Of Mountains and Rivers Chapter 7
He Felt His Lifeless Heart Flicker as if it was Moved
Chu Huan didn’t move when he woke up nor did he change the rate of his breathing; instead, he first instinctively expanded his five senses to figure out his surroundings. Only when his senses returned did he feel it unnecessary and realized how his oppressed paranoia was becoming increasingly more serious. This was an omen of taking himself too seriously – no good, he had to stop himself before it was too late.
At the same time, Chu Huan suddenly realised how uncomfortable his body felt.
He must’ve had a fever. He was very fatigued, his body littered with injuries, so he couldn’t figure out where he hurt; all he knew was it hurt. Maybe it was to bandage his wounds, but someone had taken off his upper clothing. Right now, he was lying on a bed that wasn’t very comfortable and there was a strange damp smell coming from the blanket.
Chu Huan emptied his mind for a moment. With Old Wang’s suggestion, Big Ghost was dead and Little Ghost was caught. Now that this matter was over, he should go around and try other things to do – there were so many things in the world he could go for. The world was in chaos and the great rivers were disturbed; countless people had spent immeasurable care into achieving the current Chu Huan. If he spent his days feeling alone and dejected, could he still be considered human?
But what should he do?
The most economic option was to go back to where he came from, but when thinking back to that embarrassing moment when he let go on the cliff, Chu Huan was slightly worried he’d be a burden on everyone else.
Maybe he really should take some pills when he goes back.
At this moment, he heard someone use something to blow a very special small tune beside him.
Pain could make one irritable; Chu Huan knew he was the type to easily fall into depression, so he’d tend to focus on other things as much as possible. Now, he couldn’t help but concentrate and carefully listen to the music; he guessed it came from a kind of leaf flute.
The flute player’s lung capacity was truly amazing; his breaths were long and powerful, the notes mellow and sweet.
En, it seemed to be raining outside the window.
Chu Huan didn’t actually have any literary or artistic cells in him – his level of music appreciation was basically just ‘capable of humming a few popular songs' – but this small tune seemed to have some magical abilities, causing him to involuntarily sink into the sound.
The flute notes were infiltrated by the rain; if one was to breathe in, they’d feel as if they were lying on a distant hillside and, with a turn of their heads, be able to smell the fragrance of green grass.
Miraculously, the depression and exhaustion that’d been entangling Chu Huan were soothed and, after a while, he even experienced some kind of long-lost feeling of pleasure.
Not excitement – pleasure.
Actually, if he was a normal person, maybe taking an afternoon nap, basking in the sunlight, reading a book or conversing with a few friends would easily help him experience this calm and relaxed pleasure; however, all of these were but a luxury for Chu Huan. The happiness evoked from this momentary small tune made it feel as if a cluster of dazzling sparks had emitted in the darkness.
Chu Huan couldn’t help but slowly open his eyes.
He first caught sight of that ‘Xiao Fang’ he met at the station. Xiao Fang was squatting in the corner, boiling a pot of who-knew-what herbs with an expression of grievance; under broad daylight, his thick eyebrows and big eyes were even more prominent and, with a closer look, his scowling and down-staring face even seemed rather familiar – Chu Huan motionlessly scrutinised him for a moment and identified this feeling of familiarity from ‘Angry Birds’.
Subsequently, his eyes turned to the young man playing the flute.
This person’s attire could be considered ‘bizarre’; he saw a naked upper body covered only with an old and faded loose Western-style suit vest. Chu Huan was already this old, yet he’d never heard of someone who’d wear a Western-style suit vest as a T-shirt; that thing couldn’t cover anything. His eyes skimmed past and found the person’s chest, arms and even his strong pliable waistline to be fully exposed under his glance, a strange totem cloth covering his arms and back, half-hidden under the loose vest, and a handful of long hair loosely bound behind him and hung down to his waist.
He was like a savage from outside the sphere of civilisation who casually picked up a piece of clothing from the trash, wore it, and went straight into the city.
But he was extremely handsome – naturally so. It was the kind of handsomeness even plastic surgery couldn’t help one reach. The contours of his facial features were just right. Standing by the window, with one hand holding the leaf flute, his entire being appeared pure and honest.
Just like that, not only did his strange and bizarre attire become not ridiculous, on the contrary, it even made one feel this was a 'bold, new fashion trend’.
The young man was initially facing the window, his back facing the bed, but the moment Chu Huan opened his eyes and moved a little, he noticed and turned his head. The corners of his eyes flew up, and his lips and the tips of his brows filled with a brilliant smile.
He was like a tree born facing the sun in a countryside forest; with a straight and sturdy waist, he emitted a vigorous vitality. Its freshness barged straight into Chu Huan’s eyes.
At this moment, Chu Huan heard a clear ‘ge-deng’.
He felt his lifeless heart flicker as if it was moved.
Chu Huan felt this matter unimaginable; it was completely unjustified for his heart to be moved like this. He couldn’t help but secretly scorn himself. Don’t the rumours circulating around Jianghu1 say that I’m frigid? What are you feeling moved for? How absurd.
He felt a little embarrassed but he quickly concealed it. Chu Huan slowly climbed up while he adjusted his mental state, thinking, pedication is still sex; although not very tasteful, nobody said I couldn’t appreciate it.
Now that he got up, he noticed that the wounds on his body had been re-dressed. However, the dressing used was very unique – it was a leaf blade Chu Huan had never seen before, its stem long and wide, looking neat and tidy. It was fresh, thus he could still smell the plant’s fragrant aroma.
…The dressing was pretty well-done, it just looks a bit like a zongzi2.
Chu Huan pursed his dry lips and reluctantly smiled. He respectfully glanced at Brother Xiao Fang, who was still squatting in the corner boiling the medicine, feeling as if he’d encountered a living Mongolian doctor.
He probably saw he was thirsty, so the long-haired man put down the lead blade in his hands and took out one of the cups from the guest-house. He poured some water for him. “Drink.”
Chu Huan sniffed it a little and determined what this cup of liquid was – alcohol.
He couldn’t help but hesitate. He pointed to himself and sincerely asked, “For me?”
That beautiful long-haired man looked at him with a friendly expression, jerky Chinese jumping out his mouth word by word. “Please… Please drink.”
Chu Huan: “…”
Asking the wounded to drink alcohol – what a special edition of little angle Nightingale3.
This particular person looked especially brilliant when smiling, perhaps because it was 100% sincere. Every curve on his face seemed to hold some form of power that allowed him to transfer his own happiness to others.
Chu Huan wasn’t the type of person who liked damaging beautiful sceneries. Looking at such a face, never mind a cup of alcohol, even if it was a bowl of arsenic he’d drink it in one go.
The alcohol was lasting and gentle, so it should’ve been quite comfortable when drinking it, but for some reason, it had a lingering fishiness to it. The fishy aftertaste lasted so long that in the end, it completely covered the wine’s aroma, causing Chu Huan to believe he’d taken a sip of fresh blood and making his stomach churn a little.
But it’d be a bit unpleasant if he vomited it out. Fortunately, he was accustomed to enduring all kinds of environments unsuitable for human survival, so Chu Huan swallowed the entire thing without even a frown. Then, with a pale complexion and forced half-dead smile, he gave the other a thumbs up untrue to his convictions.
The long-haired handsome guy’s expression suddenly became more brilliant; even Brother Xiao Fang in the corner seemed stunned for a moment before his expression turned much kinder.
“Is this the legendary Five Poisons?” Chu Huan asked.
This sentence may have been a little complicated – neither of them understood. The long-haired handsome guy revealed a slightly cute look of puzzlement and blinked in confusion.
“What should I call you?” Chu Huan asked again.
They still didn’t understand.
Chu Huan had no choice but to slow down his speaking rate, prolonging the tone of each and every word. “What I mean is, what are your names?”
The other party finally understood. A weird noise sounded from his mouth; it wasn’t monosyllable nor did it sound like Chinese. Rather, it sounded like a song that carried a peculiar rhythm and the ending sounded similar to the Chinese character ‘An’4.
Chu Huan: “Which An?”
The long-haired handsome guy raised his head and used his hand to beckon over the medicine-making ‘Xiao Fang’ from the corner. As if well-disciplined, Xiao Fang immediately went out to wash his hands clean. After a moment, he fetched a small wooden box in a cautious manner that made him appear as if he was fasting and burning incense. He respectfully used both hands to place it in the long-haired handsome guy’s hands.
The long-haired handsome guy held the wooden box and sat down on a chair opposite Chu Huan; he sat upright, bearing a ‘sitting like a bell’5 manner.
The wooden box was quaint in colour and its four corners were even girdled; although its carvings weren’t very good, the person who did it was very generous in their use of materials as it was made from pure gold. Although the box wasn’t vulgar, it wasn’t elegant either. The large gold girdle and old wooden box complemented each other very nicely, giving it a touch of antiquity.
The wooden box was opened; inside was a cloth bag wrapped with many layers around something. Chu Huan couldn’t help but become a bit more serious, thinking there was some kind of peerless treasure in there.
But in the end, he watched as this handsome brother take out a book… Uh, a ‘handful’ of a tattered Xinhua Dictionary.
It really was a ‘handful’ of a dictionary because it was completely falling apart. As soon as it showed itself, the cover fell. The crumpled spine hung there, tottered on the verge of collapse as it was carefully held by its owner. Chu Huan’s sharp eyes caught sight of the words ‘Revised in 1971’ on the weather-beaten cover.
Dear mother, this is a product from before the economic reform6.
The long-haired handsome guy opened the dictionary. The ‘Pinyin Index’ section had already disappeared without a trace (but for my dear friend here, pinyin wouldn’t be very useful either). With a single stroke, he meticulously found ‘ten’ in the Radical Index. It took another two minutes before he clumsily flipped to the page number he was looking for and showed Chu Huan the ‘South’ character.
He couldn’t speak in understandable terms, but he could still understand a few characters. One could see that what he learned was ‘mute Chinese’.
Chu Huan: “Nan?”
The handsome guy raised his head and glanced at him with burning eyes.
Chu Huan looked away uncomfortably, thinking to himself – if you want to speak, then just do so; what are you doing throwing me such coquettish glances?
Then, the handsome guy earnestly counted the strokes again and turned to the character ‘mountain’; he lightly pointed to his chest.
Chu Huan: “Shan… Nan Shan?”
As soon as the two words ‘Nan Shan’ left his tongue, the handsome guy opposite him became inexplicably excited, as if being called by his name was the most blissful thing to happen in his life. As a result of his happiness, he took out another jar of that strange wine. He poured a cup for himself first then, under Chu Huan’s unjustifiably pained eyes, enthusiastically took his cup and filled it up.
What nonsensical name did you call yourself? Is it just to make it seem like you understand characters? Chu Huan thought sadly. This mouth of mine is truly deficient.
Then he heartily tapped his glass against the beautiful man’s, held his breath, and heroically drank it all.
Another mouthful of bloody flavor.
But after this second glass of alcohol went down, a warm current gradually thawed the cold within Chu Huan’s chest. At first, it started off small; then, the current slowly spread all over him, helping to relieve the pain from his wounds.
He moved his shoulders a little and found that although the dressing style was a bit poor, it was very effective; at least, the gunshot wound on his shoulder had stopped bleeding and his shoulders had relaxed quite a bit.
Usually, things like gunshot wounds or severe blade wounds crossed a very sensitive area; even in the hospital, the doctor had to properly cross-examine – and even call the police – yet these strangers who encountered him by chance were not only unafraid he might be a hoodlum, they even rescued him… Never mind what method he should use, Chu Huan couldn’t leave without thanking them.
Chu Huan thanked Nanshan. When he spoke, Nanshan listened with great concentration as if he was listening to an Immortal’s words.
Nanshan must’ve learnt a bit of Chinese – if others spoke slowly to him and used simpler words, he could understand almost everything. He could even read a few characters; however, whether it be the pronunciation or literacy, he was still just a smatterer. As for writing, he probably wasn’t capable of it; he could only use radicals to find similar characters and clumsily communicate with Chu Huan like that.
After figuring out he was thanking him, Nan Shan used his singing voice to say something. His voice was low and sweet, sounding fatally pleasant. Only, his words were like an alien’s – Chu Huan appreciated it for a moment, not even able to identify a single punctuation mark.
Nanshan may have also realised what he was saying was somewhat incomprehensible to the other, so he shook his head and laughed at himself. He opened his precious dictionary and, with extreme inefficiency, flipped the pages and showed Chu Huan the characters word by word.
Chu Huan carefully distinguished and identified the words he was pointing to: ‘you’, ‘walk’, ‘fate’, ‘road’, ‘to’, ‘our’, ‘dangerous’, ‘face’, ‘we’, ‘should’, ‘thank’, ‘you’.
Chu Huan: “…”
A big wave of typos surged towards him, surging so violently it caused the seriously-injured Chu Huan to become ignorant of his surroundings.
Fourth-uncle-maternal-grandfather7, he thought, how are we supposed to play together like this?
Translator's Notes
- In Modern China, Jianghu could refer to any specific society that involves either literal or metaphorical bloodshed
- a traditional Chinese dish made of glutinous rice and fillings (e.g. red bean paste) wrapped in bamboo leaves
- Refers to Florence Nightingale
- (安) means ‘peace’
- sitting with a relaxed yet firm composture; used by people who meditate
- Refers to the Chinese economic reform (or the ‘Opening of China’) in 1978, led by Deng Xiaoping who rose to supreme power after Mao Zedong’s death
- A Northeastern dialect which basically means the endearment 'baobei' or 'baby'
