The Invisible Valley

by Wei, Su; Woerner, Austin;

  That evening, for some reason, he found himself once more wading up the creekbed toward the hollow. Was it because the jar of beef in his satchel made him think of Jade, made him worry for her health? Or was it because his ghost wife’s eerie bequest was weighing so heavily on his mind? In any case, it was the combined pull of these two very different women that tugged his feet toward the driftfolk camp that night.

  After Wildweed announced Lu Beiping’s arrival, a butt-naked Smudge came splashing down the creek to meet him.

  —Four Eyes! he cried. I won, I won! Pa said you’d nay ever come again, but I bet her a bowl of meat stew, and you’ve come! I won, I really won!

  —Who taught you to gamble with food? Lu Beiping said with a wry chuckle, his mood lightening instantly at the sight of the boy. Taking the jar of beef out of his satchel, he said: Look, you’re in luck. Here’s meat for your stew. It’s beef. It’s from that bull that got killed by a stone in the storm.

  With a squeal of triumph Smudge snatched the jar from Lu Beiping and went galloping back up the creek, his small feet churning up a rainstorm.

  —Pa lost! I won! Aieeeeeee!

  Watching the boy bounding up the stream like a little brown fawn toward the mouth of the hollow, Lu Beiping thought: Smudge really is my guardian spirit. As he was approaching the driftfolk camp he’d begun to feel apprehensive, not sure what kind of attitude he should adopt as he set foot, once more, in this place he’d sworn so firmly to leave. With Smudge’s intervention, everything became much more straightforward.

  The hollow was unusually quiet. As he crossed the pebble beach only Wildweed and a small gaggle of chicks came out to meet him. The hoary old rooster strutting on the opposite bank sized him up from afar, reminding him of the first evening he’d set foot in the hollow, driving his herd of cattle into this clucking, yapping otherworld hidden in the hills.

  Smudge’s big round head poked out of the front door of the near lodge, and he waved to Lu Beiping, indicating with a curl of his lips that someone was inside.

  Lu Beiping strode through the door and saw Jade lying with her back to him on the bed. She had all her clothes on and no blanket covering her, and appeared to be asleep. It was cold inside and the room was a dusty mess, with hats, waistcloths, sandals, comb, and water pipe strewn all over the beds and floor. There wasn’t even a fire flickering in the hearth stove in the kitchen nook at the far end of the lodge, as there usually was.

  The jar of beef sat on the trestle table like an idol, its fresh, pungent odor filling the room.

  —Where is everybody? he said, addressing the empty cabin. It seems like nobody’s around!

  —Uncle Stump’s taken Tick and Roach into the woods to pick medicine for Pa, Smudge supplied helpfully. Uncle Autumn and Kingfisher, they’ve gone up into the high valley to look for that rosewood tree Autumn’s forever talking about. As for me—Smudge gave Lu Beiping a tactful wink—I ought to go finish gathering firewood.

  Smudge and Wildweed trotted out the door. Lu Beiping was about to go to Jade’s bedside when it occurred to him that she might not really be asleep, and instead he tiptoed over to the table and sat down gingerly on one of the log stools.

  A slanting beam of twilight divided the room into two zones, one of light, the other of shadow.

  —Nobody here? Jade said softly in the darkness, a mocking edge to her voice. What about me, Four Eyes? Or have I always been nobody to you?

  Lu Beiping could tell from her voice that Jade was fighting back laughter, but her black silhouette on the bed remained motionless. Seized by a devilish impulse, Lu Beiping marched over to the bed and laid a forceful slap on her hindquarters.

  —Hey, I thought you were sick. Sick as a dog, right? Autumn told me you weren’t yourself.

  The touch of Lu Beiping’s palm proved a very effective cure. Jade rolled over and pounced on Lu Beiping, then slapped him twice across the lips.

  —Wise-ass. Who’d Autumn say I was, then? Chairman Mao? Yama, King of Hell? Oop—shame on me! Listen to me talk!

  She threw back her disheveled hair, looking perfectly radiant, and held his gaze for several seconds, her mica earrings shimmering in the darkness.

  —Do I seem myself? Maybe just a little bit?

  A faint light glowed on the curves of her hips and shoulders, on the rounded tip of her chin. Lu Beiping took all this in, his eyes wide with astonishment.

  —So . . . you’re not sick?

  Jade exploded into a full-body fit of laughter.

  —Of course not! It was just my time of the month, that’s all. But I kept putting on like I was really sick, till even I starting thinking it was real. Ha!

  —You were just pretending? Good god!

  She chortled uproariously, kicking her legs and rolling from side to side on the bed. Jade’s wildly boomeranging mood left Lu Beiping feeling a bit nonplussed, but he was still relieved to see her feeling so well.

  —Jade, I can’t believe you’d fake everybody out like that, Lu Beiping said with a sigh, drawing her into his arms and running a hand through her hair. Autumn said you hadn’t eaten anything for days. You had me scared.

  These words summoned an instant flood of tears from Jade. She didn’t wipe them away, just let the tears roll down her cheeks while her body convulsed with sobs.

  —Four Eyes, she said, lying half-sick like this, all these days . . . what I wanted most of all was to hear you say that.

  Lu Beiping hugged her tighter. This woman who once seemed to tower over him like a cliff now trembled in his arms like a fallen leaf.

  —Four Eyes . . . She pushed him away, and now a harsh light burned in her eyes: Do you really want to know why I wanted to make good with you? Have you ever wondered why?

  Lu Beiping shook his head with a bitter smile of amazement. Everything that had befallen him since coming into the hills flashed in a jumbled sequence through his mind, and an ocean of feeling welled up inside him.

  —I’ve been thinking about that a lot, lying here, Jade said, wiping a hand across her face and smearing the snot and tears on the bedframe beneath her. Me and Kingfisher and Stump, when we sleep together, we do it because we need to. It’s part of life, it’s how we pass the days. With you it’s different, though. I wanted to make good with you because I wanted you, that’s all, because I liked you, from the bottom of my heart, it didn’t have a thing to do with needing things or getting by. But now—she gestured at the dusty chaos that surrounded her—look at this. Without you here, the days just didn’t seem worth living.

  As she spoke Lu Beiping felt a lump growing in his throat. He hung his head. Then he looked up again and finally summoned the nerve to say the words he’d been rehearsing in his mind for the past several days.

  —Jade, you and me . . . I’ve been thinking about us too. And I’m starting to think . . . I just can’t see a future, between us.

  He imagined that these words would trigger another torrent of tears, but to his surprise Jade said simply:

  —I know.

  She slid quietly off the bed, walked over to the stove, lit the fire, put on water to boil, emptied his jar of beef into the frypan, put the lid on, tidied some things. Then, turning to look at him again, she said in a gentle voice:

  —I guessed that’s what you were thinking. The thing is, I don’t want a future. You men, you live half your lives in the future. You’re forever scurrying around, hunting for reasons, doing this so that that, that so that this. Herding cows, hewing timber, fighting for this, struggling against that . . . all so that you’ll be a little bit better off in the future. But what about now? Why don’t you just live the day you’ve got right now?

  —Now? Lu Beiping said. He glanced around at the mosquito-netted beds, the thatched ceiling. He remembered the other thing that had been bothering him, and felt a sharp pang of worry.

  —Jade, he said, laughing: You’re a philo
sopher, you know that?

  —A whatafer? I’m a keep-house-afer. I do my best to turn this place into a home. Some folks have got homes, others make no home into a home—as Jade spoke her hands were in eight places at once, octopus-like, transforming the volcanic disorder of the room into a shining vision of tidiness—I wanted to be with you because I wanted to be with you. I wanted to make good with you, and you did too, and that was good. There was no other reason. No other good reason, no other reason worth talking about. Right?

  She reached under the bed, picked up her comb, and tossed it in Lu Beiping’s direction.

  —Comb your hair, will you? You look like you just escaped from a labor camp.

  When he didn’t move to pick it up she walked over, grabbed the comb herself, and went to work on Lu Beiping’s rumpled hair.

  —I like to see you looking smart, like that fine young scholar gentleman I met in the meadow, who greeted people—she mimicked the slight bend at the waist he made when they first met—like this.

  —Fuck you!

  Lu Beiping gave Jade a shove that sent her tottering back a few steps. Jade burst out laughing.

  —Ha! Bull Devil! Smudge is right about you. Come on, Bull Devil, if you’re so strong, hit me!—she threw open her flowered blouse and rushed at Lu Beiping, her breasts swinging brazenly: Hit away, Bull Devil! Lay ’em right here!

  —Whoa, whoa . . . Lu Beiping stammered, then broke into laughter as well, overcome by Jade’s ridiculous antics. Ha! Alright, then! he cried. Take this!

  He raised a fist, feigning the wind-up for a punch. Jade dodged to one side, retreated a few steps . . .

  . . . then Kingfisher, chortling, bounded through the door, and Jade backed directly into his arms. Lu Beiping’s face went crimson as Kingfisher made a show of fondling Jade’s breasts, beaming like some kind of lecherous Buddha.

  —Ha, ha, ha! Look at her, Four Eyes! She’s looking pretty chipper now!

  Jade struggled free, slapped Kingfisher in the face, then pulled her blouse over her chest and scurried over to the kitchen. Kingfisher gazed around the transformed interior of the cabin, then turned to Lu Beiping and said with a grin:

  —Couldn’t ask for a better doctor, Four Eyes! You cured her, sure enough. And you cured us too.

  —Smells a wonder in here! Stump announced, thrusting his swarthy head through the door while the three children swarmed in noisily ahead of him, Smudge’s voice shrilling over the others:

  —Meat tonight! Meat, meat, meat! Pa, you owe me a bowl of beef stew!

  —Quiet! Stump boomed, swatting the kids aside as he trundled over to greet Lu Beiping: We smelled that smell way up on the mountain, we did, and sussed it was Four Eyes come to share his supper with us. Looks like your meat worked a miracle for our sis—he glanced at Jade’s still half-open blouse and licked his teeth—I do believe she’s come out of her fast.

  The aroma of beef filled the room, making the cabin feel warm and cozy. Smiling but saying nothing, Jade went about her business at the stove, her motions deft, her blouse still hanging open, as was her habit when she was in a good mood. Stump’s and Kingfisher’s gazes flitted constantly to her breasts as they made small talk with Lu Beiping, shooting the breeze as if nothing had happened.

  Suddenly a golden light bloomed through the cabin—Autumn, who’d slipped quietly into the room while they were talking, had lit the storm lantern that hung from one of the central posts.

  In his hands Autumn held a big white rooster, its legs kicking the air defiantly as he twisted its wings behind its back. As usual he greeted Lu Beiping with a lively glance, then said to Kingfisher:

  —Let’s make it a twofer tonight. On top of Four Eyes’ meat—ha! It’s always Four Eyes’ meat, isn’t it?—let’s finish this sorry bastard and cook him up, make a feast out of him to spare him getting pecked to bits.

  As he held the bird aloft, it let out an admonishing shriek and launched a spattering stream of shit onto the floor.

  —Put it down, Autumn! Jade cried, rushing over from the stove: Please, put it down!

  Autumn refused to let go of the bird. Jade turned to Lu Beiping and said:

  —It wasn’t us you saved, coming up here tonight—it was this rooster! These filthy, meat-hungry men have had their eyes on my Australian white for days. We lost a hen in the storm, so we had to join the two nests of chicks at either end of the hollow and let the hen who nests by the creek mother them all. But the roosters aren’t too pleased, they’ve been pecking each other bloody trying to win favor with the hen. Kingfish and them have been fixing to kill the widower to grease their stomachs. Poor thing, he lost his lady, and now you heartless people want to turn a rooster’s sorrow into a man’s supper. Four Eyes—Jade chuckled—if you hadn’t brought us this jar of beef today, I doubt my Australian white could’ve dodged the knife.

  Lu Beiping laughed. Turning to Autumn, he said:

  —I feel like the Emperor all of a sudden. Alright, if it’s up to me—I pardon him!

  —Pardon him! Stump and Kingfisher hooted. Aye, pardon him!

  Smudge grabbed the rooster and was about to release him outside when Kingfisher said:

  —Wait! I’ve got an idea.

  Everybody fell silent, nervous that they’d once more run afoul of one of Kingfisher’s taboos. But Kingfisher smiled, glanced sidelong at Lu Beiping, then, speaking slowly, addressed the other two men:

  —They say that in this world, the winners are the kings and the losers are the outlaws. Right? Let’s let these two roosters fight it out fair and square—Kingfisher drew a deep breath through his nose, savoring the aroma of beef—We’ve got meat tonight, that means we’ll have beer too. Eh, den mother? I say, let’s have a feast and a cockfight. Let ’em fight to their hearts’ content. We’ll eat our beef and watch them settle their score.

  —Oy, oy oy! Smudge and Stump clamored in unison, rattling up a jubilant ruckus on a clay bowl and water pipe: Cockfight! Cockfight!

  Autumn pinched Lu Beiping from behind and tried to catch his eye. But Lu Beiping was distracted by Jade, bustling merrily and cracking jokes as she readied the trestle table to be carried outside, and didn’t respond.

  —Four Eyes, Jade quipped, giving him a meaningful look: They say saving a man’s life’ll put you in grace for ten lives down. Maybe saving a chicken’s life will at least charm some of the shadows off you, bring you a spell of good luck.

  Lu Beiping’s heart sank. He remembered the dark secret still bundled in his satchel, lying in a clump of grass next to his hut.

  Sunset comes late to the high mountains. Was that a line from a poem, or a pretty phrase that had just popped into his head? In any case it had been nearly dark when he’d encountered Choi down in the rubber groves, but after lingering for a while in the orchard and then hiking halfway up the mountain, the sun still hung like an egg yolk at the rim of the sky. No snakeclouds writhed in the heavens as they usually did at this hour; the sky was clear, a sheet of freshly washed satin shot through with shimmering greens and blues.

  The supper table sat beneath the charred lychee tree, and Jade presided over young and old in a dinner as momentously rowdy as a holiday banquet. As usual Kingfisher inaugurated the meal with a bundle of smoking incense sticks and a prayer to Horn, then a steaming pot of poached beef was ferried from kitchen to table, accompanied by a big bowl of yam beer. Given any hodgepodge of ingredients, Jade was able, relying on intuition alone, it seemed, to whip up a mouthwatering spread of novelties. (Years later, entertaining guests at business dinners, Lu Beiping would always order Sichuanese poached beef in hopes of recapturing the glory of that meal. But even at the best restaurants it fell miserably short of Jade’s simple but delicious version of the dish: the beef blanched just-so, sliced just-so, dipped in a sauce of ginger, scallions, and crushed garlic whose flavor was ever so sweet, fresh, and uncomplicated.) After Jade had cut the beef into w
afer-thin slices, rolled them with her chopsticks, and run them through a bowl of oil and a bowl of sauce, she piled them on steaming mounds of rice to be proffered, one by one, to the salivating mouths arrayed around the table. When she was done she ducked back into the cabin for a handful of rice bran, tossed it in the air while clucking loudly, and an army of chicks led by a big, hobbling white hen swarmed in for the kill.

  Lu Beiping couldn’t help watching her, her figure silvered by the waning light, her blouse still hanging open, her breasts swinging with the motions of her limbs. The low sun stretched and skewed the shadows so that Jade, arm aloft, baiting the chickens, cast the silhouette of a slender, dancing crane. What a woman, Lu Beiping thought; as far as he was concerned, this was true beauty.

  Immediately the dusty earth beneath the dinner table became a fairground for chickenkind. The two families of chicks were easy to distinguish by the shapes of their bodies and the different colors of their feathers. A brawny young Man Cheong rooster, sporting a dapper suit of red-and-white plumage, patrolled a short distance away from the milling crowd, saving his strength to beat back at a moment’s notice any intruder who dared provoke him or threaten his flock.

  Kingfisher, having finished off his first bowl of yam beer, shouted through a mouthful of beef:

  —Smudge! Let out the Australian!

  Thumping on their water pipes, Autumn and Stump joined in the chorus: