As he talked, Teacher Bing was frowning, as if displeased by her presence — and also as if he were disclosing his secret only because he had no alternative. But still, he told Mei that this bungalow where he lived was originally No. 3 Youma Lane.
“The ground beneath this land is overgrown with many varieties of flowers: it’s like floral fossils. People who live here are all old hands at this. I’ve heard that the foundations of the high new buildings are very deep. That doesn’t matter. Our plants have all vanished from the surface of the earth, as if they had never existed. ”
After leaving the relative’s home, Mei walked two or three minutes in confusion and then lost her way. She wanted to ask directions, but there was no one to ask: she could see only the remains of demolished houses. In the blink of an eye, the city had disappeared.
“Teacher Bing!!” she shouted.
The caw of a crow answered her — there were still crows here, calling to mind the former city.
“Jin!!” she shouted.
Jin appeared on the distant horizon and, carrying a wooden bucket in one hand, he slowly approached her. Breathing heavily, he placed the wooden bucket on the ground. The water sloshed out.
“What kind of fish are these?” Mei asked.
“Deep-water fish. The pile-driver over there startled them, and they mistakenly scurried up. River water isn’t suitable for these creatures. I want to free them. Why don’t you go home first?”
Carrying the bucket, Jin walked far away. At first, Mei considered catching up with him and then gave up this idea, because she could see the city once again. Teacher Bing’s house was just ahead, wasn’t it? She entered that side street and reached the main street. She thought to herself: In the past, could Jin also have lived in Youma Lane? And Ayi, too?
=
At night, Mei saw dazzling light swaying again on the portiere. It was a strange sight. Later, light appeared on all of the furniture’s cloth covers: now and then, the interior of the apartment turned brilliant. The stream of cars on the road was unceasing. Mei thought all her efforts had been in vain. Sometimes, ill-mannered drivers would blow their horns. When the horns suddenly sounded, Mei sometimes would instantly lose consciousness.
Breaking with precedent, Jin didn’t sleep that night. He said, “Those deep-water fish get on everyone’s nerves.” Lying on the chair, he kept sighing and called the phenomena that had manifested themselves in the daytime “perverse.”
“Actually, I acted unnecessarily. They all died. See, an ordinary person like me can’t see their purpose. Their existence in and of itself scares people, doesn’t it? Listen!!”
Mei saw that the right side of Jin’s face was alight. The sound of the cars’ horns was tumultuous.
He stood up and walked around, greatly stimulated. Mei saw that the light was following him constantly. For a second, the light stopped at his eyes, and his eyes then turned green and strange-shaped. Mei shouted from fright and lost consciousness again.
After Mei came to, she heard dili, dili. It was Jin fiddling with the flower seeds. It was a little warm in the room because he had drawn the thick drapes. All the lights were out except for a small reading lamp on the desk. All of a sudden, Mei felt as if she were living in a cave. She groped her way toward the study.
“Have a seat,” Jin said, pointing to a chair beside him. “This is something I asked Teacher Bing for today.”
Ah, it wasn’t flower seeds. It was a beautiful gem.
“He no longer has anywhere to plant seeds. He gave it to me. I was really baffled.”
In the lamplight, Mei picked up a jade-green seed, and the light immediately penetrated it. She noticed a dark little spot floating inside it. She couldn’t keep from saying:
“These are all stones; they aren’t plants.”
“Hmm. Could be. Anything is possible, isn’t it?”
In the lamplight, Jin’s eyeballs became two blank dots. He turned around.
Mei took stock of his back, which reminded her of how he looked when he appeared on the horizon of the ruins today. She heard two people digging outside. It must be Ayi and her husband.
“I gave them seeds,” Jin said without moving.
Mei wanted to get up and go outside, but Jin checked her, saying:
“Don’t look. It’s something private — just between them.”
Rainscape
I like to sit at the desk and tally the accounts. I look out the window: a gray structure built of granite is about one hundred meters away. Its windows — two rows of them — are all positioned in high places. Each window is narrow, and at night most of them are dark. A little faint light shines through from only two or three windows, giving people an unfathomable feeling. In front of the structure is a path, where people in twos or threes frequently pass by. Some are going to work, some are running errands, and some are children going to school. They all walk quite rapidly. In the sunlight, their shadows flash past the stone wall. I’ve never seen anyone emerge from the granite building, whose small black iron front door has been closed for years. But on the door is a large, new, gold-colored lock.
One day, when I was at the desk and facing the window in a daze, my husband said from behind me, “Listen. Someone in back is weeping.”
Terrified, I concentrated intently, but neither heard nor saw anything. Out in front, because there had just been a rainstorm and there was still the sound of light rain, no one was on the path. But the granite building was actually a little different.
“Someone’s coming over,” my husband said. “It’s the person who was weeping.”
I held my breath and waited. I waited a long time. There was no one. The rain fell heavily again, with a hualala sound. The shrubbery was bending in the wind. My face fell, and I said, “Why don’t I see anyone?”
“What a shame. I think it’s your brother. With a flash of bright light, he disappeared on the wall. I wish you had seen this.” My husband was still emotionally absorbed in what was happening.
“Did he completely vanish on the wall?”
“I certainly heard him weeping — over there, next to the persimmon tree.”
The week before, Brother had come to our home. He hadn’t been well-dressed and looked like a tramp. But he didn’t talk at all the way a tramp does. He’s always been shy, saying very little. Each time he comes to our home, he sits in a corner, for he doesn’t want to attract any attention. Because he doesn’t have a real job, my husband feels guilty and gives him a little money now and then. Brother takes the money and sneaks away. It’s always a long time before he shows up again.
When talking about him, my parents say, “We don’t know what to think of him. We never get a clear-cut impression of him.”
Could what happened be a figment of my husband’s imagination? I wanted to ask him, but he had already forgotten the incident. He had picked up the account books and was examining them carefully.
People were passing by in front of the granite wall — two young people, a man and a girl. The girl was lame. Holding aloft a large, sky-blue umbrella, the man was keeping the woman from being drenched by the rain. They were talking as they walked. A long time passed before I could hear their alternately loud and soft voices. Blending with the sound of the rain, their voices remained out there below the gray sky.