Vertical Motion

Papercuts

The gigantic owl — twice as large as ordinary owls — had been coming around for days, each time at dusk. It sat on a branch of the old mulberry, its round eyes — of indeterminate color — like two demonic mirrors.

That day, Mrs. Yun returned from the vegetable garden carrying a pair of empty buckets on her shoulders. As she turned and suddenly saw this big thing, her legs went weak and she nearly fell. She wanted to run off, but she couldn’t move. It was as if something were holding on to her legs. She struggled for a long while and calmed down only when she reached her door. When she looked again at the tree and saw that thing again, she promptly shut the courtyard gate.

Mr. Yun was sharpening a hatchet. She noticed a ruthless expression looming on his face.

“What scared you so much?”

Walking over, he opened the courtyard gate and watched for a while.

“Hunh!” he said.

Then he closed the gate slowly. Mrs. Yun knew he didn’t feel like talking. And because of his explosive temper, she didn’t dare ask him anything. She heard the chickens hopping around uneasily in the coop. One old hen didn’t want to return to her nest. Finally, she grabbed the hen and thrust it in. With that, all twelve chickens in the coop went crazy, and Mrs. Yun’s heart thumped continuously. She remained in shock right up until she lit the lamp, finished her dinner, and washed the dishes. She wanted to open the courtyard gate to take another look, but she didn’t have the nerve.

Sure enough, that night the chickens and dogs were all in an uproar. The next morning, two chickens were missing. At the gate were chicken feathers and traces of blood. Mrs. Yun thought, was it the owl? Why did she think it was a man-eating beast? Mr. Yun looked at the feathers on the ground and said, “This doesn’t matter.”

Feeling uncertain, she stood next to the entrance, cupped her hands, and shouted through her tears: “Wumei! Wumei!”

She was calling her daughter. She’d had five children, but the first four had died. The only one left was Wumei. Her daughter leapt out from the dry ditch; she had cut a small bundle of firewood.

“What are you shouting about?” Wumei said disapprovingly. Her face was flushed.

Mrs. Yun reproached her: “What are you shouting about?”

Wumei set the firewood down and went to her room. Mrs. Yun knew she was making papercuts again. Recently, she’d become infatuated with a weird design — concentric circles. She cut them out of black paper and pasted them on the walls and windows. Mrs. Yun told her that looking at the rings made her dizzy. But Wumei didn’t care and continued cutting.

Mrs. Yun was a little indignant because no one else in the family was upset by what had happened the night before. And neither father nor daughter seemed to think the ill-omened bird was even there. They just went on doing whatever they had to do. She wasn’t one to make a mountain out of a molehill, but wasn’t it true that something had invaded her life? Those two hens were both new and were about to lay eggs. They had eaten a lot of food every day.

Sulking, Mrs. Yun began making a commotion with the dishes in the kitchen.

“Just ignore it. Isn’t it the same as if it weren’t here?” Wumei said in a low voice.

She was standing next to the door, her eyes wide open. Mrs. Yun couldn’t figure out what her bright black eyes were saying. She merely thought that her daughter was becoming more and more bewildering.

“What do you mean? It’s obviously in that tree. And we’ve obviously lost two hens.”

“We can raise more chickens.”

With that, she walked away.

Mrs. Yun got goose pimples at the thought of Wumei’s black rings. And so she sighed to herself: “Ah, she’s destined to survive.”

Mr. Yun went to the market with a load of hemp sandals. Mrs. Yun went to the farm to pull weeds. She didn’t ask Wumei to go along.

As soon as she opened the door, she saw it. Now it was coming in the daytime, too. What a cruel thing! What should she do? She thought and thought, but could find no way to deal with the situation. Whatever will be, will be, she concluded. After closing the courtyard gate, she went to the farm.

It was an overcast day. Mrs. Yun kept listening uneasily. If there was any movement, she could run home at once. But nothing happened all morning. When she went home, it had left the tree. For some reason, Mrs. Yun felt that without the owl the tree was a little lonely and was standing there listlessly. Had she been affected by her daughter?

Nothing happened that night.

=

Now Mrs. Yun was sitting in the doorway, stitching soles for cloth shoes, and the gigantic bird was in the tree across from her. The afternoon before, it had pecked a piglet to death — a tragic scene. Mrs. Yun reminded her husband of her father’s hunting rifle. Mr. Yun took the gun in his hands, looked around for a long time, and then put it down again. He said stiffly, “It’s useless.”

“Why? Why?” Mrs. Yun said impatiently, “Nothing’s wrong with this rifle. Last year, Yun Bao killed a lot of wild rabbits with it. It’s a good rifle.”

“Is this a wild rabbit?” Mr. Yun roared fiercely.

“Then, what do you think it is? It’s going to do us in.” Mrs. Yun was furious.

“It is — it is—bah!!”

Mr. Yun went to the kitchen and started the fire.

Mrs. Yun’s eyes blurred as she stitched the soles. It was as if the end of the world was coming. It took a long time for her to compose herself. She saw Wumei walk past the ditch with a basket on her arm. She was cutting pig fodder. She wasn’t the least bit afraid, nor was she concerned about the family’s losses. This child was a little callous. Whenever she told her anything, she said the same thing: “Just ignore it.” But Mrs. Yun noticed that her daughter had changed: when she cut firewood and pig fodder, she no longer went far away, and she seemed to be detouring around that evil bird. Mrs. Yun was a little excited by this discovery. Father and daughter were not ignoring this issue, after all. Could they figure out what to do? As a housewife, she knew she couldn’t make the decision in such a serious matter. She could only worry. When she looked again at the owl, it seemed bigger: it looked like a tiger sitting there.

From the kitchen came the sound of Mr. Yun singing mountain ballads. He seemed emotional. When he was young, he’d been good at singing these ballads. He was an educated person from the city, yet he had voluntarily settled down in the countryside. Mrs. Yun had come with him. Life in the countryside was quiet and dull, but because Mr. Yun liked it, Mrs. Yun subsequently came to like it, too.

Mr. Yun hadn’t sung for a long time. Now, hearing him, Mrs. Yun couldn’t sit still. She ran into the kitchen and started making pancakes.

“Are you making pancakes?” Mr. Yun was a little surprised.

“We have to celebrate!” Mrs. Yun said decisively.

“Oh, good point!”

The pancakes smelled delicious!

Wumei came home, and the three of them sat around the table eating pancakes. Mr. Yun was in a great mood; he even drank a glass of wine. Wumei had some wine, too, and her face glowed red. Looking at Mrs. Yun, she widened her eyes and said: “Are you going to leave us, Mama?”

“What?” Mrs. Yun thought she’d heard wrong. “What did you say?”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” Wumei lowered her head and whimpered.

“She’s had too much to drink,” Mr. Yun said. “Why don’t you have a little, too?”

And so Mrs. Yun also took a glass of wine.

Mrs. Yun seldom drank; when she left, she was a little dizzy. Carrying a bamboo basket, she went out to pick beans. She had just reached the turn when she was ambushed. She was aware of a lot of whips lashing her body. Since she couldn’t avoid them, all she could do was roll around on the ground. She wondered if she would die. The bird was on top of her. How had it grown so many whips? Some struck her ruthlessly, as if hacking her body into two halves. She heard her tragic wail spread in the distance. After a while, she fainted; before she plummeted into darkness, she saw a terribly bright fireball.

When she sat up, she was in so much pain that it was like being pricked by needles. She moaned. From behind, someone pulled her up by her armpits. She screamed in pain, but she was steady on her feet. Ah, this was a middle-aged man, a stranger. When she looked at him again, though, she thought she’d seen him before. She remembered: when she was young, there was a handsome young man who had repaired cart tires at the roadside for a living. This one looked much like him, but was much stronger.

Mrs. Yun was a little excited.

“Are you Youlin?” she asked. Her voice quivered from pain.

“Yes. And you’re Xiumei.” As he spoke, his eyes roved. “That evil bird wants to destroy you.”

“How did you happen to come here?”

“Why not? I often do. It isn’t far.”

“Not far from where?” Mrs. Yun looked at him in astonishment.

“My home. It’s nearby.”

“Your home?”

“Yes. Over there.” He was pointing toward the wasteland behind him.

It finally occurred to Mrs. Yun that she’d been leaning against Youlin all along. Was he really that Youlin? Why didn’t she feel at all shy? He supported her weight as she walked, and after she took a few mechanical steps, her pain subsided. Walking west, they crossed the wasteland and came to a vast swale. Mrs. Yun whispered to herself: Did he actually live in the marsh?

“Do you have a job, Youlin?”

“The same as before — fixing tires. That’s all I can do.”

“How can there be anyone in this wasteland who needs tires repaired?”

“There are always one or two. You haven’t noticed them. When it’s nearly sunset, they come over from the marsh.”

“The marsh?! No one can walk in it.”

“They’re light. They can walk over from above.”

At first, Mrs. Yun had been a little excited by leaning against a man she had dreamed of in her youth. Now, all of a sudden, it was as though she’d been splashed with cold water. She wanted to break loose from him, but when she tried, she was pressed even closer to him. Slowly, she began to desire him, but this feeling also frightened her. Her arms lengthened and tightly entwined him.

“Then, can you also walk over from above?” Her voice was trembling.

“Ah. Yes.”

They could see the marsh and an apple tree there. Youlin’s tools hung from a fork in the tree, and the chrome-plated wrench flashed with light. Looking at this scene, Mrs. Yun felt glum. But this didn’t hold her longing within limits.

They sat down to rest under the apple tree. Birds were squabbling fearfully in the marsh. Mrs. Yun noticed a tiny grave with a tombstone on it. Mrs. Yun asked Youlin whose it was and how a tomb could be built in a marsh. Youlin was thinking back on something. After a while, he finally answered, “Him.”

Mrs. Yun was no longer in pain, but she was growing feverish. She heard Youlin say, “Let’s take off our clothes.” It seemed to be someone else speaking. After hesitating a moment, she began undressing. So did Youlin. Holding each other, they walked toward the marsh. Strictly speaking, Youlin dragged Mrs. Yun over there.

The sun was shining, and the water was warm. Sex in the marsh wasn’t like real sex. There was only extreme longing, but she felt no great pleasure. At first, Mrs. Yun thought she would sink, but the damp earth beneath her was buoyant. Their bodies were half-buried in it, but they didn’t sink down. She embraced him tightly. She felt he was confident in his knowledge of the earth here.

When they went back to the apple tree, some leeches were sticking to their bodies. Mrs. Yun abhorred them, beat them hard, and got rid of two of them. She dressed. Five were sticking to Youlin, but he didn’t care. Nor did he get dressed. He sat on a rock, casting his eyes at the marsh in the distance. Mrs. Yun thought he had forgotten her. Anyhow, what were they to each other? Mrs. Yun couldn’t think it through at this moment. When she looked up, she saw a lot of black rings on the apple tree, one ring within another — much like Wumei’s papercuts. She thought of asking this man what was hanging on the tree, but when she saw his expression, she abandoned the idea.

“I have to go home. I’m a little afraid of that bird.”

“Then I’ll walk you home.”

Youlin got dressed and walked behind her in silence. Mrs. Yun walked rapidly. When she passed the mulberry opposite her front door, she didn’t see the bird. There was just a pile of bird droppings on the ground. Mrs. Yun went through the courtyard gate, and when she turned around, Youlin had disappeared.

Mr. Yun and Wumei were playing Chinese chess in the courtyard. Mrs. Yun raised her voice and said: “Who among our villagers has ever gone to the marsh?”

Mr. Yun stretched, stood up, and said: “No one. But at night, outsiders have come out from there. I’ve heard that people and carts are coming and going all the time. But I’ve never seen what actually goes on there.”

Mrs. Yun looked at her husband in disbelief and went into the kitchen without a word.

As she cooked, Mrs. Yun tried hard to remember how she had reached the marsh. It was at least twelve miles from the village. How had she been able to make the round trip in such a short time — as if she had flown? If it was always so easy, then wasn’t it as if Youlin lived at her front door? She felt she’d made a mistake and thought there might be problems later. Back then, in her hometown, she hadn’t fallen in love with Youlin. Where on earth had he come from now? Was this person really Youlin?

At night, when the moon shone into the bedroom, Mr. Yun had already been in and out of many dreams. All of a sudden, Mrs. Yun woke up and heard some movement in the next room. Without even bothering to put on her shoes, she rushed out.

“Wumei! Wumei!”

Shivering, she groped for a match on the windowsill and lit the lamp. The bed was empty. Where was Wumei? Ah, she was squatting next to the bureau. She stood up and covered half of her face with her hand.

“What happened to your face?”

“Leave me alone!”

Mrs. Yun suddenly pulled her hand away from her face. Then she retreated two steps in fright, for half of her daughter’s face had disappeared, as if it had been cut off with a knife!

“Oh! Yunshan! Yunshan!!” Mrs. Yun screamed for her husband.

“You are so ignorant.”

With that, Wumei calmly walked out.

In the lamplight, Mrs. Yun noticed black rings all over the room, some moving in the air, others attached to the walls. Several were even hanging from the beams. Mr. Yun came into the room; he seemingly didn’t care about these black rings. He stood motionless in the middle of the room.

“Wumei. her face. ” Mrs. Yun stuttered.

“Ha, this little thing! Her hoaxes are becoming more and more brilliant. Just ignore her.”

“What attacked her. Was it that bird?”

“Maybe. But don’t you worry about her. She’s destined to survive.”

“Destined to survive?”

Taking her doubts with her, Mrs. Yun went back to bed. In the dark, she asked Mr. Yun: “Do you remember Youlin, who repaired tires on the corner of Dragon Street?”

“Sure. I had him repair tires for me. He went north a long time ago when some of his relatives asked him to run a factory there.”

“But I’ve seen a man much like him here. How can someone look so much like him? Even his voice is the same.”

Mr. Yun seemed to be snickering. After a while, Mrs. Yun heard him snoring.

=

The gigantic bird was still sitting in the tree, but it had been several days since it had attacked any of the family’s livestock. What was it doing sitting up there? Mrs. Yun thought it must be very hungry; green light flashed from its eyes even though it was daytime. Mrs. Yun sometimes thought of detouring around it, but she couldn’t stop herself from walking over there again. Once, she was so frightened when she looked up that she almost plopped down on the ground. After a while, a thought came to her: “Is it possible that this thing wants to eat me?” When she turned around and took another look, it had closed its eyes. She regretted having approached it just then — it was too risky.

In the cool early morning breeze, Mrs. Yun stood next to the kidney bean vine and recalled meeting Mr. Yun years earlier for the first time. His family had moved from far away to the town where her family lived. It was a long time before people in the neighborhood became aware of their existence, because the family didn’t talk much with others — and because they delivered coal for a living. City people generally did not make friends with coal deliverymen. When he was young, Mr. Yun was rather thin, not as robust as he was now. One time he was pulling a cart of coal up the steepest incline on the neighboring street. It was drizzling and his tires skidded. He kept climbing up and sliding down. Mrs. Yun was watching from one side. Probably it was the eighth or ninth time that he slipped down that Mrs. Yun couldn’t bear to watch any longer. She rushed up and helped him push the cart. Then the two of them went up the slope together. Little did she think that Mr. Yun would stop the cart and angrily rebuke her for meddling. Mrs. Yun blushed, glared at him in disdain, and left.

Before long, Mr. Yun invited her to a movie. When he was young, Mr. Yun was very handsome. How could Mrs. Yun turn him down? Later, she discovered that Mr. Yun was generally amiable, but if one interfered with his work, he immediately turned harsh. He couldn’t put up with any comments on his work. During those years on Dragon Street, Mrs. Yun saw her husband toiling and wanted him to hire a helper, but he sternly refused. He went to work on time every day and never asked for time off. Even when he was sick, he wouldn’t let Mrs. Yun help. When he pulled the cart, his body became one with the cart. Even Mrs. Yun felt there was no room for another person in this scene. Mrs. Yun joked with him and nicknamed him “Charcoal.” She felt all along that he pulled the cart not only to support the family but also for another reason. What on earth was this other reason?

She observed him working under the blazing sun. The blacktop roads were boiling hot. Drop by drop, his sweat fell onto the ground. His eyes were wide open and his face a little pale. Mrs. Yun thought he would have heat stroke, but she also knew that he was engrossed in daydreams and so she shouldn’t disturb him. From years of experience, Mrs. Yun knew that the more strain he was under, the more excited he was. And so the one time that she had helped him push the cart had amounted to depriving him of pleasure.

As Mrs. Yun saw it, after marriage, their life on Dragon Street was neither all gloomy nor was it all sweetness and light. The two of them lived a simple, austere life. Mrs. Yun loved children. Who could have imagined that she would fail to bring up her children? Even now, she need only close her eyes and she could see her four darling children. Because of them, Mr. Yun and she were both drained of tears. Mr. Yun advised her to abandon the idea of having more children, but she wasn’t convinced. Mr. Yun said, “The air here is poisonous.” Suddenly one day, he loaded up the cart with a lot of household goods and said that he wanted to live with relatives in the countryside. Although Mrs. Yun couldn’t comprehend what life in the countryside would be like, she did want to be far away from this place where she was grieving. And so she ignorantly came along with Mr. Yun. Their move should have been considered a success, for didn’t they later have Wumei? As a child, Wumei was really lovable, and Mrs. Yun felt delirious with love. But this child became more and more somber. It was hard for Mrs. Yun to communicate with her. At first, she was a little offended, but she gradually came to understand her a little. The little girl was a lot like her father; still, she worried about her. This heaven-sent treasure was the triumphant result of Mr. Yun’s decision. This led her to recall the way Mr. Yun looked when he hauled the coal up the hill on that rainy day.

Because Wumei was grown up now, Mr. Yun no longer liked to talk much, and it was always quiet and cheerless at home. Sometimes when Mrs. Yun was cooking, she felt as though no one lived here. To reassure herself, she sometimes had to check out the courtyard. She always saw father and daughter silently doing their own things. Mrs. Yun knew they both still loved her; they just didn’t express it well. They were too absorbed in their own concerns. Take this bird, for example. At first, Mrs. Yun thought it was an ordinary bird, but father and daughter didn’t see it that way. They had much more profound insights. Mrs. Yun was only dimly aware of their worlds.

After picking the kidney beans, Mrs. Yun headed home, for she had to boil congee with kidney beans — something the whole family loved. The courtyard was empty; both father and daughter had gone to the field. When Mrs. Yun laid eyes on the chicken coop, she was horrified to see the bird standing there. Oddly, the chickens were walking back and forth, not at all afraid. Ah! Could it be that it had come to deal with her?

Mrs. Yun went back to the kitchen, thinking the future was boundless. As she lit the fire and chopped vegetables, her hands shook violently. She was on constant alert, afraid that the bird would pounce at any moment. Though she was under a lot of strain, she remembered the question that had been nagging her all along. Mr. Yun had sacrificed for her the work that he loved and had turned to plaiting hemp sandals. Deep down in his heart, could he resent this? But he didn’t seem to. He seemed satisfied and self-sufficient. When Wumei showed him her papercuts, he would stare at the black rings and say, “Great! Great!” Mrs. Yun recalled that he had never resented anything. Was he the sort who believed in “taking things as they come”?

The congee boiled with fresh kidney beans was wonderful, and the three of them ate with gusto. Mrs. Yun noticed nothing different in either father or daughter.

“That ruffian has occupied the chicken coop. What should we do about the chickens?” she finally spoke.

“You worry too much,” said Mr. Yun.

“Huh?”

Mrs. Yun angrily cleared away the bowls and chopsticks. She had no way to pour out the pain in her heart to anyone, so she came up with some malicious ideas. When she was working in the kitchen, she laughed grimly every few minutes. Meanwhile, she made time to look inside the chicken coop to see if the bird was still there. It was so bulky that it occupied half the henhouse. The green light shooting from its eyes was murderous. Why weren’t the chickens afraid of it? Had they reached an agreement?

When Wumei entered the kitchen, Mrs. Yun asked her: “Did your father bring the bird in? Will we have to live with it from now on?”

“I think it came in by itself. I’m going to ignore it.”

Actually, Mrs. Yun also thought that it had come in by itself, but she couldn’t suppress the wrath she felt toward her husband. When she fed the pigs, they were also calm, as if they weren’t at all affected by their proximity to the formidable enemy. Mrs. Yun thought, Maybe there won’t be a problem, after all? Anyhow, the answer would be clear at dusk when the chickens went back to the coop. She forced herself to be a little more patient.

Father and daughter left. The courtyard was quiet. The hens were all sleeping soundly in the sunshine, now and then making nonsensical gugu sounds. Just one hen was taking a bath in the sand. It didn’t seem to be at all on guard. Mrs. Yun swept the courtyard. Only after sweeping all the corners did she sweep the henhouse. Suddenly, locking gazes with the bird, she went numb all over. She couldn’t move. She and the bird stared at each other for a long time. Finally, one of them turned away. After Mrs. Yun recovered her wits, she found her clothing drenched with perspiration.

At dusk, things took a turn for the better. The owl swaggered out of the henhouse and stood in the courtyard for a few seconds. The chickens and ducks all stopped what they were doing to watch the big bird. With a hu sound, it flew away, its huge wings raising dust and sand from the ground. Mrs. Yun hurried to the doorway at once and saw it stop on the tree again. Father and daughter were walking along the ditch near the tree. But it wasn’t just the two of them. Someone else was there, too. Because he was wearing a straw hat, she couldn’t immediately recognize him. Ah, it was Youlin! He parted from them at the tree and took the road to the market.

“You came back with our former neighbor,” Mrs. Yun said.

“He’s very smart. Right off the bat, he seized the chance to do business next to the marsh. He has it together a lot more than we do.” Mr. Yun appraised the figure that was receding in the distance.

“What kind of work does he do?” Mrs. Yun blurted out. Actually, she wanted to stop herself, but couldn’t.

“It’s hard to say what goes on in the marsh. I’ve heard only rumors.”

Father and daughter sat down calmly in the courtyard and played chess, as if there was nothing to worry about. After making tea for them, Mrs. Yun went back to the kitchen. Today’s events had left her at a loss. It seemed that a distance of about twelve miles wasn’t so far: this person could come over whenever he wanted. Maybe he lived next to the village. How could this tire repairman and the Dragon Street scene have become entangled with her? Ever since leaving that unjust place, Mrs. Yun had felt that her family had broken completely with it. Yet, not only was it not a complete break, but it was possible to have frequent contact. She had simply been unaware of this. It was such a sinister world.

“It’s so scary to repair tires for people in the marsh,” said Wumei. “What I’m most afraid of is pushing a cart on the marsh.”

“Have you seen it?” Mrs. Yun asked lightly.

“Once when I was a child. But the people in the carts were prisoners on their way to being executed. I didn’t dare look and began to cry.”

“Nonsense. When did you go to the marsh? I don’t remember that.”

Mrs. Yun thought to herself, How can this child run off at the mouth like this? She’d been such a good child. Making up stories like this: Could it be that she found Youlin revolting?

“Those prisoners all had long beards, and the tops of their heads were like stumps that had been chopped off. The cart drivers were all very ugly. One was an old ape.”

“Do you remember who took you to the marsh?”

“No. It must have been Daddy.”

After Wumei left, several black rings were visible on the spot where she’d been standing; they were like cauterized imprints. Mrs. Yun scuffed them with her foot but couldn’t get rid of them. When she took a closer look, she didn’t see them.

They were eating supper. After Mrs. Yun changed the lamp wick, the kerosene lamp brightened. Mrs. Yun noticed that the father’s and daughter’s faces flickered in the lamplight, and a dark shadow stood behind Mr. Yun for a while and then behind Wumei for a while. Mrs. Yun forgot about eating. All of a sudden, she burst out: “Youlin?” She was scared out of her wits.

“Living where Youlin lives isn’t as tough as we imagine. I suppose there are some arcane truths there. Let’s drop this subject. I’m afraid it will frighten Wumei,” Mr. Yun said.

Wumei’s shining eyes led Mrs. Yun to think of the strange bird’s eyes.

“Give me some credit, will you, Daddy?”

“Could Youlin be dead?” Mrs. Yun said.

Mr. Yun began laughing. Mrs. Yun saw the dark shadow behind him bow in his direction.

“No way. You just saw that he was all right, didn’t you? I told you: he has a great life! I’ve thought about him in the years that we’ve been apart. But it never occurred to me that he was living next to the marsh. I used to haul coal, and he fixed tires. Back then, I felt that he and I were much the same. As I see it now, we are indeed in different social classes. Think about it: So many years have gone by, how could our characters not have changed?”

Mrs. Yun was staring at her husband’s face, which had gradually become thinner. Her disbelief was growing. Mr. Yun seldom talked so much. What was wrong with him today? The dark shadow behind him seemed to be smelling his hair. Mrs. Yun wanted to stand up, but she felt nailed to her chair. Wave after wave of chills assailed her. She set her chopsticks down.

“Ma!” Wumei shouted.

“Ah?” She was a little more clear-headed.

“You have to give me some money to buy glossy paper.”

“Oh, okay! You’re so industrious.”

Wumei stood up and went back to her room. Just then, the owl began hooting. It wasn’t like the frightening hoot of an ordinary owl. It didn’t scare Mrs. Yun at all; it was merely a little strange. It was intense and resounding, and it lasted a fantastically long time. She thought, Maybe this is the birds’ mountain ballad? It was a long time before it stopped hooting.

Mrs. Yun lit another lamp and went to the courtyard gate to investigate. As usual, she was worried about her chickens and ducks, but there was no problem: it was quiet all around. Outside, the old mulberry tree bobbed its head gently in the breeze, and the owl was no longer there. Perhaps, its song had been its last outburst. What emotions did its outburst hold? Birds’ ideas were hard to fathom. Two villagers passed by the tree. They were quarreling, and suddenly they came to blows. One of them lifted the older one into the ditch. Mrs. Yun heard the one in the ditch groaning loudly. Mrs. Yun called Mr. Yun over to help the old codger.

“It seems he doesn’t want our help. Take a look for yourself. You’ll see.”

Mrs. Yun limped the whole way over there. A lot of stones and clods of earth were piled up on the path.

“Uncle Weng, do you want me to help you? Or do you want me to call someone over to help?”

She was talking to the blurry ball below, but it didn’t answer. Quite the opposite: she heard a strange sound come from his mouth — like the menacing sound made by a cat when it encounters a suspiciously dangerous adversary. Frightened, Mrs. Yun turned and went home.

“What’s wrong with Uncle Weng?”

She saw Mr. Yun snickering.

“I guess he’s enjoying life in the ditch,” Mr. Yun said.

“If I open the courtyard gate, will our chickens, ducks, and piglets be safe?”

“Hard to say. Nobody can be sure.”

Mr. Yun went back to his room to plait sandals. He liked working at night. He would work until midnight.

Mrs. Yun took another look at the ditch. She heard nothing now. For some reason, she visualized a motorcade on the marsh. She muttered, “Something is coming closer and closer.” When she went inside, her legs felt like lead.

Wumei told her that the last time she went to the market to sell papercuts, a group of women had surrounded her. They wanted a hundred of her works. Those countrified women seemed to come from a remote mountain area. There were two blind people among them.

“Did they buy your interlinked rings?” asked Mrs. Yun.

“Yes. They wanted to take them home and learn how to make the rings. When I asked where they came from, they just mentioned a strange place name. It definitely isn’t in our province, and yet I could understand their accent. One of the older ones told me that the sun shines there all year long, so they like black and they like circles.”

Mrs. Yun took stock of Wumei’s bedroom wall. Now there were no longer black rings pasted there, but many yellow ants. Looking at them was nauseating. Wumei was truly spirited and skillful. Such tiny ants: she could cut them out so they were lifelike. But why didn’t she cut some pleasant things?

Mrs. Yun was dazed as she stood in Wumei’s room. Wumei was staring at her, obviously urging her to leave soon. Mrs. Yun couldn’t imagine when Wumei had begun being so uncompromising. No matter what she was doing, she always had her own way. She sighed and went back to her own room.

The bedroom she shared with Mr. Yun was spacious. The old-fashioned bed with flowers carved on it was large, like a small house. When they first moved here, Mrs. Yun didn’t feel comfortable. And so, every day after dinner, Mr. Yun extinguished the lamp, making the house as dark as a cave. Mrs. Yun gradually felt better in the dark. Back then, night birds — usually more than ten of them — always flew over to their windowsill. They were small, and their songs were soft and gentle like crickets on the stove. Mr. Yun joked that he had summoned the birds to keep Mrs. Yun company. Sure enough, these soft sounds at night soothed her nerves. Later, they stopped coming, and Mrs. Yun raised more chickens, because chickens could also dispel her inner unease. Especially the hens that laid eggs.

As she stitched the soles for cloth shoes, Mrs. Yun was thinking of the lovely events of the past. The strange thing was that when she thought of the bizarre episode between Youlin and her, she didn’t feel guilty. She was merely curious. Occasionally, she thought that even if she told Mr. Yun about it, he probably wouldn’t care. She felt that in the last two years, father and daughter were bewitched by something that she had no way to understand. Nothing else would have made such an impact on them.

All of a sudden, she felt sleepy. Mr. Yun was still plaiting sandals, so she went to bed first. She lay in bed for a while, but no longer felt sleepy. When she heard the window rattling, she got up to close it.

“Who’s there?”

“Me. Youlin. I’m back from the market. I’ve brought some glossy paper for you.”

After tossing a package through the window, he hurried off.

Mrs. Yun picked it up and looked at it carefully in the moonlight. This glossy paper should be purple; in the moonlight it looked a little wicked. She lit the lamp uneasily. Sure enough, it was purple. It was the best kind of glossy paper.

When Mrs. Yun went to Wumei’s room, she was still awake. She was cutting those ants in front of the lamp. Mrs. Yun gave her the glossy paper. She said she’d bought it a few days before, but had chucked it into the kitchen cupboard and forgotten about it. She didn’t know if the color was right.

“It’s perfect. Did Uncle Youlin give it to you?”

“How did you know?”

“He said he wanted me to try the purple color.”

Wumei took out a sheet of paper and began cutting right away. Mrs. Yun looked on tensely.

She cut out a centipede, and on the centipede’s tiny foot she pasted even smaller centipedes. Twirling the scissors quickly, she explained her work: “These are eyes.”

Feeling increasingly uncomfortable, Mrs. Yun left. She went back to bed and fell asleep after a while.

=

The day that Mr. Yun carried hemp sandals to the market, the weird bird didn’t come over. But Youlin did. He spoke with Mrs. Yun at the courtyard wall.

“My business has been a little slow lately, but it still isn’t bad,” he said.

“What exactly is going on with the carts on the marsh? One has to see that kind of thing to believe it,” Mrs. Yun said.

“That’s too hard for you. It’s too dangerous for a woman to be there in the middle of the night. Even a man like me is sometimes afraid.”

“But you still stay there?”

“What I want to see hasn’t happened yet.”

“When you lived on Dragon Street, were you aware of our Plum Village? Back then, had you been to this marsh?”

“Dragon Street? No. The place where I used to live was ‘Yuegu Street.’ It was in the suburbs.”

“What do you mean? Aren’t you Youlin?”

“You can say that I am.” He was a little down in the mouth as he looked at her.

“You yourself said you used to repair tires.”

“I did repair tires.”

“Why are you so laid back?!” Mrs. Yun howled furiously.

“I am a little laid back.”

Mrs. Yun watched him lower his head and leave. She couldn’t help feeling afraid. She looked up at the sky; it was yellow. Giving it some more thought, she realized that the frightening thing had occurred about fifteen miles away; her home should be safe. But she still felt perplexed and alarmed. The handsome repairman who formerly lived on Dragon Street — the object of girls’ longing — no longer existed. The one she had run into was another person entirely. And she had become ludicrously involved with this other person. Probably the owl had flown over here from the marsh. But why was no one else afraid of it? Why was she the only one? Sometimes, she wanted to blot out the incident in the marsh, but that wouldn’t do. Her family members and the phenomena all around pointed that way, as if they all wanted that incident to be pinned in her heart forever.

Wumei had pasted a centipede on the courtyard gate: Youlin must have seen it. The purple centipede had been chopped into two parts in the middle; there was only a threadlike connection between them. Had Wumei pasted it there for him to see? Could he possibly be seducing Wumei?

“Wumei, you work too late,” Mrs. Yun said.

“I know, but I want to save money. People want my goods now, so I’d better make more of them. I’m afraid there won’t be an opportunity later on.”

“What are you saving money for?”

“To go far away. Isn’t that what you and Daddy did?”

Dazed, Mrs. Yun looked at the blocked wall. She felt as if her heart had been hollowed out.

“Do you want to go to the marsh?”

“No. I’ve been there once. I want to go to a place where I’ve never been.”

The beautiful Wumei held her head high, like a swan swimming past the wall.

Now only Mrs. Yun was left at home. The village was also quiet. There was only one old codger smoking as he sat under a tree. He was the Uncle Weng who had been dropped into the ditch. Uncle Weng was gesturing in the air with his pipe, as if arguing with someone. Five hens were bathing in the mud and dust at the wall; they looked very happy. Mrs. Yun made quick work of feeding the pigs, sweeping the courtyard, and mopping the floors in the house. Neither Wumei nor Mr. Yun would be home for lunch, and she had nothing more that she had to do. She stood distracted for a while in the courtyard. Then she couldn’t keep from taking another look at the mulberry tree: the owl still hadn’t returned. Uncle Weng was still sitting a little farther away. Mrs. Yun thought, Maybe he’s also waiting for the evil bird.

Mrs. Yun went back to her room and sat down to stitch soles for cloth shoes. But she still felt uneasy. She felt that the peaceful phenomenon was nothing but an illusion. Recently, everything had changed irreversibly. Her Wumei was scheming to go far away. Of course this was a blow, but in her heart she also harbored a hope: maybe because of this her daughter would have a good future and be able to live the life she wanted. She thought, Probably she met someone from a certain place through her papercuts, and so she began preparing to go away. After all, she wasn’t an uncontaminated village child. Her ideas were very complex. As she thought of this, she felt proud of her daughter, even though their relationship had recently been a little strained. She looked at the papercut centipede on the window. This was a particularly large one. She didn’t know where Wumei had found such a large piece of glossy paper. The largest one at the market was one foot square, but this one was one foot two inches and deep purple. At first sight, this lifelike centipede was a little frightening. The most unsettling things were the little centipedes on the centipede’s foot. For Wumei to have cut such a design, she must be harboring devilish ideas.

“Mrs. Yun! Mrs. Yun!”

Uncle Weng was calling her! Mrs. Yun rushed out of the house. At a glance, she saw that a large part of the courtyard wall had collapsed. She called to Uncle Weng and asked where he was, and then ran over to the gap in the wall to look out. But Uncle Weng was nowhere to be seen. Where had he been when he called out to her? Taking another look at the demolished earthen wall, she saw two tracks in the mud and dust. A cart had rushed past, rammed this large gap in her courtyard wall, and then had disappeared without a trace. This person must despise her family in order to have done such a thing. Who hated her family? It seemed no one did. Mrs. Yun tidied up the mess with a spade and dustpan. Suddenly, she thought of something: it was Uncle Weng who had called out to her. He must know who had been pushing the cart! She put the spade down and set out for Uncle Weng’s house.

Weng’s wife was drying peppers in the courtyard. When she saw Mrs. Yun, she didn’t hail her, but just stared at her.

“Is Uncle Weng home? We’ve had an accident at our house. The courtyard wall has been pushed over. I heard Uncle Weng calling me and ran out to look, but I didn’t see him.”

“He isn’t home. Tell me frankly: Are you guilty of having done something very bad?” Her gaze was murderous.

“Me? No. Does this have something to do with what I did? Maybe the person accidentally rammed into my wall and then ran off,” Mrs. Yun said in bewilderment.

“Hunh. Let’s hope so.”

Distracted, Mrs. Yun went back to the courtyard and continued shoveling the mud and dust with her spade. Suddenly, her gaze halted at something in the pile of dust. A large-bodied fledgling that didn’t yet have feathers was struggling clumsily. Ah, a baby owl! It was inconceivable that the owl lived inside the earthen wall. Mrs. Yun bent down and shifted it to a heap of dried leaves at one side. The little thing sorrowfully swung its bald head back and forth and made a hoarse sisi sound. Leaning on the iron shovel, Mrs. Yun watched it and quickly associated this with something else. If this little thing had emerged from her courtyard wall, then had the large scary one emerged from here, too? More and more of these dark connected ideas crossed her mind, and she felt she was going crazy. No, she couldn’t cruelly kill this fledgling, but she didn’t want to raise it, either. Then, just let it live and die on its own. Probably its mother would come and feed it. Flustered and unable to go on spading the mud and dust, Mrs. Yun went home.

She sieved and cooked the rice. She thought and thought and still was uneasy, so she went back to the courtyard to check on the baby owl.

Oh, the fledgling had vanished without a trace. The gigantic bird squatted motionless on the old mulberry tree. Was the fledgling its child? Had it hidden it somewhere? Or was the fledgling unrelated? Mrs. Yun couldn’t keep from walking over to it again. The woman and the bird gazed at each other. Mrs. Yun started feeling feverish: she and the owl had begun communicating in a bizarre way. The gigantic bird’s faint green eyes brought a certain reality and calmness to Mrs. Yun’s empty, desolate heart. Mrs. Yun was no longer afraid of it. She even rushed to say to it: Wa, wa! The bird still didn’t move. Mrs. Yun thought it had discerned her deepest, innermost ideas. Actually, she herself didn’t know exactly what those ideas were.

When she went back to the courtyard, she sighed, “Today is really a long day.”

Wumei and Mr. Yun came back together. Mrs. Yun mentioned what had happened to the courtyard wall. Mr. Yun listened attentively as he ate. At last, he said lightly, “I noticed a long time ago that something was wrong with that wall. It warbles all the time.”

“The wall can make sounds? Why haven’t I heard it?” Mrs. Yun was puzzled.

“Because you haven’t tried. When I make sandals at night, the sound is awful.”

In high spirits, Wumei talked of her new discoveries. She said those women had returned, this time bringing four blind people along. The blind people were all experts at paper-cutting.

“Those designs. my God! No, I can’t explain it. What are the designs?! As soon as I saw them, I couldn’t say a word. For example, there are some feathers, but they aren’t feathers. No, they definitely aren’t feathers! They must be—”

Her eyes turned vacant. She was silent. When Wumei was like this, Mrs. Yun worried, but as usual Mr. Yun paid no attention. He always approved of Wumei.

Wumei washed the bowls. Mrs. Yun noticed that she was working like a puppet. She dipped her hands into the water for a long time without washing even one bowl.

The bird began calling. When she heard it, Mrs. Yun wept. She couldn’t bear it. In her mind, she kept visualizing the fledgling which had stared at her with blind eyes and whose beak had opened so wide. Mrs. Yun covered her face with her apron; she could still see it clearly.

“Mama! Mama!” Wumei shouted, horrified.

Mrs. Yun squatted down. Wumei closed the windows and doors tightly; only then did the bird’s whining weaken.

“Mama — oh, I love you!”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.” Mrs. Yun stood up with difficulty. She was dripping with cold sweat.

“Mama, I was the one who caused the wall to collapse. I wanted to see what was inside it. I shouldn’t have — I was too impulsive!”

“Where were you when the wall collapsed?”

“I ran off and later went to the market.”

“I want to find that little bird.”

“Its mother ate it.”

“Ah, so you saw it all.”

“I was hiding in the ditch. It was really shocking: the mother bird swallowed her baby bit by bit. Half-way through, she choked. I thought the mother bird would choke to death.”

As Mr. Yun’s footsteps sounded outside, mother and daughter both regained their composure. Wumei looked at her father, and acting as if nothing had happened, she went back to her bedroom.

“This might start happening frequently,” Mr. Yun said.

“What?”

“I’m speaking of Wumei. She’s getting gutsier.”

Mrs. Yun didn’t respond. She wanted to change her clothes because she was unbearably cold. When she left the kitchen, the bird’s whining had stopped. As she changed clothes in the bedroom, she saw someone standing outside the window. It was Youlin. Saying “damn guy,” she shut the window with a bang.

Mrs. Yun awakened in the middle of the night from a deep sleep. She heard the wind repeatedly slamming against the window, its howling incessant. She sat up and so did Mr. Yun.

Side by side, the two of them stood at the window and looked out.

In the moonlight, the willow trees planted in the courtyard the year before were being blown from side to side, all of them taking on an unearthly lavender color. Fluttering in the air were some weeds from who-knows-where. All of them were burning. “Will there be a fire? Will there be a fire?” Mrs. Yun asked in a quivering voice. She kept shaking her husband’s arm. Mr. Yun was also looking on in disbelief.

“Where did the fire start? Why didn’t we see any smoke?” he mumbled.

But he evidently didn’t really want to know where the fire started, for he staggered back to bed.

After giving it some thought, Mrs. Yun put on a jacket and went outside. When she opened the door, a gust of wind almost knocked her down. Burning weeds no longer floated in the air. Instead, the air from the wind held a transparent purity. The full moon was a little dazzling. Because it had never been so bright, its rays were tinged with purple. When Mrs. Yun was about to go back inside, she suddenly saw a woman with disheveled hair standing at the gap of the courtyard wall.

“Who are you??” Mrs. Yun shouted sternly. She was trembling all over.

“Wumei!” the woman wailed.

In her bedroom, Wumei — by fits and starts — told Mrs. Yun of the night’s events. She and the women she’d seen at the market had arranged to meet tonight to take a bus to a valley in the north where expert paper cutters gathered. They said there was a lot of good, tough glossy paper there, made from a plant that grows on the mountain. Because the plant was inexpensive, the paper was also cheap, and so all the villagers made papercuts. Outsiders exclaimed over their extraordinary designs. At the market, when they showed her one design, Wumei had been speechless with astonishment. She and the women headed toward the marsh. After walking a long time, they had intended to board a bus they’d seen stopped along the road. All of a sudden, a woman ran up from the marsh shouting something. Running up to them, she pointed at Wumei and said repeatedly that she was a “traitor.” At that point, the women began driving her away. They lifted her up, threw her to the ground, and kicked her head. They trampled her until she fainted. Then they went off on the bus.

“I’m fed up. Just leave me alone.” She waved at Mrs. Yun.

=

Mrs. Yun felt that her home was gloomy these days. Whenever Wumei had spare time, she shut herself up in her room and made papercuts. Mrs. Yun didn’t know exactly what she was cutting, because she no longer hung up her papercuts. As soon as she finished one, she hid it.

“Wumei, it’s been a long time since you’ve gone to the market to sell things,” Mrs. Yun said gingerly.

“I haven’t finished anything yet.”

Although Wumei appeared serene, Mrs. Yun knew this was a pose.

Mr. Yun said, “It’s good for a kid to experience some setbacks.”

When he spoke, Wumei’s face was expressionless.

Mr. Yun had already repaired the earthen wall; it looked as if it had never been damaged. The new wall wasn’t like a new one, either: fine grasses were still growing on it, so that it was exactly like the old wall. Mr. Yun did this work at night. In the morning, Mrs. Yun stood dazed next to the courtyard wall. She heard only magpies singing in the trees.

As Mrs. Yun stood there stunned, Mr. Yun came up and said:

“The water in the marsh has been low for quite some time. Now the sun has dried it up so it’s hard as rock. It’s said that a road will be built on it.”

“How can that be?”

“These years, anything is possible.”

Mr. Yun said he had left a hole under the wall for birds to stay in. He pointed it out to Mrs. Yun. The hole was cleverly designed: its entrance was behind a rock, so if you didn’t look carefully you wouldn’t find it. Mrs. Yun thought to herself, No wonder birds have been inside the wall. Mrs. Yun hadn’t noticed before that Mr. Yun had this skill. Maybe Wumei had inherited her skill from her father. When Mrs. Yun put her hand in the hole, she found it was so deep that you couldn’t touch the bottom.

“Back in the beginning, I never imagined that I had married someone who was such a skilled craftsman,” she said as she stood up.

The news of the marshland caused her to worry anew about Youlin, but after the road was built over there, his business would be better, wouldn’t it? Was he willing do business next to the highway? If he liked roads, then why had he run off and set up shop in the marshland? Mrs. Yun thought it over every which way and still didn’t understand.

“Mrs. Yun, the magpies are singing so cheerfully that there must be a happy event in your family!” Old Mrs. Weng said as she entered the courtyard.

The old woman smiled hypocritically, and she looked ugly and ferocious. Mrs. Yun was a little afraid of her.

“Old Weng is sitting in the ditch, waiting for that event!”

“What event?!” Mrs. Yun was startled.

“Something connected with the marsh. Lend me a little salt.”

When Mrs. Yun went into the kitchen to get the salt, the old woman tagged along.

“Your Wumei is blissful,” she said as she took the salt.

Mrs. Yun figured borrowing salt was her excuse to come and reconnoiter. She reeked of the strong smell of pepper and spices. It made one’s thoughts run wild. After she left, Mr. Yun mockingly commented that she was “the flower queen.” Mrs. Yun asked him why he called the old woman the “flower queen.” Mr. Yun said, “Go ask Uncle Weng. He knows. Don’t think of them just as neighbors. Their home is the barometer for this region.”

“Why did she say that Wumei is blissful?” Mrs. Yun was very suspicious.

“Maybe she smelled out this omen with her nose.”

Later, Mrs. Yun went to the pigpen to feed the pigs. As she listened to the pigs chewing their food, she heard the Wengs talking outside her pigpen.

“Lately, the situation kept changing. Now, it’s finally come to light,” Uncle Weng said.

“Then why don’t you go check on it? The brushwood with the floating wildfire is just where you’re longing to be. As for me, I’ve smelled everything already.”

“It’s better to stay here without moving and let the roaring vehicles push across from the top.”

“Yes, that makes sense.”

Mrs. Yun wanted to continue listening, but they had already walked on. Only a few words carried by the wind reached her ears: “the low water season. ”; “motorcade. ”; “smoke. ”; “prisoners. ”; “before sunset. ”; and so forth. Mrs. Yun set down her bucket and went out to look. She saw that they had already gone into their own courtyard. In this sort of dreary weather, Mrs. Yun didn’t think Wumei would have any good luck; she was deeply uneasy about her daughter. The day before, Wumei had complained to her father that her brain was addled. “I can’t cut anything new.” Mr. Yun had advised her, “Leave your handicraft work and go walking in the mountains — the farther, the better. Don’t be afraid of getting lost.” When Mrs. Yun heard him say this, she wanted to slap him! She had no idea whether Wumei would do as her father suggested. In her mind, she kept seeing the piglet being cruelly killed.

The large pig stopped eating, swaggered to one side, and lay down. When Mrs. Yun looked closely, she saw a melancholy, sad expression in its eyes. She thought to herself: Perhaps I should ask the vet to look at it.

When she went to a neighboring village to look for the vet, he wasn’t home. His wife said he had gone to the marshland first thing in the morning, because a large number of horses there had the pox and were lying on the ground braying and braying.

“One of our pigs is sick, too. There’s also a sick pig at the Youshun household. They all caught it from over there.”

As the vet’s wife talked, she stared at Mrs. Yun, making Mrs. Yun so uncomfortable that she left immediately. She had walked some distance and yet she could still hear the woman shouting at her: “You need to calm down!” Mrs. Yun was really annoyed. She didn’t want to go home, either, so she sat in a daze on a rock beside the field. When she had composed herself, she glanced all around. Everything was ashy and white. There was no vitality anywhere. Could the pox already be here? Growing worried again, she hurried home at once.

“There’s a pestilence,” she said.

Mr. Yun said “Oh” indifferently and continued sieving the rice. Noticing his livid face, Mrs. Yun knew something was wrong and headed for Wumei’s room. Sure enough, Wumei was gone. Hanging from her mosquito net were little serpents that she had cut out.

“Has she really gone off?” a very upset Mrs. Yun asked her husband.

“Just ignore what she does. She’s a child with ideas of her own. And the pestilence is everywhere, so how can she go on with her papercuts? It’s better to hide for a while. One doesn’t worry about what one doesn’t see. A person alone won’t be in danger. Last time, she shouldn’t have gone with those other women.”

Mrs. Yun glanced out the window with hopeless eyes and saw some villagers — old and young, men and women, some of them driving their pigs — hurrying past as though they were fleeing from disaster. Mrs. Yun recalled what she had heard the Wengs saying as she fed the pigs, and she thought even more that there was no way out. But what on earth was Mr. Yun up to?

“There’s something wrong with the big pig,” she said faintly.

“Oh, I saw that. I think it will survive.”

Mrs. Yun felt that, in these days of pestilence, Mr. Yun’s body had become heavy and unwieldy. Not only was he not as restless as others, but he had gradually become as solid as a rock. When he reached out for something, he was like someone exerting a lot of strength to open a massive iron door. The hens seemed to have sensed something, for they were especially afraid of Mr. Yun. Whenever he went near them, they cried out in fear and flew high up in the air. Their wings stirred up dust and fluff and also lent energy to this lifeless courtyard. Only when Mr. Yun went to the pigpen to clean out the dung did the hens quiet down and shiver next to the wall. Mrs. Yun thought to herself, Could he still do things that took strength, such as cleaning out the dung? But she didn’t want to go over to check. She was startled each time she heard her husband making loud noises.

Mrs. Yun steeled herself to go outside. She walked to the road, where she took hold of a child and asked where he was going. The child struggled hard, but she wouldn’t let go of him.

“Tell me, and then I’ll let you go!”

“I’m going to the marsh. I’m going to kill myself! So there!”

“Ah, don’t go!”

“I have to! Let go of me. ”

He bent down and began licking the back of her hand. His tongue was as quick as a serpent’s. Nauseated, Mrs. Yun loosened her grip at once. The boy slid away like a billiard ball and ran off into the distance. After a while, he disappeared.

A motorcade appeared at the end of the road — foot-pedaled flat-bed trucks, with two or three people in each one. Not until the motorcade reached her did Mrs. Yun see that all of those people were tied up, and their faces were ashen. The drivers were all alike — rough, robust, heavily bearded guys from the countryside. Mrs. Yun immediately remembered what Wumei had told her. So this motorcade had come from the marshland. Mrs. Yun drew closer to get a better look at them; she wanted to see the prisoners’ faces. She noticed that these prisoners were also very much alike; even their expressionless gazes were similar. You could say this expression was composed, or you could say it was indifferent. Suddenly she saw a familiar face. It was the vet. His expression was different from that of the prisoners: extreme yearning showed through his composure. He was also tied up, but he seemed to like this punishment: his face was as red as if he’d been drinking. As Mrs. Yun ran several paces after his truck, a jeer suddenly flashed out from his eyes. Mrs. Yun stood still. She craned her neck to see if Youlin was in the motorcade. He wasn’t. He wasn’t there.

She recalled, too, how the vet’s wife had looked while she stared at her. Apparently, the villagers had all anticipated the present situation. She was the only one who was confused. Had Wumei really gone out on the mountain roads? Although the mountains around here were only some small hills and had no wild animals, this was still enough to make people uneasy. Mr. Yun said she had to “try a new path.”

She saw that child. Head down, he was walking ahead, holding at his chest a large bird that had just grown feathers. Mrs. Yun thought it was the bird from the courtyard wall at her home.

“Hey, kid, why did you come back?”

“I forgot to take this bird with me.”

With that, he scampered off.

Mrs. Yun glanced at the trees next to the road. Why had all the leaves turned an off-white color? Suspecting something was wrong with her eyes, she massaged them a few times and looked again: the leaves were still off-white. And not just the leaves, either: even the brown dog that she knew so well had turned into a gray dog. Her body felt as light as a swallow’s wandering in an expanse of off-white scenery. The gigantic owl that she hadn’t seen for a long time also appeared. It was watching her from the mulberry tree. Its eyes had turned into two points of cloudy white light. Its faded feathers looked old. When Mrs. Yun saw a rough bamboo pole lying on the ground, she was seized by a whim. She bent down and picked up the pole to drive away the owl. Although she tried several times, it didn’t move. Just as she set the pole down and sat down to rest, she suddenly heard it cry out sadly. By the time she looked up, it had changed into a tiny black dot and vanished into a spot deep in the ashy white sky. Mrs. Yun was shaking from the depths of her being. Why was it so grief-stricken? Was it because it had lost its child? In the past, it had been so ferocious! An image of the docile piglet that had been killed came to Mrs. Yun’s mind.

After cleaning out the pig dung, Mr. Yun sat in the courtyard shelling soybeans.

“Something’s wrong with my eyes. Everything I see looks ashen,” Mrs. Yun said.

“The same thing happened to me once, but it went away after a few days.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I was afraid you’d worry.”

“The owl won’t come back, will it?”

“No. Next time, it will be its son.”

“I’m still worried about Wumei.”

“No need to worry about her. Just take it as the old owl did. How much worse can it be?” This made sense to Mrs. Yun.

“Do you suppose the vet will return to the village?”

“Of course. But our pig is better now.”

Mrs. Yun went to look at the pig right away. Mr. Yun had left food for it, and it was eating slowly at the trough. From a distance came the sound of trucks. Mrs. Yun didn’t bother to go out to take a look. She quietly picked up a broom and swept the pigpen until it was perfectly clean.

After Mrs. Yun left the pigpen, she stood on a slope and looked into the distance. The colors of the things before her were gradually restored, and the sky was no longer so cloudy, either. As she stared into the distance, a shadow appeared in her field of vision. As she looked more closely and the shadow neared her, it grew more and more focused — and it even waved to her! Ah, it was Wumei! Where had she gone? The road she walked on seemed close and yet at the same time it seemed far away. Mrs. Yun could see even her backpack very clearly. Something seemed to be wrong with her legs: she was limping.

“W— u— u— m— ei—,” she shouted.

Something blocked her voice. No matter how hard she tried, her voice wouldn’t carry. Suddenly, she knew: Wumei was separated from her by several mountains. How could she see so well? It certainly was Wumei, because — for many miles all around — she had never seen anyone else with such a distinctive backpack. And there was also the way she walked — a little like a squirrel now. Mrs. Yun felt a twinge in her heart, and she almost lost her breath. She bent her head, and carrying the bucket, she went home.

“I saw Wumei,” she said to Mr. Yun.

“So did I. After this, we’ll see her often,” Mr. Yun said insipidly.

“Is this all we get for bringing up a daughter?”

Mr. Yun laughed. “Isn’t it true that your colored vision has also been restored?” he asked.

“You’ve been there, right?” She blinked her eyes and understood.

In Wumei’s room, her mosquito net swayed in the breeze. Those small green serpents all seemed alive. They were moving around. Mrs. Yun looked at them woodenly, and her legs went weak for a while. Mr. Yun came over and led her out of the room, and then locked the door with a copper lock.

“We can see her whenever we want to,” he said.

Mrs. Yun couldn’t figure out her feelings: she seemed to want to weep and yet she seemed to rejoice.