Desert and sand

Author: Hongying et al
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2001-04-01
Features: The contrast of living overseas makes the author place greater emphasis on imagination, especially the possibility of transforming reality into illusion in the imagination, which fascinates many writers. Another magic of imagination is the ability to convert spatial distance into historical depth. The Southern "Ran Bei Mei" and Zhao Yiheng's "Prostitute and Knight" both coincidentally zoom in on the lens of a time telescope, merging unrelated worlds in imagination.
Excerpt:
Once upon a time, there was a mountain.
Youyou began her night from this sky. She felt wronged. She could never forget that kiss. She had kissed before. She wasn’t a saint. During her first love, and also with her current boyfriend. But none of it was like this. Too strange, too captivating. It made her dizzy, her whole body limp, unable to resist what she shouldn’t accept. She was scared of herself. That night, she couldn’t sleep. Her heart was like a black hole, a hollow black hole. The night was like her shadow, inseparable. This little girl had always feared the night. Like most little girls, she didn’t dare go into a dark room alone to turn on the light. But the night was always endured by her alone. She should have gotten used to it, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t. The night was her lover, faithfully accompanying her, irreplaceable. She grew more and more afraid of the night. The night swallowed her whole. She was immersed in this pitch-black night, unable to see her hands or feet. The night came from within her, an unstoppable darkness. He left her in the night, returning to that legitimate home, every day like a farewell. In the long night, she saw a faceless person riding on the windowsill, one leg outside, one leg inside, leisurely swinging two slender legs. Every night, she had to meet this faceless demon. Her unstoppable darkness, this tender yet heart-wrenching harm, was a beast that devoured her heart. In the long, dark night, she cried without tears, screamed without sound. She almost hated everyone, but when she saw the east brighten, she sighed deeply, "Ah, I’m alive again." And so, she was abandoned in the night again and again. That day she couldn’t forget. It was his birthday. He took her to a house she had never been to before—a three-room empty house, bare walls on all sides, spacious and tall. A newly built ruin? Here, why was it so pale, so cold, like a courtroom. She didn’t understand why they had to come to such a gloomy place. Fortunately, she had specially bought a box of flowers. Although the weather was cold, the flowers bloomed vibrantly. Their tender leaves seemed twice as pure under the winter sun. She placed them on the windowsill, adding a touch of life to this cold world. But they seemed too weak, too fragile, completely out of place among the surrounding iron-like spaces. This purple flower was a rural widow. She wondered why she had such a strange image, but she was happy and joyful in her heart. It was his birthday, just the two of them. His eyes sparkled. They caught each other’s gaze in the eyes, silently looking at each other. Later, the man told her about his childhood, the dogs he had raised, the cats he had fed. His cats and dogs had had unfortunate fates, beaten to death by cruel people, their skins stripped and nailed to the wall. He told her so tearfully. He took her hand, stroked it gently, very tenderly, very cleanly. She faintly felt a lonely heart beating. A sense of desolation enveloped them. From the moment she saw his eyes, she felt he was different from those people. She couldn’t explain it, but she trusted him. Being with him felt fulfilling, a satisfaction she couldn’t get from anyone else. Her heartstrings were taut, time always seeming too short. His smile infected her. They talked about everything, happy beyond words. He moved closer and closer to her, suddenly picked her up, his breathing hurried. His face flushed red. He trembled and said, "I love you." His voice was distant and small, as if it came from another universe. Was this the voice she longed for? He kept kissing and holding her, placing his hand on her small breasts. No one had ever done that before. She struggled in his arms, resisting fiercely; she pushed him away, then pressed her body tightly against him. She couldn’t take it anymore. In front of this man, why was she so vulnerable?! So soft like a cloud. She didn’t care. She had to give in to herself. She was going to be ruined. She felt a tearing sensation. She hurt, bit down hard on her teeth, not letting out a sound. The man told her to hold on tight. She gripped his shoulders tightly. She felt dizzy, as if she were about to die. Her face turned deathly pale, frightening him. He gently called her by her pet name, the one she had given her. She just said she was thirsty. He held water in his mouth, feeding her drop by drop. That evening, she had never experienced such warmth. Spring and the night entered her together.