The Invisible Valley

by Wei, Su; Woerner, Austin;

  RhrhrhrhRHAWF—rhrhrhRHAWF-RHAWF!—rhrhrhRHAWF!—rhrhrhrhr . . .

  Firelight glowed in the trees at the mouth of the hollow.

  No wonder Wildweed was raising such a frightful clamor. Up out of the creek-tunnel marched a line of men carrying torches, the swirling of the flames and the snarling of the dog combining to make the arrival of this unusual delegation seem doubly imposing. The seven or eight bamboo torches, spewing black clouds of diesel smoke, made a particularly strong visual impression, and like stage props lent the scene an air of intentional drama. These days one didn’t need a torch to light one’s way through the jungle at night; there were flashlights, weatherproof storm lanterns, gas lanterns than shone bright as day. The torch was an outdated instrument, with little practical use. But each time the Chairman Issued a New Directive and the newspapers announced that the Good News Had Reached the Farthest Corners of the Nation, the front pages, perhaps taking their cue from the climactic scenes of revolutionary movies, always showed the same image: a golden river of torchlight snaking through the dark. And so the torch became a hallowed symbol of patriotism by which a new generation of radicals proclaimed their fervor. The Torch of the Revolution (Hold it High!) was a sacred thing, not to be profaned; its illumination was not of the same order as that of flashlights, gas lamps, or hurricane lanterns.

  Clearly, it was in the spirit of revolutionary struggle that these visitors had come bearing torches tonight. These were Good Men Out to Spread the Word.

  Flames crackled and smoke swirled along the creekbank. Wildweed kept barking furiously, but the flames had spooked him and he didn’t dare attack. The blazing ring of torchlight advanced into the hollow, came to a halt before the foremost lodge, and then over the dog’s yelping, snarling diatribe a chorus of voices belted out in unison the well-known passage from the Quotations:

  . . . ALL—MISGUIDED—BELIEFS! ALL—POISONOUS—WEEDS! ALL HORNED DEMONS—AND HIDDEN—SERPENTS! MUST—BE—ROOTED—OUT! REPUDIATED! AND ERADICATED! THEY—MUST—NOT—BE ALLOWED—TO RUN RAMPANT! . . .

  Stump ran outside, then fled immediately back into the cabin at the sight of the flames. Kingfisher, however, sauntered out the door, sat down on a log and, slowly and deliberately, lit his pipe and began to smoke, storm clouds gathering on his brow. Hugging Smudge tight against his side, Lu Beiping walked out and saw, standing in the firelight at the head of the troop, his former squad leader, Fook, the impeccable patriot, holding a torch aloft in his right hand and a Little Red Book open in his left, declaiming the Chairman’s words in his particularly musical Teochew-accented Mandarin. Lu Beiping’s heart raced. He knew that this whole thing was directed at him; but at the same time the melodrama of it all made him want to laugh.

  The Enumeration of Basic Principles turned out to be quite long, and it took the troop forever to get through it. In the flickering torchlight Lu Beiping made out a number of familiar faces along with several new ones. Surprisingly there was no sign of Kam or Choi, who were always eager for a spectacle, and among the Canton re-eds who’d joined the ranks of the torchbearers he noticed his friend Chu. But instead of a torch Chu had a big long-handled flashlight dangling around his neck, and stood at the back of the crowd waving nervously at Lu Beiping and making faces at him.

  The torches crackled and showered sparks into the group, upsetting the formation and causing the readers to get out of sync. It occurred to Lu Beiping that they must’ve waited till they reached the mouth of the hollow to light the torches. He couldn’t imagine holding those nasty, sputtering things aloft all the way up the precipitous paths through the dense forests of Mudkettle Mountain.

  When they finally finished, Lu Beiping took a step forward and demanded:

  —Fook, what you do think you’re doing?

  The torchlight illuminated the stern aspect of the Sergeant, his arm held high, his chin raised slightly as he addressed Lu Beiping, biting off the words:

  —Fancy finding you here, Comrade Lu. I’m here on the authority of our local Party Line Promulgation Working Group to commence revolutionary morality education . . . upon you.

  Lu Beiping winced. But he held his ground:

  —Morality education? Seriously? Who approved this thing?

  —Naturally we’re here with the endorsement of the leaders of the Party Line Promulgation Working Group! Fook proclaimed, having obviously rehearsed this line.

  —So . . . Kingfisher, sitting on the log, cut in coldly: What exactly do you folks want to do?

  Now Jade, who’d been keeping Tick and Roach out of harm’s way inside the cabin, squeezed outside and joined the others, holding one child against her shoulder, the other by the hand. Stump, however, turned quickly and went back inside the lodge. The light from the torches illuminated the half-naked, rag-clad family of migrants, Lu Beiping’s glasses glittering conspicuously among them.

  —You’re the migrant woodcutters? Fook inquired, surveying the group. Have you got papers issued by a revolutionary board permitting you to work on this mountain?

  Kingfisher and Lu Beiping exchanged a glance. Just at that moment Stump emerged from the lodge, crying:

  —Aye, sure do, right here!

  He held out the stamped document to the Sergeant. Fook took it and passed it to a man standing next to him whom Lu Beiping didn’t recognize, probably a representative from the Working Group who’d been assigned to their unit. The man looked it over, then handed it back to Fook.

  —“Whitesands County . . . Mudkettle Mountain . . . Timber Processing and . . . Contracting Collective,” Fook read out awkwardly. Then, raising his voice, he said to Lu Beiping with a tinge of sarcasm: Last I remember, friend Lu, you weren’t a member of this contracting collective—right? This isn’t your line of work?

  A few of the torchbearers broke out in giggles. His revolutionary ardor stoked by his audience’s laughter, Fook pressed on:

  —Look at you! A soldier of the Agricultural Reclamation Corps, eating at the same table with vagrants, sleeping in the same bed—more laughs from the crowd—what are you doing, Lu Beiping? Undertaking a personal investigation into the living conditions of the poor? Seeking re-education at the hands of the underprivileged?

  Lu Beiping blanched. They were serious; clearly Fook would stop at nothing short of a complete rout. He even noticed someone standing at the back of the crowd holding a coil of rope, as if they were planning on trussing him up and bringing him to justice. He knew Kambugger must be behind this—but it couldn’t be just Kambugger, no, he couldn’t orchestrate a thing like this on his own.

  The two bands, one in torchlight, the other in the shadows, faced each other for a long silent moment. Then Fook pointed and commanded:

  —Will the female comrade please step forward?

  —Who? Jade said. Though these proceedings were quite alien to her, she had remained calm throughout all this. Knowing that this strange form of address must refer to her, she set down the child and said matter-of-factly: You’re talking about me?

  Lu Beiping rushed around in front of Jade and thrust an angry finger at the crowd.

  —What the hell do you think you’re doing? If you want to make an example of me, just do it! Don’t drag these people in!

  Then, with a glance, Fook cued four workers, who ran over, seized Lu Beiping, and twisted his arms behind his back.

  —Step forward! the men shouted at Jade. Comrade, step forward!

  A scattering of voices in the crowd joined in:

  —Step forward! Step forward!

  One arm around Tick, the other hand resting on her belly, Jade stepped forward into the firelight. A moment later Kingfisher nudged Lu Beiping from behind with his foot, laid down his water pipe, and rose.

  —May I ask your name, mister comrade sir? he said gently.

  The Sergeant gave him a haughty glance and didn’t reply. Kingfisher walked forward, holding out his hand.

&
nbsp; —Please give us back our document, Kingfisher said, and the Sergeant had no choice but to hand the paper back, a faint look of embarrassment on his face. When he held the paper, Kingfisher continued: We here are a part of Whitesands County. If you comrades have got some official business with Four Eyes, I suggest you deal with it over on your side of the mountain. Jade, take the pups back inside.

  —Wait! Fook cried, running around and cutting off Jade’s retreat. Holding the fuming ball of flames directly over her head, he said: I’m sorry, comrade, may I inquire as to your name?

  —I’m Jade, Jade said.

  —Alright, Jade. I have a question for you—Fook looked straight at Lu Beiping as he said this—How long’ve you been pregnant?

  Jade smiled humorlessly.

  —You’re interested in childbirth, young comrade?

  A few people in the crowd laughed. Fook waved a hand in irritation and barked:

  —No laughing! You’ve got something to say, say it!

  Then he turned, lowered the torch and, tilting the flames dangerously close to Jade’s body, illuminated the swell of her abdomen.

  —Jade! Tell me honest, whose pup is in your belly?

  —Peh! Jade spat on the ground. What a queer question to ask! It’s mine. Whose else could it be? Yours?

  Lu Beiping heard a snort of laughter from the crowd, obviously Chu’s. He grinned.

  —The insolence! Fook cried in exasperation. It’s unbelievable! You too, Lu Beiping! Listen, the Working Group has gotten some interesting reports—Fook cast a glance through the ranks of the torchbearers—and tonight we want to know, we want you to clear up this mystery for us, once and for all: Who’s the father of this woman’s baby? Tell us!

  —Tell us! Tell us! a few voices shouted in the crowd. Kingfisher and Stump exchanged an anxious glance as Lu Beiping stood there motionless, gritting his teeth, his face pale, saying nothing.

  —Come on, big man! Fook said, adopting a hectoring tone: Own up to it! Everyone agrees you’re a bully cowherd, but that’s no excuse for you to come running up into the mountains to spread your wild oats! Do I need to tell you that? You know as well as I do that rectification of ideological outlook with regard to sexual politics is a necessary prerequisite for a progressive, ethical—

  Fook stumbled over his words and stopped, gasping for breath. Then, with a cold laugh, he drove on pitilessly:

  —If you’ve really got a pair of eggs down there, then prove it to us! Show us what’s really under your pants—the crowd erupted in laughter, and Fook seized this moment to press the offensive—Who got that woman pregnant? Tell us! Who’s that kid’s daddy? Tell us!

  —Speak! Speak! people began chanting as a wave of excitement ran through the crowd, and at that moment the stranger with the rope strode forward and cried:

  —He won’t talk? Then tie him up! Let the law prevail!

  A few people rushed toward Lu Beiping, clamoring to lay hands on him. But just at that moment there was a loud expectorating sound and a gob of spittle landed at Fook’s feet, causing Lu Beiping’s would-be captors to stop short and turn their heads in astonishment. Kingfisher stood wiping his lips. He said nothing, but the anger was written clearly on his face, and his jaw muscles quivered as he gazed at the coil of rope. Then he turned to the stunned Sergeant and said to him coolly:

  —I’ve learned a couple interesting phrases tonight. One is “show us your eggs,” and the other’s “let the law prevail.”

  —You—Fook stammered, shaking a finger at Kingfisher—don’t you start muddying the waters here!

  —I think they’re pretty muddy already! Kingfisher burst out. Comrade, you want to see eggs? You want to see what we’ve been laying up here? Take a look—he gathered up Smudge, Tick, and Roach and shoved them toward the Sergeant—Here they are, all of them! You’re curious what a pair of eggs looks like, don’t ask Four Eyes, ask me!

  Grinning wickedly, Kingfisher patted Jade’s belly, then he tore off his waistcloth and stood completely naked in the firelight.

  —You pissant! he roared. Here are my eggs! Now I want you to show me what’s under your pants!

  The dancing flames illuminated every inch of Kingfisher’s hard, pitted body, leaving nothing to the imagination. For a moment the crowd stared in dumb silence, then they burst into laughter. Lu Beiping heard Jade giggling, and Chu cried out over the hubbub:

  —Right on! Show him, Sergeant!

  There was another wave of laughter. Fook stood frozen to the spot, his lips trembling, utterly at a loss for how to respond to this.

  —Lowlifes! he cried at last. Low-minded . . . Sentiments!

  Lu Beiping laughed to himself. You can’t hide from the sun. “Supping sunlight” had become a weapon, had instantly cut the trumped-up majesty of the Revolutionary Torch down to size. Now the crowd had no hope of staying serious, and the Sergeant whistled again and again to no avail over a sea of whispers and giggles.

  The makeshift yarn-wrapped bamboo torches crackled and fumed. People dodged sparks, and the troop had long ago fallen out of formation. Kingfisher took his time retying his waistcloth, then went on:

  —The second phrase I liked was . . . “may the law prevail,” that was it, right? As far as the law goes—Kingfisher waved the sheet of paper—the family hath its mandates, the nation its laws. I just told you, you’re in Whitesands County right now. Who’s holding a stamped, certified document issued by the Whitesands County rev board? Me. Did you ask my permission before you came marching up here with your torches and your questions and your talk of the law? No.

  —Your permission? Fook spluttered. Why would I ask your permission?

  Kingfisher chuckled.

  —This is Whitesands soil. Whose law exactly do you think you’re prevailing up here, tying up folks and hauling them away? Do you have a stamped, certified document issued by your revolutionary board? Show it to me!

  For Kingfisher to have followed up his underhanded egg-baring with this swift commandeering of the moral high ground caught Fook completely off guard. With no reasonable way to parry this attack, he was about to resort to another angry tantrum when a fresh ripple of excitement passed through the crowd.

  Autumn, his bare body gleaming with sweat, shouldered his way to the front of the mob. The Sergeant took a step back in surprise.

  —Who are you?

  —I’m the dad, he said, panting as he laid his hand on Jade’s stomach. I heard you all shouting for me while I was over there chopping wood, so I came over to see what was the matter.

  —What? . . . Fook gazed at him, thrown once more into confusion.

  —I’m Autumn, Autumn said, wiping the sweat from his face, his dark, naked back shining in the firelight. I had to work late tonight.

  —You . . . you . . . Fook looked at Lu Beiping, then back at Autumn, now thoroughly flummoxed.

  —So . . . what was it you wanted? Autumn asked.

  The crowd went quiet, and everybody stared at this unfamiliar actor who’d entered the drama so late and unexpectedly. Kingfisher and Stump traded a knowing smirk. In the moment of silence that followed, Jade burst into sobs and, stamping her feet, pointed at the befuddled Sergeant, howling:

  —Shame and ruin! He . . . he . . . Autumn, he said our pup’s a bastard!—Jade rushed at Fook and grabbed him by the collar—You piece of shit! Saying I’d mother a bastard child! I hope you eat that! I hope your children are born without assholes! Damn you to hell, slandering an innocent woman . . .

  Jade raised a hand to slap him, but Kingfisher pounced on her and pulled her back. Smudge began to wail along with Jade, and soon the two little ones had joined in as well.

  As the crowd fell into chaos, Lu Beiping shook free of the four baffled workers, who released him without any resistance and went over to guard Fook in case Jade flew into another rage and tried to strike him again.

 
Lu Beiping glanced at Autumn, feeling like he ought to say something to him. But Autumn had already turned and begun shepherding Jade and the three kids back toward the lodge.

  The troop broke up and milled about in confusion. Chu squeezed through the press of bodies, wrinkled his nose at Lu Beiping and shrugged at him, then turned to Fook and said with a devious chuckle:

  —Well, Sergeant, this has been very educational. On behalf of the Canton re-eds, I declare this mission a success—Fook brooded silently, his face ashen—but if I’m allowed to offer a bit of advice, we ought to put out those torches now. Some of us are starting to get blisters on our fingers.

  The crowd began to disperse toward the mouth of the hollow. There was a great hissing and billowing of smoke as the torches were extinguished in the creek, and before long all that remained of the expedition were eight blackened bamboo bundles strewn across the rocky bank, like props on an empty stage.

  Chapter 12

  Spirit Flight

  —Autumn! Wait!

  The figure hurrying across the pebble beach sped up at the sound of Lu Beiping’s voice as if it had received an electric shock.

  —Wait up, Autumn! There’s something I need to tell you!

  Far down in the dark tunnel of branches, the sloshing of Autumn’s footsteps continued.

  Lu Beiping sprang into the shallows and rushed down the creek, splashing water as he ran. In the dappled shade ahead of him he could make out Autumn’s silhouette marching onward with sullen determination. Piqued by Autumn’s refusal to acknowledge him, Lu Beiping sprinted forward as fast as he could, scissoring his arms, and in a few bounds he managed to catch up with Autumn and tackled him from behind.

  —Autumn! he cried bitterly, Are you trying to hide from me? Are you angry at me because I shoved you? Here!—he squeezed the struggling Autumn with all his might—How’s this? We’re even now!

  Autumn flailed in his grip, but Lu Beiping wouldn’t let go. Eventually Autumn gave up the struggle, and with a final, slight shudder his body went slack.