—Good heavens, Four Eyes! Jade said, recovering some of her former enthusiasm, and began kicking water at him. But just as she was about to jump into the creek Lu Beiping was struck by a sudden fear, and he rushed forward and grabbed her.
—Wait, Jade! The water’s really cold. It might hurt the . . . He stopped, his tongue tying itself in a knot before he could say the word. Then he blurted out abruptly: Jade, is it true that you’re leaving?
Jade stiffened in surprise and dropped the sneaker she was still holding, which went sailing off immediately on the current. Lu Beiping lunged and managed to grab it, and when he turned back to look at Jade he saw that her eyes had filled with tears.
—So it’s true? Autumn must’ve told you? Jade said, wiping her eyes. Those men don’t tell me anything. They’re afraid to do anything that might shock me and hurt the baby. I told them, as soon as this pup’s born I’m not going anywhere. Four Eyes . . . the reason I came looking for you today, is that . . . I wanted to ask you, do you want it? Do you really want this child?
—I . . . Lu Beiping stood motionless in the middle of the creek, now acutely aware of the piercing cold of the water. These mountain folk didn’t waste any breath on niceties; they got right to the point. He remembered the question Autumn had put to him so baldly on that cold, clear morning not long ago.
Lu Beiping said nothing. He just hugged Jade tight to his chest, feeling like the moment he let her go the warmth in his bosom would turn to cold cinders.
The babbling song of the water hung in the evening air. The light on the bluffs, the bright green tresses of the vines, the leaves teeming in the mist—all of it seemed to be silently recounting the successive chapters of their shared story.
—I’m sorry, Four Eyes, I know I’ve put you in a tight spot, Jade said gently, wiping tears from her cheek. Kingfisher told me he didn’t want you to get dragged into our world on account of this pup. Whether you want it or not, the babe’s mine. I asked you whether you wanted it, but it’s me who’s bearing it. I know you men . . . Suddenly Jade pushed him away and said in a pinched voice: I just want to know, Four Eyes . . . are you like those other men? Or are you different?
Lu Beiping stood in the shallows looking down, unable to meet her gaze. Wordlessly he stooped to put on his boxer shorts, and as he did so his tears splashed into the water.
—Jade, he said, I really don’t know. I like kids. Thinking about having a kid of my own, it makes me want to shout for joy. It makes me want to cry . . .
As he said these words a shudder of emotion ran through him.
—But you don’t want to be this one’s pa! Right? Jade said, the ripples of light reflected on the cliffs shimmering on her face as well. It sure was frightful when those men came with torches the other night, wasn’t it? Right then, I thought, if Four Eyes dares stand out in front of everybody and admit he’s this child’s father, I’d die for his sake! Jade stuck out her chin and gazed up at him with a wintry look in her eyes: Go, Four Eyes. Leave me. There’s not one man in this world worth my dying for—there was but one, and he’s already dead! Nothing lasts long among us driftfolk, we always drift apart in the end. Kingfisher and Stump have their own wives and children back home, you think they’d stroll into town with me under their arm and own up to having me as a mistress?
Lu Beiping’s heart began to race as Jade contemplated this hair-raising scenario.
—Ha! she cried. You all mock me for a whore, and that’s just what I am! A hen without a rooster, a wife to nobody! Someday I’m going to take my whole brood of filthy, squawking, fatherless chicks and march right back into Kwun-chow Crossing, show those folks who shamed me and took me for a stonewoman just what kind of woman I’ve become!
Jade laughed loudly, wildly, bitterly, all the while wiping tears. The entire gully resounded with her cries of grief, and the thrumming echoes sounded like they might lift the mountain.
No one will know how many times Lu Beiping wandered back and forth between the third and fourth fingers of Mudclaw Creek that night. At first he was just searching for a missing bull. When he laid down his chopsticks at the end of dinner he rose immediately and made for the door of the lodge, announcing that he needed to track down a bull who’d gone astray late in the afternoon. Autumn volunteered to go with him, but Lu Beiping refused; Smudge wanted to come too, and got no for an answer; Kingfisher insisted that he stay a while and share a bowl of fresh herb tea, but Lu Beiping politely declined. Everyone, though, sensed the hidden accusation in Jade’s words as Lu Beiping walked briskly out the door: Let him go, boys. No point in holding a man back when his spirit’s already flown.
As he pulled aside the vines that hung in the mouth of the tree-tunnel, the image of Jade sitting big-bellied on the bamboo cot with a far-off look in her eyes as she spoke these words lingered in his mind. He laughed bitterly. It had been she who’d led him up this creek for the first time, wading against the current. Now, in the strange journey against the current of life that he’d embarked upon soon after that first meeting, he’d arrived at yet another fork in the path.
It had been an odd dinner. Everyone ate in solemn silence, as if consuming the grave offerings after a tomb-sweeping. Was the prospect of their imminent departure playing tricks with their mood? Maybe Jade and the men had gotten into another tiff about “weighing anchor” that afternoon; that had to be the reason, Lu Beiping told himself. Lately the hollow had been positively overflowing with bittersweet feelings. Even little Tick sensed that something was up, and asked Lu Beiping out of the blue: Four Eyes, will you still come to teach us figures?—which stung Lu Beiping’s heart. Every day Kingfisher was out in the yard sweeping up wood shavings or rearranging the logs that were soaking in the pool, and during spare moments he’d pull out his carpenter tools and start hammering, sawing, planing, or whittling, making what implements Lu Beiping couldn’t guess and didn’t dare ask. Stump, too, had been busy these days; ginseng roots and gecko skins lay drying on every available rock, and the wild partridge eggs he’d been collecting and pickling now filled half a dozen enamel jars. Naturally Lu Beiping didn’t inquire about these treasures either, knowing that the answer would probably bring tears to his eyes.
What pained Lu Beiping most, though, was the way Smudge was taking the whole thing. The boy would sit on the edge of the bed for hours on end, gazing at him with a bitterness that verged on antagonism, and every time Lu Beiping tried to engage him he responded with stony silence. Lu Beiping had a vague feeling that he owed something to Smudge, though what it was he couldn’t say. Jade, bustling in the kitchen with one hand resting on her belly, was the most serene and composed of all of them. But even so her far-off gaze now seemed to Lu Beiping to have a cold, acid quality, and just the sight of her sitting alone by the creek was enough to make his heart start pounding. However, as the unspecified day of their departure drew near, Autumn seemed to leap free of melancholy, growing ever more cheerful and talkative in an odd counterpoint to the others’ mounting gloom. One evening he returned from the high valley carrying a newborn rhesus monkey, bearded with a tiny white ball of fur, which he let loose inside the cabin to a storm of shrieks and laughter. Kingfisher joked that they’d be the perfect image of a merry outlaw band, traipsing from town to town with a monkey capering on a leash. Stump suggested that they put him in a pot with ginseng and liver-root and boil him for seven days and seven nights, saying that a nice, big jar of monkey paste would keep the bad vapors off of them for months to come. But to everyone’s surprise Autumn let the little fellow go the next morning, all the while crowing newspaper slogans about Peaceful Coexistence, Mutual Understanding, and Freedom of Movement. Before releasing him, he even went so far as to appropriate the red ribbon from Jade’s water pipe and tie it around his neck for a farewell present. The kids cried, the grown-ups griped, and Autumn just stood there grinning goofily at Lu Beiping.
Bustle and idleness, tears and laughter—all of it seemed
to be circling around their impending final farewell. Even when the crowd was in high spirits a current of melancholy ran through their revelry, and the subtext was clear: When the guest departs, his cup goes cold.
But no—he knew this wasn’t entirely true.
The days passed; the chopsticks rose and fell. Often there was meat in the supper bowls. Lately Lu Beiping had taken every chance he could to employ his “doler” ration stamps in the service of the driftfolk, buying sugar, crackers, soap, and other household goods that were of use to them, as well as trading his grain and cloth stamps to the workers for honey, eggs, and other minor luxuries that lent an air of opulence to the weeks leading up to the band’s departure. Plum Tree brand red-braised pork and Pearl River dace, which always flew off the shelves of the supply co-op and into the eager hands of re-eds, were among the new delicacies that began to grace Jade’s table almost every week.
As Lu Beiping’s trips to the hollow became more frequent, his underlying nervousness began to show. Though he knew the decision to “weigh anchor” was set in stone, he hadn’t dared ask about the actual date. He feared that one day he’d walk up out of the creek-tunnel to confront a lonely pile of beams and boards, and know then that Jade, Kingfisher, and the others had broken camp and drifted off like clouds in the night. So he drove his lowing legions up to the hollow at every available moment, keeping an eye on the driftfolk as if doing so might postpone the day of their departure, which was bearing down on him with the inevitability of a prison sentence. Leaving the cattle to graze on the opposite slope, he’d sit in the shade of the bluff and tell stories to the kids while trimming their hair with his manual hair clipper, trying his best to appear casual while secretly gnawed at by a deep anxiety. At dinner that evening, before Lu Beiping excused himself, Kingfisher had broken the silence with a sly chuckle, saying: So, folks, I want everyone to tell me one thing that’s been different around here these days. The others paused mid-mouthful, perplexed by this, and Stump volunteered: Got so much grease in my belly lately, my shit’s starting to stink. The whole table burst into laughter, and Jade said, No wonder the whitebait we’ve been catching in the pond over there smells like brother Stump’s ass! Plucking a fish out of the serving bowl, she pressed it on Lu Beiping. He protested halfheartedly, then bowed his head and accepted it. Jade added: What’s different these days? Main thing is, the bigger my belly gets, the more Four Eyes avoids me. Stump objected: But Four Eyes visits us oftener now than ever before! Lu Beiping remained mute, as if gagged by a mouthful of food. Smudge crowed: Uncle Autumn smiles and laughs all the time now! That’s what’s different! Autumn gave him a sharp look, then reached out his chopsticks with theatrical self-assurance and plucked the biggest piece of meat out of the serving bowl, then popped it in his mouth. Listening to the sound of chewing meat that filled the ensuing silence, Kingfisher said cryptically: What’s different now is that we’re all saying a lot more with our chopsticks than we are with our tongues.
Crafty old Kingfisher—he always knew how to drive a point home without bringing the hammer into contact with the nail.
Bastard! You’re the bastard! That afternoon, when Lu Beiping drove his cattle up into the hollow, he’d found Tick, Roach, and Smudge embroiled in a bitter squalling match. Fucker! Tick shrilled at Smudge, You’re a shadowborn, demon-spawn bastard! You’re the son of the Snakeweird! You . . . The three kids had been fighting over a top that Lu Beiping had whittled for them out of a burl of wood. Smudge, being the oldest, had monopolized the toy, spinning it deftly with a piece of cane twine and neglecting to let his younger siblings have their turn. Roach tried to grab it, Smudge fought back, and they fell to fighting. When Lu Beiping arrived it was too late to intervene, for Kingfisher, who’d been doing carpentry work across the yard, strode over and without any preamble laid a savage slap on Smudge’s cheek. Pissant! he roared. You little scum! You think you’re the Emperor? Let the pups have their turn! Kingfisher smacked the boy again, then again, and Lu Beiping, unable to stand it, stepped between them and shielded Smudge. Kingfisher, he said, Don’t blame Smudge indiscriminately. He’s just a kid. Furious, Kingfisher responded: Just a kid? A kid can be a demon too. He’s a devil’s get, make no mistake . . . Kingfisher stalked away, cursing and swinging his fist. Smudge, who was inured to indiscriminate abuse, forgot about it immediately and went back to playing with the little ones. But Lu Beiping carried a heavy feeling with him all day. The hollow was no primitive paradise—it was a country unto itself, with all the accompanying codes of conduct, rigid hierarchies, and unreasoning prejudices. All this became clear to him as the driftfolk gradually admitted him into their world. But only this afternoon did it dawn on Lu Beiping that the child Jade carried—his own flesh—would, in all likelihood, suffer the same fate as Smudge if he (she?) grew up in this savage chiefdom. Another “shadowborn bastard,” another “devil’s get,” to be slapped around according to the whims of Kingfisher and Stump . . . Lu Beiping didn’t dare think further.
He followed the trail’s familiar turnings, listened to the water’s familiar babble. Once again, in the space of an evening, his world seemed to have changed color: the people strangers, the hollow an unfamiliar place, his own heart alien to him. The sun had set, but in its lingering glow a long snakecloud draped its ruby-red tail over the mountaintop, and he imagined for a moment that the cloud was another scrap of red paper beckoning him. But this time the message wasn’t cryptic and obscure; it was plain as day. The troops had massed, the playing pieces were arrayed on the board, and what bounties he won, what disasters he called forth, were all up to him to decide.
Jade was right—lately, whenever he caught sight of her and her belly, he found himself slinking stealthily away. It scared him stiff to think of confronting the creature that lurked behind that smooth curve of flesh, and the host of unknown variables it brought into play: the responsibility of fatherhood, the burden of blood. There was nothing in this world more precious than a human life, he knew that to be true. What he didn’t know, though, was whether he was unable to shoulder the role of fatherhood, or just unwilling to. Or could it be that Jade was right, that this whole absurd situation was something she’d brought on herself, and he wasn’t called upon to shoulder any of it? In truth, it was for her that he’d shown the greatest concern lately. All the “nice things” from the “doler co-op” were meant as gifts for her, and he always delivered them directly into her hands, leaving no doubt as to their significance. But in his heart he knew that he gave them to her out of guilt, and that this show of consideration just betokened his insincerity. Jade, sharp-eyed woman that she was, saw right through him; just like she said, his spirit had already flown.
In a vague way he understood where his heart was leaning, and he knew it had been leaning that way for a long time. These days, as he sought out fresh pastures for the cattle, his feet led him naturally up to the pool behind the hollow, where the broken tablet lay, and naturally Autumn would appear there too. They never arranged to meet, just chanced to be there at the same time—Autumn happened to be hauling timber out of the high valley while Lu Beiping drove the cattle up for a cool bath—and they would greet each other with a smile, needing no further explanation. After reading the tablet countless times and filling in almost all of the missing characters, it seemed like they’d barely scratched the surface of the things they had to talk about: from the mountains of Canton to the piers of Tung Ling, from uncles and aunts to Confucius and Mencius, from cane and clogs and sticky rice to fighting over jacks on the Tin Tsee Wharf. Never during these cheerful hours of conversation did Jade appear, though her shadow always hovered nearby. One day he discovered a sign that she’d passed through the area: a foraging basket, abandoned in the undergrowth not far from the tablet. A current of fear rushed through him at the sight. But what was he afraid of? It was just a basket, and nothing came of it afterward. Why, then, was he so overcome with dread? He’d accepted Autumn’s affection, and Autumn knew that he was doing
his best to make good on his promise. But the truth was that they were still carefully, gingerly, maintaining a degree of distance, lest some rude embarrassment shatter the happy equilibrium they’d rebuilt atop Lu Beiping’s assent. The prospect of straying over that line made both of them recoil in fear.
If only he’d understood, back then . . . The thing was, there were plenty of interesting characters to befriend among the re-eds—what was he seeking in Autumn’s company? Once he’d imagined that Fate, directing his footsteps into the wilds of Mudkettle Mountain, was leading him into the depths of lost time, into the distant past, reducing him to some simpler, more natural, more instinctual state. Why, then, now that he’d been reduced and simplified, did everything seem so much more complicated? Out of his bewildering old life he’d tried to escape to something true, something certain, but now that he was drawing near to it, he found himself feeling even more bewildered than before.
Enough already. Just go with it. Let everything come forth as it may, in its own time, in its own muddled, ambiguous fashion. Since Chance brought all this into being, better to place it all back into the hands of Chance, and wait for the spirits, standing by quietly in the shadows, to issue their own ruling.
But Lu Beiping’s thoughts hadn’t wandered far when the shrill moaning of a bull jerked him back to reality. Following the animal’s voice, he descended from the fourth bend of the creek into a narrow, rocky crevice that overhung a deep ravine, at the far end of which, in the moonlight, he made out a large, shuddering shadow. Casting his flashlight beam down through the rocks, he saw that it was the white-headed bull, Peter, who he’d been hunting for fruitlessly all afternoon. Several fallen branches had rolled into the crevice and pinned the animal’s front hooves, and the bull, pushing and tugging and bellowing mightily, seemed to be just a hair’s breadth from shaking free. But when he looked closer, Lu Beiping sucked in his breath: If those branches, tumbling into the crevice after Peter, hadn’t pinned his hooves just so, he’d have kept on sliding under his own momentum and plummeted to his death in the gorge below. Chance had come to Peter’s rescue. But no! Looking even closer, Lu Beiping now saw that if he hadn’t found Peter right at this moment, the struggling bull would’ve dislodged the woodpile and, propelled by the cascading branches, gone over the edge nonetheless. Once again Chance, crazy, capricious old Chance, had materialized in the form of Lu Beiping and, in a moment of spine-tingling serendipity, saved the sorry animal’s life.
The Invisible Valley Page 35