Xu Xiaobin - Dunhuang Dream

But his feelings were completely different for his son. When he carried that small life home from the maternity hospital, he treated it as if it were part of his own life. The baby only weighed 3 jin at birth and didn’t even have the strength to cry. It could only produce some weak inarticulate sounds of “gugu,” so they gave him the nickname Gugu and his actual name was similar: Zhang Gu. He was probably familiar with all the pediatric clinics by the time his son was three. Upon seeing him, all the doctors would frown. At three years of age — and with some difficulty — he finally managed to get him into a kindergarten. On the second day, one of the women working there called and said Zhang Gu had a fever and a stomachache, and wouldn’t eat. After that they were never off the phone. They were never off the phone. Slowly he learned to slip ration coupons to the women and give them a calendar or other things at New Year to be on the good side of them. As a result the women took care of his son and the phone calls decreased. But the child was unusually scrawny, so every day after work he had to stop at the free market to pick up some things that the child liked to eat. In addition, he was always buying illustrated magazines to satisfy the child’s spiritual needs. But the leader at the scientific lab where he worked was not so pleased with his image as a “good father,” because maintaining such an image necessarily affected his performance at work. Of course, in the eyes of his boss, he was the most unpromising and least ambitious despite performing some very successful experiments. To make matters worse, he didn’t have a diploma. His wife constantly reminded him of this until it became quite tiresome. One day his wife shouted at him, “I have no idea what you are thinking about from morning to night.”

In fact, he was thinking absolutely nothing. He simply felt that was the way life ought to be. Moreover, he felt responsible for his son. He always figured when the child grew older, he would have a little companion. But the very first complete sentence his son uttered was, “I don’t like my father, he’s bad.”

In his son’s eyes, he was the person who disciplined him and who was strict with him. When he was nine, Zhang Shu caught him in a lie and whipped him. Later, he saw the following words in his son’s notebook: “Father beats people like the Japanese. When I’m big and strong, I’m going to beat him to a pulp.”

Only then did he realize how his son saw him.

12

That day, Xiao Xingxing didn’t raise her head until quite late and said, “You ought to be going.”

The young man nodded and collected his washed clothes.

“My clothes aren’t all dry,” he said.

“What?”

“My clothes aren’t all dry,” he stubbornly repeated, looking at her.

“Come back for them in a couple of days,” she said dryly without looking at him.

He began to collect his things. His fingers were long and nimble and he did things quickly. He quickly gathered together his pitifully few possessions and put them in his bag, following which he naturally began to straighten up the room.

“Leave it. Don’t bother,” she said, still without turning to look at him. She propped herself up only after she heard the door open. The young man looked straight at her, tenderly and confused, his lips pressed tightly together. His Adam’s apple bobbed the way it had done the night before as he gulped down the water. There was a stone on the little table by the door. In the light streaming in through a crack in the drapes, it looked like a beautiful crystal.

“Don’t forget your things,” she said, looking away.

“It’s for you. I found it at an antique stand.”

His voice was in a way touching. She sat up.

“I. . I don’t want to leave,” he said, biting his lip as if he had made a momentous decision. “You aren’t feeling well and you need someone to look after you. I’ll leave when you get better.”

The last few words were spoken resolutely and decisively. She looked at him, surprised. After a long while, she was enveloped by a warmth she hadn’t felt in ages.

“Can you look after anyone?” she asked as coldly as possible.

“Of course. I’m a medical student.” He had already taken a seat on the floor, his long legs pulled up with his head with his spiky hair between them.

“You study medicine? What field?”

“Chinese medicine.”

“A. . a future Chinese medicine doctor,” she smiled. He saw it as a sarcastic smile. “So that’s the reason for the great humanitarian spirit.”

“Can I take your pulse?” He seemed very earnest, which only made her sarcastic smile meaningless.

Before she could answer, the young man was already on his feet. He firmly grasped her wrist without so much as looking at her.

“Your pulse is quite sunken, an evil heat has blocked up your stomach, what we call a ‘lily disease’ in Chinese medicine. Because your emotions are paralyzed, a depressed fire has scorched your Yin to the extent that the qi and blood cannot moisten the hundred vessels, thus afflicting them. Your heart has a Yin deficiency and your mind is absent, so even if you want to lie down and rest, you can’t; your bones and joints are weak, so you find it difficult to walk. You suffer from lung vacuity and possess insufficient defensive Yang. You feel hot, but don’t have a fever; an evil heat in the stomach can lead to severe vomiting and diarrhea. .”

As he spoke he didn’t look at her, but she quietly examined his wrist. That red in her dreams seemed to flow before her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” The young man finally realized that she had become pale as a sheet.

“It’s nothing.” The sarcastic smile remained on her lips. “You sound like you know what you’re talking about. Unfortunately, I have never believed the word of a doctor.”

13

In the end the young man stayed.

That was because she suddenly vomited. The thick, smelly liquid wouldn’t stop, pouring out continuously like the red liquid in her dream. The bed and the floor were covered with the deep red color of dried blood.

When she woke from total darkness, she saw that the mess was nearly gone. The young man was carefully cleaning the last stains. A wound that had lay concealed in her heart for many years suddenly began to ooze blood. It was very painful and she began to weep.

“Do you still feel sick?” asked the young man, pausing from his work. Since meeting her, he seemed to have contracted some strange illness. When she smiled, he felt like smiling, too; and now, seeing her in tears, he felt like finding someplace to cry.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Xiang Wuye.”

“Wuye? Why Wuye?”

“My father chose my name.”

“It sounds a little Buddhist.”

“. . you need acupuncture treatment for acute gastritis.” He didn’t seem willing to pursue the line of conversation. After washing his hands, he took acupuncture needles, alcohol, and cotton balls out of his bag and applied needles to her two-sided neiguan . Not wishing to hurt her, he was extremely cautious. She looked at his vague shape through her tears. “I’m sorry,” she said vaguely.

“Why do you say that?”

“I’m sorry. It’s so dirty. .”

“Didn’t you say I have a humanitarian spirit?”

“You like to get even.”

“Unbutton please. I have to insert a needle in your zhongwan , the middle part of your gastric cavity.”

She slowly unbuttoned her clothes. She didn’t have a sleeveless undergarment on underneath and tried to cover her brassiere with her clothes. She was suddenly very conscious of her body. She saw a strange hand raise a needle and approach her naked belly. His thin hand moved briskly. Several fine hairs on the back of his hand shone golden in the light.