Xu Xiaobin - Dunhuang Dream

But after returning to Beijing, she discovered, much to her surprise, that Xiaojun had quite a different view. His pure, piercing eyes were befuddled.

Once at a friend’s party, Xiazi kissed him on the forehead in front of everyone. Xiaojun for his part didn’t seem in the least upset. He just smiled, blushed, and said, “Don’t do that or Xingxing might get mad.” Everyone laughed. Xingxing quietly slipped out amid the laughter, feeling heartbroken and bleeding and totally helpless.

A person’s heart could not be broken twice.

Later she was reconciled with Xiaojun, but that scar remained. She couldn’t tolerate having something she treasured so much become a joke exposed to all. It was the same as being naked in public. She didn’t say all of this to Xiaojun, and many times she had to lick her wounds alone in silence. She loved him so much, but to a degree she was unwilling to tell him.

But he found out later. On that rainy night when they parted, they had to climb over the high wall around the office in Xiyuan. He squatted partially to let her step first on his knee and then his shoulders to help her up on the wall. Her muddy rain boots soiled his bleached-out army clothes. Then he nimbly climbed over the wall and reached up to her with his arms open wide.

She would always remember that happy moment.

She closed her eyes and jumped down into his strong, warm arms. He didn’t release her at once but held her for a moment. She could feel his heart throbbing and his rapid breathing. Then he slowly grew more composed. That purity possessed only by young men made him seem even more admirable. He kissed her. Tears shone in his clear, pure eyes.

“Do you have to go?” she whispered, knowing what she said was nonsense. She wasn’t going to bring up her feelings, but as soon as she spoke, she burst into tears.

He looked away in silence. She could see that he was clenching his jaw.

“Tell me what do you wish for more than anything else?” After a while he looked down at her in seriousness but with warmth.

She looked up at him, tears in her eyes.

“To. . die. . for. . you,” she said, pronouncing each word.

12

She had thought about those four words for a long time.

At the time, she was still a young girl of seventeen, but thoughts of death had entered her mind many times.

As far as she was concerned, death was more seductive than frightening. Many times she tried to imagine what it would be like after death. She imagined that death perhaps would bring the love she couldn’t get in life. She would think and think, and then her tears would fall silently.

Really, if she could meet someone in this life she could die for, life would not be in vain.

This thought or “complex” was buried deep in her heart, supporting her through those difficult times. But today she no longer believed in this “complex,” but still it would assert itself sometimes, disturbing her cold mind.

That rainy night of mud, that high wall, that heartbreaking first kiss, were now all so distant and could not be looked forward to, like something from another century. If she were tell this to her child or her child’s children, they’d all stare at her wide-eyed and wonder what she was talking about, believing perhaps that it was a fairy tale.

13

Every night, Ahyuexi would arrive as silently as the moonlight.

During that time, Zhang Shu always felt as if he were dreaming. Their lovemaking seemed not to involve any physical desire, totally unlike with Yu’er. Ahyuexi was quiet and even when she climaxed, she never uttered a sound, as if she had reached a high level of “silent cultivation.” This gave him a sublime sense of sex.

He thought of his wife. Every time they made love, she initiated it, but she preferred to be passive. Once she said to him, “If I have to initiate things, I get no pleasure out of it. Please, why don’t you initiate things for once?” He thought it was ridiculous. But after he met Yu’er, he understood. He suddenly felt that a civilized person ought to marry a natural person, for two highly cultured people would never be able to experience the fullness of love because culture might serve as an obstacle.

He felt he was able to go even further with Ahyuexi. Not only did he experience happiness, but he also experienced something mysterious and acquired food for thought. He was repeatedly pulled into a deep gray dream world by her twining deep gray long hair. The dream world was filled with seduction, where a moon hung high in the sky, which was broken and misshapen, with the angles of a multifaceted diamond. It was the moon over Mingsha Mountain. The mountain lay silent under the moon. The silence enwrapped him and seemed to inform him of life’s difficulties and the inevitability of death. He frequently went to savor death’s beauty in the black of night.

That day Ahyuexi untied the bright apricot-colored band on her head, revealing a large scar on her otherwise broad, smooth forehead. The thin center of the scar seemed to move. It didn’t look like skin but more like a clear strip of wrinkled paper pasted there.

“What’s this?” asked Zhang Shu, touching her scar with his little finger.

“That’s a celestial eye.”

“A celestial eye?”

“Uh-huh.” Her deep eyes were expressionless.

On the day of Ahyuexi’s tenth birthday, after the two noble elderly lamas had cast her fortune, she was taken to a small, dark chamber. Three lamas in golden robes entered. In Lhasa, the color of a monastic’s robes is related to their status. Most monks wear red robes, from chestnut red to brick red, depending on the rank. Only high-ranking monks who had been called upon to serve in the Potala Palace were allowed to wear a golden robe outside their red one.

In the dark, she was unable to see their faces but did see that they carried a pouch of herbal medicine. One lama placed the pouch on her forehead while another bound it tightly in place. Then she was left alone in the dark for a long, long time.

She was terrified, and she recalled what her father had said: “Child, you and I are different. You are a person with insight. The Potala Palace contains a record of your reincarnation. . you will suffer, but in the end, you will successfully. .”

The three lamas once again appeared out of the dark. They opened a box and took out a steel instrument that looked something like a drill, but one that seemed to have many fine teeth. The oldest lama bent over her and whispered solemnly, “Child, today we are going to assist you in opening your celestial eye. You may feel some pain, but you must be conscious if it is to be completed.” So saying, he signaled to one of the other lamas to grab her and then aimed that instrument at a point on her forehead and began turning it. She grit her teeth. The drill penetrated her skull with a squeak and the monk operating the drill stopped. Then one of the other lamas handed him a hard strip of wood, which he inserted into the hole he had just made. At that moment she experienced a severe pain on the crown of her head and nearly fainted. But at that moment, she smelled some unknown fragrance and saw a five-colored light appear before her eyes.

“So that’s called opening a celestial eye?” said Zhang Shu, smiling sarcastically.

“Yes.”

“What can you see with that celestial eye of yours?”

“I can see a lot, but I cannot tell you.” She spoke with great earnestness. “I don’t want to be like some people these days who go around saying they can see things other people can’t see, like street magicians.”

“What about me can you see?”

She looked at him for a while and said, “You are good. Your intelligence is inspired, which in our language is called a ‘silver band.’ However, you appear not to have been well recently. You were sick and had a fever and headache.”