Free Leave Me Alone by Murong Xuecun

to eighty karaoke bars on the street, all with tacky coloured lights around the doors. Hideous drunken singing came from inside: sounds like roaring bulls and whinnying horses. Dozens of girls sat outside each place, smiling painfully through their disguise of powder and youth.
    Slowly I walked down the street as from each side, fluent patter assailed my ears. There were romantic pitches: ‘Come on, handsome, I love you.’ Shrewd appeals to profit: ‘Beautiful girls and reasonable prices, only an idiot would say no.’ Or itmight tout sexual proficiency: ‘Sir, come and play here. Our girls are good at it!’
    One ugly runt kept following me and pushing the unique virtues of his establishment: ‘All our girls are fifteen or sixteen, fresh and tender. Come on, come on.’
    I shook off his hand and walked on, still checking out the girls on both sides of the street. My mobile rang: it was Zhao Yue. I cut her off but when she kept calling, I turned off my phone.
    It was me who bought Zhao Yue her first ever mobile phone: I realised it was four years ago almost to the day. At that time the Motorola GC87C cost more than 5,000 yuan. Zhao Yue thought this gift was too expensive and didn’t want it, but I used humour to persuade her:
    ‘You think I bought this for your benefit? Take it! It’s just so I can check up on you more easily.’
    Zhao Yue laughed and accepted the phone, but in the first months her monthly call fee was even lower than the plan costs. She didn’t use the phone regularly until she got promoted and her new position included a 150 yuan monthly mobile subsidy.
    My head was still processing the implications of the call I’d made earlier.
That
number had appeared regularly in her list of calls in the last two months — the greatest frequency nine times a day, the longest duration one hour seventeen minutes. I’d checked the date of that call and it was the very day I’d bought those roses to present to her during our dinner at the Jinjiang Hotel. While they were talking about who knews what, I’d been waiting there for her to come, wondering how to apologise to her.
    The past two days I’d been crazy busy helping with Li Liang’s wedding. I’d organised the loan of cars, been involved in endless back and forth about the banquet, sent out invitations, even decorated the bridal chamber. Being so busy had helped keep my mind off the situation. All the same, whenever I had a few seconds to think I couldn’t help wondering where they met, where they slept together, whether Zhao Yue moaned underneath that guy like she did with me. What was weird was that instead of feeling angry, I mainly felt sad. The night before, after a few drinks, I’d stood in front of the window for ages in a sort of daze. Li Liang had asked me what was wrong, but I’d evaded the issue.
    I regretted making that phone call. If it hadn’t been for that, everything might have gone back to normal. I could have chosen to believe that Zhao Yue’s slip had been a one-off and performed the necessary mental contortions to accept whatever explanation she made. No matter that I would have suspected her for the rest of my life. But now this stranger had a voice and the distance between Zhao Yue and me had suddenly grown. We were colder, estranged: it was as if there were thousands of miles between us.
    A moon-faced girl pulled my arm and then rubbed against me with her voluptuous breasts. ‘Hey, good-looking, you’re so handsome. I want to make love to you.’
    I smiled and reflected coldly how cheap love was that you could enjoy such a generous amount for only 150 yuan. On the other hand, she did have a beautiful round arse which felt firm when I gave it a quick rub. I followed her into a dimly lit room where she removed her clothesthen lay on the bed smiling at me. I buried my head in her breasts and held her, thinking that if Zhao Yue died right then I wouldn’t care at all.
    Coming downstairs together afterwards, the girl put on a