Death Fugue

by Sheng Keyi

  Before leaving, Mengliu embraced Juli. ‘Farewell,’ he said, hoping she would survive her plight.

  When they departed, the funeral procession was crawling slowly across the side of the hill. If it hadn’t been for the shadows it cast on the snow, it would not have been easy to see the pure white procession. They had no doubt that it included Shanlai and Darae. The sun-kissed snow was dazzling. Mengliu, Yuyue and Suitang looked dignified in their sunglasses. Their consultations complete, they were ready to act according to plan, and didn’t speak as they travelled. Walking quickly, they reached their destination at ten o’clock. From far away, they saw the cable car on the peak opposite, like a bird cage hanging on a thin wire. It was skirted on both sides by cliffs. Below was a bottomless pit of silence. The dense virgin forest was still full of life in the piercing cold.

  Mengliu’s calves and stomach had turned to jelly, and Suitang was having doubts about the thin wires.

  Yuyue said proudly, ‘If anyone wants out, it’s not too late to go back. There is no way out once you’re on the cable car.’ She underestimated Suitang, who was not the least bit intimidated.

  They hid themselves in the bushes like cats.

  ‘A fire in the snow would be good right now.’ They had already digested their breakfast and began to feel less and less able to fight the cold. Suitang was so cold she kept thinking of the hypothetical fire. ‘If we could roast some wild game…this would be a really nice trip.’

  ‘If you come back alive, I’ll go with you on a camping trip in the snow.’ Yuyue pointed off into the distance, as if coaxing a child, then adjusted her artificial leg to a more comfortable position before continuing. ‘We’ll have a huge camp fire, roast a wild rabbit, and a pheasant, grill mushrooms, barbecue pork…ah! Then we can drink some wine, you know, to warm ourselves up. We’ll lie in the snow under the stars, tell ghost stories…’ As she whetted Suitang’s appetite, she was herself moved by her wonderful descriptions. Staring at the other two intently, she said with great seriousness, ‘I’ll be here waiting for you. Don’t you two run away. Be sure to come back!’

  Mengliu smiled. ‘I can’t say for sure.’

  The sun was directly overhead, pale and weak. He looked at his watch. Eleven forty-five. His heart banging, he clawed through the bushes and looked out. Each tree was like a human shadow, but there was nothing on the road. He felt frozen, barely able to control his fingers. Time seemed to have come to a standstill. The wind blew from time to time, raising a dust-storm of snow. White clouds puffed from the three conspirators’ nostrils. It seemed they could see each other’s eyes through their sunglasses. Without knowing who reached out first, three pairs of thickly gloved hands were suddenly stacked one upon the other. With this action, their hearts were filled as with a divine mission.

  There was a loud roar in the distance.

  ‘Avalanche,’ Yuyue said, as if it were as common as rain.

  ‘If you get caught, don’t say anything. Don’t mention anyone

  else’s name,’ Mengliu instructed Suitang, as if he were a surgeon addressing his staff at the operating table. Then he stared at Yuyue and said solemnly, ‘Don’t say anything to Michael until we come back.’ He released his hands from theirs, then took off his gloves and sunglasses and readied for action. ‘Wait for us.’

  Yuyue nodded, and also removed her gloves, rubbing her hands and cracking her knuckles. ‘I’ve had practice in free combat.’ She had a lot of confidence.

  ‘The cable car will only stop for five minutes. Attack furtively, don’t confront anyone head-on,’ Suitang said. ‘Just one blow, then leave his life to fate.’

  ‘Sh!’ Mengliu pointed to two figures in the distance. Suddenly, they could hear nothing but their own heartbeats. Perhaps he had been squatting too long. Mengliu’s legs felt weak. He tried to stand but could not, as if branches had hooked onto his clothing, or plants had wrapped around his body. He heard the crunch of footsteps on the snow, getting closer and growing louder, until at last they were a mighty force thundering on his eardrums. His breathing became laboured and he was dizzy. He forced himself to control his trembling. It was like a nightmare from which he could not wake.

  ‘You wait here, I’ll settle it.’ Perhaps perceiving Mengliu’s fear, Yuyue deviated from the plan. She looked at her watch, then calmly went out and greeted those who approached. From a gap in the bushes Mengliu could see their lower bodies. Yuyue spoke the local dialect, occasionally mixing in an English word. She laughed heartily, as if meeting and chatting with old friends. As they joked, someone suddenly gasped, and Mengliu could just see Michael’s escort clutching his hip, then staggering to the ground as if drunk.

  She made easy work of the escort.

  ‘Michael, they want to go over and have a look around for a while. You and I can wait here for them to come back. You don’t mind, do you?’ She pointed to the people who had just emerged from the bushes.

  Michael looked bewildered. ‘Have I somehow offended you? When…? Why should I be denied the chance to enjoy the benefits of the nursing home?’ His face was still crimson, his cheeks trembled as he spoke. ‘Yuyue…don’t be manipulated by these outsiders. Surely you’ve figured out that they don’t have beliefs. They’re just cowards, right to the core.’

  ‘Michael, attacking them will serve no purpose for you,’ Yuyue replied, laughing. She saw that Mengliu and Suitang had propped the collapsed escort against a tree trunk, so that he looked like he was having a nap. ‘I can’t vouch for them to come back.’

  Michael moved close to her and said softly, ‘You heard the avalanche, right? I guess the funeral procession has been buried alive. A large-scale epidemic will soon break out. The medical team will retreat tomorrow. Swan Valley is doomed…I suggest you also go somewhere safe. It’s better that you come to the nursing home with me and stay for a period of time…See, the cable car is coming.’

  The car had come to a stop just above the edge of the cliff, like a steel cage for a wild beast, with thick bars. The automatic doors propped open. A chill emanated from the empty cage.

  Michael suddenly ran toward the car, but tripped on a branch. By the time he recovered, his hands had been tied behind his back.

  ‘Sorry to do this, Michael. If you’re lucky, you won’t have to suffer for long.’ Mengliu bound the director and the escort back to back, then gave the tape to Yuyue, in case she deemed it necessary to tape their mouths shut. He realised that the heroic self from his fantasies had emerged. His legs had stopped shaking. His mind was clear, he wasted no effort. He had dealt with the current scuffle with amazing efficiency, and now caught Suitang’s hand and headed toward the cable car.

  As soon as they entered the car, the doors snapped shut. The floor beneath them was made of wooden planks, affording them a view of the misty abyss through the gaps when they looked down. Mengliu was frightened half to death. He had not heard Yuyue’s final words clearly, though he had a faint notion it had been something about the avalanche. All of his energy went to quelling his fears. No matter how cold it was to the touch, he had to keep a firm grip on the iron railing. The cable car trembled violently, then started up, swinging slightly. It moved very slowly, but they could not overcome their fear to appreciate the grandeur around them. The strange rocks, towering trees, the cliff and its crevices covered with white flowers, and the gorgeous smoky clouds held nothing for them.

  Suitang did not dare to look anywhere other than at Mengliu’s chest, yet she seemed to see everything. ‘Put your gloves on,’ she said, shivering.

  He opened his arms, but kept one hand on a pole, afraid to let go. He didn’t feel the cold. The truth was, he was afraid of heights. He was afraid to take an aeroplane. Even climbing a ladder set his legs trembling, and standing on the three-metre-high platform at readings had always made him dizzy. Now he was flying, and it was like suddenly reaching a climax. His spirit went back in time and the woman before him turned into Qizi. They were in the police bus going to their interrogation, their b
odies close, but not looking at each other. She was gazing at the buttons on his chest in the same way as Suitang was now. He bent and looked at her eyes, and her lips, and thoughts of love surged through him, wishing the journey would go on forever, that the vehicle would never stop.

  ‘Come, hold me. Close your eyes. Imagine we are on a boat…’

  But before he had finished, the gliding cable car stopped convulsively. The entire cage vibrated.

  Now the cable car was hanging above the abyss and shaking gently.

  If they so much as breathed, it rocked.

  He had felt the urge to urinate when he first boarded the car. When Suitang screamed and grabbed hold of him, Mengliu nearly wet his pants in fear. His face was as pale as a zombie’s, his mouth was tightly shut. Hoping to hide his complicated feelings, he squeezed out a smile, but it only made him look even more ghastly.

  Suitang lay collapsed in his arms for several minutes before gathering her senses. Now she beheld an earthly paradise. Everything was bathed by the sun in a warm coating of yellow. They were above the clouds, close to the heavens.

  ‘Ah…you see that cluster of clouds? Just like a castle.’ She tried to stand firm, without leaning on anything, as if she were on level ground.

  He turned cautiously to see her castle, and it was indeed as magnificent as a heavenly palace, as if a beast guarded the gate and fairies floated around it. But then, in the blink of an eye, it looked more like a house on fire, with smoke billowing and wounded people falling to the ground.

  He closed his eyes in an expression of torment.

  ‘It’s interesting how they change…Well, and then…’ She continued to investigate the clouds, apparently grown completely accustomed to the dangerous environment. ‘It’s like a big cruise ship cutting through a choppy sea. Look, there’s a row of waves.’

  He, on the other hand, was thinking of the precariousness of their situation, that they might fall into the abyss at any moment.

  ‘If the cable car has broken down and cannot move we will soon become mummies.’ He glanced at her full forehead with his half-closed eyes, wondering at her ability to enjoy the scenery. He didn’t want to talk about the clouds. Inwardly, he cursed the damned cable car, though it wasn’t so much out of hatred for the thing as an attempt to vent his fear. With one breath he damned the car’s creators and a whole lot of other people and especially Swan Valley. Finally he calmed down.

  ‘If we are going to die here…could you…compose a poem for me?’ Suitang said. ‘I don’t want to die silently…When people find us, they will have your poem, and people will remember my love.’

  ‘Women! Damn your vanity!’ He liked her look of fearlessness before death. It was full of longing. But at the same time, he felt his heart jolt, and after the stabbing pain, a drop of blood dripped on Qizi’s face. She had been pushed onto the stage by vanity, and now a greater desire was controlling her, making her sacrifice her life. If he were to replace vanity and desire with more edifying words, it would be idealism and faith. This was what had become clear to him, after much pondering. When he had devoted himself to working in the hospital in a desperate attempt to anaesthetise himself against his memories of the past, people had taken it as an act of selflessness and applauded his exceptional conscience, praising him as a model of morality in the medical community.

  ‘As long as I live, I will have my vanity.’ Suitang wore a look that suggested that she wanted to talk to Mengliu about love. ‘Will you write for me? Do it now. If we don’t die it will still be a keepsake.’

  He was suddenly angry. ‘Do you know that I have a phobia of heights? I couldn’t squeeze out a fucking fart right now, much less a poem.’

  ‘I’m afraid of heights too. But I’m not afraid when I’m with you. Do you know why?’ Women are more able to maintain their composure at crucial moments than men. Suitang didn’t get angry, even though she had every right to accuse him. ‘Because we are doing something meaningful.’

  Mengliu’s face regained a little colour, his shame doing much to dispel his fear of heights. He wondered why he had been losing to women so often recently, why they had continued to pamper him like a baby, tolerated and given way to him, overlooked all his flaws. He was like their dog. They had all been confused by his superficial heroism. He wasn’t going into the nursing home because of Yuyue or for the truth, or at least, not completely. He lacked the quality of courage. He was naturally uninterested in truth, except for medical truth. But as for the question of how to go on surviving, he had his way…and his walks through the forest were proof of that. He would quietly take every opportunity he could to inspect the lay of the land. He drew a map of Swan Valley in his mind. It could not be completely isolated. There must be a way out. As for the river suddenly disappearing, he imagined that it must have continued flowing beneath the mountain, like a ghost. But now the river that flowed secretly beneath the mountains was filled with squid. Yes, that’s definitely how it was. And this cable car was the instrument for crossing the river.

  ‘Maybe we can get away from Swan Valley from here…if the cable pulls us over safely.’ He wanted to grab Suitang’s hand, but his fingers were stiff. He felt excited by his ability to let go now and stand on his own. He was blowing on his hands and slowly rubbing them together to warm them. He tried several times to look down at his feet, but failed. At last, gritting his teeth, he did look down, but all he could see was a river of rolling clouds.

  Suitang said it would be horrible if they just ditched Juli and Yuyue. ‘Yuyue is waiting for you, you know. You must honour your word.’

  ‘They are on their own turf, with their own sense of law and order. We can’t do anything about that.’ He found he was overcoming all of his mental obstacles. He looked out from their cage and was awed by the beauty around them. He was thinking, Maybe the cable car stops here to let people feast their eyes on paradise before sending them to heaven. Such views only appear on a road close to heaven.

  A gust of wind ran across the valley, shaking the cage.

  From afar, they must have looked like a fallen leaf hanging on a spider web.

  Suitang whispered, clinging to Mengliu to balance herself, ‘Well, if you won’t write, I can’t force you. But I want to know why you are so hardhearted. Even for a dying wish, you won’t do this to satisfy me?’

  ‘…If you want to think like that, I can’t do anything about it. Qizi would understand. She knew what I thought. She chased me out of Round Square because she didn’t want me to accompany her, to sacrifice myself fruitlessly. She was a true believer, but I wasn’t. She thought of the public, but I only thought of her. I was just tagging along. To be honest, I did not want to share in the fruits of their victory – but even more, I did not want them to lose so tragically, blown away like ashes in the wind…’ He was silent for a while, tears shining at the corners of his eyes. ‘So we need to think about how to get back…people cannot live without their motherland, even if it has no feeling for them, even if it takes everything from them, even if…’

  As he was speaking in this sombre fashion, in these parallel sentences, she interrupted him. ‘Here, chew this. I think we should make love now, right here.’ She eyed him with a sort of apocalyptic indulgence.

  He chewed the gum. He had thought of this possibility countless times, but today it didn’t attract him at all.

  The cage, seemingly startled by Suitang’s words, began to twitch. With a burst, a bang, and a clicking sound, it started gliding towards the other side.

  24

  After entering a black hole, the cable car suddenly accelerated, whizzing along like a bullet. Mengliu felt like the top of his skull had been ripped off, and the skin on his face peeled back. Suitang’s long hair whipped about him, burning his face like fire. Without thinking, he grabbed hold of the railing and pulled Suitang into a protective embrace. He heard her shout, but couldn’t make sense of the garble of words that came speeding out of her mouth. Then he couldn’t hear anything, and after that he k
new nothing.

  When he awoke, they were lying on a wooden floor. The room was hot, and he was sweating. The beating of war drums slowly retreated from his ears, and he felt a kind of warmth, like sunshine after a storm. A ray of light struck his eyes, and he mistook it for the sun. When all the other lights came on one after another, he realised he was on a stage framed by a scarlet curtain, with a piano on one side, and various props on the other. The ceiling was dozens of metres high. He saw a circular painting on the ceiling and black velvet seats with yellow armrests filling three storeys of the auditorium, all of which were empty. The white gauze curtains on the boxes were held back with gold herringbone hooks. He recognised Darae’s work in the relief work covering the walls. At this point the familiar smell of the sea stimulated a memory. It seemed he had been here before – he remembered his conversation with the robot. Yes, that was here. Presumably the hall had been renovated extensively after the destruction he caused. He remembered it fully. It wasn’t a dream. He pulled himself up, and shook Suitang, who was like a sparrow hawk in full spin when she awoke, asking where they were as she looked around. When the light struck her body he saw fine traces of blood on her face.