Frontier. Can Xue

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СКАЧАТЬ letter into the mailbox, she ran into a neighbor, Auntie Lu. Auntie Lu was her mother’s good friend.

      “Why do I always think your mother has come back?” As she talked, Auntie Lu massaged her swollen eyes, as if she wasn’t awake.

      “She hasn’t. Auntie Lu, where are you going?”

      “Me? I’m walking all around to have a look. I’m thinking of these children’s problems. Those wolves really did come in the night. My granddaughter didn’t come home all night. This morning, she rushed in and yelled that she was hungry!”

      Auntie Lu disappeared around the corner, and all at once Liujin felt empty. Auntie Lu seemed to think that her mother still showed up frequently. Liujin didn’t know what Auntie Lu, who was a local, thought of Mother. The sight of Mother and Auntie Lu wearing headscarves and walking together to work flashed out from Liujin’s memory. Back then, Auntie Lu was a little neurotic: she kept turning back to see what was behind her. Why did this old auntie feel that Mother had come back? Was it . . . She didn’t dare continue this thought. She felt her words were incomprehensible. She wanted to recall what she had written to her mother, but she couldn’t remember a single sentence.

      When she was almost home, Liujin saw the woman from Meng Yu’s staring idiotically at the passersby on the street. This didn’t happen often, since she ordinarily did all she could to avoid other people. Curious, Liujin walked over at once to greet her. “Are you homesick?” Surprised by her own words, Liujin felt awkward. With a slight smile, Amy shook her head. “No.” Liujin thought that Amy’s Mona Lisa smile could easily captivate men. She asked, “Where is your home?” She was surprised that the woman wasn’t evasive and talked on and on. She said her home was on the other side of the snow mountain, and that she had a father and brother. Her home wasn’t a regular house, but just a few thatched rooms. The family cut firewood for a living. Woodcutters had nearly disappeared now, but her father and brother loved working deep in the mountain and didn’t want to give it up. Back then, her mother worried every day at dusk, for she was afraid that the snow leopards had attacked father and son. It was difficult to imagine how impoverished her family was. Sometimes they couldn’t even afford lamp oil. For years, she had thought of coming out to see the world, but she was afraid. This went on until one day Uncle Meng Yu had come to her home, and brought her here.

      “You’re lonely here, aren’t you?”

      “No, no!” she vehemently retorted. “I like this place best of all!”

      Amy’s eyes opened like two flowers, and Liujin saw purity surging up in them. Remembering her shrill sad singing at night, Liujin sensed an even more immense enigma. She didn’t know what to talk about, so she said goodbye and left. The whole time, Amy was smiling slightly—a smile with the faint scent of pine trees after rain. Liujin felt that she herself had acted like an idiot.

      For no reason, Liujin thought that Mr. Sherman would come, and so she tidied the flower garden. It was odd that she didn’t find even one frog. Now she recognized that Mr. Sherman’s letting the frogs out was premeditated. Even though they were already good friends and the two of them had drunk tea together many times in her garden, Liujin still didn’t have one solid feeling about this man who attracted her. Nor had she dreamed of him. She took note of one thing: whenever guests sat in her cane chair, the chair creaked for a long time. The heavier the person was, the more the chair creaked. But Mr. Sherman was different: when he sat down, he and the chair fused into one. The old, old chair just groaned a little and then fell silent. He harmonized so perfectly with it that it was as though this burly middle-aged man had grown into the chair. Because of this, Liujin couldn’t help the deepening affection she felt for him. The grapes had almost all been picked, summer was drawing to a close, and Liujin felt on edge somewhere deep in her soul. But Mr. Sherman didn’t come that day. He didn’t come until the next day. When Liujin saw him appear at the courtyard gate, she was like the saying “Dry Mother Earth is thirsting for rain.” She actually blushed.

      “The frogs have gone underground, Liujin.” When he talked, a hint of absentmindedness skimmed over his face.

      “Really? Here?” Liujin’s voice was merry.

      “Really. Right under your courtyard. Otherwise, why would I have set them free here?”

      “Then, do you know where they come out? What’s it like underground?”

      “No. I don’t know. Maybe from the vent under your house? I’m not sure.”

      He continued to stand, and so Liujin had to stand, too. They listened to the frogs in their imaginations. As the sky gradually darkened, Mr. Sherman’s face blurred. She felt that his arm resting on the courtyard wall was unusually long—like a gibbon’s. Suddenly, Liujin thought of her faraway parents, and yearning welled up in her heart. The air vent? A very long time ago, at night, she and her father had actually squatted at the vent under the house and listened; back then, however, it was just like now—they didn’t hear anything. Yet, it wasn’t that they heard nothing: she and her father heard her mother talking nonsense in the house. Her mother kept stupidly imitating a crowing rooster. Whenever she heard it, she wanted to laugh. Her father was critical of her attitude. Mr. Sherman really wasn’t sure where the frogs were. What made him think the frogs were underground? He must have experienced many things that Liujin hadn’t come in contact with. She had encountered his unearthliness in the poplar grove. At the time, she had felt that he came and went mysteriously, and that he was very shrewd. Perhaps it was just because of his shrewdness that it was a long time before she felt affection for him. She was a little afraid and meant to keep her distance.

      “I really want a garden of my own.” As Mr. Sherman talked, he removed his thick glasses and wiped them. The two lenses swayed in the moonlight, gleaming like bewitching mirrors. Seeing this, Liujin’s passion for him waned. How could she fathom the ideas of a person like this? Just then, Mr. Sherman laughed softly.

      “What are you laughing at?” Liujin was a little annoyed.

      “I’m remembering that when I was a child I went barefoot chasing frogs. Frogs were my good friends, but they always teased me.”

      Then he put on his glasses and took his leave. Liujin remembered that she had forgotten to even give him the tea that she had prepared. What did she know of this man? Only that his family dyed cloth and lived on the other side of the snow mountain. That’s what he had told her. Liujin went back to sit under the grape arbor, and finished the cup of cold tea. For a moment, she seemed to hear the sound of water, but it was merely an illusion. Turning around, she saw the light on in her house. Had she turned it on earlier, or had it gone on automatically? She definitely hadn’t turned it on, and at the time it wasn’t dark yet. She didn’t want to think about these things. She was too tired. Maybe she should think of some happy, tangible things. Then, what was tangible? It seemed that the beautiful woman in Meng Yu’s home was. That red skirt was so gorgeous, as was that delicate, dreamlike face. That was beauty. And her midnight singing. That, too, was beauty. The magpies and the wagtails weren’t out yet; the courtyard was so quiet that it made her nervous. She decided that she would ask Amy some questions next time. Would Amy let her get close? She was so beautiful that she didn’t seem like a person of this world. Besides, the murderous-looking atmosphere in Meng Yu’s courtyard deliberately kept people away . . . Neighbors, neighbors: What kind of people are you? She felt weary again. The light in the house wasn’t terribly bright. It seemed to be covered with a layer of gauze. Liujin assumed some little insects were flying in the lamplight, as usual, and the gecko had probably also emerged. It was another world inside.

       Chapter 2

       JOSÉ СКАЧАТЬ