After eating, they walked the length of the little street in two minutes. He asked Qian if she wanted to buy anything, but she didn't say either yes or no. Anyway, he took her back to the haberdashery shop and bought her a round mirror with a nickel-plated wire stand. He also bought a double-bed sheet that required cotton fabric coupons, and a pair of nylon-and-cotton blend pillowcases that were expensive but did not require coupons. Qian didn't object and helped him to choose these. The few sheets in the shop had big red flowers on them, and the pillowcases all had the word for wedded bliss, "double happiness," embroidered on them; these items were bought by the villagers only for trousseaus, and there was nothing else to choose from. Qian let him buy these without objecting.

When they got back to his mud hut in the village, he closed the back window. There was a pond outside, with duckweed floating on it. Alongside the pond were smooth flagstones, where, morning and night, the village women did their washing, pounding it with wooden rods. In the summer the men also washed their feet and scrubbed down here. It was early winter, and there was no croaking of frogs to be heard.

Qian said she was tired, so he made up the bed with the sheet he had just bought, and Qian helped him. He also took out the pair of "double-happiness" pillowcases. He only had one pillow, so he stuffed a woolen pullover into the other one. Qian took some clothes from her bag and also stuffed them in.

Qian lay down first, while he sat on the bed and took her hand. Qian suggested putting out the light.

He remembered only her body. Everything else was unfamiliar, she was a woman about whom he knew nothing. There were only those few letters, in which she had either appealed to him for help or expressed her grief. The two of them were alike in having been exiled to some remote place, and, sharing the same hardships, sympathized with one another. Did he love her? He thought he did, but what about Qian? He had no way of knowing, but she had traveled thousands of kilometers to see him. Surely she had come to find someone to rely on? She gave herself to him, let him do what he wanted to her, but without any excitement or resistance, and without saying anything. Then she fell asleep, or, at least, he thought she had fallen asleep. He had a woman, a real woman who belonged to him, a wife he could establish a shared life with. Later on, they would come to have a shared language and rely on one another. In any case, he could never marry a village girl. In the village, the women bared their breasts to nurse their babies in the summer, and when they had rest breaks, they would start fights with the young men. He couldn't stand all the crude sexuality, coarse language, and total irreverence. He had, of course, learned to engage in verbal banter with the village women, but he always kept his distance. He didn't get embroiled in fighting with the women like the local village men did. The men would brawl so that they could enjoy themselves fondling the women, but when several women charged at a man and groped in his trousers, there would be noisy swearing and laughing as he sneaked away holding his trousers up. In the village, the farm work was never ending, year in and year out, and there was nothing else to do for fun. This was one of their few joys. The married women said to him, "Hey, why don't you like our local girls? The city girls aren't as juicy as our girls are here. Take a look at Maomei's skin, she's a peach that will ooze with a poke! And, what's more, she's good at any farm work. She's not clumsy like you, and she will save you all the hassle of finding yourself a sexy girl!" This talk had Maomei pouting, and she grabbed someone by the shirt and hid behind the person. He certainly liked this sexy girl, but, having seen these village women in action, he knew what she would be like later on. This was not the life he wanted.

Early in the morning, when Qian opened her eyes, the color had returned to her face and she was smiling. And he was definitely very happy. Qian was not beautiful, but she was cute. She snuggled against him, saw him looking at her, and closed her eyes again. He took her breasts in his hands and began fondling them. Qian was yielding and let his fingers wander over her body, her bent legs parted. He wanted her again but stopped himself. He shouldn't be in such a hurry to satisfy his lust, they were going to live together and there was plenty of time. He kissed her, and Qian's soft parted lips responded, so did her tongue. For the first time, he felt she was trying to make him happy. He thought Qian loved him, and had not simply come to him because of her own predicament.

"Should we go and register?" he asked Qian.

Qian's soft body snuggled right into his arms, and he was deeply moved when she nodded.

"Get up! We're going to the commune right now!"

He wanted to have a home with her, to establish their love as husband and wife. He wanted to show that he loved her by immediately registering their marriage, then thinking of how to get her transferred. They would settle down in peace and security in this mountain village, not worry about what was happening elsewhere, and simply live out their own insignificant lives.

Qian had brought with her a certificate issued by her commune, stating that she was not married, so, before coming, she must have given the matter some thought. The cadres at the commune all knew him, and he did not need to produce any documents. The two of them signed their names on the form, filled in their dates of birth, had it stamped by the secretary, and paid for the cost of the sheet of paper. This procedure took one minute.

Passing a meat stall with half a carcass hanging on a metal hook, he bought a whole leg of pork. Meat coupons were not needed in the village, production was good, and normally no one would starve to death. However, during the years of the Great Leap Forward, because of a single command from the Party, even grain rations were handed over to the commune and there were cases of whole villages starving to death. The villagers had learned from that experience. Every household had a vegetable garden where they grew sesame or rape, so that the seeds could be pressed for oil, and every household kept pigs, so that the villagers were able to eat the meat they themselves had salted. They lacked only money. He said later on they could also raise pigs. Qian glared at him, not understanding his joke.

Their first day as newlyweds was very happy. He lit the charcoal stove and, when the hot charcoals had stopped smoking, took it inside the house and put a big pot of pork on to stew. Qian started to sing softly, it was an old song from before the Cultural Revolution. He urged Qian to sing it loudly, and he sang along with her. Qian sang well, and her voice resonated. This was a discovery for him. Qian laughed and said, "I've had training, I'm a soprano."

"Really?" He got quite excited.

"What's so special about that?" Qian spoke without enthusiasm, but her voice was sweet and lovely.

"It's very important. We will be able to get through the days with you singing like this!"

This was something they had in common. He said, "Sing something for me!"

"What do you want to hear? You choose." Qian was pleased, and, with her head tilted to one side, she looked very beautiful.

"How about singing the Italian folk song 'Come Back to Sorrento '!"

"That's for a tenor."

"Sing 'The Drinking Song' from La Traviata!"

"It would be bad if people heard the words," Qian was hesitant.

"It won't matter in this village. Who would understand? You could sing it without the words," he said.

Qian stood up, took a deep breath, but then stopped and said, "It would be best for me not to sing foreign songs."

For a while he couldn't think of what was all right for her to sing.