Can Xue - Vertical Motion

Jinglan kept going, intending to thrust all of this behind him. Then he changed his mind and decided to board the boat and leave at once. He walked to the wharf. As it happened, a boat was waiting. No sooner had he entered the cabin and fallen onto the cot than the boat started up. Half-dazed, he heard the water grumbling below and felt it was a little absurd to have left immediately.

At midnight, he awoke with a start and walked onto the deck. When he looked up, he saw a large meteor fall from the sky. He looked down: everything was inky black. The events of the past few days once more weighed heavily on his heart. The boat had already gone a long way. For some reason, Jinglan felt that this was not like leaving, but instead like sailing straight toward the dark center of his hometown. It was a place where he’d never been before.

The gigantic owl — twice as large as ordinary owls — had been coming around for days, each time at dusk. It sat on a branch of the old mulberry, its round eyes — of indeterminate color — like two demonic mirrors.

That day, Mrs. Yun returned from the vegetable garden carrying a pair of empty buckets on her shoulders. As she turned and suddenly saw this big thing, her legs went weak and she nearly fell. She wanted to run off, but she couldn’t move. It was as if something were holding on to her legs. She struggled for a long while and calmed down only when she reached her door. When she looked again at the tree and saw that thing again, she promptly shut the courtyard gate.

Mr. Yun was sharpening a hatchet. She noticed a ruthless expression looming on his face.

“What scared you so much?”

Walking over, he opened the courtyard gate and watched for a while.

“Hunh!” he said.

Then he closed the gate slowly. Mrs. Yun knew he didn’t feel like talking. And because of his explosive temper, she didn’t dare ask him anything. She heard the chickens hopping around uneasily in the coop. One old hen didn’t want to return to her nest. Finally, she grabbed the hen and thrust it in. With that, all twelve chickens in the coop went crazy, and Mrs. Yun’s heart thumped continuously. She remained in shock right up until she lit the lamp, finished her dinner, and washed the dishes. She wanted to open the courtyard gate to take another look, but she didn’t have the nerve.

Sure enough, that night the chickens and dogs were all in an uproar. The next morning, two chickens were missing. At the gate were chicken feathers and traces of blood. Mrs. Yun thought, was it the owl? Why did she think it was a man-eating beast? Mr. Yun looked at the feathers on the ground and said, “This doesn’t matter.”

Feeling uncertain, she stood next to the entrance, cupped her hands, and shouted through her tears: “Wumei! Wumei!”

She was calling her daughter. She’d had five children, but the first four had died. The only one left was Wumei. Her daughter leapt out from the dry ditch; she had cut a small bundle of firewood.

“What are you shouting about?” Wumei said disapprovingly. Her face was flushed.

Mrs. Yun reproached her: “What are you shouting about?”

Wumei set the firewood down and went to her room. Mrs. Yun knew she was making papercuts again. Recently, she’d become infatuated with a weird design — concentric circles. She cut them out of black paper and pasted them on the walls and windows. Mrs. Yun told her that looking at the rings made her dizzy. But Wumei didn’t care and continued cutting.

Mrs. Yun was a little indignant because no one else in the family was upset by what had happened the night before. And neither father nor daughter seemed to think the ill-omened bird was even there. They just went on doing whatever they had to do. She wasn’t one to make a mountain out of a molehill, but wasn’t it true that something had invaded her life? Those two hens were both new and were about to lay eggs. They had eaten a lot of food every day.

Sulking, Mrs. Yun began making a commotion with the dishes in the kitchen.

“Just ignore it. Isn’t it the same as if it weren’t here?” Wumei said in a low voice.

She was standing next to the door, her eyes wide open. Mrs. Yun couldn’t figure out what her bright black eyes were saying. She merely thought that her daughter was becoming more and more bewildering.

“What do you mean? It’s obviously in that tree. And we’ve obviously lost two hens.”

“We can raise more chickens.”

With that, she walked away.

Mrs. Yun got goose pimples at the thought of Wumei’s black rings. And so she sighed to herself: “Ah, she’s destined to survive.”

Mr. Yun went to the market with a load of hemp sandals. Mrs. Yun went to the farm to pull weeds. She didn’t ask Wumei to go along.

As soon as she opened the door, she saw it. Now it was coming in the daytime, too. What a cruel thing! What should she do? She thought and thought, but could find no way to deal with the situation. Whatever will be, will be , she concluded. After closing the courtyard gate, she went to the farm.

It was an overcast day. Mrs. Yun kept listening uneasily. If there was any movement, she could run home at once. But nothing happened all morning. When she went home, it had left the tree. For some reason, Mrs. Yun felt that without the owl the tree was a little lonely and was standing there listlessly. Had she been affected by her daughter?

Nothing happened that night.

=

Now Mrs. Yun was sitting in the doorway, stitching soles for cloth shoes, and the gigantic bird was in the tree across from her. The afternoon before, it had pecked a piglet to death — a tragic scene. Mrs. Yun reminded her husband of her father’s hunting rifle. Mr. Yun took the gun in his hands, looked around for a long time, and then put it down again. He said stiffly, “It’s useless.”

“Why? Why?” Mrs. Yun said impatiently, “Nothing’s wrong with this rifle. Last year, Yun Bao killed a lot of wild rabbits with it. It’s a good rifle.”

“Is this a wild rabbit?” Mr. Yun roared fiercely.

“Then, what do you think it is? It’s going to do us in.” Mrs. Yun was furious.

“It is — it is— bah!! ”

Mr. Yun went to the kitchen and started the fire.

Mrs. Yun’s eyes blurred as she stitched the soles. It was as if the end of the world was coming. It took a long time for her to compose herself. She saw Wumei walk past the ditch with a basket on her arm. She was cutting pig fodder. She wasn’t the least bit afraid, nor was she concerned about the family’s losses. This child was a little callous. Whenever she told her anything, she said the same thing: “Just ignore it.” But Mrs. Yun noticed that her daughter had changed: when she cut firewood and pig fodder, she no longer went far away, and she seemed to be detouring around that evil bird. Mrs. Yun was a little excited by this discovery. Father and daughter were not ignoring this issue, after all. Could they figure out what to do? As a housewife, she knew she couldn’t make the decision in such a serious matter. She could only worry. When she looked again at the owl, it seemed bigger: it looked like a tiger sitting there.

From the kitchen came the sound of Mr. Yun singing mountain ballads. He seemed emotional. When he was young, he’d been good at singing these ballads. He was an educated person from the city, yet he had voluntarily settled down in the countryside. Mrs. Yun had come with him. Life in the countryside was quiet and dull, but because Mr. Yun liked it, Mrs. Yun subsequently came to like it, too.

Mr. Yun hadn’t sung for a long time. Now, hearing him, Mrs. Yun couldn’t sit still. She ran into the kitchen and started making pancakes.

“Are you making pancakes?” Mr. Yun was a little surprised.