Xu Xiaobin - Dunhuang Dream

“Which one are you interested in?”

Xingxing narrowed her eyes and like a naughty child eyed Tang Renxia as if whatever she said would be refuted. “I’m interested in the Yuan Dynasty frescoes in Cave Ten. Would it be possible to. .”

Cave 10 is a Tantric Cave.

“No, that’s out of the question!” Tang Renxia waved his hand, rejecting the idea decisively.

“Why?” asked Xingxing, her eyes turning cold.

Tang Renxia smiled. “Cave Ten is not open to the public. You were lucky enough to see it. You should be happy. But you are insatiable.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Tang Renxia sipped his tea. “Tibetan Tantricism is a sensitive issue. The Tibetans have their religious beliefs, much of which we do not understand, so it is best to say as little as possible about it. We don’t want to increase ethnic tensions. . in the past there were many problems. You don’t understand how serious because you are too young.”

“I’m not trying to say anything; I simply wish to copy two paintings. Rest assured, I wouldn’t use them as source materials in my own work to publish. If you believe me, I can make two extra copies for you. .”

Tang Renxia waved his hand repeatedly. “No, no, Comrade Xingxing, there’s no point in discussing the matter!”

They argued for quite a while. As dusk approached, someone entered — the woman who looked like Guanyin.

“It’s you, Bodhisattva!” Xingxing shouted, pleasantly surprised.

But the woman nodded without varying her professional smile, almost as if she did not recognize Xingxing, then she turned leisurely toward Tang Renxia.

“What’s ‘out of the question’?”

“This is Xiao Xingxing from the Central Academy of Art. She would like to copy the frescoes in Cave Ten.”

The woman smiled. “I was just coming to see you about this. Something has happened at Cave Ten. It is already closed, even for those with special passes. We also have some clues relating to the painting theft at Cave Seventy-three.”

Tang Renxia said with gratitude, “That’s great, Chief Pan. You have been working very hard. Come, let me introduce you. Comrade Xingxing, this is Department Head of the Cultural Administrative Area, Comrade Pan Sumin. She’s the guardian deity of the Dunhuang paintings! Ha-ha-ha. .”

“Hello, we’ve met,” said Xingxing, extending her hand.

The woman cleared her throat a couple of times as if to decline before reaching out to touch Xingxing’s hand with her fingertips, which felt very cold to Xingxing.

“Really?”

“Have you forgotten? I was lost in the vicinity of the Tantric Caves. You are. .”

Pan Sumin placidly raised her eyebrows and with a look of compassion said, “I’m sorry. I don’t remember.”

Xingxing felt the woman was lying, but why would she do so?

“You said a thief had been apprehended at Cave Seventy-three?” Xingxing thought of Wuye and was filled with suspicion. Wuye had described that “Bodhisattva Guanyin.” Then was it the same woman? Observing the faint crow’s-feet at the corners of the woman’s eyes and her perpetual smile, she felt she was looking at a mask, one carved with fixed lines, behind which was concealed the unknown.

“Not yet. I said we have some clues.” Pan Sumin smiled placidly.

“Do. . you know someone by the name of Wuye?” Xingxing asked, closely observing the woman’s expression. But her face, which was as smooth as a mirror, didn’t change; her eyebrows didn’t even twitch.

“No,” she replied placidly.

10

Xingxing hurried back to the Sanwei Mountain Guesthouse.

She couldn’t say why, but she felt a plot was taking shape like a black cloud around Wuye, one that could descend at any moment and crush him. She had to save him, she had to.

She ran back to her room, but when she arrived there she suddenly heard a burst of charming laughter from within. She threw open the door and stood transfixed.

There was Yu’er, in splendid attire, reclining on her bed. She wore a headdress of pearls and precious stones. She was dressed in a thin green silk gown with a black vest embroidered with flowers and butterflies. A gold necklace inlaid with rubies hung heavily in the folds of her clothes across her left shoulder. It seemed terribly heavy composed of a good deal of gold and rubies.

Where did she get such jewelry? Xingxing wondered. Then her eyes fell on Wuye, who was blushing furiously.

Wuye was there! Every day he bought groceries and brought them back and prepared food and rice on the hot plate. Many a day, Xingxing could smell the aroma of his cooking from far off. Sometimes she felt she owed him something and wished to repay him by cooking a huge repast for him, but had never had the opportunity.

The aroma of cooking always triggered her imagination. She would think of that gray building in the western suburbs of Beijing and her cute little boy, Little Weiwei and Mousheng.

Mousheng was a good cook and liked to cook. But he seemed too wrapped up in it, for as soon as they sat down to one meal he was already talking about what to prepare for the next. Every time this happened, the food would suddenly stick in her throat and it would take her some time to get it down.

Every time she took wing, he’d pull her back to earth. She wasn’t entirely against this for each time she took flight, she would be troubled by some vague fear, and then look back to earth and its warmth and security. Being on the ground for some time, she would begin to worry again.

She yearned to fly freely, to return freely to earth, and then fly again into the sky.

But she had nothing today. She didn’t have the aroma of good cooking nor did she have Wuye’s warm eyes.

“Sister Xingxing! Why is Brother Wuye’s face so red? Ha-ha-ha. .” Innocently, Yu’er laughed again with great charm. “I only sang a Yugur song I had learned for you. I didn’t kiss you or bite you. Why are you blushing so?” After she spoke, she suddenly leaped behind Wuye, grabbed him by the head, and planted a big kiss on his hair.

Wuye and Xingxing were both stunned.

Wuye smoothed his hair, and blushing even more furiously, muttered something. But Xingxing could see that he wasn’t upset by any of it.

Xingxing suddenly felt as if she were being pricked by a needle. That day, Wuye had inserted a shining needle in her belly. That was a warm, genial needle. But this one had pierced her heart.

“Right. Director Tang wants to see me about something. I’ll be going. Yu’er, make yourself at home.” She spoke calmly, turned, and in a daze seemed to hear Wuye shout after her.

11

She didn’t know where she was going. She really didn’t know where she should go.

Dusk had fallen over Sanwei Mountain. The last light of the setting sun shone faintly in the distance. She suddenly felt old. She became muddleheaded and dazed and faced a darkness deeper than that before her eyes. She walked aimlessly, becoming a doddering old woman. The pain in the bottom of her heart spread, and as it spread the pain increased.

She wanted to shatter herself against the distant mountains, like a cloud behind the mountains that breaks into pieces and is carried off on the wind into the boundless distance.

It seemed fated. Those whom she loved, admired, needed but dared not touch were always taken away by someone who didn’t really love them. She recalled that woman of ten years ago. She was as thin as a sorghum stalk and her face reminded one of some animal in a zoo, but she had a glib tongue. She flirted at the right time, giggled just right, made secret overtures perfectly, and was generally gifted at baffling men. She had met her by chance when she and Xiaojun had gone on business to the northeast. She remembered that the woman was called Xiazi.