Beyond the clouds, the clear sky

Author: Chi Zi Jian
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2003-04-01
Features: The Brightness Beyond the Clouds observes the world and life through the eyes of a dog, with a novel and unique concept. It weaves the conflicts of a major era into daily life, showcasing the significant changes and local customs of the Jindeng Town area in Northeast China in a relaxed, leisurely, and delightful narrative. Without any tense conflicts, it contains the most moving elements of tragicomedy since the era of wounded literature. With a light and graceful pen, it subtly resolves the sharp conflicts between ideology and human nature in exquisite details. The meaning is profound, the tone is lyrical and elegant, full of poetry, the technique is superb, and every stroke is powerful, profoundly moving the hearts of readers both at home and abroad. The author was awarded the "Suspense Sentence Literature Award" by the James Joyce Foundation of Australia in 2003.
In the summer, we arrived at a place with houses. There were only five houses there in total, and the yellow owner and his family were so happy they cried. That place was called something like "Forest Station." We stayed there for two days, and the white horse was led to the stable, while I could wander around. The yellow owner and his family washed their clothes there. They hadn’t changed their clothes in the jungle for the entire spring. They even shaved and had their hair cut. After everyone was cleaned up, I didn’t recognize them at all. During the day, they packed their belongings, and when they refilled their supplies, Xiao You insisted on throwing away the remaining compressed biscuits, saying that after eating that stuff for so many days, he didn’t want to live anymore. The compressed biscuits were square, flat, and hard. The yellow owner and his family often ate them and called them "magic biscuits," saying that once they entered their stomachs, it felt like a rabbit had crawled inside, filling them up. I tried them once, and after eating them, I drank some river water and felt my stomach sinking to the ground—it was extremely uncomfortable. After that, I never touched them again.
In the evening, the yellow owner and his family drank. The woman who cooked for them was very fat, and I can still remember her appearance to this day. In my life, I remember women better than men—I can almost recall the faces of every woman I’ve ever met, and I can even recall the scents of their bodies. Alright, let me tell you about that woman. People called her "Uma ni," yes, that’s the name—it’s a bit strange. She was very sturdy and plump, with an oily face. She didn’t talk much and wore a long apron made of countless patterns. Liu Hongbing said that the apron had seven colors. In my eyes, it did have many colors, but they were all derived from black and white. The black had deep black and light black, and the white had snow-white and gray-white. It was the most dazzling apron I’d ever seen. Uma ni cooked very quickly. Look, in no time, a dish of food or a bowl of meat would appear from the kitchen. I watched her cook in the kitchen and found her very interesting. She had thick eyelids and small eyes, but once she picked up the ladle, her eyes widened, and she made the ladle dance, flipping the food so high it seemed to fly out of the pot, yet it landed back in the pot intact. I couldn’t help but scratch my (claws) with envy, thinking her hands were much more skillful and useful than mine. As for her nose, it was flat, but it was quite symmetrical because she had a very large, flat face. If such a face had Liu Hongbing’s sharp nose, it would have been truly ugly. When she was cooking, I would look up at her with wide eyes. She would take some food from the counter and give it to me, and I could always jump up and catch it without fail.
All the drinkers were men. These men in dark clothes gathered around a table, looking like a flock of crows. When it got dark, Uma ni lit a candle and brought it to the table, placing it in the center. The men tugged at her apron, not letting her leave, wanting her to sing. She didn’t say she would or wouldn’t, but instead pushed the dining table in the center of the kang (a traditional bed) to the corner. The men sitting cross-legged on the kang fell over, like flowers that had been knocked off their stems. Uma ni climbed onto the kang, stretched out her legs, and pushed them back to the table one by one. She said, "Just pretend to be drunk. If you pretend to be drunk, you don’t have to sing!" The men quickly sat up straight again. She stood on the cleared kang, took down a thing she called a "fish drum" from the wall, and beat it while singing. The song was in a language I didn’t understand, but the tune was beautiful, and it made me want to cry. In fact, when I was moved, I cried like a person too, but who would care about the tears of a dog? Uma ni beat the fish drum and sang in the candlelight for a long time. She sang without any difficulty, just like how she handled the ladle. My owners also swayed their heads and hummed along, clapping for her from time to time. After singing, she got off the kang, and the men continued drinking. She went to the kitchen to add two more dishes for them and then took me to another house. That house was very low and smelled unpleasant. Later, I smelled the same smell at Mei owner’s place and realized it was the scent of herbs. There were three people in that house—two adults, a man and a woman, and a child, who was a boy. The boy lay on the kang, his head covered with a towel. Uma ni asked the woman as soon as she entered, "Are you feeling better?" The woman didn’t say anything, but her eyes were teary. Above the boy’s head was a cabinet, and on it was a oil lamp. The boy’s eyes were closed, his mouth opening and closing as if he was speaking incoherently. I thought he was sick. In the jungle, the yellow owner had once fallen ill. He lay in the tent with his eyes closed and his head down, occasionally saying strange things—like turning trees into birds or turning paths into clouds. Xiao You gave the yellow owner some pills, and he was able to sit up and stop saying nonsense. Uma ni had the woman blow out the oil lamp, and then she began to sing and dance in the darkness on the ground. I’ve said that my eyes see more clearly as it gets darker, and I could clearly see Uma ni spinning on the ground, beating her chest and flapping her arms like a bird. She sang like this for a long time, and then I suddenly heard the boy shout, "Mom—" The woman quickly lit the oil lamp. The boy, who had been lying drowsily, suddenly sat up straight and rolled his eyes, pointing at me and asking, "Where did it come from? It’s so pretty!" The woman cried and said that Uma ni was the child’s savior.
When we left that family, the woman gave Uma ni a pack of tea, a pack of sugar, and a large piece of venison jerky. On the way, she tore a piece of venison jerky for me and said, "Eat it!"
Back at our camp, the yellow owner and his family were drunk and lying down, and the candle in the center of the table was almost out. Uma ni cleaned up the table, spread a piece of hide on the ground in front of the window, and lay down to sleep. I, meanwhile, snuggled up by her feet, trying to learn how the men called her name—"Uma ni." I practiced it over and over, but all I could make were "woof-woof" sounds. I had to sleep sadly, thinking that I would never see Uma ni again. But a few years later, when I went with my owners to float down the river, I was sure I saw her again in the water.
When we returned to the jungle, the weather was very hot. The trees were so dense that they looked like walls. In the lush lowlands, I led the way multiple times and encountered snakes. Whenever I saw a snake, I would stand up and bark a few times. The yellow owner and his family would understand if something was wrong and would stand still. I usually didn’t kill the snakes—I just hoped they would stay far away and not block our path. Most snakes would poke their heads out and then slither away curving through the grass. Those were mostly spotted flower snakes. But when it came to black snakes, they would raise their bodies and attack me. I would rush at them without hesitation, pinning them down with my paws and biting them to death. But sometimes I’d lose my grip, because the grass was too soft. If I did, the snake would struggle free and lunge at my face! Luckily, I was quick to dodge and avoid its attack. Even if it bit me on my back, it wouldn’t be too serious, because I had fur to protect me. In the end, the snake was defeated by me. After I killed a snake, Xiao You would always rush over first to check if it was venomous. If it was, he’d throw it far away; if not, he’d hang it up with a rope and tie it to his backpack. By that night, we’d have delicious snake soup.
The summer jungle was both humid and stifling. Often, large puddles of water would cover half of my body. The toads near the puddles, not having seen a dog before, would jump onto my back and croak. When it was too hot, I actually preferred to be buried deeper in the water, as it could cool me down. Sun Fatso told the yellow owner, "A-huang always pants heavily with its tongue out—it’s even hotter than us. It must be because of its fur." He said that if we were to wear a hide rug in the jungle, we’d die of heat in just one day! His words earned everyone sympathy for me, so whenever we came across a puddle, they’d let me roll around in it to cool off.
What was harder to endure than the heat in the jungle was the mosquitoes and black flies. The mosquitoes were light black, and the black flies were dark black. They swarmed in groups day and night. They bit much more fiercely than snakes, going straight into the flesh. My owners’ faces and arms were covered in marks where they’d been bitten. They kept scratching the itchy, swollen bumps, and their faces were scratched raw, making them look ugly. One day, a large black fly bit my eyelid, swelling it so much that I couldn’t open my eye. The yellow owner and his family saw my pitiful state and even laughed, saying I looked like a victim. As a result, for the next two days, my vision was blurry, and I often led them into thorny bushes. I hated those black flies with a passion. I thought that perhaps the only thing that could control the black flies and mosquitoes in the jungle was the sun. Why didn’t the sun just pierce them all to death with its rays? The bites of the black flies were incredibly itchy, and I would scratch them with my paws until blood flowed out. The blood smelled slightly fishy, a bit gamey. The blood was black. I wasn’t afraid of blood, but my owners were. Whenever blood was shed, they’d apply medicine to the wound. The medicine smelled terrible, even worse than my own poop.
There were also lovely things about summer. At night, the birds would sing to the stars from the trees, and their songs were beautiful beyond words. The yellow owner and his family didn’t want to go into the tent early to rest either. They gathered a fire and listened to the birds sing.
In the jungle, there weren’t many flowers blooming in the spring. But in the summer, all kinds of flowers bloomed with great enthusiasm. They were so diverse in their forms. According to the yellow owner, there were red, yellow, pink, purple, and white flowers, with each color having several variations. He said that velvet flowers were deep red, and lilies were light red. He said that wild chrysanthemums were golden, while sunflowers were light yellow. He said that peonies were pastel-colored, and handflower (palm-shaped flower) was deep pink. Every time he told me about the colors, I got impatient. How could they know that what I saw with my dog eyes was different from what they saw? In my eyes, black and white were enough to make things lively. For example, the white of a chrysanthemum was the brightest white, and you could see it from far away. The white of a peony was a faint white, and you had to get close to see it clearly. The black of a handflower was deep black, while the black of a pea flower was light black.
Besides their forms, flowers also had scents that could be remembered. Each flower had its own unique scent. So, I thought that people who only looked at flowers for their colors were foolish.