The interior of the stone tower rose in a spiral with stone steps for climbing. Because the tower dated to a time ages ago, its stone steps were broken and fallen in some places. It looked dangerous to ascend. The yellow dog kept barking, begging Joe to climb up quickly. Joe looked up and saw the high roof marked with numerous round holes. They were put there so people could lean out of the tower. He estimated that the stone tower was about thirty meters high. The terrifying steps did not look very solid. He hesitated a while, then decided to leave. The yellow dog barked behind him indignantly for a long time. He felt guilty.
That night he rested in a hotel in the small town. It was a fairly high-class hotel. The rooms had French windows with hanging bamboo screens. Outside the windows a natural mountain spring flowed into the courtyard. But there were lots of mosquitoes. Even though he shut the window they got into the room, dancing and singing and making Joe irritable. Since he couldn’t sleep, he opened the door and walked into the courtyard. It was large and full of yew trees and rose of Sharon. He hadn’t walked very far when he heard someone talking. A man and a woman sat under a yew tree. They didn’t mind the mosquitoes biting. The topic they discussed seemed to be extremely significant.
“And so Vincent came here, but how did he find out where I was staying?” the man said.
“You’re his older brother, of course he would do all he could to find you. Where can you hide?” The woman laughed gently. She spoke leisurely and looked pleased.
Joe’s heart leapt in his chest. He stared at the blurred silhouette he threw on the grass, trying with futile effort to recall exactly where he was. On the route of his journey, with its planes, wooden sailboats, trains, long-distance buses, he’d changed from one means of transport to another, passing from one country into another, and the borders melted little by little in his mind until he no longer took note of them. The old story inside him had already melted. His eyes were empty. The only thing in view was the yellow dog running at the edge of the horizon. These days he was accustomed to the life of a man traveling the globe alone, and now he suddenly heard familiar names. It was like the report of a tragedy communicated from another world.
“Someone saw him climb to the top of the Five Dragon Tower. That was yesterday.” The man spoke again.
“It’s the highest point in the world. Anything might happen there. Doesn’t the proverb say, ‘the higher you stand, the farther you see’?” The woman’s voice lowered, as if sinking into thought.
“It’s frightening. We shouldn’t have come here to begin with.”
“You regret it?”
“No, forever no.”
The mosquitoes bit so severely Joe had to leave. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around his head, then put his hands in his pockets and walked back and forth. The mountain spring made a rustling sha sha as it passed through the rockery. From the garden he could see all the way to the outside, where tiny spots of light swam in the darkness. Could this place be “the roof of the world”? Joe couldn’t believe it. He recalled that “the roof of the world” was in China. He decided to go back to the Five Dragon Tower tomorrow and climb up to look around.
Inside the hotel building there was a sudden confusion. All the lights were on, and someone yelled “Fire!” Everyone rushed into the garden. He hadn’t imagined there could be so many people inside. Joe was squeezed among them and carried along as everyone rushed out to the street. He turned around and saw the small five-story building already roaring with flames. The people around him talked all at once. “It’s dangerous!” The same alarm issued from different mouths. “Was it a plot?” One man raised this question, but the surrounding uproar drowned out his voice. This was when Joe finally thought of his luggage. Several books he’d carried with him were inside, the most important being the book about Tibet. Fortunately he still had some cash on his person, otherwise this would have been a disaster. The small building was still burning. People gradually dispersed. Joe didn’t know where they were going. The street grew cold and deserted. A dog rushed over from the street corner. It was the yellow dog that had been following him.
The dog reached him and held his pants leg in its mouth, pulling him to the left. Joe had to go along with it. They came to a quarry. Several workers labored in the dark. The yellow dog circled to a temporary work shed behind the quarry. Joe saw that the door was open and an oil lamp lit inside. A man sat at the table holding his head tightly in both hands. The table was piled high with various objects.
“Joe, you’ve come. Sit down.” To his surprise the man was Vincent.
Now Joe saw that the things piled on the table were human bones.
“This is Lisa,” Vincent raised his head and seemed to smile. “Lisa followed the route of the Red Army’s Long March and reached here, where she fell into the great gorge. It’s unthinkable.”
Joe’s body shook in spasms. He didn’t dare sit down at the table, so he just stood there. The dog hid at his feet whimpering with a wu wu sound, as if it were crying.
“Vincent, we meet again,” Joe said, his teeth chattering.
Vincent lifted a bone and placed it against his face, with an expression of intoxication.
Joe became aware of a group of people surrounding the work shed, slinking about in the dark and talking in excited low whispers.
“Someone’s here,” Joe said.
“It’s always like that in places like this, thieves everywhere.”
Vincent blew out the oil lamp. He wanted Joe to talk about his happy adventures over these past days. Joe said there hadn’t been anything worth remembering. He was simply roaming. Because Vincent wanted to hear more, Joe made up a story about planting opium poppies on the plateau. Joe thought his narrative prosaic and dull. In the middle of telling it he heard the people outside closing in and beginning to knock on the windows. He believed he saw a knife blade gleaming in the moonlight. But Vincent pressed him to keep talking. He didn’t want Joe to stop.
“I wanted to smoke opium, but no one would let me. I’m an outsider here,” Joe said, feeling slighted.
“You were an outsider to start with, you come from the West. That’s what’s interesting. Look at Lisa, she had an obsession. She threw all her strength into it.”
Joe couldn’t speak because two dark figures had slipped into the room. Unsettled with fear, he calculated how much money remained in his wallet. He saw the two shadowy figures take seats at the table. In this way, the four of them each occupied one side of it. Vincent still talked about Lisa as if nothing had happened. He spoke about his wife’s pursuit over a long course of time. But Joe had stopped listening because the person on his right was stamping on his foot so hard he shouted in pain. He thought his bones might be broken. Should he give this man money? He was unable to determine whether the fellow wanted his money or his life, perhaps both. The man on his left lit a cigarette. In the spurt of flame from his lighter Joe saw the face of an outlaw.
Vincent was also smoking, and speaking unhurriedly. It looked as if he’d long since put life and death out of his thoughts.
“The gangs of thieves are as common in the plateau region as home-cooked meals. Many of the thieves live inside the Five Dragon Tower. Actually, some of them are also local, people who aren’t willing to do honest work, or who are lonely. But the thieves didn’t plot to murder Lisa. She wanted to take risks, she was obsessed. She’d been like this ever since she was young, and it’s hard to change your nature. I regret not going with her. I was too slow, always a step back. Joe, these two guys aren’t out for your life. If you want to go, you can go.”
Joe tried to stand up. He tried to leave the shed. And they didn’t prevent him. He saw the yellow dog standing at the work site waiting for him. Several spectral workers were carrying stones. Joe hadn’t gone very far when he stopped and thought of going back again. A face appeared under the work-site lamps. It was Xima Meilian, the indigenous woman he’d met on the first stop of his journey. Joe thought of going to meet her, but the yellow dog bit into his pants with a death grip. Joe became aware of something. He stopped struggling and stood in place, dumbly watching the woman.