The sun shines over Japan


Most people come to this earth on a mission. My mission has been to show the people I love the meaning of love. I’ve said that if in the end one man and one woman were left on this earth to live out their days on a deserted island, that would be me and my lover.

After Amataka graduated from Hokkaido University and had returned to Tokyo, he and his close friend Miura opened their own company with help from Amataka's grandfather. The company, "Japan Electronics", was an immediate success. Orders came in one after the other. I saw several newspaper articles recounting their success. In the blink of an eye, Amataka and Miura became Tokyo's young, handsome high-tech stars.

After Amataka and I broke up the second time, we didn't see each other for several years. Every once in a while, he'd send a postcard. Once he even sent me a CD from Vienna. It was the well-known cellist Kristine Bogyo playing the "Zigeunerweisen".

As my love for Graham grew, Amataka's shadow faded.

Graham and I traveled to Tokyo and the largest theater in Shinjuku once to attend the premiere of the film based upon my novel, Endless Spring. The story, which traced the trials and tribulations of one of Japan's famous geishas, was based on the life of Graham's mother. At the end of the movie, as we were readying to go, I saw Amataka heading down the other aisle, as if he were avoiding me. I wanted to chase after him and introduce him to Graham. Graham had always wanted to meet the perfect little boy I spoke so fondly of. In a second though, he was gone. I searched the crowd, but he had disappeared.

I felt gratified to know that Amataka had always been watching and saw my success. After all, it's not that I didn't wish him well. Of all life's experiences, Amataka had shared the most deeply miserable with me. He had carried me through the depths of depression and walked with me. Only he could reach into those dark recesses of my soul. He understood literature as well and his inner being was constantly in conversation with great authors such as Kawabata and Mishima.

There was a period when all of Japan was talking about Murakami Haruki's novel Norwegian Wood. It was a love story set in Japan during the 1960s, a wild time for all when living for the moment was the cause. Amataka once had a discussion about the characters in the novel:

"I liked Nāoko. She shouldn't have committed suicide. It would have been more interesting if she had struck out on her own.

"I prefer Midori. She was so noble and touched people in so many ways. She was like you," he said as he looked at me.

"These poor women. In they end, they all seem to commit suicide," I said coolly.

"What's wrong with that? That's their way of saying goodbye to the world," Amataka responded.

"No, you're wrong. They should choose life. Even during the most difficult of moments, women should always choose life. Naturally, novels can do such things – one character after another commits suicide. Someone's always on the brink of death; lovers come and lovers go. Murakami was on his way toward writing his most extreme novel, Hear the Wind Sing. In that novel, he created his most penetrating revision of love and death. He wrote until there was nothing left to explain. He took love and death to the very limits of their existence," I replied.

"One day, when I die, you should write a novel about love and death," he murmured.

"No, you can't die. You must be immortal; you must live and live well." I stopped for a moment and looked off, then whispered to myself: "One day I will write such a story, but it will be my story and I'll write it as I'm readying to leave this world."

I remember it was late in the autumn then and a cold wind had already begun to blow through the streets and alleyways. We were walking in the old Asakusa district. I was leaning on his arm and through his tweed jacket I could feel the rise and fall of his chest. I put my hand into his pocket. His hand joined mine and held me tightly. A cold wind blew up. I stopped, turned around and buried my trembling body helplessly in his embrace. My golden earrings tinkled as they swung. He held me tightly and used his body to block the wind. It was then that I knew Amataka was no longer a child. He was now a man.

I clearly remember the third time we got together.

I had traveled to Hong Kong in July of 1997 on behalf of Asahi Shimbun to report on the return of Hong Kong to the motherland, mainland China. On the way back to Tokyo, flying business class, I ran into an old classmate and Amataka's friend and business partner, Miura.

"Hi, how are you? It's been a long time. I'm really happy to see you. You're even more beautiful than you were the last time we met. I read your Endless Spring. It was very moving. Should I call you Ms. or Mrs.?" Miura bowed as he spoke.

"You can just call me Chunjie," I replied.

I noticed the wedding ring on his finger and joked, "Oh, so you're married! You must have kids by now." I remember Miura to be a guy who loved to kid around. The girls loved him; he was full of energy and very intelligent.

"I've been married for three years now and we have a son and a daughter," he replied bashfully.

"Wow, you're so lucky! A boy and a girl." I envied him.

"Yah, twins." He was obviously quite proud.

Suddenly I remembered that pair of Mickey-Minnie dolls I once bought for Amataka. Now his friend Miura had fulfilled his own wish. I'm sure Amataka must have felt a tinge of regret.

"Chunjie-san, you're not married yet?" Miura asked.

"No." I looked downward. Right. I'm still not married. People probably think that because I'm a successful reporter for Asahi Shimbun and my novel Endless Spring was on the bestseller list, I'm one of those all-powerful women that scare men away. In actuality, I'm a very emotional person. I'll do anything for love. My greatest hope is to fall asleep each night in the arms of the man who loves me, to be his woman, and to have his babies.

But fate had a different plan. Although Graham and Sophie hadn't lived together in quite a while, he hadn't yet divorced her. Sophie was a colleague and worked in the legal department of Cantor Fitzgerald Securities. I'm not sure if they didn't divorce for financial reasons, due to the complexity of US marriage law, or simply because of Graham's humanity. Graham had told me that Sophie had been diagnosed with cancer and hadn't long to live. He asked me to wait a bit longer. But soon years had passed and I had just about had enough. I wondered if Graham wasn't just concerned with money. Could it be that he just couldn't bare to split their property? Sophie would naturally get the larger share. (She was a lawyer after all.)

Graham didn't realize how much this hurt me. He was nothing like me. I would run after love. I'd resign in a minute for love. Nothing was as important as love. Even if he had been a pauper, I would have married him.

But I kept thinking, perhaps the reason he didn't file for divorce was he wanted to hold on to what he believed was rightfully his, including the money. Did he want me to wait until Sophie had passed away so that he wouldn't have to pay her any sort of support? Or perhaps he was protecting Sophie and wanted to be with her during her final days. He always said that being in love was more important than marriage. Each time I heard that I sighed. It must have been our differing cultural and professional backgrounds. I continued to nurse my unhappy heart and waited impatiently.

The days turned into months and the months into years. Before I knew it I was thirty. Before leaving for Hong Kong, I finally faced the fact that perhaps this marathon love affair would come to nothing. Take a look at Japan's Nakamori Akina and Kondo Masahiko, Taiwan's Qin Han and Lin Qingxia, Hong Kong's Chow Yun-fat and Chen Yulian, and mainland China's Gong Li and Zhang Yimou. All perfect famous couples, but in the end it didn't last. I had seen enough. I started to contemplate leaving Graham and finding someone who could take care of me. I decided I would disappear from his world and give him something to think about it.

Miura must have read my mind.

"Chunjie, is Amataka still waiting for you?"

"Amataka isn't married yet?" I asked Miura. We hadn't been in touch in years. I figured that with such success, Amataka would have found someone by now!

"What? Didn't he make you a promise?" He asked quietly.

Don't young people eventually forget such things?

Oh, how unfair I've been.

And so on my second day in Tokyo, Amataka appeared before me from out of the blue.

Years had passed and now Amataka was a very charming, grown man. His skin was a bit darker and he had thinned out, but he was full of energy. That look of melancholy however still hid in his eyes.

"How are you, Chunjie?" He asked.

"Where should I begin... And you, Amataka?"

"You know." He looked off into the distance.

Together we walked, saying nothing.

That evening, he invited me to his place. He was now living in the same house on the outskirts of the city that his grandfather used to live in.

He told me that his grandfather had passed away two years earlier and Michiko had remarried.

This was my first time in this house, but I still had that secret, the secret that no one would ever discover, the secret about Michiko and her dog.

When we walked by that room, I told Amataka that I'd like to go in for a minute.

"This was Michiko's dog's room. She was crazy. She took better care of that Pekingese than of anything else. She adored it." Amataka complained.

I looked over at the sofa where sleeping beauty once lay. I could see that dog licking her private place. Dogs are very intelligent. Could he have sensed her needs? Did he realize she was lonely?

Regardless, that scene that had once sent me whirling from the window, made me think differently about people. Three years ago I had traveled to South Africa to interview a woman who lived in the forest. She had lived with an ape for ten years. Finally, while attempting to protect her, he was shot. She swore she'd never marry after that.

A few days later, I wrote a goodbye letter to Graham, then called him and told him that it was over. He completely lost control and began screaming into the phone, "Why? Why? What's happened? Tell me, tell me!"

Calmly I answered, "Graham, I've waited eight years. How many eight years does one get in one's lifetime? I've decided to leave you. Please don't bother me anymore." As soon as I had finished, I hung up the phone. Fearful that he would call back, I pulled the telephone wire from the wall.

And so Amataka and I were reunited. We decided to marry as soon as possible.

It was yet another disaster that made me want to marry him right then. Life was just too short.

Sheng Yanzi had contracted the world's newest scourge, AIDs.

On a cold night in Paris as the leaves blew from the trees along the Seine, Sheng Yanzi called me on her cell phone to tell me. I could hear the wind whipping outside; and I heard the sound of her crying. My hand shook as I held the phone and soon I was crying as well. How could I not be sad. She was like a sister to me. Our lives and our attitudes toward love were different, but she was my very best friend.

After she gave birth to Alan (the old man's son), her husband Arthur no longer treated her as he once had. They had joined that partner exchange club and Sheng Yanzi, the born romantic, had enjoyed herself.

But eventually, during one of their "exchanges", Arthur had fallen for a Japanese woman. Both couples divorced and Arthur eventually married her. A bit later, Sheng Yanzi took up with a Chinese artist living in France. Then out of the blue she married a black African from the Congo. I had heard that he had participated in that couples' exchange club as well. His wife had run off with a Frenchman. The two of them commiserated and one thing led to another.

Graham and I had attended their wedding, but I'll write more about that later.

Sheng Yanzi decided it was time to return home to Shanghai. In order to see me one last time, she planned to stop in Tokyo for two days, then fly on to China.

I went to Narita Airport to pick her up. Upon seeing her with her young son Alan, the tears began to flow. We cried together for a while before we said anything.

I got them settled into a suite in Tokyo's best hotel, the Imperial.

We stayed up all night talking and crying.

I decided to adopt Alan. This sudden decision filled my eyes with tears as well. There were three things that moved me most: love, learning and the suffering of others. I had known all three.

I remember once traveling to a disaster sight in China for an interview. When I arrived and found the families of the survivors standing along the edge of the ocean, crying miserably, I couldn't help but join in and before I knew it, I was overcome with the same sadness. The story that grew from that experience was extremely moving.

I ran down to the lobby and placed a call to Amataka.

"Amataka, will you marry me?" I asked bluntly.

"Chunjie, what did you say?" He didn't want to believe that I had said what I had just said.

"I said, will you marry me now?" I repeated.

Amataka was silent for a minute. Was the moment he had dreamed about for so long finally here? "Chunjie, don't tease me! Today isn't April Fool's Day! Repeat what you just said one more time."

"Will you marry me? If I have a child?" I said again.

"A child -- what are you talking about? The more I hear the more confused I am. Tell me where you are and I'll come over. Let's talk about this face to face."

"OK, I'll wait for you in the lobby of the Imperial Hotel," I said.

I told Amataka the whole story.

Amataka thought for a while, then said, "After we're married, Alan can live with us. But we should have a child of our own as well. Will you have a boy and a girl for me?" For a moment Amataka was a child again.

"You, you'll never grow up! You're still holding on to that Mickey-Minnie fanstasy! OK, how about this – you go have a talk with Miura. Maybe he'll tell you the secret of how his wife gave birth to twins. Anyway, you're busy. Quick, go back to your office." I smiled as I spoke.

"OK, I'll see you tonight." His face blushed bright red and he floated from the hotel.

When it was time for Sheng Yanzi to leave Tokyo, Amataka and I sent her to the airport. She was determined to take Alan with her to meet the "old man". I sighed when I saw how much this woman who was now on the verge of death still loved that dirty old man.

There's just no perfect explanation for that thing called "love".

We accompanied mother and son as far as we could. She didn't wait for me to say a final goodbye, but just kept moving forward, like a little cat. I knew that she was already crying and she didn't want me to see her tear-stained face. She grew smaller and smaller, until I could barely see her tiny, weak frame. I couldn't hold it in any longer. The tears began to flow. I fell into Amataka's arms and cried miserably.

"Trust me, Yanzi, I'll take good care of Alan." I made a silent promise.

That was an unforgettable moment. On that rainy Friday afternoon at Narita Airport I bid farewell to a mother and her son. It was the most difficult thing I had ever had to do. What was the meaning of "separation"?

As far as I was concerned, the word "separation" no longer existed in my life. In that moment, I had exhausted it of all meaning. She was gone.

Soon after, Amataka and I began planning our wedding. I asked chief editor Mishima for a month's vacation. "Chunjie-san, it's finally happening. Congratulations! Is Graham coming to Tokyo or are you going to New York? Anyway, I'll definitely be there!" Mishima said.

"I'm sorry. I'm not marrying Graham," I said. Even I heard the loss in my voice.

Mishima looked shocked. Then he quickly rebounded with "Marriage is an important event. I'll definitely be there. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"Thank you. I'm going now. See you later," I replied in a tiny voice.

I turned and headed out of the office. I'm sure Mishima was completely confused. We had been deeply in love for years. Mishima had done everything he could to make things easier for me. Whenever an opportunity arose to travel to New York on business, he'd send me so Graham and I would have more time together. But now, we're not getting married. I'm sure he was thinking, what is going on?

Nothing really. Love is one thing; marriage is another. It's as simple as that.

I stopped by the nearby Sunshine Building to try on wedding dresses, and after trying on dress after dress, finally settled on a simple yet sexy gown. It fit me perfectly, as if it had been made especially for me. The lines were exquisite and it looked beautiful on. Once I had placed the veil upon my head, I had a hard time taking it off. It was just perfect. A woman is most beautiful in her wedding gown, when her heart is full of the excitement of that special day. I couldn't stop looking at myself in the mirror. I couldn't believe that the charming, graceful woman in the mirror was actually me. All of a sudden, Graham appeared behind me. He was looking at me both with surprise and admiration. I turned happily to face him, only to discover there was no one there. Graham had disappeared. I looked back in the mirror for him, but he was gone.

Could it have been my imagination, my subconscious, a final wish?

Forget about it.

I bought the wedding gown, but on the way home, I felt awful. I missed Graham so. I asked the heavens, why was it that I wasn't marrying the person who makes me wild with love for him? Why wasn't I marrying my Wall Street lover? Women…they just can't seem to make decisions. When they're with this one, they want the other. And when the other's around, they miss this one.

I gritted my teeth and told myself, who gives a care about Graham. Stop wasting your time. I'm going to forget everything. I'm going to a good wife to Amataka. I'm going to have babies with him. We're going to have a wonderful life and Alan will be a part of our family as well.

Amataka's parents and his sister Kayoko arrived in Tokyo from Los Angeles. I couldn't believe that the people who had tried so desperately to keep Amataka and me apart were now treating me like a long lost relative. They were so kind to me and even complimented their son for having such foresight! I smiled coolly, all the while thinking to myself, I'm still that divorced Chinese woman five years older than your son. Why isn't that important anymore?

Perhaps this is it: once a woman is a respected member of society, she's no longer herself!

Who am I?

Who was I?

Who will I be?

But,

Who am I today?

Who am I?

The day before the wedding I received a card from Sheng Yanzi in Shanghai. She included a rather shocking piece of information. When the "old man" saw that their son was the spitting image of him, he was thrilled. He didn't have a son. His only daughter had married and moved to Europe. He wanted to spend every minute he could with Alan. He also told his wife everything. Oddly enough, she kindly offered to take Alan into their home and treat him like her own son. Alan wouldn't be coming back to Tokyo after all.

I was both happy and disappointed. That tiny trickle of motherly love that I had felt toward Alan had to stop here. I decided to give Sheng Yanzi a call.

"Yanzi, I'm getting married tomorrow. Do you still remember the last time I got married? The night before we stayed up all night in my dorm room talking."

"Of course I remember, as if it were yesterday," she replied.

"You prediction, it actually came true. What about this time? What's your prediction this time?" I asked.

"Amataka is irreplaceable. There isn't another man on earth as pure as he is. You're lucky to have him. But I have a feeling you'll run away at the last moment. Your heart hasn't been yours for a long time now. Just think about the time you two spent in Paris. Your heart was stolen by that Wall Street man a long time ago…" She didn't speak too slowly, nor did she rush. She knew exactly what she was saying.

Damn, she's done it again. She's seen right through me. Will this be yet another mistake?

No, impossible.

On Christmas Eve in 1997, Amataka and I were finally going to be married.

The cute young boy I met ten years ago by the gates of Tokyo University, the same sad spirit who had placed a missing person ad in the newspaper, the young student who had walked alone along the coast of Sapporo, the charming man who made my eyes brighten and warmed me like a spring wind, was now going to become my husband.

A love had grown up; a man had matured.

The wedding was to be held on the second floor of the Imperial Hotel. When I arrived at three in the afternoon, I noticed that a sign had already been placed by the door which read: Wedding of Chishima Amataka and Wang Chunjie (second floor, River room).

My heart skipped a beat. Several years ago, Graham and I had spent a very special moment right here. In the elevator, we embraced each other and kissed wildly; in a room on the nineteenth floor, we had made passionate love…it hurt just to think about this. The me that took the revolving door out of the hotel that day and the love that followed – have turned into the me of today, the me that will soon settle for something else, marry someone else! I couldn't bare to even look at that elevator. It was as if I would burn myself if I touched it. I tried desperately to control myself. I told myself to stop thinking about it, just forget about it.

I took the stairway to the second floor. With the help of Amataka's cousin and sister, I put on a spectacular white wedding kimono, then a professional hairdresser did my hair and makeup.

While I was getting ready, I heard a few Japanese girls saying that the chief witnesses at tonight's wedding would be Takakura Ken and Wang Zhenzhi. Takakura was a leading actor and Wang, who was of Chinese ethnicity, was the father of Japanese baseball. I thought to myself, the Chishima family went out of their way this time!

I had calmed down by then, pulled out a compact mirror and began smiling at myself, trying all sorts of new bride poses. My smiles though made my face look worse than when I was crying. It was all just an act. There was nothing natural about me at all. What was wrong with me today? In a bit, am I really going to smile like this in front of two hundred people?

His tie was a nice surprise. I pointed to the Mickey Mouse embroidered at the bottom, then I rubbed his nose lightly twice with my finger. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?! His Mickey-Minnie obsession.

A traditional Japanese wedding ceremony took place in a small hall. Family members, elders, witnesses and a new couple gathered. Amataka and I, dressed in wedding kimonos, received their greetings.

An hour later, everyone had been seated in the hall. Amataka and I had changed from our kimonos into Western evening wear. The wedding ceremony had begun. The orchestra was playing the "Wedding March". As I listened to that dreamy, moving piece, I couldn't help myself; the tears began to fall. My feet grew heavy, so heavy that I couldn't move forward. "Farewell, Graham." I said goodbye one last time. Then arm in arm, Amataka and I stepped upon the red carpet and made our way to the altar…

At that very moment, Graham arrived. The rest was more dramatic than a Hollywood film. Even Takakura Ken couldn't tell if this were a wedding or a dramatic rehearsal. He couldn't figure it out. He'd been making movies for most of his life and he had always been the star, but this time he wasn't even a supporting actor.

You've got to play a bit role this time, Mr. Takakura. My apologies.

Graham had brought a halt to the marriage ceremony. He grabbed my arms and said, "Chunjie, I've divorced Sophie. I'm proposing to you. Marry me." Before the last phrase was spoken, he was down on bended knee.

"It's too late, too late…" I lost it for a moment.

"My love, have you forgotten your promise? Ask that friend of yours in Paris…Yanzi. She heard it herself. She was a witness." Graham searched the room looking for Sheng Yanzi.

Amataka ordered him to leave. Amataka's father and Takakura Ken both begged him in English to let me go. A room that had a minute ago been as silent as a peacock, now erupted into chaos.

Who knows from where, but Amataka suddenly produced a samurai sword and was about to swing in Graham's direction. I was desperately frightened. When Amataka was a child, his grandfather has sent him to study martial arts. He was quite skilled and Graham was no match for him.

I held Amataka back, "Amataka, don't hurt Graham. Kill me. I won't blame you." I couldn't go on. I began moaning…Amataka's mother grabbed his hand and with tears in her eyes, she begged him to take control of himself.

Graham walked over to Amataka and bowed deeply before him. "Amataka, I'm sorry. I've hurt you. But I simply can't live without Chunjie. Give her to me please. She should be my bride. It's all my fault. I couldn't marry her. I made her wait too long. But now I'm finally free. We can get married. I just cannot lose her. She's mine, she's mine. I'm begging you. I'm begging you…" Like a wild man, he implored Amataka.

Amataka took my hand and knelt before me. "Chunjie, you decide."

Mishima had been standing by my side the whole time, guarding me like a father. But now he was silent. His face was blank.

This was the most difficult, most painful and most urgent decision I've had to make in my entire life. I watched as friends lifted Amataka from the floor and led him to the lounge.

I lifted my head and saw Graham walking in my direction. His eyes pierced me like two fiery beams of light. I wanted to escape, but before I knew it he had already pulled me into his embrace. I tried to struggle free…

All of a sudden like a wild dog he grabbed me and made his way for the door. I didn't have time to think. Oddly enough, I remembered to take my evening bag, and out the door we ran. I didn't fight it. I just wanted to get out of that chaotic, embarrassing place. I hiked up my gown, ran down the stairs, and followed him into a taxi.

Even now, four years later, I can still hear the beating heart of that bride in the taxi and I can see those two lovers hugging and kissing with wild abandon. Graham had me look at my tear stained face in the rearview mirror. Good God! The heavy makeup mixed with the salty tears had turned me into a clown – a splotch of red here, a patch of green there. The brightness of our laughter filled the air as the taxi sped through Ginza.

Today, four years later, I'm ashamed that life played out like a scene from a movie that day. I deeply regret that I will never have the chance to repay Amataka's affections.

I've often thought, if Graham had showed up a bit later, things would have been different. I might be a mother by now, holding "Mickey" on my left arm and "Minnie" on the right, living out my days happily beneath the Japanese sun.

But in a crazy twist of fate, both of them are dead. I'm still alive, alive in hell.

There are no "ifs" in this life; and I can't bring either of the men I loved back.

I'm alive, but I can't live. I can't stand this anymore.

I can't erase that eternal image from my mind: a well-respected Wall Street businessman and a handsome, intelligent Japanese computer technician kneeling before me, a regular Chinese woman.

Love can often make one do things that she would otherwise never do.

Beauty has never been my weapon. There are thousands of women more beautiful than I am. It's not my warmth, nor is it my many varied moods. It's nothing like that. I've been able to conquer men's hearts because I'm nothing. I'm nothing but that little blue love spirit, a tiny forget-me-not. Love flows through my veins. Love is my life.

Most people come to this earth on a mission. My mission has been to show the people I love the meaning of love. I've said that if in the end one man and one woman were left on this earth to live out their days on a deserted island, that would be my lover and I.

But now what's left of my life? Those I've loved have taken my heart with them…can I continue to be that little blue love spirit?

The sun once shone brightly over the island of Japan, but it has since slipped below the horizon. Perhaps in the future, it will dazzle the world again. Who knows. Regardless, she is no longer mine. I salute that white flag with the red sun. I despise a portion of Japanese history, yet I cheer the Japanese people for what they've given to the world. This is the homeland of Kawabata Yasunari. Even more importantly, this is the place where the spirit of that beautiful young Japanese boy who lives on forever in my heart finally came to rest…