Huai River

Author: Xu Zhuang
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2002-08-01
Features: I was puzzled and slowed down my pace. I guessed I had gone too far north and should turn south. So I turned and walked due south again. Just as I was figuring out how far I had to run to see Pitan, a child's cry came from my ears. "Hmm—Ah—Hmm—Ah," the cry of a child not yet full moon. Hearing a child crying, I thought, "Pitan must be near." But as I walked forward, I still couldn't see any walls, not even a small thatched hut. According to the map, if I were at Pitan, I should have been descending by now, but no matter how I walked, it felt like I was climbing. No, I thought, this time I have to go see what village I've ended up in. I walked a little further, "Hmm—Ah—Hmm—Ah," the child was still crying. It wasn't frantic, and I couldn't tell if it had just started or was about to stop. I walked a little more, and the crying sound grew louder, and I could see the child just a few steps away. But when I looked, there was no village—just a graveyard. Mutilated graves, large and small holes in reed mats, ragged cloth, and coffin boards, dead bones—everything crunching under my feet. That's when I realized it was windy. The wind wasn't strong, but it whistled. I didn't know when the snow stopped, but I felt my sweat flowing down like melting snow, cool and icy. Looking ahead, I saw a dark, small bundle, and the child was wrapped in it. The child stopped crying as I bent down to look at it. At that moment, I thought, "This must be a child abandoned by a family who regretted having it, afraid they couldn't afford to raise it." Though I was in my early twenties then, I still felt a bit soft-hearted when I saw such a thing. I thought, "I should take him. I'll find him a family in Jiagou Village." It's still a life, after all. So I reached out to pick up the bundle. But as soon as I stretched my hand, something snatched my finger. I had my palm open, with my thumb sticking up, and whatever it was grabbed my thumb. Startled, I jerked my hand back—just like flicking a scorpion off my hand. With a loud "Snap," the bundle flew several steps away. "Wow," another sound, and then silence. I froze, unsure if I'd thrown away a bundle or a child, a living one or a dead one. I wanted to go see, but my legs wouldn't move. Just then, a half-broken reed mat suddenly stood up. At first, I thought it was the wind, but when I focused, I saw a woman wrapped in it. Her hair was disheveled, her chest open, her tongue hanging between her breasts, over a foot long. As soon as she stood up, she began crying and said, "You're not a good person! Why did you steal my dumplings? You didn't know I wasn't lactating? Those dumplings were to help me produce milk! You heartless person! You ate my dumplings and left my child!" I exclaimed in shock. I couldn't stop; I didn't even dare to look at her again and turned to run. This time, I ran as fast as I could, my feet barely touching the ground. Strangely, I didn't slip, even with the deep snow and uneven terrain. I ran about four or five miles before thinking it was time to stop and catch my breath. I didn't know where I was now. As I slowed down, I heard her shouting from behind, "You heartless person! You ate my dumplings and left my child! You don't know where those dumplings came from? They were all the flour our family saved up for a year! If you hadn't eaten my dumplings, would my child have had milk? Don't run! I'll cut open your stomach and take out all my dumplings!" Her voice was filled with sorrow, as if it could kill. I turned around—oh no! She was right on my tail! The woman, still disheveled and with her tongue hanging out, was running toward me, faster than I was. She didn't swing her arms or lift her legs—like the wind, she was right in front of me in a blink. I panicked and turned to run again before even fully turning around. Oh dear, I ran like crazy, not knowing where my strength came from—kicking my legs, stumbling, running as fast as I could. But no matter how fast I ran, she stayed right on my tail. I ran as fast as she did, no matter which way I went. She always stayed a few steps behind, muttering, "Why did you leave my child? Why did you leave my child?" Eventually, I ran out of steam. My legs gave out, and I collapsed into a snowdrift. The woman got closer and closer, about to reach out and tear me apart. Just then, a gunshot rang out in the distance, a flash of sparks, and then nothing. I didn't see where the shot came from or if it hit her, but as soon as the gunshot rang out, the woman disappeared. I struggled to my feet and looked ahead—dark and empty, but there was a village. The shot had come from there. Once the gunshot stopped, I couldn't stay in the snowdrift any longer. Seeing the village as salvation, I gathered my remaining strength and staggered toward it. By now, you must have figured it out—the village was Xiaolou in Xia Yi County, Henan. I was supposed to head east toward Jiagou Village from Guanzhuangba, but somehow, I ended up at Xiaolou in the west. Yes, I was heading west, but that's just what I thought I was doing. It all goes back to the tunnel under Huangzhai's command, Huang Hanchen. When Yan Mingfu told me to follow the tunnel to the end, he was wrong. He didn't know the tunnel actually had two exits—one in the northeast corner of the east gate and one in the northwest corner of the west gate. I got lost in the tunnel, turning and twisting, fell a few times, and didn't even find the exit before I was disoriented. I was supposed to come out through the east gate, but ended up on the side of the west gate. Huang Hanchen, slippery as an eel, had piled manure heaps at both exits. I only remembered the manure heap on the east side and didn't realize there was one on the west side too. So, I ended up completely reversed. Oh, how could I be so unlucky—I ran over 230 miles. That time, I really encountered ghosts. Probably hungry ghosts—a woman and a child. You really can't believe it, but there were plenty of ghosts back then. Now? Now there are no ghosts, of course. Humans are stronger than ghosts now. How can there be ghosts? What I'm saying is true—I didn't exaggerate. That experience made me too scared to go out at night. The moment the sun started to set, I had to go inside. I didn't dare stay outside in the snow either. At the time, I didn't think much of it, but later, I slept for three or four days, feverish, with blisters all over my body. After that, my appetite increased even more—I could eat more than before, finishing a basket of bread in one meal. And after the fever broke, my breasts suddenly swelled like loaves of bread, and when I squeezed them, they leaked. Strange, wasn't it? Did I eat dumplings? Oh—yes, I did. When I got to the village, it was almost dawn. Xiaolou was tiny—only a dozen households, a dozen thatched huts, and a few underground pits. I looked around—the thatched huts were empty, probably because it was winter, and everyone was sleeping in the pits to stay warm. I went into one hut—it might have been a kitchen—and saw a pile of dry leaves for firewood and a strong smell of scallion dumplings. My mouth watered, and I hadn't eaten in over 24 hours. I found a pot—there really was one. I lifted the lid and there was a bowl of dumplings inside. Without hesitation, I started eating them one by one. After finishing, I remembered—the woman earlier had accused me of stealing her dumplings. Could this be the bowl she was talking about? I passed out. What happened next, you can imagine—I had a fever, lost consciousness, and was saved by Auntie Guo from that household when the sun came up. Later, I learned her daughter-in-law had died giving birth just a few days ago, and both she and the child had passed away. The dumplings were packed by the old lady for the New Year, but she was too heartbroken to eat them and left them in the pot. Her son had starved to death six months earlier, leaving her alone. Since I had lost my parents as a child, I took her in as my foster mother. I slept deliriously for three or four days, talking incoherently—sometimes saying there were no bullets in Jiagou Village, sometimes saying I hadn't eaten the dumplings. When I woke up, I was so weak I couldn't even walk, so there was no way I could go back to Jiagou Village.