by Can Xue
When asked if he was the one who took his parents to the shelter, he said yes. As soon as they asked, he took them there. He had always maintained a kind of curiosity about his parents’ behavior. While he was talking, his mother stared at the sky with her empty eyes, and his father mumbled repeatedly: “Extreme views can cause tremendous difficulty in a person’s life, but beautiful scenery can open one’s mind.”
I found that the slaughterer, the mother, was the most crestfallen among the three, but Sha-yuan remained detached. All at once it dawned on me that there existed a subtle relationship among these three, a peculiar mutual check. What had just happened was a proof. He didn’t have to take his parents to the shelter; instead, he could have led them somewhere else. Was this only the result of his easygoing personality?
Then I recalled Sha-yuan’s infancy. No doubt, he had been an extraordinarily sensitive baby, with extremely rich facial expressions. The mother had been very proud of him, yet she was nervous. She told me privately that she found the child got tired very easily, particularly when others were talking. As soon as a person started talking to him, he would lower his eyelids and fall into a sound sleep. “He’s just like one of those sensitive mimosa plants whose leaves fold up when you touch them, though he’s not as shy.” Sha-yuan kept his habit until he was five. Then he learned to control himself, though purely for the sake of courtesy. When others talked to him a little bit too long, he would start yawning, then doze off without any consideration for the speaker.
At that time, he did not hate traveling. On the contrary, he appeared to like it somewhat, because he did not need to listen to others while traveling. While his parents were enjoying the beauty of nature, he would sit down to the side and listen attentively to any smallest sound made by little animals. He could always point out accurately where a field vole had just dug a hole, or in which direction a banded krait was advancing quietly. It was possible he had been training his unique listening ability ever since he was born. It seems, however, that this talent has never been tuned to the human voice. After several years’ practice, he could make certain movements just by activating his mental will. On the surface, he was a soft and obedient kid. Such a child very easily makes people lose their vigilance. The fisherman’s child was bitten under such circumstances. Now Sha-yuan’s parents were getting hurt. It was a profound puzzle how he considered the people and objects surrounding him. On the one hand, he seemed to pity those little snakes, but on the other hand, he instigated his parents to slaughter them. Nobody can figure out such contradictory actions. I can’t say that beautiful scenery did not affect him. It may have been the beautiful scenery that cultivated his temperament. After all, different people can appreciate scenery very differently. By the same token, his parents’ painstaking efforts to control the child could only lead to the opposite result.
Then suddenly there came a day when Sha-yuan stopped meditating facing the wall, and his attitude toward his parents also turned warmer. Whenever I went for a visit, I always saw the threesome living in harmony. The smile had returned to his mother’s face. In the past decade or so, the old lady had been completely tied down by her son. But now, even the wrinkles on her face had smoothed out. She said to me happily, “My child Sha-yuan is getting sensible. Just think how many poisonous snakes I have killed for his sake!” As she was talking, Sha-yuan in the background was nodding his head in agreement.
* * *
I did not believe the matter was as simple as that. I felt vaguely the falseness in Sha-yuan’s smile. Though he was no longer raising poisonous snakes, who could guess what new trick he might be up to? I decided to talk to him seriously.
“Now I don’t need a place to raise snakes,” Sha-yuan answered. “They are in my belly. They don’t stay inside all the time, of course. They come out whenever I want them to. The little flowery snake is my favorite.”
Staring at his body, which was getting thinner daily, I asked if his mother knew about all of this. But Sha-yuan said that it was not necessary to let her know. Since the little snakes did not really occupy space, the matter need not be considered to exist so long as he did not mention it. Just let everybody be happy. My next question was whether this would affect his health.
He gave me an attentive look, then he suddenly appeared sleepy. Yawning hard, he said, “Who doesn’t have something like that in his belly? They just don’t know, that’s all. That’s why they’re healthy. I’m always sleepy. You’ve talked so much. I rarely talk so much. You’re weird.”
Despite my efforts to ask for more, he dropped his head down and fell into a sound sleep while standing by the table.
* * *
Sha-yuan’s mother got really excited, and she looked much younger now. While packing, she said, “It seems that travel is necessary.” Sha-yuan joined her with joy in packing. But after a while, he turned aside and started vomiting. “Nothing serious.” He wiped his pale lips and muttered almost secretly, “It was some mischief from the little flowery snake.”
Quickly they started their journey on a northwest-bound train. It was a windy day.
They did not come back until two years later. The three looked the same as they had been, harmonious and peaceful. Nothing unusual could be detected. Sha-yuan obviously had gained some weight, and his face looked healthier than before. When I asked him quietly about the snakes, he said they were still in his belly. But he had learned how to adjust, so that even running and doing the high jump would not cause him any harm. Sometimes, having snakes in his belly was even beneficial to his health. I asked him what benefit it could bring to the body, and Sha-yuan’s yawns started again. He complained that it was painful to listen to others. Sha-yuan’s mother invited me for dinner. While eating, the old lady, who used to grumble, was now silent. She did not appear as confident as before. Sha-yuan’s father only said one sentence: “No more travel.” Then everybody was quiet.
After that they kept their front gate open. The parents stopped watching Sha-yuan’s behavior as if they had lost interest and become oblivious. But they appeared anxious and from morning till night they checked their watches constantly. Obviously they were waiting for something. “Waiting for their deaths,” Sha-yuan said. He tapped his belly, which was flat. There was no sign of anything inside. According to Sha-yuan, it had worked out fine. Nobody suspected that he raised snakes anymore. But in fact, the leopard can’t change its spots.
The fall wind was whistling across the plain. It sounded musical from morning to night. This mysterious family was baffling me more and more. I remembered that the mother was only fifty, and the father, fifty-five. But just see how old they looked. Both were suffering from cardiac arteriosclerosis and their slow movements worried me. “He has destroyed us,” the father said suddenly one day. His facial expression revealed his confusion. “We are dying so fast.” After the remark, his face relaxed instantly. His glance lingered on the skinny shoulder of Sha-yuan. The glance was both kind and loving. The three certainly had a tacit understanding.
* * *
The parents had different explanations about the disappearance of the child. According to the father, the boy had mentioned going to the air-raid shelter after supper, because he hadn’t been there for a long time, and he was curious about any new changes there. Neither of the parents had paid any attention to their son’s remark. They were too tired. The son then stood up and walked toward the door with staggering steps. Recently he had become all bony. He did not return that whole night, and nobody bothered looking for him. “It’s too troublesome,” the father said, his eyes fixed on the windowpane.
Sha-yuan’s mother never admitted that her son had walked out on her. “The child was never reliable. For more than a decade, we had both kept our eyes wide open in watching, without any obvious effect. What can I say? He could still wander around at will without our seeing him. Now I’ve given up. Who knows whether or not he was my child to start with, or even if he had been living with us at all? I don’t think he left yesterday.
I’ve never even been able to confirm his existence.”
Listening to them, I became perplexed also. What was Sha-yuan, after all? I pondered hard, but in my mind there were only some miscellaneous fragments, some odd remarks. When I tried to concentrate, even the remarks faded away. As a result, I could not think of anything about Sha-yuan except his name.
Just when everybody believed that he had vanished, however, Sha-yuan came back. He resumed his quiet and friendly life at home. His behavior once again contributed to the indifferent attitude of his parents. They no longer cared at all if the boy existed or not. They were simply worn out.
“Where did you get the name Sha-yuan?” I asked abruptly.
“I’ve been wondering about it myself. Nobody ever gave him that name. Where did it come from?” the mother said, looking confused.
HOMECOMING
As a matter of fact, I’m very familiar with this area. For some time I came here every day. However, now it’s too dark, and the moon is reluctant to come out, so I can go forward only by instinct. After a while, I smell an odor. It’s from a small chestnut tree. Past the chestnut tree, dry grass crackles under my step. Now I feel relaxed. Here’s a stretch of grassland. No matter which direction you face, you can’t reach the end of the prairie without at least half an hour’s walk. The ground is very flat, without even any dips. Once my younger brother and I conducted an experiment here by walking forward for ten minutes with our eyes closed. We both came through the trial safe and sound.
Reaching the grassland, I wander about aimlessly. I know that soon afterward I’m going to see a house. Ultimately I will arrive there without having to give it much thought. In the past this method always brought me unexpected joy. Once I enter that house, I will sit down and drink a cup of tea with the owner (a pale-faced gentleman with no beard or hair). Then one breath will take you down along a zigzag mountain trail until you reach a grove of banana trees. The owner is rather kind, and, in his reluctance to part, always accompanies me to the corner, where I have to turn. He always wishes me good luck. The most comfortable thing is the downhill trail, which is very easy to walk. Soon there will appear a monkey to greet me. Each time I nod at him, and then he leads the way. Usually, when I reach the banana grove, I lie down beneath a tree and eat my fill. Then I go home. On my way home there is no monkey. Of course I never lose my way, because everything is so familiar to me. Strangely, the way home is again downhill, and I walk without any effort. Why is that? I’ve never understood the logic in this.
Wandering like this, I know I’ve reached the house because my forehead has suddenly bumped into the brick wall. Tonight the owner of the house hasn’t put on the light. Nor does he greet me from the stoop as he usually does.
“Why should you come so late?” he says from inside the window. He sounds a bit unhappy. Feeling his way around for a long time, he opens the door with a creak.
“I can’t turn on the light,” he says. “It’s too dangerous. I guess you still don’t know that behind our house there is a deep abyss. This house was built on a cliff. I’ve been hiding this fact from you in the past, but I can’t anymore. Do you remember that I always accompany you to the corner, chatting about something distracting? I was afraid that you might turn your head and see the position of the house!”
I sit down at the table.
“That’s not too difficult,” the owner continued. In the darkness he passes a cup of lukewarm water into my hand. “Once in a while it comes out. I mean the moon. You can see it now. I really can’t turn on the light. Please forgive me. This house has reached its dying age. Please listen, and you will understand everything.”
What he’s saying is patent nonsense. It’s obvious to me that the house is situated at the end of the flat grassland with its back toward the mountain. I can remember clearly. Once I even circled around to the back of the house and fed pigeons there! But now he has made it so terrifying that I have to be more cautious.
In fact, the moon still hasn’t come out, and there’s no sound whatsoever from outside. It’s a silent, suffocating night. It could be that the owner has lost his mind during my absence for all these years.
He sits quietly in front of me, smoking.
“Maybe you don’t believe me. Just stand up and have a look!”
Supporting myself with the table, I stand up. All of a sudden I fall forward onto the ground without anybody pulling me.
“Now you understand.” I suppose he is smiling slightly. “It’s terrible, such a thing. Light is absolutely forbidden. And the banana grove can be reached only under the condition that you do not turn your head and look back. Well, my little deceptions are something from the past. Maybe you won’t even care about them anymore.”
“Now I have to wait until morning to leave.” I sigh and say, “When the dawn comes I’ll be able to see and it will be convenient for me to go.”
“You’re completely wrong,” he says, deep in thought while smoking. “There won’t even be a question of dawn. I’ve told you that the house has reached its dying age. Can’t you imagine what’s left? Since you have forced your way in, I have to arrange a room for you. Of course, the light cannot be turned on. You’d better calm yourself down and listen. You can hear how those sea waves are striking against the cliff.”
Of course I can’t hear anything. Outside the window appears a dark shadow that might be the mountain. I remember this house is located at the foot of a mountain. I listen intently. Still there is dead silence.
“How can the dawn come?” The owner has guessed what I’m thinking. “You will understand. As time goes by, you will understand everything. Once you force your way in, you have to live here. It’s true, you’ve been here in the past, and every time I saw you off in person. But then you were only passing through—that’s not the same thing as forcing your way in. Then this house was not as old as it is now.”
I mean to argue, I mean to tell him that I did not intend to force my way in. As in the past, I am, again, just passing through. I would not have come if I had known that my behavior constituted “forcing my way in.” But I open my mouth without saying anything, as if I am too timid and ashamed.
“The foundation of the house is very fragile, and it’s built on top of the cliff. Right behind the house there’s a deep abyss. You should be aware of this situation. Now that you’re here, you can live in a small room on the right. Actually, I am not the owner of this house. The original owner has departed. I, too, came here by accident, and I stayed. At that time the original owner was not very old. One day he went to the back of the house to feed the pigeons. When I heard a sound, I went out back, but I couldn’t find him. He had disappeared. That was when I discovered the cliff behind the house. Of course the original owner had jumped over the edge. I never had a chance to ask him why he had built the house in such a place. I still find it puzzling. But I’ve gotten used to the idea.”
He leads me to the appointed small room and orders me to lie down on the wooden bed. He tells me not to think about anything, explaining that this way I can hear what’s happening outside. And he tells me not to expect the dawn, that such a thing does not even exist anymore. I have to learn to adjust to this new environment in which I must depend on the senses of touch and hearing. As silently as a fish he leaves me. For a long, long time I am in doubt as to whether he is exaggerating. For example, he considers my coming here as “forcing my way in,” and he makes much of the cliff and the abyss. But what do these have to do with putting on a light?
I don’t know how long I’ve been sleeping in silence. Finally I’ve made up my mind. I find a lighter in my pocket and start a small fire. In that faint light I search the small room up and down without finding anything. It’s an extremely ordinary room. The ceiling is made of bamboo strips. The only furniture in the room is the old wooden bed that I have lain on. On the bed there’s a cotton mattress and a quilt. There is perfect silence, and there appear to be no terrible changes in the house because of the light I am makin
g. Obviously the owner of the house is exaggerating. Maybe he’s suffering from some neurosis. A lot of things in the world are hard to figure. These are all kinds of possibilities. To be cautious, I had better keep still. Besides, there isn’t much fluid left in my lighter. I should save it. It’s the same as the blindfold game I used to play with my younger brother. We would limit our travel to only ten minutes. The whole situation might have turned out completely differently if we had set our time limit at one hour. Furthermore, what is the structure of the human ears? For example, can my ears stay this quiet forever? As for the owner of the house, can he find a way to keep himself alert? How can he be so listless for such a long time?
I hear him coming. Feeling around, he says, “So, one corner of the ceiling has dropped! Those explosions just now were horrifying. I hope you didn’t make any light. In the waves below, a fishing boat is sinking. I suspect the fisherman on the boat is the original owner of this house. Such things always seem to have a relationship to each other. According to the account I’ve heard, the fishing boat has run aground on the rocks. The whole boat is smashed to bits and the dead man is lying peacefully amidst the seaweed. Above him is the little house he built with his own hands.… Of course this story is pure nonsense. How can he see any house? He’s choked to death on seawater. And there’s nothing poetic about it at all. He’s lying at the bottom of the sea, his face down, buried in the sand and stone. He will rot, gradually.… Now I’m returning to my room. You should just calm down and stay here. Gradually you’ll find that everything is fine. Certainly better than your wandering all over the place.”
I try to walk out of the house. The earth is trembling terribly. Clinging to the ground, I crawl outside the front gate. In front of me should be the flat stretch of grassland. As soon as I stand up and walk, I feel suddenly that it’s not grass under my feet but something hard and moving. I start to change direction. But no matter which direction I walk I can never reach the grassland, and beneath my feet there’s always that lump of moving substance. Surrounding me is a stretch of grayish black. Except for the vague silhouette of the house, I can’t even see the mountains. Of course, I can’t go behind the house. According to the owner, there’s a cliff. Since I have walked randomly along the grassland, I should be able to walk back as long as I walk randomly. There’s no need to feel tense. With these thoughts in mind, I start walking randomly in some direction. In the beginning nothing happens. I start to feel a little bit pleased with myself. About a hundred paces on, I suddenly step into empty air. Fortunately, I get caught in a little tree sticking out and I climb back onto the cliff. I remember very well that I started walking from the front of the house. Why have I reached the cliff? Does that mean that “different roads lead to the same destination”? Where’s the trail through the grassland? I ponder hard. It seems there should be some answer. In fact, I have vaguely felt that answer for a long time, but subconsciously I have refused to recognize it. Clutching the ground, I crawl back into the house. Inside, there’s a kind of relaxation and a safe feeling. I even feel that the darkness and the smell of the lime are familiar, cozy, comfortable. In the darkness, the owner of the house hands me a cup of water—lukewarm and with a smell of being unboiled, but it’s still drinkable.