, I accompanied Mom for a stroll in the afternoon. The sidewalks were lined with plane trees; I’d heard that in the early twentieth century, this area was part of the French Concession, and these trees had been planted by the French. It was a pity Meizi wasn’t with me—the romantic atmosphere created by so many French plane trees was simply wasted.

After wandering down Zhongshan Road and having dinner, we headed to the Bund. It was packed, hardly a spot to stand still. Standing by the Huangpu River, I could see the towering Oriental Pearl Tower and Jin Mao Tower across the water. Cargo ships glided by, their horns sounding mournfully from time to time. The cool breeze off the river made me feel positively cosmopolitan.

The next morning, I was surprised to wake to the sound of birdsong, and, in the distance, the faint ring of bicycle bells and street vendors’ cries. My uncle had come home late and was still asleep, so Grandma took us out for a traditional breakfast of pancakes and soy milk at the entrance to the complex.

After breakfast, we joined the morning commuters on the subway to Shanghai’s most famous tourist spot—the City God Temple.

In person, the City God Temple felt disappointingly commercialized, with even the snacks looking unappealing and expensive. Near noon, my uncle finally joined us, and we all headed to Huaihai Road—a shopper’s paradise.

Inside the big department stores, it was quiet and sparsely populated. Any random piece of clothing cost at least four hundred yuan, so browsing was as far as we got. The rest of the day passed in shopping malls, and by evening, Grandma had taken us to visit several relatives.

After four days in Shanghai, it was finally time to return home.

(Chapter revised on August 21, 2010)