Footprints of the past

Author: Huang Chang
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features: On such cobblestone streets, if it rains again, it becomes a terrifying path, covered in a layer of mud. I walk quickly and carelessly, and my back trouser legs are always covered in a mess. So I dread the rainy days here. In this mountain city, having no place to stay is probably the greatest torment for many people. I seem to have mentioned this in a letter to you before. When I first arrived, I stayed in a shop. At that time, they still used that room for office work during the day. So after finishing my morning meal, I had to go out. How to pass the time of this day should be an art. And at that time, my only way was to sit in a nearby place where people read newspapers. I had encountered this place before in MD's novels, where it appeared as a meeting spot for a couple. Indeed, there were many small notes posted on the bulletin board outside the door, some of them dating back to dates. But I only used it to pass the long days. At that time, Chongqing, in my opinion, was not very charming, because I could not yet understand how to manage time. But this situation gradually changed. I often went into the city to watch plays, and the plays here were so long—five acts and eight scenes were quite normal. As a result, I often had to walk back to my accommodation around 1 a.m., whether it was a small inn or a friend's house. Walking on the cobblestone streets at midnight, watching the mice crossing the streets, and listening to the monotonous sound of the wooden clapper knocking on the unopenable doors almost reduced my enthusiasm for going into the city. When T finally had his own room, things improved. Now, let me describe this small room to you. It is located in a narrow alley, naturally still cobblestone. After descending a few steps, the alley turns, and there are only old houses here. On a door that is not too big or shabby, there are four characters: "Chang Yue Jiu Jia" (Long Joy Old Family). Entering the courtyard, there are still four lime posts in the sunken garden, meant for planting flowers. The round-edged Fu character on the screen wall is already half damaged. Further in is a deep hall filled with darkness. Climbing up the wooden stairs of the precarious building, on the second-floor balcony, the half-sloping roof offers a view of the surrounding scenery. A broken tile and ruined walls. This is often the case on days with "fine rain and gentle wind," when there are no "clouds and rosy pavilions." The opposite "Nanyang Villa" is overgrown with wild grass. In front is a temple, "Tian Bao Xia Yuan," small. I have been there with T before, but there was only a large hall and three statues of the Three Sages of Buddhism, and no monks. T's room was even reached by climbing a narrow staircase. This reminded me of the dark basement that appeared in Alan Poe's novels. A door with a note saying "No Way In" led to this small room. Near the window was an old Zitan table with deep drawers, a bronze key, and a wide bed. In my opinion, it was already a very comfortable place to sleep, very soft. At night, under the electric light, one could do some work. From the gap above, one could see the stars in the dark night sky and the broken, dark walls. T said he wanted to buy something to hang on the walls. The table was cluttered with books, including an Oxford edition of Shakespeare's complete works. When T had nothing to do, he would pick it up and recite a couple of passages in the style of John Barrymore's stage dialogue. Above the book pile was the photo frame with Miss Wei's picture. The glass was already broken and replaced with a sheet of cellophane, inside which were a few red leaves. P22-23