by Can Xue
Amy pondered this question for a long time: Why had Uncle Qiming arranged for her to stay in this home? Was it merely because they had no daughter and so he had brought them one? She’d seen for herself how much the old woman loathed Uncle Qiming, and so her doubts and suspicions mounted. She wanted to ask her brother, but her brother didn’t like to talk. He said the city dust had ruined his voice. In this family, the one who least liked to talk was Meng Yu. Soon after arriving, she felt she had dropped into a silent world. Of course the sheep bleated. As time passed, she learned to distinguish the sheep’s bleats. Later, she started singing songs she had learned from her mother. No one stopped her, and she even thought the old couple actually enjoyed her singing. The old woman told her that singing was helpful as long as she didn’t immerse herself too much in hopeless illusions.
Finally Uncle Qiming showed up. Standing next to the elm tree, he looked at the stars and said, “Amy, what’s the difference between sheep and people?”
Amy trembled all over. This question frightened her, and Uncle’s hand on her shoulder was really heavy. When she finally answered, she said, “I always look into their eyes. I think they know that thing before people do. I think they understand thoroughly. They . . .”
She gabbled on and on inarticulately. As she spoke, she suddenly recalled her taciturn father, who lived in the mountains. Was she perhaps in the same clan as Meng Yu? She sensed she was on the verge of discovering something. It was almost on her lips, but of course she still couldn’t say what it was. Uncle Qiming had been gone for quite a while, and Amy was still trapped in thought. Something light dropped to her feet—a jade-colored butterfly. It was sliding from her foot to the ground. It was dying.
“Many butterflies have died in the nursery in the park over there. They fly and fly and then drop.”
Liujin had come over. In the sunset glow, Liujin’s face was radiant, like that of a twenty-some-year-old woman. Liujin asked her if her father was Han. She couldn’t say, because sometimes her father said he was Han, and sometimes he said he was Yao or Hui. Her father said, “There’s no way to be sure. Since your mother is Uighur, you can also consider me Uighur.” Amy had asked her mother, too, and she had said her father was “a person of the mountains.” Her mother explained that mountain people were those who worked for years and years in the old forests deep in the mountains. No one knew where they came from.
“Oh, I see!” Liujin stared at Amy. “The first time I saw you, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I thought you weren’t a real person. Now I see: you’re doing well in Mr. Meng Yu’s home.”
They scooped out a hole and buried the jade-colored butterfly under the elm tree. Just then, the old woman came over.
“Liujin, has your relationship with Sherman cooled?” she called.
“Yes. Or it might be better to say there was never anything to it,” Liujin said, embarrassed.
“That’s what I think, too,” she nodded.
In a split second, Liujin felt this old woman was particularly reasonable, and she was surprised that she had changed her opinion of her.
Watching her from behind, Amy said, “The old woman is like this: you look at her and you think she’s talking about one thing, but no, she’s talking about another important matter. In the past, I wasn’t used to the way she talked. Now I am.”
“Amy, you’re really bright.”
“Liujin, come with me to see the sheep.”
When the two of them crouched among the sheep, Liujin’s heart leapt with longing. She said to herself, “So that’s what’s been going on in this courtyard all along.” Liujin observed the sheep’s eyes: their expressions were vacant. She looked up at the sky; her line of sight fell on the last rays of sunset. She asked Amy, “Do you hear children singing? How strange.”
“Yes, I’m listening,” Amy said. “It’s so beautiful. They’re probably on their way.”
“Where? Where are they heading? They sound far away.”
“It’s hard to say where they’re going. When it gets dark, they stop singing. Listen! They’ve stopped, haven’t they?”
Unexpectedly, the sheep on both sides began bleating: it was a heartbreaking lament. When Liujin noticed Amy’s wooden face, she thought Amy had long been accustomed to this. All of a sudden, Liujin noticed the sheep’s legs shaking. A gigantic eagle—two or three times the normal size—was flying overhead. It had begun to circle.
“What kind of eagle is it?” Liujin asked in alarm.
“Don’t worry. It’s okay. This eagle is a little like my dad.”
Amy looked mesmerized, as if drunk. At the same time, the sheep were shaking even more; a large number of them knelt down, and a terrifying silence saturated the air. Liujin noticed old Meng Yu emerge from the house with his shoe repair tools. Indifferent to what was going on in the courtyard, he sat down to do his work as usual. Amy told Liujin that he would begin a long journey the next day, so he was repairing his shoes.
The eagle finally swooped down and grabbed a lamb just as the sky darkened. Although she couldn’t see much, Liujin sensed an immediate ease in the tension. All the kneeling sheep stood up. What puzzled Liujin was that the snatched lamb had uttered no sound.
“Where will old Meng Yu go?”
“Not sure. He never says. Liujin, will you come again tomorrow? If you don’t, I’ll be lonely.”
“I can’t come tomorrow. I have to work. But you like being alone, don’t you?”
“Yes. But I also like to talk with you.”
Amy lit the lantern, and once more Liujin felt a surge of strong emotions. Over there, old Meng Yu was repairing shoes in the dark. He tapped calmly on the soles. Sorrow once more appeared in the eyes of the sheep, illuminated by the lamp. This was their habitual expression. Liujin’s heart trembled, overcome by strong emotions. She said to herself over and over again: “Amy . . . so beautiful.” The passions this young mountain woman stirred up in her were much stronger than the feelings she’d had in the past for her various sweethearts.
Liujin awakened with a start at midnight. She sensed someone entering her room. When she turned on the light, she saw to her surprise that it was Amy. Amy’s hair was a little disheveled, her gaze a little blank. She held a cat to her chest: it was Liujin’s tiger-striped cat. When Liujin sat up, she saw two geckoes that had disappeared for a long time clinging to the wall. And under Amy’s feet, two wagtails were pecking at grain.
“When you showed up, they all came in. How did you get in, Amy?”
“You’ve forgotten—you left the door open. I haven’t come here before. Your place is like an ancient castle. As soon as I reached your courtyard, your cat and your birds all showed up. They’re starving. Were you keeping them out? Hey, your bird is pecking my feet! Does it eat meat, too?”
Amy sat down cross-legged on the bed. The two little birds squawked and rushed out the door.
Liujin asked Amy if old Meng Yu had come back.
“No. I don’t think we should worry about it.”
“So he won’t come back?”
“Probably not. He wanted to leave a long time ago. He prepared many pairs of shoes for himself.”
Amy was staring at one gecko, which was stuck to the edge of the lampshade. It looked as if it might fall any minute. The cat she held was snoring. Liujin heard sounds coming from the flowers and plants in the courtyard. Little critters were probably moving back and forth among them.
“Someone from an earlier era has entered your courtyard. Everyone thought he was gone, but he wasn’t. His longevity is amazing. He’s coming to your home. I never believed anyone could live that long until I saw him with my own eyes. It was he.”
“Do you mean Uncle Qiming?”
“Of course not. This is a person without a body. Once upon a time in the mountains, my father told me about this. And it’s in your home that I’ve discovered it. Your home is like an ancient castle: even the moonlight is different.”
Liujin was sitting across from Amy. As she listened,
she imagined seeing little critters going to and fro in the clumps of flowers, and she felt a great satisfaction. Could it be that she really hadn’t closed the gate yesterday? She swept her eyes involuntarily over the scene outside the window and saw birds moving in the nest that had been abandoned long ago. Amy turned off the light, and green moonlight flooded the room. Everything looked green and lush.
First, a frog croaked in the corner to the west, and then came the responses. There seemed to be three or four of them.
“What was your life like in the mountains? I can’t even imagine it. A lonely family surrounded by nothing but mountains . . . They must be under enormous pressure. If it were I, I wouldn’t be able to cope. That’s a little like being naked in public.”
“Dad and my brother always went to dangerous places to cut firewood. Back then, we had no clock. Mama and I estimated the time by the sun’s position. That kind of life wasn’t at all monotonous. Right now, my brother is sitting in old Meng Yu’s firewood shed. He was so quiet that I got scared and slipped over here to your place.”
“Would he hurt you?”
“I don’t know. I never know what he and Dad are thinking. But back then, they did agree to my coming to the city. They saw me off at the crossing, and then went back home without a word.”
“Are you ready for bed, Amy?”
“Yes.”
She didn’t want a quilt. She curled up in a corner of the bed and soon fell asleep. She was really thin! She didn’t take up much space. Her posture while sleeping made her seem very lonely. Liujin looked out the window again: it was pitch-black now with no moonlight. Recently she had remembered something: she was crying helplessly, and a man bent down and picked her up and lifted her to the sky as he shouted something. Probably it was the missing Uncle Qiming. That’s who it must have been, although she couldn’t be sure.
Liujin couldn’t fall back asleep. It was as if Amy had created a strong magnetic field in her bed: each time Liujin was about to drift off, something startled her. She got up and walked into the courtyard. By the light of her lamp, she saw a person sitting at the courtyard gate. It wasn’t Uncle Qiming. This person was much younger—maybe Amy’s brother. Liujin thought he didn’t want her to disturb him, and so she kept her distance as she gazed at the dark shadow. A frog croaked again—quite abruptly, frightening her a little. After a while, the person left, and Liujin promptly walked to the gate with the lamp.
On the stone bench was a sickle for cutting grass.
Amy was awake and said, “That’s my sickle. I killed a leopard with it.”
She said once more that Liujin’s home resembled an ancient castle. She let the cat go and walked out, barefoot and soundlessly, sickle in hand. Liujin thought, She’s just like a leopard. The two wagtails flew out from somewhere and lit on her shoulders.
Liujin got into bed, hoping to sleep some more, but Amy ran up again, gasping for breath. She said, “Liujin, my brother, he . . . my brother, he knocked Uncle Qiming down!”
“Oh, no!!”
By the light of her lamp, she saw the old man lying on his side by the fence.
“Uncle, Uncle, where does it hurt?” Amy asked anxiously.
Uncle Qiming waved them off. Liujin heard him repeating something vaguely.
“He says, his heart hurts. He can’t move yet. He wants to lie down here for a while. I clearly saw my brother stab him in the back with a knife!”
“Amy, do you know how old Uncle is?” Liujin asked.
“Almost eighty. He’s the oldest person I’ve seen in the city. I’ve heard that an even older person lives on the riverside, but I haven’t seen him. My brother tends to be violent.”
“Amy, Amy, how come there’s blood on your sickle?!”
Liujin sniffed the edge of the blade and saw Amy cover her face and squat down. Her shoulders were shaking, as if she were crying. Liujin also crouched down. She wanted to comfort Amy, but she didn’t know how. Below the wall over there, Uncle Qiming groaned again.
“We, Uncle Qiming, my brother, and I—we burst in here and now we have no way to leave.”
Amy whispered this, as if very distressed.
“There are butterflies here, too. I noticed them as soon as I entered. They aren’t wild butterflies. Liujin, your home is more frightening than being on the mountain, so my brother ran away.”
It was so dark all around, and the lamp was almost out of oil. Liujin felt cold all over. Amy’s distress was infectious. What had happened to the ebullient longing she’d felt earlier? A bone-deep loneliness was spreading through her. Liujin wondered what kind of thread connected these three people. All of a sudden, she thought of her faraway parents: it had been quite a long time since she’d received a letter from them. Was this because they trusted her more? Oh, Dad! Oh, Mama! She was about to break into tears and was embarrassed to be so childish. What was wrong tonight?
Amy stood up. It was hard to breathe because the air here was a little thin. She’d been longing to enter Liujin’s home. From outside the courtyard, she saw the flowers bloom and wither, and she saw the large, colorful butterflies fly in and out unhurriedly. In the daytime, the scenery at this home was primitive; at night, an intangible gate closed. When Amy stood outside the courtyard gate late at night, she felt waves of dank air pushing her backward. That’s why she called this home “ancient castle.” Although she had tried many times, she was unable to enter. Now she was finally inside, and everything here was novel. The gecko stuck softly to the edge of the lampshade. It made her shudder all over. The strange thing was that Liujin couldn’t see the butterflies in her own home. They crowded in through the windows—they were so large, so numerous. They fluttered unhurriedly, and then after a while, they flew out again. Amy knew from Liujin’s expression that she didn’t see them. It was a strange selective blindness. The colorful butterflies in Liujin’s courtyard must be the little creatures closest to being a mirage, because Liujin actually couldn’t see them, though she was aware of all the other little creatures. As Amy held the drowsy striped cat, she felt she was holding the entire snow mountain in her arms!
“Liujin, do you think Uncle Qiming will die? He said he injured his heart. It has nothing to do with my brother. But I saw my brother gouge a deep hole in his back.”
“Maybe your brother was trying to save him.”
“Then, shouldn’t he be happy now? He walked to your home and then collapsed. It’s so dark here. Liujin, Liujin, I’m all stirred up!”
“Me, too, Amy. Let me hold your hand.”
Liujin held out her hand, but what she grabbed was the edge of the sickle. Blood gushed out, making her hand sticky.
“Amy, did your hand turn into a sickle?”
“Oh, that happens a lot. Did you get hurt? I have bandages.”
By the light of the lamp, Liujin wound a bandage on her hand. The lamp flame leapt a few times and then went out.
“Amy, Amy . . .” Liujin sighed ardently. “You mountain people are sometimes so far away that I can’t catch up with you. You’re watching me quietly from afar.”
Over there, Uncle Qiming moaned softly. Amy heard him right away. She wanted to say something, but didn’t. Suddenly, the parrot in Liujin’s house screeched: “Not eighty years old. Seventy-nine!”
Liujin burst out laughing.
Amy gave Uncle a hand, and they walked out of the courtyard. She said they were going to Meng Yu’s home to treat Uncle’s wound.
It was when Liujin was measuring cloth for a customer that the man walked over: he was Amy’s brother—tall, with a long beard and eyes like an eagle’s. Liujin’s hands trembled slightly. She folded the cloth and handed it to the woman, took her money, and quickly turned and went to the back room for a cup of tea; actually, she left mainly to avoid the man. To her surprise, her boss said, “Isn’t that gentleman here to see you?” So the boss had noticed him. Liujin had no choice but to return to the counter. She was startled when she heard him speak, because he actually spoke in the standard accen
t of Pebble Town—not like Amy, who spoke like an outsider.
“I’m not here to buy cloth. I’m just looking. Everyone here is so guarded. Is there ever a time when you let down your guard?”
He looked puzzled and helpless. He was carrying an iron cage. Liujin glanced into it and saw a wolf cub. She blanched. He started to laugh.
“Don’t be afraid. It’s a demi-wolf. But in an era like this, who can distinguish wolves and dogs? For example, I . . .”
When Liujin heard him say “an era like this,” she felt it was quite strange. What was an era like this?
The man didn’t go on talking. He bent down as if to open the iron cage. Liujin decided that if he let the wolf out, she would run to the back room and bolt the door. But although he bent down a few times, he didn’t open the cage.
“Sometimes, I sit here and think about your lives on the mountain, but I can’t figure it out. Wouldn’t you go crazy living alone on such a high place?” Liujin immediately regretted her words; she thought she was really an idiot.
“Of course not, Liujin. Of course not!”
Liujin was startled all over again, because all at once his tone had turned intimate—actually, even with a little seductive overtone. She recalled that Amy hadn’t come to the market today, and asked if he’d seen her.
“No. She probably stayed at home today with Uncle Qiming and Mrs. Meng.”
Liujin thought this man didn’t feel guilty at all. Then, what exactly had he done to Uncle Qiming? Or had he really helped him? What kind of mental state was Uncle Qiming in—Qiming, who wandered around all day? She looked up and saw those eagle eyes looking at her brightly. He didn’t hide his lust. Liujin couldn’t understand, yet she was curious. What type of man was he?