Peach Blossom Paradise

by Ge Fei

  “Sounds like they’re the ones who ruined everything,” Xiumi said.

  “Not entirely. Had Wang Guancheng himself not let the wolves in with the sheep, the village would still be what it was,” Han Liu mused, picking her teeth. “Or, if he had simply kept to himself and lived out his days here on the island, Huajiashe would still be Huajiashe—farmers up at dawn and home at dusk. Though it would never have been glorious, it would have escaped this new disaster.

  “At first, Huajiashe was nothing more than an idea. But the moment he reached out for it, set out to make it a reality, it moved beyond his control. Buddhism says that all things in the universe are born from the mind and made by it, yet no one expects that in the end, it all turns out to be an illusion that disappears before your eyes like a burst soap bubble. Wang Guancheng was committed to transforming Huajiashe into a world-famous Peach Blossom Spring, yet he ends up dying beneath the ax he taught his killer to swing and dragging the whole village into ruin. Do you smell that? It’s like something’s burning—”

  Han Liu broke off and sniffed audibly, then got up and wandered around the hut with her nose in the air. “Where is that charred odor coming from?”

  Xiumi took a turn around the hut, searching for the cause, then stopped in front of the north-facing window. The white window paper glowed orange, and she could see the glimmer of an occasional spark floating past the wooden frame. Han Liu jumped up from the table and ran to the window to open it. A mountain of flames had already engulfed the far side of the lake.

  Xiumi stood next to Han Liu at the window, and the two leaned against the wall and watched in awe as the fire consumed the village. The smell of woodsmoke filled the air, and they could hear the crackle of burning timber. It seemed to burn fiercest in the village’s northwest corner, where one house had already lost its roof and was reduced to naked pillars. Thick smoke curled and tore into itself as it rose and blew toward the island in a heavy cloud. Flame illuminated the covered walkway, along with the glassy border of the lake, the moored boats, the posts of the old bridge.

  Human silhouettes also appeared in a black contrast so sharp they seemed right in front of Xiumi’s eyes. Xiumi saw some elderly people standing on a far-off bank, watching the blaze as they leaned on canes; she saw naked children dashing between light and shadow while others watched from behind trees. The sounds of wailing and barking dogs merged together within the howling of the wind.

  “Four and Six have crossed swords,” Han Liu said. “And ‘when the big cats fight, the little deer die,’ as they say.”

  “Let it burn,” Xiumi whispered through her teeth. “Let the whole place burn to the ground.” She left her position at the window and went to the table to clean up the dishes. Regardless of what she had said, a small part of her worried for the woman in white. Those long, slender fingers and that mournful face, the birdcage hanging empty from the rafters and the talkative parrot all surfaced in her mind’s eye. She felt a sharp pang of pity.

  Of course, Wang Guancheng’s dream bothered her the most. She suddenly felt like Wang Guancheng, Zhang Jiyuan, and her missing father were all one and the same person. Their figures and their dreams were like mist and clouds in the sky, evaporating into nothing at the first sign of wind.

  Han Liu started to help Xiumi tidy up beneath the lamplight, after which the two of them boiled water for tea. As Han Liu tossed cordwood into the stove, firelight threw her heavy silhouette onto the opposite wall. Xiumi felt safe sitting near her. In fact, the very sight of Han Liu’s red cheeks, full lips, and substantial upper arms made Xiumi feel safe. The two had sat together by the single lamp flame, beneath the collapsing roof with clouds of stars above, for countless nights already. Cicadas trilled ceaselessly by the lakeshore as the night cooled. Sometimes the two women didn’t speak, yet even in those moments Xiumi felt at ease, as if she had nothing to worry about in the least.

  Xiumi liked long-lasting, durable things that didn’t break easily. Han Liu was such a thing. Her breathing was rough like a man’s, and when she snored, the whole hut snored with her. She smacked her lips and slurped when she ate rice congee, making quite a noise, but Xiumi thought it was nice. Back in Puji, making the tiniest sound during mealtimes always earned Xiumi a hard rap on the head with Mother’s chopsticks.

  When the heat of summer days became suffocating, Han Liu would walk around the house in nothing but her underwear, her full breasts rounding into the crook of her arm, her dark nipples and tan aureoles displayed before Xiumi’s eyes all day. When she ate a plum, she’d eat the whole thing, chewing up and swallowing the pit. Xiumi would occasionally fantasize about how nice it would be to live with her on the island for the rest of their lives. The shocking realization that she had become attached to this tiny island on a lake would then tear her from this fantasy.

  “Sister . . .” Xiumi began, untying her apron and tossing it onto a corner of the oven. Han Liu moved along the low wooden bench to give Xiumi room to sit down beside her. “Sister, what is the heart, really?”

  “You’re better off asking yourself that, not me,” Han Liu said, laughing. She stirred the burning cordwood with her iron poker. “Saints and sinners don’t have labels written on their faces. You’ll meet some people who dress in fine clothes, have the best manners, and talk like poets, but inside they’re as black as death, the worst kind of human in existence.

  “Thoughts and desires are impossible to track—they change constantly, like the weather during the plum rains in May, to the point where you can’t even be sure what you yourself are thinking. When the world is at peace, the human heart accepts the restraints of law and morality, becoming civilized through education, as if anyone could stand side by side with the Sage Emperors. But once chaos takes over, the bad spots in the hearts of those very same people burst like infected lesions, and even a Sage King can turn into an animal and do beastly things. You’re an educated woman, you already know more about this than I do.”

  “If we survive this disaster, Sister, will you let me be your disciple? We can find a temple and spend the rest of our lives in prayer.”

  Han Liu smiled faintly but said nothing.

  “Do you not want to? Or do I not have the wisdom for it?” Xiumi giggled, giving Han Liu’s arm a shove. Still smiling, Han Liu shook her head. After a while, she explained: “I’ve broken my vows many times since they first brought me to this island. I couldn’t be your teacher. If we get out of this alive and you still want to be a nun, I’ll find you someone stronger in the faith to teach you. But my eye tells me you’re no ordinary person, and you’re not ready to leave the world. You may be destined for great things. Right now you’re like a tiger in an open field, or a dragon in the marsh; the world is holding you back, and that’s why you dream of leaving it. You can’t take it seriously.”

  “Why would you provoke me? A girl with nothing, kidnapped by criminals and thrown into the mountains with a family who refused to help her—there’s hardly any reason for me to be alive. What could I possibly do with ambition?” Tears brimmed in Xiumi’s eyes.

  “You might say that, but it’s not what you feel,” Han Liu replied.

  “Well then, what do you think I’m feeling now?”

  “If I tell you, you can’t get mad at me,” Han Liu said seriously.

  “What’s to be mad about? Just say it,” Xiumi replied.

  “Then I will.” Han Liu turned to look at Xiumi, examining her face closely before continuing in a measured tone: “The fact is that you’ve had something on your mind ever since you got back from the village today.”

  “What?”

  “You’re thinking that Wang Guancheng was a failure, and that if you had been in charge of Huajiashe, you would have made sure everything was done right to make it into a real paradise.”

  Xiumi’s eyes widened. Her hands and feet began to sweat, and a chill came over her before Han Liu had even finished speaking.
Her focus turned inward: I did have that thought today, but it was only a flicker. How could Han Liu have picked it up from a passing whim? Xiumi’s respect for Han Liu’s powers of observation into the recesses of the human heart deepened. Clearly this nun has a razor-sharp mind. But to think that not only her every action but also her innermost thoughts had been exposed to Han Liu’s keen eyes sent a nervous tingle through Xiumi’s spine.

  “I hate to say it, but if you had been in Wang Guancheng’s position, the result would have been the same,” Han Liu continued.

  “How do you figure?” Xiumi asked with a laugh.

  “Wang Guancheng was a scholar, a highly educated man; what could you think of that he couldn’t think of? What could you do that he couldn’t do, after working forty years in government, with battle plans and cities under his control? The ancients say that ‘power equals work.’ When you have one, you can do the other. Otherwise, you can imagine all the clever schemes you like, but what will it amount to beyond a life of dreams? Wang Guancheng dedicated his whole will to creating a heaven on earth, and he was still just chasing his own shadow. In the end, he merely built his own tomb.”

  Han Liu slapped the straw dust off her clothing and stood up to brew the tea. She gave Xiumi a pot, and the two continued to talk by the stove. Xiumi didn’t go to bed until midnight. Glancing once more through the northern window, she saw that the fire in Huajiashe had burned out completely, total darkness reclaiming the world.

  9

  NOVEMBER 21, 1901

  Xue Zuyan killed yesterday. Night before last, a brigade of soldiers set off from Meicheng under cover of darkness to surround his villa, as Zuyan and his concubine were sound asleep. The garrison lieutenant had been a childhood friend of Zuyan’s, and killed him quickly during the struggle that morning. Li Daodeng was born in Xia village, and probably worried that if Zuyan were taken alive to Meicheng, he might give up local names under torture. Though he may be a running dog for the imperial court, he is a man of discreet and thorough action, and possesses both a strategic mind and a compassionate heart. Worthy of respect. They cut off Zuyan’s head and carried it back to Meicheng in a crate, and dumped the body in the pond. Great works always require bloodshed; we must consider Zuyan’s sacrifice appropriate, for both the time and place.

  The hunchbacked fisherman Xiumi mentioned must certainly have been Steelback Li. That means our contacts in Xia village are already under surveillance.

  Other committee members have proved themselves to be hateful cowards. They scattered like animals immediately after Zuyan’s death, some running to other villages, others hiding in the wilderness. Zuyan’s body floated in the pond for a whole day and night. After returning to Puji, I paid a fisherman thirteen taels of silver to recover the body, place it in a casket, and bury it in the valley behind the mountain. The money came from my own pocket; I’ll accept reimbursement from the committee after our work is done.

  Then went to reconnoiter with other members to plan our next steps. Didn’t expect to find that all had lost their nerve, and those who had not already run made every excuse to avoid me. Finally made it to Zhang Lianjia’s place in the northwest corner of Xia village in the middle of the night. The echo of my knocking resounded throughout the house, but no one came to the door. At last, a lamp flickered on in the bedroom. Zhang Lianjia’s woman appeared at the door in her underwear and an open nightshirt. She asked me who I was and who I was looking for, but when I replied with our passwords she feigned confusion at first, then said, “The person you’re looking for isn’t in this house. Good night.” Anger infused me with a burst of strength, and I slammed the door open and forced my way in. She didn’t dare cry out after the door hit her, merely rubbed her big boobs and whined, “Owww, that hurts, that really hurts.”

  I charged into their inner chambers to find Zhang Lianjia lying on the couch in a dressing gown, smoking a pipe. His eyes were half-closed, and he didn’t even acknowledge me. I asked him to help me contact members for another meeting to discuss our current situation. He turned his narrow gaze at me and sneered, “I fear you’ve got the wrong man. I’m just a peasant, I don’t know anything about any committee.” I reprimanded him strongly for being a coward and playing dumb in the face of danger. Didn’t expect him to stand up and pull out a shiny butcher’s knife. He raised it to my face and stormed toward me: “Get out! If you stay, I’ll take you to the magistrate.”

  At that point, all I could do was leave; had I kept arguing, he might really have sold me out. Ah, Zhang Jiyuan, never forget the hopeless feeling of that moment. The day the revolution succeeds, we swear to wipe out all of these cowards from the map, starting with Zhang Lianjia and his harlot wife. Her legs certainly are white; tell me, how does a farmer end up marrying such a good-looking woman? Kill them, kill them both. I will take her flesh off piece by piece to satisfy my grievance.

  Meiyun acting differently toward me lately. Obviously trying to force me out. But where can I go now? Can’t return to Meicheng, Pukou still too dangerous. Best choice would be to catch a steamer out of Shanghai to Yokohama, then to Sendai. But where could I get the money for the trip?

  Absolutely no communication from Dapples. He has been gone for over a month, no idea what’s happened to him.

  Meiyun came upstairs, crying unceasingly. She swore she would absolutely never let me go if the situation didn’t demand it. My temper was long gone, and I had no interest in lovemaking. We sat awkwardly for a moment, until both of us finally got bored. She asked me if there was anything I still wanted to say or do; I thought it over, then told her I only wanted to see Xiumi one more time. She shoved me hard and stared at me with a look of hate and alarm, nodding her head until my scalp tingled and my hands started sweating. She replied icily, one word at a time: “Tell me what you wish to say, and I will make sure she knows.”

  I said in that case, I would go without seeing her. Meiyun stared at me blankly for a second, then went downstairs. To my surprise, she sent Xiumi up anyway.

  If only I could persuade her to join us, how wonderful that would be!

  •

  Little Sister, oh, my dear Little Sister, my good Little Sister. My little white rabbit, I want to kiss your pouty little lips, and lick the soft down above them; I want to touch every bone in your body; I want to bury my face in your armpit and sleep until daybreak. I want you to plant yourself in my heart like a seed, I want you to pour forth milk and honey like a sacred spring; I want you to wet my dreams like a spring rain. I want to smell your fragrance every day—the scents of powder, of fruit, of soft earth in the rain, of a warm horse barn.

  Without you, what good is revolution?

  • • •

  The body of the woman in white appeared the next morning. When Xiumi walked down to the shore, Han Liu was already guiding it in with a bamboo pole. The woman wore a pearl necklace and a pair of embroidered shoes with silver clasps that sparkled in the morning sunlight.

  The rest of her body was naked. Burns the size of copper coins dappled her flesh like smallpox lesions. Her skin was pale white tinged with green. Half a night in the lake had swollen her face slightly. Her breasts had been cut off. Shreds of charred grass and leaves covered her body, which floated in the murky water like a cup dropped in a tankard of unfiltered beer.

  Her slender, fine-boned fingers had been pounded into mush—no longer would those fingers grasp a go stone. The triangle of dark hair between her legs bloomed in the water like river grass; no longer would it give anyone pleasure.

  “Vile sin, vile sin, vile sin!”

  Han Liu seemed incapable of saying anything else.

  •

  Fire had consumed about a third of Huajiashe. Roofless houses lay like dead animals whose stomachs had been hollowed out by insects, tendrils of smoke still drifting from charred remains. A southerly wind blew the ash floating on the water to shore. A deathly quiet reigned.

  And in a flash
the village had a new leader. Qingshou had lost the battle. His aunt had been tortured. They made him watch as they tied bells to her nipples (bells that had been wrapped around her ankles) and jabbed her with hot pokers that made her jump and cringe. They ordered her to smile, and when she refused, they stuck the hot pokers on her face and into her belly button until she couldn’t endure it any longer, and she smiled. They ordered her to talk dirty, but she wouldn’t, so they smashed her fingers one by one with a nightstick. When they got to her ring finger, she obeyed. She said all the lewdest things she could imagine, all while staring imploringly at her husband. Qingshou had been tied securely to a chair and could do nothing more than stare back at her and shake his head as a signal for her to stay strong. But she couldn’t withstand the pain. She did everything they told her to do until Little Six got bored and cut off her breasts with a sharp knife.

  Xiumi heard about all this later on.

  Qingshou’s death was much more straightforward. They stuffed his mouth and nose with mud until he couldn’t breathe. He pissed himself, kicked his legs a few times, and died.

  She heard about that later as well, when Little Six, the new leader of Huajiashe, sent men over to the island with wedding invitations. He had decided to marry Xiumi.