Sheng Keyi - Death Fugue

He abandoned her to go his own way. These days a stay in the hospital had the flavour of house arrest. But Yuyue stuck to him. He needed to get rid of her as soon as possible, to find Juli. She was the only one he could trust.

‘I don’t want to call you Mr Yuan anymore, it’s so formal.’ She followed him down the corridor. ‘Are you going to see Michael? He’s not in today. Don’t worry. I will speak to him on your behalf.’

Mengliu pondered her words as he walked. She was unpredictable. Why should she help him?

Her attitude kept him guessing. Later, when they had returned to the entrance to the hospital, a flock of birds had gathered in the trees. Yuyue reached out to bid him farewell. Mengliu took the pale soft hand, and her fingertips seemed to scratch his palm. He saw her smile, her eyes dark pools as if saying, ‘You really can trust me.’

His hand seemed stuck to hers. He wasn’t able to detach it for a moment. He wondered if he told her what he had seen in the woods, revealing the contents of the letter, what her scream would sound like. Of course his motive wasn’t to frighten her. In the end he suppressed the desire and didn’t say anything. Yuyue’s hand was like the kitten he had raised in his younger days. When she withdrew it, he felt a sense of nostalgia. It was at such moments of loneliness that one was most likely to commit an error. So he looked back at her. She stood motionless, hands in the pockets of her white coat, like a newly built snowman. It was the first time he had smiled at her. He had not smiled in such a long time he felt his muscles had grown stiff.

‘Maybe we can go some place interesting.’ Yuyue stepped forward again, hands still in her pockets. ‘There are some rare creatures to see. I am sure you will like it.’

He didn’t immediately reject her. Since the person in black had died, things could slow down a little. If that letter really was just mental trickery, and he took it seriously and went to the authorities, he would be a laughing stock. He did not want to lose face in front of Juli. When he thought of Juli’s description of the nursing home and the look of longing on her face, his heart dropped. So he stayed where he was and waited for Yuyue to change her clothes in the office. A sort of excitement like elopement brewed in him. Not long ago the two of them had been relatively cold towards each other, and now they were planning a sightseeing trip together. Although it was difficult to adapt to all the changes, he found it fairly easy to fall into step with his emotions. He didn’t know what sort of battle awaited him. How would things progress with Yuyue? Was she one of those who liked revolution? His thoughts now turned towards such questions with the same liveliness as his sperm. When he saw Yuyue in her casual clothing, like a bluebird in flight, he almost thought they had been in love for a long time.

They each took a bicycle from the hospital garage. Their wheels turned in unison, the silver rims ran over the hard grey road. A brightness swept over the snowy mountain slopes. The sun and the moon were both overhead. The clouds looked like a sandy desert swept clean by the wind. The air was very pure.

‘Yuyue, how old are you actually?’ Mengliu asked, slowing down as they reached a flat stretch of road. He knew nothing about her.

‘Me? I turned twenty-one today,’ she said.

‘Go —’ Mengliu braked suddenly. He had not thought she was already twenty-one. ‘Oh. Your birthday.’

Yuyue stopped her bike and said, ‘Twenty-one years ago today, my mother was successfully impregnated via artificial insemination. The moment the sperm and egg met is considered my birthday. The day of my birth was my mother’s Day of Suffering, and was also Mother’s Day. We have a special celebration. It’s a custom in Swan Valley.’

‘That’s very humane,’ he said. ‘But where are your mother and father now?’

‘My father passed away, and my mother is in the nursing home.’ Yuyue sat herself happily on the saddle again, her pale blue jacket and white skin blended with the sky. Perhaps the sky was too bright. There seemed to be a halo around her.

Her mention of the nursing home coincided perfectly with what was on his mind. He caught up with her and said casually, ‘Why don’t we go to the nursing home now to visit your mother?’

‘Staying there she is like an immortal, with nothing to worry about.’ Yuyue laughed easily. ‘Hey, it’s as if you believed that patient you saw. Poets love to imagine things, but life goes on as usual. It’s very rare that anything extraordinary happens.’

‘You’ve never been to see her?’

‘No.’ Yuyue shook her head, and her hair flapped against her face. ‘She writes to tell me how things are going for her. She’s happy. Last year she even entered her “second spring” there, and fell in love like a teenager.’

‘Why haven’t you thought of going in to have a look?’ Mengliu knew the Swanese were independent from the time they were small, and never relied on their relatives much. They were not sentimental, but surely they must have some curiosity about this mysterious place.

‘I’m not interested in a place where a bunch of old people live. And in order to get into the nursing home, you need a special pass that requires you to go through a physical exam, get approval stamps, and then there’s a long waiting period. Who wants to go to such trouble?’

‘When did she go in?’

‘A few years ago.’

They began pedalling uphill, with the last few metres becoming so strained that it seemed impossible to move forward. After ten minutes of pushing, they reached a downhill slope a few hundred metres long. They slipped between endless rows of birches, their golden leaves rustling all around them. There was no path through the trees, but there were plenty of ways around them on every side, though they had to deal with their bikes getting stuck, and avoid falling. Their previous conversation had been interrupted. Naturally, in such bright sunlight, amongst the trees and bushes, in the forest air, with a beautiful girl by his side, Mengliu forgot his interest in the nursing home. He kept the talk with Yuyue light, as he tried to avoid the stones and other obstacles in their path.

Playing cards, drinking and travelling are all quick ways to excite the feelings, especially travelling. By the time they reached the dilapidated old house they were as unrestrained as two old friends. The old wooden building had a Gothic spire reaching to the sky and blurred stained-glass windows. Its windows and doors were shut tight, and leaves covered the steps. A railway track buried in weeds ran past the door and disappeared into the depths of the forest. This place must have been a small train station in the past. From time to time a lone traveller must have got off the train, or on the train, coming home or leaving it. Mengliu thought of the noisy stations in Beiping, always crowded and with young people from everywhere hopping off the trains to head straight to Round Square, some wounded, some humiliated, some dying in their dreams.

‘Let’s rest here a while.’ Yuyue brushed the fallen leaves aside, exposing the wooden steps. When she sat down, her movements were a little jerky, as she rested her elbows on her knees and intertwined her fingers. ‘Listen,’ she said, ‘someone is reading.’

The sound came from inside the house. It was speaking Mandarin with an accent. Judging from the person’s rhythm, Mengliu thought he must be reading a Chinese rhapsody. At the same time, he recognised the voice. It was Shanlai.

Surprised, he opened the door and went in. His eyes were momentarily unable to adapt to the dimness of the room, but a skylight allowed some natural light in, and he could see it was covered in dust. The building was full of sacks of grain, and there was a layer of grain on the floor too. A huge millstone occupied the remaining space. A person with white hair and beard and dust all over his body was working the millstone. The gold crown on his head glittered. He was like a negative film, flashing in the glare, then retreating into the darkness. On the other side of the millstone, Shanlai sat on a sack, his legs dangling and a book perched on his knees, its pages pure white. Dust motes hovered around his head like a band of mosquitoes.