Mingmei Yip - Song of the Silk Road

Just then, in my peripheral vision I saw something move. I disentangled my limbs from the meditation posture, then crouched down to watch. There was a series of scraping sounds, which I suddenly realized were from a being of the yang world, not the yin one. I strained my eyes to look, and to my surprise saw a man digging up one of the graves.

I quickly realized that this man was a grave robber. Chinese put pearls, jades, and other valuables in the coffin so their dead relative could bribe his or her way to a smooth passage to the other world. I once read that at a funeral home in Hong Kong, a staff member stole a big, expensive jade from the mouth of a rich man’s deceased wife. He was caught because her son noticed her sunken cheeks.

A few minutes later, the man began to spit on the grave where he was digging. “Damn! These people have nothing! Nothing!” Then he slapped the spade on his shoulder and hurried away, still cursing vehemently.

After making sure he was gone, I went up to the graves, turned on my flashlight, and looked around. To my utter surprise, the holes were completely empty. No clothes, jewelry, or even bones, only sand and dust.

I mulled this over for a while, then realized it must be that these were not real graves, just places for Lop Nor to remember his family and pay his respects. For him to go to the lake was too strenuous and costly. Worse, he would risk being seen by his enemy, the evil shaman.

Enlightened, I decided to do something for my friend. I used my bare hands to fill in the empty spaces with sand. After that, I said a long prayer for all his relatives, whether in this life or the next, underground or underwater.

That night back home, I dreamed that Lop Nor was hanging by a thin thread between heaven and hell. Dangling in between, he saw his beautiful, sumptuously clothed wife walking with their son in a busy marketplace. He called out to them. The wife looked up and spat at him vehemently. “Go away and stop bothering us! We are dead, remember?”

Despite the dream, I sensed that Lop Nor’s wife and son were alive somewhere. But where? And why didn’t they come back to him?

I awoke disturbed, rolled over, and went back to sleep, only to have another, even more disturbing dream.

Lop Nor and I were crossing the treacherous Taklamakan Desert together. In the middle of the trip, I first got sunstroke and then was bitten by a snake. Quickly my herbalist friend sucked the poisonous venom from my leg, bandaged it, and shaded me from the fiery sun with his thick torso. He also let me drink the last few drops of water from his flask despite his cracked lips. Then we were making passionate love above the burning yellow sand and under the scorching sun. He wrapped me tightly with his strong arms and entered me with full force like a giant nail cracking thin wood….

When I awoke, my blanket was soggy with sweat. My hand groped groggily to the valley between my legs where I felt something was going to explode if I didn’t relieve myself.

Days went by, but there was no news about Lop Nor. Then my worry about him was pushed to the back of my mind by Alex’s unannounced return. Despite myself I was happy to see him. However, when I learned that his parents were at a hotel in Urumqi and wanted to meet me, the situation suddenly became more serious than my vulnerable psyche was ready for. But there seemed no way out, since my young lover told me that they had changed their travel plans to be able to meet me. Everything had been arranged and expenses had been paid. Then, after the meeting, Alex would return with his parents to the United States. Though I felt my heart sink a little at hearing this, I told myself that this was in fact good news—it was time for me to go on with my journey.

Two mornings later, Alex and I climbed onto a three-wheeled donkey cart that took us to the next village, where a car had been arranged. After a long, tedious ride amidst wind, sand, dust, and occasional shouts from other drivers, we finally arrived at Urumqi and checked into the hotel. Once in the room, we shed our dusty, sweat-soaked clothes and headed into the washroom.

Minutes later, I felt totally refreshed from the hot shower, soothing steam, and fragranced soap. Next to me, Alex was drying his hair with a towel. His body—long, lean, tanned, and innocently exposed—induced a pool of heat inside me. Throwing more stealthy glances at the sensuous movements of his long limbs, I halfheartedly put on the new lavender floral dress and a new pair of beige, high-heeled sandals. Together with some light makeup, I hoped I wouldn’t look too much older than my desert lover.

Alex looked exotic and handsome in blue jeans, an off-white Xinjiang shirt embroidered with a blue and red pattern at the collar and sleeves, and a sky blue summer jacket. With his unruly chestnut hair I imagined him a dauntless adventurer, a sophisticated explorer. When I turned to study my own reflection in the mirror, I felt him embrace me from behind, lift me up, and swirl me in the air.

“Alex, put me down, I’m dizzy!”

Gently he let me down, then rested his chin on my head. He stared at our images in the mirror, eyes shooting out sparks like the golden sands we had just left behind.

“Then you shouldn’t look so dazzling, my desert enchantress. I’ve never seen you like this before, so please from now on no more T-shirts and blue jeans—just dresses and high heels.”

I shot his reflection a pretend annoyed look. “How can I run around in the desert in a dress and high heels?”

Alex remained silent, his expression turning very tender. “Lily….”

“Yes?” I said, tilting my face to kiss his chin.

“Are you glad to be meeting my parents?”

“Tell you the truth, Alex, I really don’t think this is a good idea…. Are you?”

“I’m very glad, since I plan to tell them… I’m going to marry you.”

I abruptly untangled from Alex’s grasp, then turned to look him in the eyes. “Alex, do you know what you’re talking about?”

He looked stunned. “Lily, it’s natural for two people who love each other to get married.”

“This is just an impulse. Did I agree to marry you? Alex, look at you. You’re a student. How do you have the money to get married? Did you ask if I have money, a job?” Questions flew from my mouth like bullets fired from a maniac’s gun.

“I did. But you never answered.”

It was true.

Marrying and having a family, if I ever wanted them, seemed far away in the future for the twenty-nine-year-old me. Yet he wanted these at only twenty-one.

Feeling guilty, my voice came out thin like a wisp of smoke. “Why do you want to marry me?”

“Because I love you.”

“Do you know what love is?”

Face flushed, Alex replied, “Lily, I’ve lived in a loveless family for years, so at least I know what it’s not!”

“Sorry….”

He pulled me to him. “Tell me what you think, please….”

“I… can’t, not now.”

“All right.” He sighed. “Then tell me later.” He tilted my chin to kiss my lips, then looked me in the eyes. “At least I know you’re a novelist….”

I shook my head. “Alex, I’m writing a novel, but I can’t call myself a novelist. Not yet. A novelist means I’m published or maybe even lucky enough to support myself by writing. Alex, I like you, very much. But maybe our encounter in the desert is just meant to be a beautiful memory to be savored during our old age….”

This time it was his turn to shake his head, looking hurt and angry. “Lily, do you think of all relationships with men as just flings, adventures, to-be-savored memories? Huh? How about genuine love between soul mates? ’Cause I don’t see you as a shallow person.”