Chapter 2 That place is called Qingdao

The ship leaned against the Xiaogang wharf in Qingdao, dropped the anchor, and Julian carried the suitcases and followed the passengers to disembark. As soon as the gangway stood still, before Julian could react, a rickshaw came to him and said something. A string of strange Chinese, sandwiched a few words that are probably English, he only understands two words Please, Sir.The coachman's young face was very sincere, which gave him a good impression.I have seen such a kind of taxi pulled by people in documentaries about the Far East before, so I am a little curious.So he stepped into the car.But for such a big man, the car rattled and shook as soon as he sat down, obviously it was not a car designed for him.

The Chinese coolie's short shirt and shorts were cleanly dressed, but he couldn't stand the look of his back bent and pulling a cart.Perhaps every Chinese rickshaw puller has a lung disease.He wanted to jump out of the car and let the patient pull him, which was too much.The scene must have looked a lot like the "Imperialism in the East" cartoons.However, the coachman beside him was yelling at the young man, and his coachman must be talking back triumphantly because he had won business.Seeing the situation, he had no choice but to stay in the car, not to disappoint his coachman.

This is a peninsula city next to the mountains and the sea. The sea water stretches into the hills, leaving a palm shape, which can advance and retreat very freely.It is said that this mountain city has a population of nearly one million and a history of two to three thousand years, but Julian had never known this city called Tsingtao before.The long coastline is full of twists and turns, with capes and bays interspersed with each other, and nearby small islands are clustered or scattered in the sea.The entire old city is densely populated.The rickshaw is driving on the trestle bridge, the sound of the waves is interspersed with the whistle of the ship, one side is the coastline with different beginnings, and the other side is a small European-style house with various flowers blooming, and occasionally bright colors appear among the dense trees in the mountains. The tiled roof is a bit foggy, but the sea smells good in the air.The mountains are undulating, Chinese temples and Western-style churches are in contrast, and the cross with the golden tip is changing in the mist.He found that the shops were all open, because most of the shops had no windows, the counters were open to the street, and there were dried meat strips and dried pork legs hanging in the shop.Many shops have statues of gods decorated with gold and jade, gods wearing red and gold, male Bodhisattvas with fat bellies laughing wildly, and female Bodhisattvas with long round faces with towering hair.There are people in the street who wear Chinese-style long gowns, some in suits, some in half-middle and half-western, and there are all kinds of people.Beggars in rags can be seen from time to time, but it seems that there are not as many people in the East End of London.

The strange and novel streets made him forget the anxiety of being dragged.The rickshaw struggled up a small hill, then ran very fast, catching up with a festive queue ahead.The drums were played in order.The Western-style band looked decent, but he had never heard the tunes it played.Finally, there are eight people on the top of the big red satin sedan chair, equipped with multicolored lights, and colored beads dressed in the pattern of a phoenix and a phoenix live on the top of the sedan chair.Strangely, there are large mirrors embedded on three sides of the sedan chair, and the crowds of people in the mirror make the sedan chair very lively.

Perhaps the rickshaw driver was trying to show off for himself, or to show off his foreign customer, he took advantage of the space and approached the sedan chair in a short while.At this time, Julian saw the shaky mirror, and he was obviously different from the people around him. He was tall, had ginger hair, a big nose, and sunken eye sockets.The spectators shouted something, they must be mocking him, and laughed together. From Hong Kong, to Shanghai, and then to Qingdao, Westerners are not uncommon, and people are not uncommon either.He understood that what people were surprised by was his flickering face on the sedan chair. "You monster!" He grimaced at the mirror.Lively streets pleased him.

At this time, the coachman shouted loudly: "Xiao Man is good at reading, Xiao Man is good at reading." The people on the street also nodded and shouted.Julian didn't understand it, but he understood the gesture, the hand half-up in the air, the thumbs-up—nothing more than saying that a woman is beautiful and the bride has to be judged.The coachman simply slowed down.It turned out that the bride couldn't hold back either, she secretly lifted the red hijab, opened one side of the curtain, and exposed a corner of her face from the sedan chair to see the excitement of this foreigner.

The coachman pointed to the bride's face in the gap between the curtains, and said, "Xiao Man, it's a good list."All the people in the street responded with smiles, "Xiao Man, it's a good list".He met the bride's eyes, wondering why this little girl is so beautiful?The rouge is interestingly red, with pearls and precious jades stuck at one end, and the curtain is even more open for the shiny pink person. She must be a spoiled daughter who dares to show her face on the wedding sedan chair.He felt like the girl in Gilbert and Sullivan's operetta "The Emperor", running from the stage in London to the streets of Qingdao.

Xiao Man is good at counting, he said, good looks, beautiful women.As he was approaching his destination, he realized that he was coming to this distant land. In Eastern countries, there may be another result: an affair, exotic, like a porcelain baby.Of course, he didn't come to China for women, but why not?It goes hand in hand. Since leaving Southampton, he has been writing a long voyage, writing a long essay "On the Proletariat and Poetry, An Open Letter to C. De Lewis", and he has not felt that he has left the Western world at all.After the article was written and the ship passed the Indian Ocean, he felt that he should learn some Chinese.Find a Chinese travel companion and teach him Chinese for an hour every day.He imagined the patterns of Chinese characters, memorized about 200 characters and a few simple sentences, and just dealt with them.

The band drum rhythmically beat ten, then three, and gradually the rhythm fell behind.The rickshaw finally got away from the crowd, but after turning a crossroad, it was the corner of Baguan Mountain.He asked the rickshaw driver to stop and rewarded the driver with a few extra pennies. He carried his luggage and walked up the stone steps. The road was covered with flower petals, and the chrysanthemums were the most. He liked the smell.He has read some books on Chinese customs. If it is correct, these few days should be a festival for climbing high, picking flowers, drinking wine and remembering relatives and friends.The weather in early October did not feel the heat at all, and the temperature was pleasant. It was God’s grace, the sky was high and the air was refreshing. As we approached the campus of National Qingdao University, the stone-walled courtyard gradually became less, but it was full of flowers and plants, and the shade became more and more.

Julian could hardly believe that his residence was actually a small independent two-story German-style building with a courtyard in front and a garden in the back.Every professor of National Qingdao University is equipped with such a garden house.The entire university circle occupies most of the shaded and green Xiaoyu Hillside, with green tiles and silver walls, at random heights, facing the rippling bay. It was nearly dusk when he arrived.The doorman called the office, and Professor Zheng, the head of the English Department, hurried over after a while.He called Professor Zheng from the hotel when he was boarding the ship in Shanghai.Professor Zheng said he would pick him up at the pier.He insisted not to.Like most intellectuals in China, Professor Zheng looks gentle but tall and wears long gowns and cloth shoes.He speaks very good English, obviously learning "Royal English".The two servants hired by the school had been waiting for him at the school gate for a long time.They carried Julian's luggage.Professor Zheng said that he had to leave beforehand, and in the evening colleagues from the English Department hosted a banquet to welcome Julian.

Julian's house is well-furnished and tidy, with carpets, fireplaces, sofas, and Chinese people like potted flowers, which are all placed without needing to be manipulated.All white walls and ceiling, too white.He has always been not picky about living, but the color is not pleasing to the eye, but it will make him frown.His painter mother and her boyfriend, Duncan Grant, were forever decorating and painting the walls, a family fault.And this white house was built on a hillside, where you can see a piece of blue sea water below the hillside.Overlooking the vast Yellow Sea from the window, changing colors in the setting sun, it is almost a Mediterranean-style scene, and he would be too picky. The hot water was ready, and he went to the bathroom to take a shower, which was incredible.He couldn't control his excitement when he remembered that he had received a letter of appointment from Hang Liwu, the deputy minister of the Nanjing Ministry of Education, with an annual salary of 900 pounds a year written on it.He has never made so much money as a freelance writer.Parents' generation, the way of life has never been aristocratic.Every time Aunt Virginia buys something, she has to hesitate for a long time. The family car also has a car, but it is a second-hand product.Father Clive's ancestors ran a mining business, but his money was rarely spent at home.Of the gang, only Keynes had amassed a substantial fortune—but the semi-socialist's money was spent on paintings and his Russian wife's ballet company. He didn't take money seriously since he was a child, but he never had a lot of money on hand. Now his annual income is equivalent to nine hundred pounds, and he doesn't pay taxes. He only teaches English literature for nine to twelve hours a week, which really scares him. Big jump.The rent was thirty dollars, which was too much for two servants, just because they could speak some English, twenty-five dollars, while the average worker's annual income was only twelve dollars.Food will not exceed thirty dollars a month.After doing this calculation, he felt that he had never been so rich. It's not right, it's not fair.I went to China to teach a few courses and earned more than British professors!He thought maliciously that the authorities must know his intention to come to China, so they tamed him into a bourgeois with such generous treatment.The idea that I would be a doughy bourgeois in China excited him: sure to surprise my mother's friends. He wrapped himself in a towel and shaved in front of a mirror with a razor blade.His hair was slightly curly as it grew, and he doubted whether the barbers here could handle it.He is another Columbus who found the east paved with gold and silver, the luxurious and beautiful ancient country of China.  Footsteps of servants going upstairs, knocking on the door.What did Julian ask unhappily? The servant said, sir, there is a taxi waiting at the foot of the mountain at seven o'clock, and he came to remind him. Julian walked out of the bedroom. The two servants were about the same height and waited for him respectfully.From now on, I will live in the same house with these two guys!The housekeeper is in his forties, has a mole on his lip, has a rough voice, walks slowly, and speaks strange English, which is extremely difficult to understand.His Chinese name is too difficult to remember, let's call him a wizard; the young man has a softer voice, sharp eyes, a field mouse, it must be a field mouse. The wizard said that he had ordered a car at the dealership according to Professor Zheng's order.He reassured Professor Bell that he would call him when the time came.Informing him first is to let him be prepared. "Ready?" Julian repeated in bewilderment. "Just dress, sir," said the wizard. Julian waved the two guys away.They were a little too thoughtful for him, he thought.He bathed comfortably, lay on the bed, and fell asleep, forgetting everything else.  Yifengxiang Restaurant is almost as luxurious as the Dorchester Hotel in London.Qingdao used to be a German colony, but was later occupied by Japan for many years. There are thousands of foreigners, most of whom are engaged in business. There are nearly a hundred companies in the UK alone.This place has a nightlife that combines Chinese and Western styles. People are full of interest at night, and men and women are all dressed up like the same thing. Julian was led to a single room separated by a long fan-shaped screen, where there were already seven or eight people in well-dressed clothes. The head of the department, Professor Zheng, stood up first and introduced him to the person who had been waiting for a long time.All of them are characters, they all speak good English, and their diction is decent and elegant. Even if they come back from studying in Chicago, they don't have an American accent. There is a female professor at the same school, who is of a certain age and looks like an Eskimo, and there is a female guest, the wife of a certain professor, who has no characteristics at all.The only woman who could attract his attention was the wife of the head of the department, who was introduced as a poet and editor of the literary publication "Qingdao Magazine".Like most of the present, she wears a pair of glasses, a quiet and elegant female intellectual, and she is happier than others when she sees him, making him feel like a VIP: she will play the role of a lady.But her English seems to have been learned in China.  She seemed to know what he was thinking, smiled and said: "My name is Min, and I speak Beijing bumpkin English." He was amused, her foreign accent sounded very comfortable, a little fuzzy, but it was not clear and comfortable to listen to, especially her expression was lively, her hair was neatly pulled up in a bun, and her forehead had a row of bangs. From those days when he was studying in Cambridge, Julian has been known as an expert in female beauty, and he has a very confident judgment on the level of a woman's appearance.He couldn't help noticing that when she wasn't smiling, she was just passable and passed, but what if she smiled?The smile makes her lips look a little to one side, is it a downgrade or a boost?He was a little confused. He collected himself, looked away from the wife of the head of the department, and talked carefully with his colleagues.These Chinese professors here are even more familiar with Britain, the trends of the British intellectual circles, some new books and new viewpoints than he is.Strache's famous book "The Life of Queen Victoria" is being translated by a young poet surnamed Bian, which surprises and delights him.Moreover, he discovered that there are so many Chinese disciples in Bloomsbury, and after they returned to China, they also formed a circle of intellectuals similar to Bloomsbury, but the name is a bit romantic, called "Crescent Society" , There are poets, writers, political critics, architects, and even soldiers, but only half of them are painters: a man named Wen, who studied art in the United States, now only writes poetry.Unlike Bloomsbury, which focuses on art and aesthetics. A table full of delicacies, each dish is carved, the arrangement is exquisite, and the color is bold and novel.It is said in the book that Chinese people like to offer food and drink to guests, which is polite, and you can't refuse.The people here are educated in Western style, you can choose what you like, and the people around you just introduce how to make good dishes.It also makes him feel relaxed and happy. Professor Zheng asked him to look at a painting on the wall.It is said that this is a local historical legend, one person plays the piano, and the other listens to it.That is the Guqin Terrace located in Xiwan, on the west side of Laoshan Mountain, by the Moon Bay. The listener said to the piano player, "You aim at a high mountain, but your shape is like flowing water."The whole world knows each other, only this person knows him.After that, the listener died of illness, and the player who played the piano broke the strings, and never played the piano again for life. Xie Zhiyin: He has read this story in some book.People in this country regard understanding as the most precious thing, and bosom friend as the highest friendship.For the first time Julian felt that it was possible to make friends here.  But they cannot be compared with Bloomsbury, except than the British liberal intellectuals.People in Bloomsbury met to argue or advance a theory together.Mothers and aunts ruthlessly inspect the guests.Stupid people, as well as boring people, will not ask for a second time.This allowed him to regain his superior psychology of condescending observation. "Is this the work of a master?" Julian asked. "Of course not." Min cut in on Julian's conversation with her husband.Speaking of this figure painting, it can be considered a masterpiece, but in a restaurant, even if it is a famous restaurant like Yifengxiang, there will be no masterpieces.She explained that in Chinese painting, if you are really good at brush and ink, you must pay attention to the meaning of the painting, and you must pay more attention to the title and signature of the painting. Julian's affection for Min increased a bit, and her English seemed to be much more fluent when speaking and painting, very soft and gentle.She said that there was a painter in the Yuan Dynasty. There were only a few clouds in the distant mountains, and three or four trees were scattered nearby, and most of the whole painting was blank. Does Chinese painting pay attention to blank space?However, this statement is interesting and seems very mysterious, and Julian couldn't grasp it at once. There is no similar art theory in the West, and there is no painting with such a large blank.He hoped to have the opportunity to ask Min more in the future.Min just responded with a smile.  It was late at night when they returned to the campus by two taxis. Julian couldn't touch the light button, and took advantage of the moonlight shining into the room, and collapsed on the sofa.He is a little drunk.Talking about a group of people in Bloomsbury during the dinner, they actually knew each other well and had direct contact with them in different shades.Dean Zheng also visited his uncle Leonard Woolf to ask about the possibility of the cooperative movement in China.Julian remembered that she had heard from her aunt that a group of Chinese students were very keen on politics, but they didn't know which faction to follow. Virginia Woolf's name was mentioned the most, and it aroused his yearning, either nostalgia or nostalgia.The first he missed his mother, Vanessa, and the second Roger Fry, whose sudden death a year ago had been one of the reasons for his absence from England.It is a pity that Roger Fry has not been able to come to China in this life. He will be very pleasantly surprised. His praise of Chinese art often makes Julian feel that this esthete who is like his father makes a lot of fuss and is exaggerated.But now it seems that Roger may be right. He has said a lot of mysterious things about China. It may not be his eccentricity that he thinks so highly of Chinese people.Yes, miss him so much.The third is to miss Bloomsbury, that group of cultural elites who keep making jokes.If he had outlived these men, he would have compiled a Bloomsbury Scandal. Someone mentioned that Poet Xu, the central figure of the Crescent Society, died in a plane crash in 1931. He originally studied at the London School of Economics, and then went to King’s College, Cambridge, a little earlier than Julian. Otherwise, he might have met this Chinese talent. It is said that Is it Roger's favorite student?Nonsense, Roger's student?He doesn't like Poet Xu, although Xu is an old friend, and he will never meet him.But tonight's department head's wife, Min, seems to have a very deep friendship, and he can feel it. "Xiao Man is good at reading." Julian's mouth suddenly came out of the local dialect picked up from the street.Is it the lonely bright moon outside the window, or a woman?When he was drunk, he sat up and took out a pen and paper to write a poem.The night was very quiet, and he could hear the rhythmic flapping of the East Sea and the singing of the pine trees all over the mountain. He knew that he liked women, but he was not attached to any woman, except Vanessa, his mother.