Moon (2) (Part 1)
In the past, He Yan never thought there’d be such a hardship in life where, no matter how many steps forward she took, she couldn’t find a way out.
It’d been so long since she saw the moon.
From the moment she became blind until now, she’d been living in a state of muddleheadedness. Xu Zhi Heng would comfort her by saying he’d stay with her forever, and He Yan, too, would smilingly accept it. Yet, no matter how calmly she acted, she still felt lost and afraid. She’d faced numerous difficulties in this life; many times, she’d stand back up for the sake of another breath and tell herself everything would be fine as long as she could take one more step. Once she looked back, she realized that she’d already unconsciously taken many, many steps.
She couldn’t take this step. She didn’t know how to.
She wasn’t General Fei Hong anymore. He Yan was now Mrs. Xu, an ordinary woman. For an ordinary woman to go blind, even if her husband treated her well, she was nothing but a blossom in water—a perfunctory display of illusory care.
On the Qixi Festival, she sat in the residence until the dead of night, yet Xu Zhi Heng never returned. Initially, she thought something occurred in court, only to discover the next day that he’d accompanied He Ran Wu to a temple fair. She fumbled her way to the window and sat there as she quietly listened to the maids’ chatter outside.
“Yesterday, Master and Madam had an argument—even His Lordship found out about it. Every time our master’s in a bad mood, it’s us servants who get implicated. It’s all because of the one in the eastern courtyard.”
“In my opinion, Master’s too soft-hearted. The one in the eastern courtyard is now blind—how can our Mrs. Xu be blind? What a joke. Madam has even been rejecting banquet invites just so others won’t ask about this.”
A young maid who couldn’t bear it anymore spoke up for her, “It’s not like Mrs. Xu was born blind. To suddenly become like this is also very pitiful.”
“Pitiful? How is she pitiful? Although she’s blind, she can still stay in the residence, be attended to, and receive all the food and clothing she wants. How is she any different from a pet? Our master is the pitiful one—he’s still young but is bound to a blind woman for the rest of his life. Master is talented and intelligent, so he could’ve chosen any woman he wanted—how did he manage to choose someone like this?”
“That’s right! Our master is the pitiful one!”
Such words were like hooks penetrating her heart, causing it to drip with blood.
At night, she sat in her room. Once Xu Zhi Heng returned, she said to him, “Let’s divorce.”
Xu Zhi Heng was taken aback. He gently asked, “Why would you say that?”
“Or you can cast me back to my maiden home.” She didn’t like beating around the bush, so she spoke frankly. “I can’t see anymore, so I don’t want to be a burden to you.”
“You are my wife.” Xu Zhi Heng held her hands. “Don’t speak of this anymore. Let’s rest early.”
He diverted the topic but didn’t deny that He Yan was a burden.
He Yan’s heart gradually sank.
Every day after that, He Yan spent her days opening her mouth to be fed and spreading her arms to be dressed as the servants taunted her behind her back. Madam Xu would also speak to her with a sting in her words, constantly reminding her how she was dragging down the Xu Family.
Xu Zhi Heng still treated her tenderly, but other than that, there was nothing else.
He Yan was exhausted.
It felt as if she was walking alone on a dark path at night. She couldn’t see the light ahead nor a way out behind. She didn’t know when she’d reach the end and finally break free from this life of torment.
A few days before the Mid-Autumn Festival, she said to Xu Zhi Heng, “I know of a Yuhua Temple on Lianxue Mountain where an animistic Immortal’s Tree stands. On the Mid-Autumn Festival, can we go there? I want to hang a ribbon and make a wish; perhaps that way my eyes can be cured.”
From the moment she became blind, she almost never requested anything from Xu Zhi Heng. He was shocked for a moment before agreeing, “Okay.”
Perhaps when one was unlucky, everything would work against them.
Every Mid-Autumn Festival before this was sunny and cloudless; however, this year it chose to rain. Once the carriage reached the top, the sky was shockingly overcast; it was impossible to travel down again on the same afternoon. Perhaps they’d have to stay overnight on the mountain.
Xu Zhi Heng helped her up and down and into the temple. A monk pressed a piece of long, red silk into her hands and told her where the Immortal’s Tree behind the temple was. He Yan stroked the red silk and thanked him.
The monk joined his palms and kindly said, “Even if many eons pass, one’s deeds do not perish; when the right karmic conditions come to pass, their fruits will be visited upon oneself
1.”
She couldn’t understand Buddhist scriptures, so she wanted to ask for an explanation, but the monk had already left.
While it rained, Xu Zhi Heng accompanied He Yan to the Immortal’s Tree.
Beside the Immortal’s Tree were a stone table and a seat for worshippers to write on the red silk they intended to hang. Xu Zhi Heng helped her spread the red silk before pressing the brush into her hand. “Here.”
He Yan slowly wrote, relying on feeling, I wish I could see the moon again.
She knew her handwriting must’ve looked appallingly crooked.
After she finished, she carefully handed the red silk to Xu Zhi Heng to help her hang on the Immortal’s Tree. He Yan was blind, so she didn’t see how her husband stood up and casually slung the ribbon on a branch by his elbow, not bothering to even reach out and tie it. There was no shelter above the tree, so not even a moment later, the red silk was drenched by the rain. Very soon, the writing turned into a thick mass of blurry ink stains, and it was difficult to tell what was originally written.
“Let’s go.” Xu Zhi Heng supported He Yan, and they both left.
With a rumble, a fragmented thunderclap sounded, and a gust of wind suddenly blew over, rustling the branches. The red silk that hadn’t been tied properly was blown away by the wind, landing in a small puddle of water and splattering in mud.
As if sensing something, He Yan worriedly asked, “The wind is so strong. Won’t it blow away the ribbon?”
“How could it?” Xu Zhi Heng soothed her with a smile. “I tied it very firmly.” As if he didn’t see it, he raised his foot and stepped over the red silk.
…..
The rain showed no signs of stopping, so they had no choice but to stay on the mountain that night.
Xu Zhi Heng went to find Yuhua Temple’s Great Master to discuss scriptures. It was evening, hence candles were lit in the room He Yan quietly sat in.
Usually, at this time, she’d already be resting in bed—after all, there was nothing a blind person could do but eat and sleep. However, the sound of rain was too scattered tonight, and she couldn’t fall asleep. She didn’t know what time it was, and when she called her two maids’ names, nobody answered, so she slowly walked out using the wall as support with the intent of calling someone over.
She’d just reached the door when she heard her two maids’ voices.
“Did you hear Mrs. Xu call us just then?”
“Did she? Never mind, just let her be. Why would she call for us at such a late hour? She’s already blind, yet she’s still fussing around. Does she really consider herself our mistress?”
He Yan was taken aback by those words.
These two weren’t her personal maids; rather, they were from Xu Zhi Heng’s side. They were usually very gentle and polite, and because of Xu Zhi Heng, they always treated her with respect and courtesy. She never knew they talked about her like this in private.
“If she didn’t want to come up the mountain today, we wouldn’t be spending the Mid-Autumn Festival out here in the rain. What wretched luck we have. Master’s just too kind-hearted—he doesn’t even feel angry towards such a burden.”
“It isn’t as if you don’t know our master’s temper. He may not look angry, but we all know he bears a grudge inside. After all, our Xu Family has become the laughingstock of the capital. Master has always been proud and arrogant, so he must be feeling extremely distressed by this matter, too. If I were her, I’d hang myself so I’m not implicating others.”
“Shush! Don’t say things like that!”
The maid ignored her. “It’s not like I’m wrong. She’s just like an animal—all she does each day is wait for someone to feed her and then go back to sleep. There’s always someone attending to her, too. She can’t leave the residence or see, so there’s no meaning to her life. Perhaps living like this for one or two years is okay, but for an entire lifetime? At that point, what’s the use of staying alive? She might as well die and find an early release; perhaps that way she’ll reincarnate into a good life and be able to see again.”
“Stop it. There’s hot water outside—let’s go and fetch some.”
The sound of footsteps gradually faded away.
With her back to the door, He Yan slowly slid to the floor.
Indeed. One or two years was okay, but what was the point of living like this for the rest of her life?
They were the master’s maids—they wouldn’t dare trample on those their master attached importance to. Since these two could gossip about her so nonchalantly, that meant Xu Zhi Heng wasn’t as empty of complaints as he appeared to be.
However, very few would be empty of complaints in this situation.
He Yan didn’t know if there were candles lit in her room—to her, it’d always be dark. Suddenly, she felt all desire for life disappear. When she was a child, she practiced martial arts; when she grew older, she attended school; later, she fought on the battlefield and achieved military merits. She spent her entire life living for others. Right when she finally took off her mask and believed she could restart her life, she was plunged into darkness. The rest of her life would be spent trapped within four walls where each step she took had to be accompanied by others.
Despair didn’t accumulate overnight. Those minor, everyday things would nibble at and devour one’s optimism, depleting it little by little until layers upon layers of disappointment and pressure crushed down. At last, a single straw would gently flutter down, and with a faint splash, hope sank to the very bottom.
Despair could cloud the sky and cover the earth.
With fumbling fingers, she slowly stood up.
In her room was a belt. She draped a random outer garment over herself, picked up the bamboo pole she started using since becoming blind, and left her room with faltering sways.
There were already very few people in the mountain temple; besides, it was dark and raining outside, so the monks had long returned to their halls. She walked at random, yet still didn’t come across anyone.
During her time in the military, she forced herself to develop the outstanding ability to memorize routes. She remembered that, when they were still traveling up the mountain, Xu Zhi Heng recounted how a dense forest grew by a mountain stream not far from the temple—there was a beautiful and magnificent waterfall there that plummeted droplets like pearls and jade.
It wasn’t too bad dying on a mountain with water and trees surrounding her. Unfortunately, because of the rain, her beloved moon couldn’t accompany her, too.
It was never convenient for a blind person to go out alone, especially when walking along a muddy mountain road. She didn’t know how many times she fell nor how many times she tripped over a pebble. She was aware, however, of how soaking wet her clothes were and how messy her bun must’ve been. In the end, she found herself gasping for breath and unable to discern where she was.
She fell before a tree and hit her head against a tree trunk. He Yan stretched out a hand and groped about. The tree was extremely big and was most likely quite old as well.
She probably wouldn’t be able to find the dense forest with a waterfall, but here was fine, too. She never cared much for external things, so it took quite a bit of effort for her to move a stone into position.
Exhausted, He Yan sat on the stone.
The rain was lighter now, hitting her delicately. The young woman raised her head to the sky as if she could see the moon. Raindrops slid down her cheeks. She wiped them away.
“Do not be a boat on the river nor the moon above it.
“A boat marks departure; the moon reflects separation.”
There was nothing she couldn’t bear to part with in this mortal realm. She only pitied how there was no moon tonight.
He Yan slowly stood and grasped onto the piece of cloth by her hand. It’d been fastened tightly around the tree. She pulled down and confirmed that it shouldn’t snap.
Then, she kicked the stone.
…..
The cloth that’d been twisted into a makeshift rope snapped.
He Yan was taken by surprise as she fell to the ground.
She splashed onto the muddy ground and fell into a daze before suddenly realizing that the cloth had snapped.
It snapped?
For a moment, an indescribable feeling of grievance and forlornness arose in her heart. At first, she choked with sporadic sobs; then, whilst lying on the ground, she began to weep her heart out.
He Yan rarely let herself cry.
A general shedding tears would greatly impact their soldiers’ morale. On the battlefield, she had to maintain her self-confidence and great vitality, appearing as if no person or matter could influence her judgment. Now that she wasn’t a general, it still felt pretentious to cry.
Everyone had moments of vulnerability. She could endure the cold treatment, her blindness, the maids’ contemptuous taunts, and her mother-in-law’s implications that she was nothing but a burden.
But she couldn’t even kill herself successfully—even the cloth had to snap on her. She couldn’t endure it anymore.
Burning tears dripped down her cheeks and landed with the rain onto the soil beneath her.
She cried aggrievedly. Suddenly, she heard an unfamiliar voice.
It was a man’s voice. Deep and pleasant, it cut through the rain and wind with a hint of impatience. “Why are you crying?”
He Yan’s crying abruptly stopped.
Xiao Jue looked at the woman before him.
As a person seeking death, she truly cut a sorry figure. She was wearing white undergarments yet chose to drape a red outer garment over herself—even the belt tied around her lower garment was the wrong way around. She must’ve tripped over a few times, as there were several holes in her clothes, too.
Xiao Jue had always favored cleanliness, so this scene was like a stab to his eyes. He couldn’t help but take out a white handkerchief and hand it to her.
However, the woman didn’t accept it. Instead, she got into a defensive posture and asked, “Who are you?”
He was taken aback for a moment. He pondered over her wandering eyes briefly before he put away the handkerchief and squatted down. “You can’t see?”
The woman was startled. Then, she fiercely replied, “That’s right! I’m blind!”
She said this with her head held high.
Translator's Notes
- Translation taken from here: http://www.cantonese.sheik.co.uk/phorum/read.php?3,65694