Xu Xiaobin - Dunhuang Dream

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Zhang Shu couldn’t resist the joke at the old man’s expense. But unexpectedly the old man took him seriously and flushed red.

“Lad!” He smiled with embarrassment. “I was nothing. Guonu had plenty of admirers, and when my turn came, I was nothing but a shepherd, and Guonu was the reincarnation of the Yutian princess! In any event, if she had been mine, those unfortunate events never would have happened. But as they say, the fate of a beauty is a difficult one. Alas!”

Later, Chen Qing told him a story about Yu’er’s mother, Guonu. The story was so dramatic in places that Zhang Shu was certain portions of it were exaggerated. Guonu was a beautiful and accomplished young woman. In addition to being a famous beauty in the Dunhuang area, she was also a pious Buddhist. Her mother’s side of the family was surnamed Yu-Chi and it was widely believed that she was a descendant of Yu-Chi Sheng, the king of Yutian. At twenty she married a young Tibetan, the son of a powerful, noble clan in Lhasa. His name was Zhaxi Lunba, and he was well educated and of good character. He was also a Buddhist. In order to do the research on Dunhuang, he settled here and ended up working in the Dunhuang Cultural Research Institute. The two of them were quite happy together. Later Guonu became pregnant and had a daughter, after which Zhaxi doted on his wife even more. But the good times didn’t last. In the mid-’60s, two years before the Cultural Revolution, their relationship suddenly became strained, and according to the neighbors, they argued all night long and sometimes even came to blows. It was then that Guonu once again became pregnant, but unlike the happy first time, she was always in tears. Those who knew her commented on how quickly she aged until one day Zhaxi was killed when his car rolled over on the road from Dunhuang to Zhangye. Guonu insisted that someone was behind it and caused a scene, but finally it came to an end for lack of proof. But what no one expected occurred a year later. Guonu married a Lama from the Tibetan border area and took her two daughters to live with him. Of course, he wasn’t a Lama then.

“Is the lama still alive?”

“Yes,” said Chen Qing as he began to stare off into space.

“Was he good to Yu’er’s mother?

“Yes, yes,” he sneered as he tilted back his head and drained what was left in his bottle.

6

Zhang Shu didn’t hear about Wuye until three days after the event.

Anxiously, he went and knocked on Xingxing’s door. The room was a mess, and Xingxing sat looking at a picture book without really taking anything in.

He sat down opposite her.

“Why not go report the crime?”

“No,” she replied hurriedly. “He’ll come back.”

“Since you are so sure, why are you troubling yourself?”

She didn’t protest. The picture book had been flipped through so many times it was on the point of falling apart.

Then Zhang Shu tried to rouse her to go out and get some yellow noodles, which were a specialty of the area and made according to a secret recipe. And just watching the noodles being made was a show in and of itself. A ball of dough, seven or eight jin in weight, had to be pulled into noodles as fine as silk. It was all the skill of the master chef. They weren’t that great to eat; one ate and enjoyed the skill in making the noodles more than anything. Shortly after her arrival Xingxing was determined to try the yellow noodles and had searched all over Dunhuang without finding a yellow noodle stand and had yet to fulfill her wishes.

Finally, she was convinced, but she really doubted there was a yellow noodle stand to be found. She didn’t have much of an appetite either, but seeing Zhang Shu that way she didn’t have the heart to say no.

Unexpectedly, they did happen upon a noodle stand with authentic yellow noodles. They were shiny and yellow and firm to the touch like yellow jade. The noodle maker was as thin as a twig. Who knows where his strength came from to sling around twelve heavy strands of yellow dough, one minute looking like fried dough twists, the next minute like a whirling dragon. It was delightful to watch. Forty or fifty people stood around the stand watching as the twelve strands suddenly became 192 strands. Each time the number of noodles increased exponentially. The shiny, yellow noodles appeared one by one. The noodle maker’s wife grabbed handfuls and tossed them in a pot of boiling water. They were ready in a matter of moments. Several customers hurriedly handed over the money and after adding condiments, they stood beside the stand slurping down the noodles.

Zhang Shu hurriedly thrust the money into the woman’s hand. After adding chopped green onion, crushed garlic, sesame paste, salt, and MSG, he handed the bowl to Xingxing. To his own bowl he added a spoonful of hot pepper. He ate, breaking into a sweat. He looked at Xingxing and, although she wasn’t eating with great relish, she was moving her chopsticks.

“How do you make these noodles?” Zhang Shu asked the woman, looking up.

The woman beamed with joy but didn’t say a word. One of those sitting nearby answered before she could open her mouth and said that they buried some sort of plant ash where it aged for several months to make one of the ingredients. The woman ignored him and continued smiling, her yellow teeth showing. Zhang Shu had never been interested in the origins of yellow noodles, but wanted to distract Xingxing. She still looked like a sleepwalker, so he didn’t pursue the matter.

The two of them walked back by the fading light of the setting sun.

7

“Can I ask you something, Xingxing?”

“Sure.”

“Had you met Wuye before?”

“No.”

“So you met him after you met me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then. .” Zhang Shu kept his doubts to himself. He felt it strange that a mature woman like Xingxing could like such a young guy. In was inexplicable.

“Do you think it’s strange?” she asked, turning her bright eyes toward him. “He reminds me of a friend of mine from a long time ago. I confuse one for the other.”

“A form of empathy, right?”

“Somewhat, but not entirely. He is cute. . can I come over to your room and sit?”

She found Zhang Shu’s room brighter than her own. People seemed to be much more alert in such a bright room. Zhang Shu poured what coffee was left into a cup, but she didn’t want any.

“I never drink coffee.”

“Tea?”

“No. I don’t touch any stimulants. Wuye knows.”

He remained silent.

Wuye knows. From her words he realized how close they were. Wuye knows. She didn’t say her husband knows. It was clear that she was telling him he was left out.

“Doesn’t your loved one object to you being away from home so long?” he asked, changing the topic.

“I don’t have a loved one; I have a husband.”

“Why so bitter and hateful?”

“Aren’t you in the same boat?”

He laughed bitterly. “It’s strange. When I left home, I was fed up. All I wanted then was to be free. Now I’m trying to escape again. . people are just fickle.”

“Do you want to go home?”

“I haven’t decided. What about you?”

“I haven’t experienced freedom yet to decide if I want to escape from it.”

“That’s where we are different,” said Zhang Shu, placing corn in a pot and turning on the hot plate. “My wife is one of those women who are always doted upon. You can’t neglect her for a minute. But I’m not the type of guy who goes out of his way to play up to a woman, so. .”

“Actually, it has nothing to do with ‘playing up to.’ Chinese guys are just not very gentlemanly. Making a woman feel comfortable is a virtue. There are probably two types of Chinese guys. On the one hand, you have eunuchs, guys who are even half women. They can’t even grow a proper beard. Then there are the superficial macho guys, who are, in fact, like dried preserved cabbage — totally bland. They act tough, but they just tire everyone. There is a third type, of course, but that is the rarest of the rare. .”