Can Xue - The Last Lover

In the sky numerous hawks stared greedily, but they didn’t dare take precipitate action. Maybe they thought that these people with only heads showing were a bit unusual. You couldn’t say what snare might be hiding underneath. After long, hesitant wheeling above, one large gray bird made a fierce dive at a young boy. Grappling and struggling began. They all held their breath and looked on intently. Ida wanted to look, too, but the sand got in her eyes. She couldn’t see anything. She heard the woman calling her.

“Ida, Ida, I am your mother!”

“Mama, Mama! My eyes, I can’t see you!” Ida began to cry.

“Never mind, stupid child, it doesn’t matter. When the flood came from the mountain you couldn’t see, either, but didn’t you escape? And not seeing is better. It’s tragic, tragic, the child broke the old hawk’s wing. There’s so much blood.”

Some object was underneath her, pushing at Ida’s back until it hurt. She thought of sitting up, but didn’t move. The woman beside her said there was a person underneath. It was Mr. Reagan. Ida pressed down on him so that he couldn’t get out. No matter how much he tried, it was a waste of his strength. Ida felt blood running from her eyes. The grains of sand cut her eyeballs like needles. “Mr. Reagan, I love you,” she said. Then the person stopped pushing at her so hard.

“How nice, Ida found a beau!” The woman’s voice was piercing. “And he’s a landowner.”

Ida remembered that Mr. Reagan had already given his farm freely to the forest keeper. Now he had nothing at all. But who had told her this? Was it him?

In the midst of the stinging pain, which was hard to bear, Ida began to ponder.

Joe had already traveled through so many countries in the East that he could no longer remember where he was. He stood in front of a stone tower. The tower was on a plateau, and beside him was a local yellow dog that had been following him. He’d spent one night in a small town and now the dog followed him everywhere. Perhaps it meant to lead the way for him, but Joe didn’t have a destination. He was only walking at random, and the yellow dog seemed happy with this procedure. Whenever they reached a new place it would let out a burst of yelping, wang wang , in its excitement.

The interior of the stone tower rose in a spiral with stone steps for climbing. Because the tower dated to a time ages ago, its stone steps were broken and fallen in some places. It looked dangerous to ascend. The yellow dog kept barking, begging Joe to climb up quickly. Joe looked up and saw the high roof marked with numerous round holes. They were put there so people could lean out of the tower. He estimated that the stone tower was about thirty meters high. The terrifying steps did not look very solid. He hesitated a while, then decided to leave. The yellow dog barked behind him indignantly for a long time. He felt guilty.

That night he rested in a hotel in the small town. It was a fairly high-class hotel. The rooms had French windows with hanging bamboo screens. Outside the windows a natural mountain spring flowed into the courtyard. But there were lots of mosquitoes. Even though he shut the window they got into the room, dancing and singing and making Joe irritable. Since he couldn’t sleep, he opened the door and walked into the courtyard. It was large and full of yew trees and rose of Sharon. He hadn’t walked very far when he heard someone talking. A man and a woman sat under a yew tree. They didn’t mind the mosquitoes biting. The topic they discussed seemed to be extremely significant.

“And so Vincent came here, but how did he find out where I was staying?” the man said.

“You’re his older brother, of course he would do all he could to find you. Where can you hide?” The woman laughed gently. She spoke leisurely and looked pleased.

Joe’s heart leapt in his chest. He stared at the blurred silhouette he threw on the grass, trying with futile effort to recall exactly where he was. On the route of his journey, with its planes, wooden sailboats, trains, long-distance buses, he’d changed from one means of transport to another, passing from one country into another, and the borders melted little by little in his mind until he no longer took note of them. The old story inside him had already melted. His eyes were empty. The only thing in view was the yellow dog running at the edge of the horizon. These days he was accustomed to the life of a man traveling the globe alone, and now he suddenly heard familiar names. It was like the report of a tragedy communicated from another world.

“Someone saw him climb to the top of the Five Dragon Tower. That was yesterday.” The man spoke again.

“It’s the highest point in the world. Anything might happen there. Doesn’t the proverb say, ‘the higher you stand, the farther you see’?” The woman’s voice lowered, as if sinking into thought.

“It’s frightening. We shouldn’t have come here to begin with.”

“You regret it?”

“No, forever no.”

The mosquitoes bit so severely Joe had to leave. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around his head, then put his hands in his pockets and walked back and forth. The mountain spring made a rustling sha sha as it passed through the rockery. From the garden he could see all the way to the outside, where tiny spots of light swam in the darkness. Could this place be “the roof of the world”? Joe couldn’t believe it. He recalled that “the roof of the world” was in China. He decided to go back to the Five Dragon Tower tomorrow and climb up to look around.

Inside the hotel building there was a sudden confusion. All the lights were on, and someone yelled “Fire!” Everyone rushed into the garden. He hadn’t imagined there could be so many people inside. Joe was squeezed among them and carried along as everyone rushed out to the street. He turned around and saw the small five-story building already roaring with flames. The people around him talked all at once. “It’s dangerous!” The same alarm issued from different mouths. “Was it a plot?” One man raised this question, but the surrounding uproar drowned out his voice. This was when Joe finally thought of his luggage. Several books he’d carried with him were inside, the most important being the book about Tibet. Fortunately he still had some cash on his person, otherwise this would have been a disaster. The small building was still burning. People gradually dispersed. Joe didn’t know where they were going. The street grew cold and deserted. A dog rushed over from the street corner. It was the yellow dog that had been following him.

The dog reached him and held his pants leg in its mouth, pulling him to the left. Joe had to go along with it. They came to a quarry. Several workers labored in the dark. The yellow dog circled to a temporary work shed behind the quarry. Joe saw that the door was open and an oil lamp lit inside. A man sat at the table holding his head tightly in both hands. The table was piled high with various objects.

“Joe, you’ve come. Sit down.” To his surprise the man was Vincent.

Now Joe saw that the things piled on the table were human bones.

“This is Lisa,” Vincent raised his head and seemed to smile. “Lisa followed the route of the Red Army’s Long March and reached here, where she fell into the great gorge. It’s unthinkable.”

Joe’s body shook in spasms. He didn’t dare sit down at the table, so he just stood there. The dog hid at his feet whimpering with a wu wu sound, as if it were crying.

“Vincent, we meet again,” Joe said, his teeth chattering.

Vincent lifted a bone and placed it against his face, with an expression of intoxication.