Love In No Man's Land

by Duo Ji Zhuo Ga

  ‘Brother, you said that Chanaluo has an iron chain on top of it. Our Tajiapu does too!’ Yongxi said, searching for something to talk about.

  Gongzha lifted his head to look at the cloud-encircled peak. ‘On the summit?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve been up there to see it – it looks as if it’s growing out of the rock.’

  Gongzha’s heart stirred, but he said nothing. He thought about the chain, that strange symbol, the vanished Nacangdeba, the enigmatic statue of the Medicine Buddha… Try as he might, he still didn’t understand what it all meant.

  ‘The elders say that the chain was used to tether a Wolf Spirit meant to keep watch over the part of Princess Gesar’s treasure that was hidden on Tajiapu.’

  ‘A Wolf Spirit?’ How could there be another chained Wolf Spirit? Gongzha thought to himself. Chanaluo’s chain was to bind a Wolf Spirit, Tajiapu’s chain was also to bind a Wolf Spirit, although one was meant to guard the grassland and the other to guard treasure. Chanaluo and Tajiapu stood over five hundred kilometres apart and seemed unconnected, but there was apparently a mysterious, hidden thread that linked them.

  By the time they’d crossed the snow mountain, the sky was already darkening. They found a place out of the wind, tethered the ropes to the ground, lined up the yaks and tied them together, and left the dog to watch them. Then they selected a yak each and lay down beside its soft, warm belly.

  Under the night sky, Yongxi’s black eyes gleamed like two stars. When Gongzha sensed her gaze resting on him as he lay in his nest by the yak’s side, he was well aware of its meaning. But his heart had already followed Cuomu to a distant place. It would be hard for him to fall for another woman.

  ‘Brother Gongzha,’ Yongxi complained lightly, ‘I’m so cold!’

  Gongzha threw his chuba over to her.

  ‘What will you do?’ Yongxi lifted up the chuba and covered herself with it, looking at him with an air of quiet complaint. How could he understand so little about attraction? If it had been one of the shadow hunters in his place, they would have come over to her long ago.

  ‘I’m used to it!’ Gongzha said, and closed his eyes. It was not that he had no desire for a woman, it was that when he was alone at night, he usually thought of Cuomu’s warm body. He could not allow another woman to take her place.

  As soon as dawn broke, Yongxi got up and made a fire with some yak pats to boil tea. They ate some meat, then freed the yaks and continued on.

  When they were almost at the pasture, Gongzha discovered that two wild yaks were following them. That didn’t surprise or worry him. Yaks were not like wolves: as grass-eating animals, they didn’t hurt people unless they were angry. It was their mating season, and unlike the domesticated yaks, the wild bulls had to fight for the right to mate. Those that lost out would quite often set their sights on the domesticated yak herd, and because they were three times larger than the domesticated bulls, they were usually successful. The mating life of a yak was a real example of survival of the fittest. The main thing to watch out for was that the domesticated females didn’t run off with the wild bulls. Gongzha instructed the dog to watch the yaks carefully and to keep the females from leaving the herd.

  There was no one else at the new pasture; the black tent stood all alone between heaven and earth. Gongzha did not sleep that night but took his gun and rode around the area. When he failed to find any traces of wolves or bears, he was relieved. Even so, he was reluctant to leave Yongxi all alone in the wilderness, far from any signs of human life, while he returned for her grandmother. On Cuoe Grassland, a young woman of Yongxi’s age would never have been out on her own on such a lonely pasture. She would have stayed with the family tent under the protection of her father and brothers. But Yongxi was used to that way of life, used to dealing with the wind and rain of the wilderness. She and her grandmother had struggled on by themselves since her childhood, and she knew how to keep herself safe.

  When the sun had risen in the sky, it was time for Gongzha to leave. He didn’t want Yongxi’s grandmother to bring the heavy wagon over the snow mountain by herself.

  Yongxi stood by the tent and handed the gun to Gongzha. ‘You should take the gun – what if you meet some wolves? I’ll be fine. I’ve got the dog for company, haven’t I?’

  ‘I’m a man!’ Gongzha said, and leapt onto his horse.

  As he whipped it to urge it forward, Yongxi said loudly, ‘Brother…’

  Gongzha turned and shot her a questioning look.

  ‘You… you’ll come back, won’t you?’ she asked gloomily, tears welling in her eyes. She truly feared he might not return.

  ‘Don’t worry.’ Gongzha whipped the horse’s rump fiercely and rode off into the reddened morning clouds, leaving a column of dust in his wake.

  Yongxi watched his silhouette disappear into the light on the horizon. Then she turned around and began to tidy up, humming a herder’s song.

  A pack of wild asses trotted over. When they saw Yongxi busying herself around her tent, they were startled but not afraid. They’d got used to seeing that tent there over the years. The two wild yak bulls slowly drew close.

  *

  They had finally finished moving to the new pasture. Because Gongzha was there, the two wild yak bulls had left again. But now a trail of dust was floating towards them, kicked up from some distance away. Yongxi suddenly came running back to the tent from the foot of the mountain, waving her hands and yelling to Gongzha, ‘Brother, you must leave quickly! Qiangba is coming with a posse!’

  Yongxi was clearly scared out of her wits, but Gongzha had no idea why.

  She ran over and began pushing Gongzha towards his horse. ‘It’s the man who came to the tent that night, he’s brought a posse to take revenge on you for throwing him out. They have guns – they’re poachers and they wouldn’t think twice about killing someone. Go quickly, Brother! Quick! Once you get over the snow mountain you’ll be on a grassland so vast that not even an eagle can spot a sparrow there.’

  Gongzha stood his ground. He turned, patted Yongxi on the shoulder, then went into the tent and brought out his old gun. He placed the forked stand on the ground and kept one hand on the butt. His chuba was tied around his waist as always, its greying sheep’s wool drifting in the wind. He stood in front of the tent with his legs planted wide and watched with narrowed eyes as the riders raced towards them from the mountains. It was as if he was observing a herd of wild asses running freely and considering whether or not to fire a shot to scare them.

  The posse was heading straight for them. When they saw Gongzha and Yongxi, they tried to bunch their horses together, to look as threatening as possible. But the horses wouldn’t obey; they scattered left and right and cast the formation into disarray.

  The young man that Gongzha had thrown out of the tent that night was one of the posse. He leapt off his horse and glared angrily at Gongzha. Then he turned to the centre of the posse and addressed a stern-faced man wearing a red fox-fur hat and black leather clothes and sitting astride a black horse. ‘It’s him, boss, he’s the one that chucked me out. An outsider who has the audacity to break our rules – he shows us too little respect.’

  ‘Qiangba, this has nothing to do with him.’ Yongxi moved to stand in front of Gongzha. ‘He’s only passing through – he’s a guest of our grassland,’ she said angrily.

  Qiangba glanced at Gongzha. ‘He must abide by grassland rules, Yongxi,’ he said nastily. ‘He has interfered in our affairs and now he must take the consequences.’

  Gongzha pushed past Yongxi and gave Qiangba a cool stare. ‘The grassland has another rule: if you want to win a woman, her heart is more important than her body.’

  ‘What grassland man doesn’t go visiting? You’re an outsider, what right do you have to concern yourself with what I do?’ Qiangba patted his gun.

  ‘Since I have concerned myself, I’m not going to back down now,’ Gongzha said lightly.

  He looked at the man on the black horse: the image of an eagle about to
take flight was displayed on the horse’s bridle, a clear sign of its owner’s status. The rider was Jijia, the leader of the shadow hunters. It was said he would kill a man without blinking and that it was he who was responsible for slaughtering the Tibetan antelopes in the area. It was also said that he had a good heart and that when disaster struck he would help the poor without leaving his name. One rumour followed another. Very few people on the grassland had seen him – they only knew that whenever his eagle appeared, blood and trouble followed.

  ‘You don’t like Qiangba?’ Jijia asked, shooting Yongxi a playful look from under the brim of his fox-fur hat. The sound of his voice was dry and scratchy, like sand being ground over paper.

  Yongxi raised her eyes and couldn’t help shivering as she looked at the arrogant man. She lowered her head but her words were clear. ‘I don’t like him.’

  Jijia looked at his men and said, ‘Leave this woman out of it!’

  ‘Boss…’ Qiangba lifted his head to protest, but when he saw the serious expression on his boss’s face, he dropped his gaze. Even though men were free to visit tents, the desire for an encounter had to be mutual. If it became known that a man had forced a woman, that would not go down well. Of course, out there in the wilderness, even if there was such a rumour, how many people would hear it? That was why Qiangba did what he liked.

  Jijia turned back to Gongzha and said unhurriedly, ‘However, you have broken our grassland’s rules. This affair must be resolved.’

  ‘How shall we resolve it?’ Gongzha said, looking markedly unconcerned.

  His cool attitude irritated Jijia. No one out there in the wilderness disrespected him: he was always treated with fear and reverence. That was the rule. So what gave this man, this grassland wanderer, the right to look at him with such levity? ‘How about this?’ he said. ‘We will do as we always do on the grassland: you will shoot it out on horseback, from a distance of a hundred paces, and let fate take its course.’

  ‘Boss…’ Qiangba called back, clearly annoyed.

  ‘Alright!’ Gongzha said in a low voice. At his whistle, the old brown horse that had accompanied him all those years trotted over. Gongzha mounted and without a second glance at the posse rode out into the sandy wastes.

  Qiangba glanced at Yongxi with irritation. He had no option but to climb onto the back of his horse and follow suit.

  Yongxi looked at the horses, standing waiting in the distance, and hurried over to Jijia. ‘Why are you making them gamble their lives? Why are you so cruel? Is slaughtering antelopes not enough? Do you have to slaughter people too?’

  When the men around Jijia heard Yongxi’s words, they straightened up and stared at her with wide eyes. In all their years roaming the wilderness with Jijia, they’d never come across anyone who’d dared raise her voice to their boss like that. For a moment they were so shocked, they forgot they were supposed to shout her down.

  ‘Who is it that you don’t want to die?’ Jijia didn’t seem to mind this herder girl shouting at him at all. He was calm, as if she’d just asked him something quite unimportant.

  Seeing how cool Jijia was, Yongxi spat out her reply. ‘Neither of them should die. It’s you that should die.’ She regretted her words as soon as she’d said them. What was she doing provoking this notorious demon, the most evil man in the wilderness? If she pushed too far, it wouldn’t take a genius to imagine the consequences.

  ‘I should die?’ Jijia leapt off his horse and strode angrily over to Yongxi, his whip raised ready to strike.

  The other horsemen were taken aback. ‘Boss, she’s a woman!’

  ‘You…’ Jijia’s face was livid with rage. Looking at Yongxi’s impassive expression, all he wanted to do was to thrash her. He had never hit a woman, but this woman had made him incandescent with anger. In the end, the whip did not fall. Instead, he inwardly cursed this impossible woman; he wanted to pick her up and hurl her into the void.

  Jijia’s eyes burnt fiercely, but Yongxi showed no fear. Only heaven knew how afraid she really was and how she longed for a crevice to rush into and hide.

  Jijia felt a great fire rising within him: he wanted to curse someone or even kill someone. This woman was irrational – didn’t she know he was helping her? If the conflict didn’t get resolved today, those two men would be forever fighting over her and her small tent would know no peace.

  ‘You really don’t want either of them to die?’

  ‘Of course not. Do you think I’m like you, as careless with people’s lives as if they were sand or grass?’

  ‘Am I some sort of demon to you?’ Jijia’s eyes blazed again. He took a step forward and glowered at Yongxi.

  ‘Bah, a demon is a hundred times better.’ Yongxi lifted her head and stared at him as she waited for the whip to fall.

  Looking at her stony face, a strange new thought suddenly came into Jijia’s head. It seemed this woman considered him to be beneath her; she was behaving as if he was a piece of grit, a grain of sand that she wanted to keep from getting into her eyes. What if the grain of sand were to land on her? The thought brought a cold, malicious smile to his lips. ‘If you are determined that neither of them should die, we can arrange that. There is a way. But I’m not sure you’ll agree to it.’

  Seeing his chilly smile, Yongxi couldn’t stop herself from trembling. This demon who would kill without batting an eye… who knew what kinds of torturous ideas circled in his head?

  ‘If you’re not interested, then forget about it. Let one of them die. Once one of them is dead, you’ll be safe.’ Jijia gave a faint smile and laughed carelessly. He turned and raised his hand, preparing to shout the signal to begin.

  ‘No, I don’t want either of them to die,’ Yongxi shouted fearfully. ‘Tell me, what’s the alternative?’

  Jijia turned his head and, paying no heed to what was happening, and without changing his expression or letting his heart race, said quietly but clearly, as if this was all just part of the plan, ‘Be my woman.’

  ‘What?’ Yongxi looked at him in shock, thinking she’d misheard.

  ‘What?’ The men stared at their boss in surprise, also thinking they’d misheard.

  ‘If you become my woman, Qiangba won’t dare bother you again. As for that man, he can live.’

  Yongxi rolled her eyes. ‘You’re so sure Gongzha will die?’ she said uncooperatively.

  ‘He’s called Gongzha?’ Jijia pretended not to see the look of amazement on his men’s faces. He kept his eyes on Yongxi, speaking softly as if he was reasoning with an intransigent child. ‘If Qiangba dies, things will be even worse for you and your grandmother. My companions are not very reasonable men; they’re not going to watch their comrade die and do nothing about it, are they? Even if I help you, I can’t watch them every day, and once my back is turned, they may come and find you and take their revenge.’ Jijia raised his voice when he said this and added threateningly, ‘Isn’t that right, brothers?’

  The other men knew perfectly well that even if Qiangba died, they wouldn’t seek revenge. The grassland rules were clear: if a dispute was to be resolved with a fight and that fight was fairly won, that was the end of it, no matter who died. Even so, the men all nodded vigorously and shouted, ‘Of course, boss, of course we’d take revenge.’

  ‘Alright, I agree,’ Yongxi shouted in despair; she couldn’t bear to hear any more.

  Jijia smiled and glanced at the man to his right. In tacit understanding, the man galloped off, shouting, ‘Don’t fire! The woman belongs to our boss. You don’t need to fight!’

  ‘What?’ Qiangba turned round, his eyes as large as a yak’s. ‘What did you say? She’s our boss’s woman?’

  ‘Our boss has taken a fancy to her, so she’s our boss’s woman!’

  Qiangba noted his comrade’s serious tone and glanced back at his boss, who seemed to be embracing the woman and smiling contentedly. He had no choice but to shoulder his gun and reluctantly ride back, his head low.

  Yongxi’s eyes were full of loathin
g. As Jijia stared into them, he kept his expression neutral, even though he was laughing inside. ‘I have to go. I’ll come and get you when I’ve taken care of my affairs. And don’t forget that you agreed to be my woman. I don’t like the idea of other men living in my woman’s tent.’ He leapt onto his horse. ‘I’ll come and visit you in ten days.’ And with that, he whipped his horse and led the posse away. They disappeared into the distance in a flash.

  The wilderness became peaceful again. Several white clouds hung from the blue curtain of the heavens. On the distant sand dunes, antelopes gazed curiously at their surrounds. Herds of yak and sheep nibbled lazily at the grass.

  Yongxi’s life was now quite different to what it had been. Gongzha took on all the work she used to do, so most of the time now she did nothing but churn butter or untie her plaits and redo them. What she wanted was a dependable man who could support a tent. Someone like Gongzha. Someone who would only have one woman in his heart and who would stay at his own pasture.

  She sat on the sandy ground holding a small lamb, watching the figure of the man busying himself in the sunlight, a smile on her lips. How wonderful it would be if things could always be like this!

  Gongzha reapplied mud to the lamb pen, fixed the holes in the tent where the wind blew in, cleared the area around the pasture, and scared away the lone wolves that were eyeing the flock. When everything was finally in order, he began to pack his things, although he didn’t have much to pack. His clothes doubled as blankets, his riding boots were already on his feet, his gun was leaning next to the stove, and the powder was in its leather bag; he only had to mount his horse and then he could go.

  He was worried about how to tell them he was leaving. The old woman and Yongxi had been very good to him, and his heart, which had been wandering for so long, had been touched by their warmth. Particularly Yongxi, and she’d hinted several times that Granny also hoped he might stay. It wasn’t that he misunderstood what staying would mean; it was that his heart was already full, and he had no way of emptying it and filling it with a new life. He thought that if Cuomu had still been with him, he’d have felt so blessed, he wouldn’t have considered taking even a single step away from their tent.