Gao Xingjian - Soul Mountain

Still in the snow?

Yes, the snow stings my feet but it feels good, my feet are a bit cold but I need this and keep walking on like this.

Can you see what you look like?

I don’t need to see, as long as I feel slightly cold and there is a slight stinging on my feet, and I can feel the snow and can feel you by my side, I feel secure and can relax and keep walking. My darling, can you hear me calling you?

Yes.

Kiss me, kiss my palms. Where are you? Don’t leave me!

I’m right here by your side.

No, I’m calling your spirit, I’m calling you, you must come, don’t abandon me.

Silly child, I wouldn’t do that.

I’m frightened, frightened about you leaving. Don’t leave me, I can’t bear the loneliness.

Aren’t you in my arms right now?

Yes, I know, I’m grateful to you, my love.

Sleep, sleep peacefully.

I’m not sleepy at all, my mind is crystal clear, I see the transparent night, the blue forest laden with snow. There is no starlight and no moonlight but all this can be seen clearly. It is a very strange night. I want to stay forever with you on this snowy night. Don’t go away, don’t abandon me. I want to cry. I don’t know why. Don’t abandon me, don’t go so far from me, don’t go kissing other women!

It is also in this winter after a snowfall that a friend comes to talk about the time he was on a labour reform farm. He looks at the snow-covered landscape outside my window and squints as if the glare of the snow is too strong and also as if he is immersed in his memories.

There was a huge derrick, he says, on the prison farm. Glancing out the window to a tall building, he estimates that it would have been at least fifty or sixty metres high, not less than the height of the very building we are in. A big flock of crows kept flying around the pointed top, they flew off and came back, circling endlessly and cawing all the time. The brigade leader in charge of this band of prisoners was an old soldier demobilized from the Korean War. He had a grade two award for meritorious action but having been wounded, one leg was longer than the other and he walked with a limp. He had some bad luck and wasn’t promoted any higher than company commander and ended up being sent to look after these prisoners so he was forever cursing and swearing.

Cunt of someone’s mother, what the fucking hell is going on? Just bloody won’t ever let me get any sleep! He swore in Northern Jiangsu dialect as he walked around the derrick with his army overcoat draped over his shoulders.

Climb up and have a look! he ordered me. What else could I do but take off my padded jacket and climb? Halfway up, in the strong wind, my calves started trembling, I looked down and these legs just gave up and wouldn’t stop shaking. It was during a year of famine and people were starving to death on the surrounding farms. We were a bit better off in the labour prison and the taro and peanuts we grew were stored in the granary after the company commander had taken his cut; we didn’t have to turn it all over. Each person’s grain rations were guaranteed and while we were a bit puffy we weren’t constipated. However, I was just too weak to climb up high.

Brigade leader! All I could do was to yell down to him.

I told you to have a look at what’s up there, he yelled from below.

I looked up.

There seemed to be a cloth bag hanging there, I said. I was starting to black out and all I could do was to shout down to him, I can’t climb up any further!

If you can’t then we’ll get someone else! He used a lot of invectives, but he wasn’t such a bad person.

I came down.

Get Thief for me! he said.

Thief was also a prisoner, a young fellow about seventeen or eighteen. They caught him when he stole someone’s wallet on a bus, so Thief became his nickname.

I found Thief for him. This young fellow took one look and refused to go up. The brigade leader was furious.

I didn’t ask you to kill yourself, did I?

Thief said he was frightened of falling.

The brigade leader ordered someone to get him a piece of rope, then said if he didn’t go up he’d be penalized three days’ grain rations!

It was only then that Thief, with the length of rope tied at his waist, went up. All of us watching from below were sweating profusely on his account. When he still had a third of the way to go, each time he moved further up he secured the rope to the iron rack and eventually got to the top. Flocks of crows kept circling around him. He waved his arms to chase them off, then from above a hemp bag slowly floated down. We went over to look. The hemp bag, which was pecked full of holes, was half full of peanuts!

Mother’s cunt! The brigade leader unleashed another round of invectives.

Assemble! He blew his whistle again. Everyone was assembled. He began with a reprimand then asked who was responsible.

No-one dared to make a sound.

It couldn’t have flown up there by itself, could it? I thought it was rotting human flesh!

We all forced ourselves to hold back, no-one dared to laugh.

If no-one owns up, everyone’s meals are stopped!

At this everyone became anxious and looked at one another. But we all knew in our hearts that only Thief was capable of climbing up. Our eyes naturally fell upon him. He cast his eyes to the ground, then unable to bear it fell on his haunches and admitted he had stolen up during the night and put it there. He said he was frightened of starving to death.

Did you use a rope? The brigade leader asked.

No.

Then why were you putting on that big act just now? Just penalize that son of a bitch one day without food! the brigade leader announced.

Everyone cheered.

Thief bawled.

The brigade leader limped off.

Another friend of mine tells me there is an important matter he wants to discuss with me.

I agree and say go ahead.

He says it will take a long time to tell it all.

I suggest that he shortens it.

He says even if he does, he’ll still have to start at the beginning.

Then start telling it, I say.

He asks if I know a certain high-ranking imperial bodyguard of a certain emperor of the Manchu-Qing Dynasty. He tells me both the name and reign title of the emperor as well as the name and surname of this high-ranking bodyguard, and says he is the direct seventh-generation eldest grandson of this illustrious person of those times. I accept his statement without reservation and don’t find it at all surprising, but whether this ancestor is a criminal or a meritorious minister of the emperor is of little consequence to him at present.

He says, on the contrary, it is of great consequence. People from cultural relic bureaux, museums, archive bureaux, political associations and antique shops have all visited him, repeatedly questioning him and harassing him no end.

I ask if he has one or two precious relics.

He says that’s an underestimation.

Is it worth a string of cities? I ask.

Whether it’s worth a string of cities he can’t say. In any case it’s hard to put a value on it, even one million, ten million or several hundred million wouldn’t be near the mark. He says it isn’t one or two items, but ranges from ceremonial bronze vessels and flat jades dating back to the Shang Dynasty to precious swords of the Warring States period, not to mention rare antiques and Buddhist calligraphies and paintings from various periods, enough to fill a museum. Early string-bound editions of the catalogued items run into four volumes and can be found in rare editions libraries. You have to understand that this is a two-hundred-year-old collection which started with his ancestor seven generations ago and was added to over the generations right until the Tongzhi reign period of the Qing Dynasty!