Can Xue - Vertical Motion

Irritated, Yunma turned deathly pale as she spoke. Sitting there, Jinglan kept sensing something spooky in this room. He shivered: Who in fact was lying? He squirmed uneasily in his chair.

“Six months ago, he began insisting that he had to have his bowel movements in his room. He said that he couldn’t walk easily and couldn’t use the toilet. But nothing was wrong with him: one night, I saw him go upstairs, just as fast as a thief! He did this in order to punish me. Tell me: How can I continue staying here?”

At this point, Yunma was staring at Jinglan, as if waiting for his answer. Jinglan thought it over and over and then said irresolutely, “I don’t know. I can’t help you. Sorry. I’m inexperienced in this kind of thing. Maybe you should talk it over with him. Or maybe I could ask a doctor to come. It seems he’s become a little obtuse.”

“Do you believe doctors?” Yunma’s eyes shone. “Let me tell you: you must never believe doctors! It was a doctor’s cure that killed my mother. If she hadn’t left. ” Suddenly terrified, she stopped talking.

When Jinglan walked out of Yunma’s room, he saw a hand closing Yuanpu’s door across the hall. Who could that be? Jinglan suddenly got it, and he turned back to say to Yunma: “Was he outside listening to us?”

“Naturally. There’s no way to keep anything from him.” Yunma smiled faintly.

=

As he walked along the road, Jinglan felt uneasy. The shadows of the house shrouded his mind. His respected mentor had actually reached this stage. He had never expected this. He felt obligated to help him, but unfortunately Yuanpu didn’t want his help. Maybe he was even mocking him for not understanding the world! Hadn’t Yunma also felt that he was ridiculous? Anyhow, he must give up the idea of helping Yuanpu. Then Jinglan began doubting his former impressions of Yuanpu. Over the decades, his mentor had never appeared decrepit in spirit. He loved arguing, never wearying of it. While arguing, his very being glowed with an unusual luster. Jinglan was always involuntarily drawn to his mentor’s brilliance. And so, although Jinglan had left here years earlier, he still came back once a year. Actually, his mentor was the only person he couldn’t leave behind. Could it be that his former impressions were all false? How could someone like Yuanpu have lost his mind? The configuration of Yuanpu’s brain rose before Jinglan’s eyes. He saw a tree whose leaves had all fallen. Its trunk and branches could be distinguished clearly, for they were bare. This kind of person was anything but out of his mind. But which image revealed the real Yuanpu? Was it the one who sat at his desk and thought all day and night? Or was it the one who dozed on the chamber pot and tiptoed like a thief through the house? He definitely couldn’t believe what Yunma said; it was likely all slanderous. But her motive didn’t seem to be to slander Yuanpu; it seemed more likely that she meant to scare Jinglan and make fun of him. What sort of confused state had Yuanpu’s life turned into? Jinglan thought, too, that he shouldn’t trust what he’d seen with his own eyes. His mentor was still as strong as an indestructible city wall. He could sense this while sitting in front of him, even though he had changed on the outside.

=

Jinglan had already spent nine days in his hometown. Every day he went to the riverside and sat on the flood-control dike to look at the distant sails. Deep down, he felt a little at loose ends, and he also felt some melancholy that he couldn’t dispel. These last few days he hadn’t gone back to see his mentor, and he kept reproaching himself. The river here was a little old and its water was dark. But Jinglan could see its energy in the strength the boatmen exerted to row the boats. He knew this river well. First thing this morning, he’d been uneasy because he would leave this evening. At about noon, what he’d been expecting occurred at last. The man approaching him was Yunma’s cousin.

“He’s going to die in a couple of days.” Both his facial expression and his tone were indifferent.

“What happened?” Jinglan asked.

On the way to the house, Jinglan was on the verge of tears, but in the end he didn’t cry. Upon entering the house, Yunma’s cousin went directly to the kitchen, where a lot of people were gathered. When Jinglan went into the bedroom, he saw Yuanpu sitting on the bed, repairing a lock. All kinds of small tools were spread out on the quilt. Jinglan let out a sigh.

“Did they ask you to come?” Yuanpu asked without raising his head. “Don’t worry. I won’t die. I just fell. It isn’t serious. I fooled all of them. As soon as they came in, I pretended to be on my last legs.”

“But when I came in, you didn’t do that.”

“That’s because I knew it was you. When I saw Yunma’s cousin go out, I guessed you would come.”

He finally finished repairing the old-style copper lock and opened it a few times with the key. Then he put it and the tools into an iron box which he placed beside the bed. He looked toward the door and made a face, signaling Jinglan to open the door a crack.

The courtyard was noisy: a large coffin was being carried in. Yunma directed the porters to place the coffin under the oil-cloth rain shed. Jinglan noticed that she was dressed all in black. She looked refined and clean.

“This time, your joke has gone too far.” Jinglan turned around and said, frowning in disgust.

“It doesn’t matter. Yunma is an old hand at this. In the end, will it be she or I who wins this battle of wits? What do you think? This issue is just like a lock and this key. I think you’d better leave. This kind of environment is hard on you. And don’t come back next year, either. Why make yourself uncomfortable? Come, help me shift my legs a little. I’m already dead from the waist down because of my fall, yet my upper body is still vigorous.”

His legs were very heavy, bewilderingly so. Even when he shoved them energetically a few times, Jinglan couldn’t move them. All he could do was climb into the bed, bend down, and shift them with both hands. His face turned purple. After he had arranged Yuanpu’s legs and covered them with a quilt, he and Yuanpu looked at each other. He noticed that Yuanpu’s eyes were a little damp, and he felt his emotions surge.

“Go on, go on! Why haven’t you left yet?!” Yuanpu was energetically waving his hand, perhaps to cover his embarrassment or perhaps because he was weary.

Jinglan walked into the courtyard, where Yunma had just arranged the coffin. Looking at Jinglan, she gave him an unearthly smile. She said, “Come back again next year. Mr. Yuanpu always cares about you.”

“This. ”

“Do you mean the coffin? This is just for looks. How can he die? He can fool the others, but he can’t fool me. Are you going now? Come back next year for sure. For sure! You’re all he thinks of!”

Jinglan quickened his pace, but Yunma was behind him, seeing him off. She was excited. She opened her mouth a few times, wanting to say something, but in the end she said nothing. She just silently watched Jinglan walk into the distance.

=

As Jinglan got back to the street, he thought he had no reason to despise Yunma. He had seen that his mentor seemed content with his lot in that eerie house; it was hard for others to understand what was so wonderful about his life. It seemed that Jinglan himself now had no choice but to consider himself one of the others. After all, he returned only once a year. Although he had thought of himself as his pupil, in the end, he hadn’t mastered some things — for instance, he didn’t understand Yuanpu’s relationship with Yunma at all. He could only understand the Yuanpu of the past — and evidently there was no connection between the mentor of the past and the mentor of the present. Had this change occurred only when he had a premonition that he would die soon?