Xu Xiaobin - Dunhuang Dream

She was stunned and baffled, and her sister’s hatred and spite deeply pained her. She knew she had to get married.

“Xingxing. . Xingxing. . are you feeling a little better?”

The warmth of Wuye’s hand flowed into her cold hand. She forced open her eyes to look at him. How long would this warmth last? The first time Mousheng held her hand, she felt the same kind of warmth. At that time she felt abandoned by the entire world. Only Mousheng, who was short, wore glasses, and smiled warmly, truly loved her. Confidently, she reached out her hand, willing to take that warm hand and follow it anyplace.

There was no way she could reconcile that Mousheng with the one who later viciously stabbed his finger at her and roundly cursed her.

One day, for some insignificant matter, Mousheng kicked the brown glass tea table. In an instant the table lay shattered in a million pieces at her feet. Her heart and hopes were shattered at the same time.

When he wasn’t angry, Mousheng was telling her how she should clean the dishes and mop the floor. In the evening he would tell her to heat milk for the child, wash his face and feet, brush his teeth, and fold his blanket. It was always the same, and he would always find something to criticize her about. It always reminded her of the mother who had disliked and avoided her. She was nervous every day and felt exhausted, because if she slipped up in any way, Mousheng would put on that stern look and grow silent. That glum face wrecked havoc on her nerves and even entered her dreams.

Of course, there were happy moments. Whenever she cooked something particularly tasty or showed a new work, Mousheng would beam, then she could breathe freely. Mousheng would suddenly use a little money left over at the end of the month to buy her and the child small gifts. On her thirtieth birthday, he bought an Italian gold necklace for her. Later he would mention that necklace many times as if it were better than the jewelry of any other woman on earth.

When he placed the necklace around her neck, she smiled. She did so because she had to look pleased and not hurt Mousheng’s feelings. But she wasn’t smiling inside. If he suddenly took the necklace away, she wouldn’t cry over it. She was that sort of woman: when she laughed, she was resplendent; when she cried, she sounded glorious.

“Hate brings together. . love divides. . is that the way to put it?” she muttered.

3

“What did you say?” he asked, pressing his ear close to her mouth.

“I. . I said. . if. . if. .”

She didn’t finish speaking because she was afraid to upset Wuye. She wanted to say that turning things around as “hate brings together, and love divides” also makes sense. When two people who love each other are together, they slowly learn to hate, and separation would make them fall in love again. People wanted what they couldn’t have; simply because it was denied, they wanted it. The more they were denied, the more they wanted it, but once attained, it became worthless to them.

“What are you thinking?” Wuye gently move the hair off her forehead. Her forehead was slightly furrowed. He looked at her lovingly. If they were to be together, he thought, he would make her once again glow with health.

“I was thinking, thinking about my son.” She forced a smile, but in her heart she wanted to cry. Her little Weiwei would one day grow up, marry, and have children of his own. At that time, he’d have no need for a wrinkled old woman that she would become. But for now, he needed her love, protection, and support; she needed the same from him. There was no danger in the love of a child, it was as safe as that of a mother’s or father’s. But her parents didn’t give her the love she should have had. What was missing from her childhood would hound her to the end of her life, making her an eternally abandoned child.

Another thing that was no threat was her love of painting. She loved what she did, but she had a growing feeling that it was all lies. Did a true occupation exist on earth? When she fell from that fresco, she understood it in a flash and found its glittering artifice unbearably vulgar. If Shakyamuni were alive, he would be enraged at the sight of it. It encouraged people to forsake material desire in the here and now and replace it with a desire for the world to come. Eventually, it would be impossible to free oneself from any sort of mundane charm. Only the World of Ultimate Bliss in her dreams was real.

“Drink some milk. Xingxing, you haven’t had anything to eat in two days,” said Wuye, lifting a spoonful of milk to her lips. She turned away.

“How about some watermelon juice?” He lifted a small bowl of pink watermelon juice. She shook her head. “Have you. . been. . here. . long?”

He lowered his head without replying.

“The young fellow hasn’t left your side,” said the nurse who came to change medicine interjected.

“Why?” Xingxing asked him after the nurse left. She seemed fully conscious. Her eyes shone coldly like two black gems in water.

“What do you mean why?”

“Why are you so. . good. . to me?”

Wuye bit his lip. A large blue vein throbbed at his temple.

“I love you,” he said in a near whisper. His voice was a bit hoarse as if his throat had gone dry. “I fell in love with you the minute I laid eyes on you. . didn’t you feel it?”

He suddenly raised his eyes, looking wronged and resentful, like a child who has done something good that goes unrecognized by the adults.

Xingxing was overcome with a feeling of oppression. She grit her teeth, afraid she’d be swallowed by that feeling. The tide of feeling rose and as she was about to go under she violently thrust out her hand and latched onto the boy for all she was worth. There was no shock — his hand was cold and sweaty.

She opened her mouth to speak, but her words were swallowed up by her tears. Their hands trembled as the hot tears flowed.

4

Ahyuexi entered as Chen Qing began to tell a story. Zhang Shu had already transcribed a thick notebook full of Dunhuang tales, for which he had invited the old man drinking seven or eight times. Fortunately, Ahyuexi had brought the liquor the last two times, saving him some money.

In days of yore, there was a country called Yutian, the citizens of which were particularly fond of silk. But in those days the value of silk shipped from our Central Plains to the Western region was worth more than gold. There was a high official by the name of Yu-chi Mu, who offered advice to the King of Yutian, saying, “We can think of a way to acquire mulberries and silkworms from China and bring in those who can cultivate the trees, raise silkworms, along with some silk artisans to produce our own silk.” The King of Yutian was delighted, and the two of them came up with a marvelous plan.

It is said that in those days, the Central Plains was thinking of establishing an alliance through marriage with the Western region. Thus the King of Yutian sent an emissary for that purpose. That emissary was none other than Yu-Chi Mu.

The emperor was more than happy to see the marriage. Yu-Chi Mu for his part paid a private visit to the princess to ask her to acquire the mulberry seed and silkworms for the Western region, a task to which she readily consented.

After a time, the princess set off, camel bells ringing, a vast and mighty horde escorting a relative of the emperor’s. They arrived in Dunhuang and stayed for several days and then left for Yumenguan.

The officers and men guarding Yumenguan rigorously cross-examined anyone going through the pass. They carefully inspected the baggage of the escorts and serving women and even the baggage of her highness the princess.

After going through the pass, Yu-Chi Mu asked, “Your Highness, did you bring the mulberry seeds and silkworms?”