The second time I saw you, I was singing the best show "Drunken Concubine" on the stage. "Haai~ai~ai~", I saw you in the audience with a wink that was different. It took three full weeks, but you still came. So there was a smile in my eyes, I don't know if it was because you put down the air to get education, or because you can finally appreciate all my beauty. "Island ao~ao~ao~", seeing your stunned expression while pulling your tie, my smile deepened, and under your deep-set expression, I seemed to see a fiasco that belonged to imperialism.
Backstage, under the yellowed drapery, in the cacophony of voices, I did not see or hear, but felt your presence. Seeing you approaching, the handyman pulled the curtains up alertly. I almost thanked her. In such a hazy atmosphere, I felt the most secure. So I took off the towel that wrapped my hair and loosened my long hair, and I believe on the other side of the drapery you see my charming and dreamy silhouette, like the warm scent of my hair, if any If not, it lingers in my heart.
The words that come out of my mouth are still noble and with a hint of jest. In front of you, I try to build a female image that is familiar with Western culture but not chasing it, and sees through Eastern culture without abandoning it. It is rational, tolerant, and looks down on you. I don't know why I'm doing this, or if seeing you, there's some kind of... nature in my body?
As a gentleman, sending women home is a logical thing to do, even if things are not what they seem on the surface. The topic on the road is nothing more than eastern women and western men, which is your favorite topic. The idea of colonial feminism is deeply rooted in your heart, and in your eyes, the East is equivalent to a little daughter-in-law who is being slaughtered. But it is precisely because of this complex in your heart that it helped me make up for the shortcomings of my performance. It's just that you are no different from those Westerners, which always makes me feel sorry.
After closing the door, the dark yard was like a natural curtain, and there was a projection of your clumsy appearance when you were looking for a lighter for me and the nasolabial folds caused by the unnaturalness and embarrassment.
The third meeting, a little sooner than I thought, happened at my home. Although I haven't seen it, I can imagine you looking back frequently across my mysterious yard. That's my gift to you. The picture of my father, the couplet with my name embedded in it, the smell of the wooden furniture in the air, and even my sudden appearance behind you are all gifts that I have carefully prepared for you.
On the surface, I'm talking about my father, but in fact I'm talking about myself, kneeling down to break the glass and laying out this game. How do you think I will choose? It's not that I shouldn't be punished like this, I just can't bear to see my body being tortured like this. Speaking of which, I'm a little envious of my father.
Most is the gentleness of bowing his head, like the shyness of a water lotus that is invincible in the cool breeze. After all, I know too well what kind of picture a man longs to see. I bowed my head and made tea with my hands. Like Bai Liusu, my beauty lies in bowing my head. Not only as Song Liling's bow, but also as an oriental woman. On the surface, I'm aloof and distant, but I'm actually humble and docile. In me, you can see all the looks of the oriental women you like, with low eyebrows and heads, and you can't talk about it. .
"Even pouring a cup of tea for you has meaning." I know you can't understand the whole meaning, but you always think she is beautiful, and that's enough. What I want to do is to let her You feel fine. Turning around and running away is also in this design. After all, blind obedience will make you tired, and the little bit of rebellion hidden under the tameness is what you think is the essence of oriental beauty.
I hate my coolness and intelligence.
You disappeared for a long time after that, which I expected, but it seemed a little too long. This is a game and a good show. At this point in the plot, what I have to do is to show weakness and show my vulnerability to Western men, which is my most powerful weapon. Come take me, come save me, come humiliate me, you are my master and I am your slave.
It was only when I realized that I really missed you as I said in the letter, I finally realized that it was me who led you into the game, and it was me who would never be able to recover.
Six weeks have passed and you still haven't shown up, writing letter after letter, for assignment or some other reason. "Sometimes I hate you, sometimes I hate myself, but no matter when, I miss you." There is nothing but absurd words on the paper. Only this sentence is true.
"Four" is a very sensitive number in Chinese culture. It represents everything. We say the four seas, the four directions, the four seasons, and the four virtues, and because of the homophony, it has been given a bad connotation by us and has become a taboo. The fourth time we met, it was still at my house. Before that, I wore high-collar white silk clothes for you every day, the bedding was neat, and I couldn't sleep at night. This meeting was chaotic, just like these chaotic years.
Next, you are pressing step by step, and I want to greet you and refuse, so I can finally hold your face and say, "Yes, I am your butterfly." Even if I prefer to be your Liling.
Although from the first meeting, I told you that I don't want to play a Japanese woman, but you still think that I am the butterfly, because Japanese women and Chinese women are no different in your opinion. It doesn't matter, neither Butterfly nor Liling, it's not me, the point is - at this moment, I'm in your arms.
After that, the meeting became a common thing. I forgot that it was the first time I met you. In front of me is you, and behind me is the Great Wall, just like my current situation. It's becoming clear to me that if it weren't for my skin color, my culture, my obedience, you probably wouldn't linger at me, let alone indulge in my pretense. So I'm even a little jealous of my identity, jealous of the butterfly in your mouth.
In the middle of the night when you were drunk and I woke up, you finally put forward that, which is reasonable in any relationship that has developed so far, but it is a right and wrong request in the oriental love I created for you. As smart as I am, of course, I can resolve it ingeniously, and then I will just leave the all-powerful organization to me. Just seeing your guilt mixed with great joy, that unbearable and self-blame I have to bear alone. Forgive me because I really "don't know how to turn my body into someone else's".
When I see you again, the transformation of the motherland is in full swing, and the sinner who is separated from the masses can never redeem himself, no matter what he has paid for it. Even those hard-to-speak efforts, along with the lyrics and appearances of the past, have become sins that I cannot wash away. Say goodbye in a hurry and live separately. The play should end here.
However, I got another chance to be loyal to the country I love so much. If I don't say it, no one may know that I love my country so much, though, I'm just an actor. As a lowly actor, no matter how my country despised and tortured me, I will always beg her forgiveness and redeem my sins. So I came to Paris alone to meet someone whom I hadn't seen in years, and who I was sure he still remembered me, but still had to say to him "I don't expect you to remember me". In front of you, humbleness is my calling card.
"Butterfly", that's what you call me, although I am more infatuated with you calling me "Liling". I thought I loved my motherland more than you, but the moment I saw myself in your eyes, all beliefs collapsed, and all kinds of tenderness poured in, maybe I came here not for some ridiculous atonement, but for Listen to the "Butterfly" that I originally rejected.
Every day after that, I was immersed in the sentence "Butterfly", in fact, I can live with you like this, month after month. But no matter how awake I am, I know too much that this kind of life is so illusory that it doesn't belong to me at all.
The penultimate time to see you is in court. I finally took off my robe, subtracted my long hair, and faced the face I had almost forgotten. Your nasolabial lines of disbelief and self-deprecation pierced me deeply as you sat in the dock and our eyes met.
On the witness stand, I narrated calmly, as if telling a story about someone else. As a Chinese, obedience and compromise have never been my talents, but forbearance and indifference are. But you don't know this, after all, you don't know me as you don't know yourself, and I know myself as you know yourself. My eyes wandered, and I finally glanced at you. I can face the judge with ease and even pride, but for you, I dodge and seek forgiveness. Can you understand me? I can't betray my motherland, I don't want to betray you, so I can only betray myself.
Having said all that, I never seem to be involved in "love", please forgive me, in this age, love and hate are as extravagant, all I have is numbness and cowardice.
On the prison van, two men in suits sat facing each other. I know you've been watching me, and you want to find a trace of butterflies in me, but there's nothing to be found. I hate that you look for butterflies in me, "What do you want me to do?" My attitude is indifferent and disdainful, which is another way of disguising myself, after all, I make a living by acting.
You said to me, "You are nothing like my butterfly." At this moment, I am sitting in front of you, and you still want your butterfly.
So I said, "I'm your butterfly, wrapped in clothes, under layers of disguise, it's always been me. Tell me, you're still infatuated with me." I finally got what you wanted, no more disguise, At this moment I kneel on the ground begging you, low in the dust.
I never dared to use the word "love", but you said it. You said, "What I love is that lie, that perfect lie." Your use of the sacred word "love" is worthy of a vile "lie".
I mustered the courage of my life to take off this body, and you told me that it was only that body that you loved. You the man fell in love with the woman played by the man, but the focus was on the woman after all. But...after all...I am the bearer of the lie you love, and I am the actor of the woman you love, so you have no mercy for me?
When you complained about why I showed my true self in front of you, and when you finally walked away in disgust, I desperately admitted the fact in my heart - in front of you, I am just a man, and you have never loved me as a man. From this moment I am dead, my heart, my body, even my disguise. You have spent so many years with a man, and I am not. Just, does gender matter that much? Or, what you love is just the illusion in your heart, the illusion I created for you.
So, I hate you and I hate myself, but I always miss you.
I hate my naked body as much as you do, and even more so. I have my oriental arrogance, but you only see obedience, I have my oriental wisdom, but you only see imitation, this is not the saddest, when I finally realize that you are a butterfly, when you finally We came to a tragic climax when we realized I was the king. You want me to be a butterfly and you are a king, but the truth is the other way around. I don't think we've been together long enough, because I haven't taught you the word - good luck.
You are the butterfly, I am the king, nothing is more pathetic than this.
Later, I heard about you. You killed yourself in a prison far away from China. You said, "It is better to die with honor than to live with shame." Are you talking about me? Darling, you don't know, before this, I was already dead.
The last time I saw you was at the window of my residence, a pale butterfly flew by and stretched out his hand, but he didn't stop for me. I think you still don't understand - it's not you that I've been deceiving, it's me.
View more about M. Butterfly reviews
