A small bird landed on the table and began combing its feathers with its beak. It hopped happily a couple of times, then flew onto Juli’s shoulder.
3
At night when he thought of the crime he planned to commit after stripping Su Juli of her clothes, Mengliu’s body felt engorged, as if all its energy were gathered in the root of his manhood. That part of his body was a restless little beast. Fattening itself up with loneliness, now it was robust, protein-rich and ready for action. He was not sure when it had grown so fat. This newly-gained power was inconsistent with the psychological sluggishness he was experiencing. His body was betraying him, was filled with a vengeful desire. He was a stocky, well-nourished, middle-class man with a sparkle in his dark eyes. The scars of history had faded from his gaze, replaced by the charming moderation of Swan Valley.
Like a tree that grows and flowers that bloom, Mengliu opened himself up to enjoy the morning light. He was wearing a navy-blue robe. He stood up from where he was seated and, walking with an easy stride, saw Juli tending the garden, picking off dead leaves, loosening the soil and watering it. He could recognise some of the plants — Holsts Snapweed, spotted leaves of Chimaphila, single-flowered wintergreen grass, calyx, purple loosestrife, willow herbs, hickory grass, hibiscus, mock strawberry, butterfly beans… He thought that this woman with no sex life could only pass the time by tending her flowers — not unlike a widow scattering and gathering coins in the middle of the night — the various heights and different colours of flowers, growing in the ground or hanging from supports, with the wind blowing casually over them as they climbed, as if struggling and full of pain.
‘What is this flower?’ Mengliu pointed to a snowy-white blossom, making idle conversation.
‘Camellias. Boy-faced camellias…Unfortunately, when they’re most beautiful, they fall.’ Juli’s expression was simple and natural as she said this.
‘Not fall, they wither, or die, or fade. You can say that when a woman passes the age of beauty her breasts and buttocks fall,’ Mengliu teased cautiously.
‘…Can people also be said to fade?’ Juli did not understand what he implied.
‘Yes. For example, a woman dies, like a wilting flower. You can say she has faded.’
‘Esteban is waiting for your poem.’ Juli did not smile, nor did her voice become more gentle. ‘He thinks highly of you.’
‘I’m a doctor. I stopped writing poetry long ago.’
‘You can write any time. It’s not difficult for you to do.’
‘I don’t want to write.’
‘Why?’
‘What use is poetry?’ His eyes suddenly grew dark, as if darkness had fallen over the garden. Juli frowned, unsure how to answer.
‘Juli, can I ask you a question?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Throughout the long night…do you ever want that kind of thing? Do you want…to know what it’s like?’
‘What?’ Juli still did not understand what he was getting at.
‘…Have you seen the current spiritual leader?’ Mengliu reined in the hints, fearing he might annoy her.
‘Yes,’ she said, her brows still knitted.
‘With your own eyes?’
‘On the electronic screen. She used to appear once a week. Sometimes she talks with the leading scholars about science and poetry, and sometimes she chats with people about domestic issues.’
‘Is she pretty?’ Mengliu asked.
‘Maybe. She isn’t tall, and she likes to wear veils of different colours.’
‘Does she have green hair, like seaweed?’
‘Sometimes, but not always. It depends on the light.’
‘Then I’m not dreaming. I’ve seen her and talked to her,’ he said in a single breath. ‘I’ve seen her moving about in a room, talking on a phone. She mentioned you, Shanlai, Esteban. She praised all of you…’
‘These days she doesn’t appear on the electronic screen. She has gone on a world tour,’ Juli interrupted gently, burying the leaves that she had nipped off in the soil. She calmly continued clearing the ground, her movements causing her hips to swing and her buttocks to quiver, as if there were an animal under her skirt.
Mengliu wanted to continue talking about what had happened to him, but Juli had lost interest. He stood alone in the bright sunlight, watching as her body was absorbed into the dark shadows of the house.
It was midday, and Mengliu was walking along the road in a hurry. The diamonds in his pocket knocked against his body. The people resting by the side of the road smiled at him, and he saw in that smile a much deeper meaning, as if they knew he wanted to escape from the place. Their expressions told him they saw a terrapin trapped in a screw-top jar. He realised what a stupid thing he was doing, so he slowed down and crossed his hands behind his back, walking unhurriedly as he tried hard to recall the path he had taken into Swan Valley that first day. Strangely, he could not remember. His memory had been cut off at that point. He felt like he was standing on the bank, looking at the wide expanse of water, with no trace of how he got there. He hoped to evoke more of the memory as he walked. He assumed a casual air, and wandered a long way. He had come to the engraved stone, when suddenly he fell, rolling head over heels until his body landed against a heap, some soft object, at the base of the slope. When he came to his senses, he saw two lions looking at him with kind eyes. One of them even raised itself and gracefully offered him its place.
His first reaction was to check the diamonds in his pocket. They were all there, not one missing. He could barely stand. He had pretty much always known there was no way out, but had needed to test this for his own peace of mind. After his fall, his restless soul quietened. He rested his head on the lion’s back, feeling himself no different from the birds, reptiles and other animals. He had no language, no voice, and no one would ask about his disappearance or death. He was the most common sort of creature and easily forgotten, naturally base, not even in need of a sheep dog to look after him. Where everyone is the same, they all become one big organism.
With a faint heart, he got up and walked towards the mountains. The poplars were scrawny, their leaves sparse. Birds’ nests sat in the ‘V’ between their branches. Thorns were growing in bushes. White flowers bloomed and scattered, like a girl’s jacket, giving off a light fragrance. Before long he heard the sound of a stream. Walking along its bank, he came to a body of water. The pond was small, about four or five metres across, and of a dark blue colour. The current chased the fallen leaves to the side of the pond, constantly shoving them into a tight spot. They had no choice but to jostle with each other for position.
Mengliu fished the leaves out and placed them beneath a tree.
He thought, ‘Every stream flows to the sea. If I follow it, I will get some results.’
Sure enough, before it was dark he had come upon a river, about twenty or thirty metres wide. It wasn’t deep, and its surface was placid. Bushes covered the opposite bank, and in the distance behind them he could see the boundless mountains, a touch of white at their peaks, stern and bright.
He went into the water, intending to cross the river. He remembered wading ashore on that first night. He looked around, but he couldn’t see the remains of a boat, so he raised his head to look at the sky. There was no moon, and night was closing in.
He tasted the water and found it salty. Thinking he must be near the sea, he grew excited. The water was cold, and seemed to suck the warmth from his body, making him shiver. His condition also had something to do with the thing he had stepped on, a hard object like a skull, covered with slippery moss. He rubbed the eye and mouth cavities with his toes, and very clearly felt two rows of sharp teeth. He thought he must also have stepped on some ribs.