by Shi Tiesheng
“你说什么叫？”
这回轮到小瞎子笑，光笑不答。兰秀儿明白准不是好话，红着脸不再问。
音乐播完了，一个女人说：“现在是讲卫生节目。”
"Huh?" Lanxiu had not heard it clearly.
"A program about hygiene."
"What's that?"
"Hmm — do you have lice in your hair?"
"Hey! Don't touch me!"
The lad quickly drew back his hand, and hurriedly explained, "If you have lice, that means you don't pay attention to hygiene."
"No! Absolutely not!" Lanxiu scratched her head and felt something itchy. "Hey! Look what I found on you! "she said, holding his head. "Look at these big ones I caught."
At that moment they heard the old man calling from halfway up the hill: "Boy, why haven't you come back yet? It's time to make dinner, then after we finish eating, we have to go tell stories." He had been standing there listening for some time.
It was already dusk in Goat Valley. From the midst of the jumble of sounds — sheep, donkeys, dogs and children — one could see the smoke rising from the kitchen chimneys. Up on Goat Hill the small temple silently rested in the middle of the day's last faint glow of sunlight.
“啥？”兰秀儿没听清。
“讲卫生。”
“是什么？”
“嗯—，你头发上有虱子吗？”
“去—，别动！”
小瞎子赶忙缩回手来，赶忙解释：“要有就是不讲卫生。”
“我才没有。”兰秀儿抓抓头，觉得有些刺痒。“噫—，瞧你自个儿吧！”兰秀儿一把搬过小瞎子的头。“看我捉几个大的。”
这时候听见老瞎子在半山上喊：“小子，还不给我回来！该做饭了，吃罢饭还得去说书！”他已经站在那儿听了好一会儿了。
野羊坳里已经昏暗，羊叫、驴叫、狗叫、孩子们叫，处处起了炊烟。野羊岭上还有一线残阳，小庙正在那淡薄的光中，没有声响。
The lad was again bent over building a fire, rump protruding. The old man sat to the side washing the rice; he used his sense of hearing to pick out bits of sand and grit.
"The wood is dry today," said the lad.
"Uh-huh."
"Boiled millet again?"
"Uh-huh."
The lad was full of pep and eager to talk, but the master was still out of sorts — better to keep quiet and avoid trouble. Each of them silently went about the business of preparing their meal.
It was past nightfall when the lad put millet into a bowl and passed it to his master. "Go ahead," he spoke nervously, uncharacteristically diffident.
The old man finally spoke. "You listen to me for a minute, O.K.?"
"Uh-huh," came his garbled reply as he stuffed the food into his mouth.
"If you're not going to listen, I won't bother."
"Who said I wouldn't listen? I said 'Uh-huh'!”
"I have experience; I understand many things you don't."
小瞎子又撅着屁股烧火。老瞎子坐在一旁淘米，凭着听觉他能把米中的沙子捡出来。
“今天的柴挺干。”小瞎子说。
“嗯。”
“还是焖饭？”
“嗯。”
小瞎子这会儿精神百倍，很想找些话说，但是知道师父的气还没消，心说还是少找骂。
两个人默默地干着自己的事，又默默地一块儿把饭做熟。岭上也没了阳光。
小瞎子盛了一碗小米饭，先给师父：“您吃吧。”声音怯怯的，无比驯顺。
老瞎子终于开了腔：“小子，你听我一句行不？”
“嗯。”小瞎子往嘴里扒拉饭，回答得含糊。
“你要是不愿意听，我就不说。”
“谁说不愿意听了？我说‘嗯’!"
“我是过来人，总比你知道的多。”
The lad silently stuffed the food into his mouth.
"I've been through that before."
"Been through what?"
"You're getting smart with me again!" The old man flung his chopsticks onto the stovetop.
"Lanxiu just wanted to hear the electric box. We were just listening to the electric box together."
"And what else?"
"Nothing else."
"Nothing?"
"And I asked her if she'd ever seen a twisting corridor."
"That's not what I'm talking about!”小瞎子闷头扒拉饭。
“我经过那号事。”
“什么事？”
“又跟我贫嘴！”老瞎子把筷子往灶台上一摔。
“兰秀儿光是想听听电匣子。我们光是一块儿听电匣子来。”
“还有呢？”
“没有了。”
“没有了？”
“我还问她见没见过曲折的油狼。”
“我没问你这个！”
"And then — and then —” the lad fell short on pluck. "I don't know how but we were soon talking about lice..."
"And what else?"
"That's all. Really, that's all!"
The two of them continued their meal in silence. The old man had looked after his apprentice for several years and he knew the child would not lie: more than anything else, his honesty was beyond reproof.
"Listen to me for a minute; I guarantee it won't hurt you; keep your distance from that girl."
"Lanxiu is a good person."
"I know she is, but it's better if you keep a distance from her. Many years ago my master told me the same thing — and I didn't believe it either."
"Your master? Speaking about Lanxiu?"
"Not about Lanxiu. She wasn't even born then; neither of you had been born yet." The old man, long-faced, turned toward the dense sunset colour on the horizon, his bonelike eyes flitting uncontrollably. After a long while, the lad spoke: "Tonight you can probably play through another string." He wanted the master to feel happy.
“后来，后来，”小瞎子不那么气壮了，“不知怎么一下就说起了虱子……”
“还有呢？”
“没了。真没了！”
两个人又默默地吃饭。老瞎子带了这徒弟好几年，知道这孩子不会撒谎，这孩子最让人放心的地方就是诚实、厚道。
“听我一句话，保准对你没坏处。以后离那妮子远点儿。”
“兰秀儿人不坏。”
“我知道她不坏，可你离她远点儿好。早年你师爷这么跟我说，我也不信……”
“师爷？说兰秀儿？”
“什么兰秀儿，那会儿还没她呢。那会儿还没有你们呢……”老瞎子阴郁的脸又转向暮色浓重的天际，骨头一样白色的眼珠不住地转动，不知道在那儿他能“看”见什么。
许久，小瞎子说：“今儿晚上您多半又能弹断一根琴弦。”想让师父高兴些。
On this night the master and the apprentice again told stories in Goat Valley.
Last time we sang of Luo Cheng's death,
and his soul's journey to the netherworld.
Don't make a sound, don't make a fuss, gentle folk.
Remain orderly and listen while I sing the sequel.
Luo Cheng's spirit left its place in Hades,
and a whirlwind raised his body.
In a gusty rush comes the wind,
Chang'an lies not far before us.
The old man's banjo sounded sloppy, as did the lad's. The lad was enjoying the memory of feeling that pair of soft, gentle hands on his face, and of having his head brushed
by Lanxiu. The old man was thinking of much more than that.
这天晚上师徒俩又在野羊坳说书。“上回唱到罗成死，三魂七魄赴幽冥，听歌君子莫嘈嚷，列位听我道下文。罗成阴魂出地府，一阵旋风就起身，旋风一阵来得快，长安不远面前存……”老瞎子的琴声也乱，小瞎子的琴声也乱。小瞎子回忆着那双柔软的小手捂在自己脸上的感觉，还有自己的头被兰秀儿搬过去时的滋味。老瞎子想起的事情更多……
That night the old man tossed and turned; so many things from the past cluttered his mind he had a steady din in his ears and unrest in his heart, and deep inside he felt as if something were about to burst. The old illness was attacking again, he thought. He at once felt dizziness, a strange pressure in his abdomen, and general discomfort throughout his body. He sat upright and mumbled to himself, "I can't fall sick again; if I fall sick then the chance to play through those strings this year will be lost." He touched his banjo again; if he could only strum a few bars, flowing with the whims and fancies of his heart, then the thoughts and anguish on his mind might subside. But the lad was sleeping peacefully.
His only recourse was to think about that medicine and the banjo strings: he still had a few strings to go, just the last few strings. Then he could go get that medicine, then he could see the world: the mountains he had climbed, the paths he had trodden, the sun whose warmth and blazing heat he had felt all those countless times, and the moon and stars — and what else? Suddenly he felt a great emptiness inside; had it all been just for this? What else was there? In his sleepy daze, the things he hoped for seemed much more than just these things.
The night breeze ambled about the mountain.
An owl hooted her sorrowful call.
夜里老瞎子翻来覆去睡不安稳，多少往事在他耳边喧嚣，在他心头动荡，身体里仿佛有什么东西要爆炸。坏了，要犯病，他想。头昏，胸口憋闷，浑身紧巴巴地难受。他坐起来，对自己叨咕：“可别犯病，一犯病今年就甭想弹够那些琴弦了。”他又摸到琴。要能叮叮当当随心所欲地疯弹一阵，心头的忧伤或许就能平息，耳边的往事或许就会消散。可是小瞎子正睡得香甜。
他只好再全力去想那张药方和琴弦：还剩下几根，还只剩最后几根了。那时就可以去抓药了，然后就能看见这个世界—他无数次爬过的山，无数次走过的路，无数次感到过她的温暖和炽热的太阳，无数次梦想着的蓝天、月亮和星星……还有呢？突然间心里一阵空，空得深重。就只为了这些？还有什么？他朦胧中所盼望的东西似乎比这要多得多……
夜风在山里游荡。
猫头鹰又在凄哀地叫。
But now he was old, and in any case he had just a few more years; what was lost was lost forever: that is what he seemed to have just realized. Seventy years of suffering and hardship, all for the purpose of getting one look at the world — was it worth it?
The lad laughed in his sleep, and dreamt aloud, saying, "It's a chair, Lanxiu."
The old man sat quietly. Sitting equally quietly were those three clay deities which were neither clearly Buddhist nor Taoist statues.
At the sound of the first cock crow the old man decided that at dawn he would leave Goat Valley with the boy. Lanxiu was a good person, but the prospects for these two was something the old blindman could "see" most clearly. At the second cock crow he began to gather their things.
But upon waking, the lad was found to be ill, having both a bad stomach and a fever. The old man had to set back the date of departure. For several days straight the old man busied himself building fires, washing rice, collecting firewood, or uprooting and boiling medicinal herbs, all the while consoling himself. "It's worth it; of course it's worth it." It seemed that repeating those words was his only hope of countering the enervation of despair. "I must have one look. What else was there? To quit now and die? And besides, I only have a few strings left to go." The old man regained his composure and went down each evening to tell stories in Goat Valley.
不过现在他老了，无论如何没几年活头了，失去的已经永远失去了，他像是刚刚意识到这一点。七十年中所受的全部辛苦就为了最后能看一眼世界，这值得吗？他问自己。
小瞎子在梦里笑，在梦里说：“那是一把椅子，兰秀儿……”
老瞎子静静地坐着。静静地坐着的还有那三尊分不清是佛是道的泥像。
鸡叫头遍的时候老瞎子决定，天一亮就带这孩子离开野羊坳。否则这孩子受不了，他自己也受不了。兰秀儿人不坏，可这事会怎么结局，老瞎子比谁都“看”得清楚。鸡叫二遍，老瞎子开始收拾行李。
可是一早起来小瞎子病了，肚子疼，随即又发烧。老瞎子只好把行期推迟。
一连好几天，老瞎子无论是烧火、淘米、捡柴，还是给小瞎子挖药、煎药，心里总在说：“值得，当然值得。”要是不这么反反复复对自己说，身上的力气似乎就全要垮掉。“我非要最后看一眼不可。”“要不怎么着？就这么死了去？”“再说就只剩下最后几根了。”后面三句都是理由。老瞎子又冷静下来，天天晚上还到野羊坳去说书。
This unexpectedly brought good fortune to the lad. Each evening after the master had descended the hill, Lanxiu would steal into the temple to hear the electric box. She would also bring hard-boiled eggs, on the condition that he let her manipulate the controls of the electric box. "Which way should I twist?"
"To the right."
"It won't twist."
"To the right, dummy — don't you know which way is right?"
The box crackled with static — it seemed to make all kinds of sounds — but regardless, the two of them loved to listen.
After a few days the old man had played through three more strings.
One night, he was down in Goat Valley alone, playing and singing:
Today we'll not sing of Luo Cheng's reincarnation,
But instead the Qin Prince Li Shimin.
Upon hearing of the death of his most loyal minister,
The Prince shed tears.
"Your death," he said, "is, for some, of no consequence, But for me it means I have no one worthy to be my general."
这一下小瞎子倒来了福气。每天晚上师父到岭下去了，兰秀儿就猫似的轻轻跳进庙里来听匣子。兰秀儿还带来熟的鸡蛋，条件是得让她亲手去扭那匣子的开关。“往哪边扭？”“往右。”“扭不动。”“往右，笨货，不知道哪边是右哇？”“咔哒”一下，无论是什么便响起来，无论是什么俩人都爱听。
又过了几天，老瞎子又弹断了三根琴弦。
这一晚，老瞎子在野羊坳里自弹自唱：“不表罗成投胎事，又唱秦王李世民。秦王一听双泪流，可怜爱卿丧残身，你死一身不打紧，缺少扶朝上将军……”
Meanwhile a lively scene was taking place inside the temple on Goat Mountain: the electric box was blaring the sounds of an embattled city — a youth crying, an adult shouting, rumbling of explosions, the call of trumpets. The moonlight beamed into the main hall, where the lad was reclined nibbling a hard-boiled egg, and Lanxiu was seated by his side. Both of them listened eagerly and occasionally laughed, sometimes not even knowing why.
"Where did your master get this electric box?"
"From someone outside the mountains."
"Have you ever been outside the mountains?"
"No. But I'll go someday; I'll take a ride on a train."
"A train?"
"You don't know what a train is either? Dummy!"
"Oh, I know, I know. It spouts puffs of smoke, right?"
After a while, Lanxiu said, "Maybe sometime I'll go outside the mountains." She spoke a little uneasily.
"Do you think all the people outside the mountains have electric boxes?"
野羊岭上的小庙里这时更热闹。电匣子的音量开得挺大，又是孩子哭，又是大人喊，轰隆隆地又响炮，嘀嘀哒哒地又吹号。月光照进正殿，小瞎子躺着啃鸡蛋，兰秀儿坐在他旁边。两个人都听得兴奋，时而大笑，时而稀里糊涂莫名其妙。
“这匣子你师父哪买来？”
“从一个山外头的人手里。”
“你们到山外头去过？”兰秀儿问。
“没。我早晚要去一回就是，坐坐火车。”
“火车？”
“火车你也不知道？笨货。”
“噢，知道知道，冒烟哩是不是？”
过了一会儿兰秀儿又说：“保不准我就得到山外头去。”语调有些恓惶。
“是吗？”小瞎子一挺坐起来：“那你到底瞧瞧曲折的油狼是什么。”
“你说是不是山外头的人都有电匣子？”
"Who knows. Did you hear me clearly? This twisting corridor is outside the mountains."
"Then I must get an electric box from them," Lanxiu mused to herself.
"You want one?" The lad chuckled, then laughed without restraint. "Why not get two, seeing as how you're so clever. Ha, do you know how many thousands of yuan this box cost? Even if you sold yourself, I doubt if you could buy one."
Lanxiu felt at once hurt and indignant. She grabbed the lad's ear, and twisting with force, cursed, "Go to hell blind boy."
The two of them began wrestling inside the temple. The three clay statues watched impassively. The two youths collided, their pubescent bodies became entangled, one pressed down on top of the other, then the reverse, and their curses changed to laughter.
Exhausted, they ceased struggling and lay sprawled together on the ground facing each other, hearts pounding, gasping for breath, neither of them willing to pull away from the other. Lanxiu's breath blew on the lad's face; he felt her allure, and recalling his master's words that day while he was building the fire, he blew on Lanxiu's face. Lanxiu did not shy away.