Simply sitting there quietly beside a tent, contemplating the peaceful scene in front of him, was surprisingly enjoyable. If he had a woman and then a couple of kids, and if he raised a herd of yaks and sheep, he would no longer have to live in fear, would no longer have to live life on the run. A smile floated across his lips. She couldn’t be sleeping, surely – why was it so quiet in there?
He walked over and opened the tent flap. She was sitting napping on a cushion, her head bobbing and her shoulders slumped. Hearing a noise, her head jerked up, and when she saw it was Jijia, fear flashed through her eyes. In a split second, she grabbed her knife, slashed at the fabric behind her, ripped a large hole in her tent and climbed through it. Her movements were as nimble as a rabbit’s and Jijia watched dumbstruck from the doorway. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the hole through which the wind now howled.
What kind of woman was this, that she was as clever as a fox? He crawled into the tent, stuck his head through the hole and saw Yongxi standing outside staring at him, ready to run in an instant. He smiled kindly, the sort of smile he usually reserved for small children. He had no idea that on his face such a smile just made him look more malicious. ‘I’m not going to eat you. What are you running away for?’
Yongxi continued staring at him, her right hand clasping her knife, terrified he was about to rush at her. ‘Get out of there. It’s my tent.’
‘Fine, fine. It’s your tent. You come back in – I’ll get out!’ Jijia withdrew his head, backed out of the tent and walked round towards her. How was he to know she would hop back in through the hole?
Looking at the spot where she’d been standing only a moment before, he sighed and shook his head. Then he took out his whip and walked over to the yak herd. The herding dog was also clever; it knew Jijia knew its mistress, so it cooperated with him. Together they drove the yaks to a small valley out of the wind; then the dog lay on the ground and watched to make sure the yaks didn’t head off again. Jijia took a piece of dried meat from his bag, petted the dog’s head, and threw it the meat. The dog gave a low growl and licked his hand.
Yongxi, meanwhile, had crawled to the side of the tent and stealthily pulled the flap open a crack. When she saw Jijia looking her way, she snorted and let the flap fall back into place.
Late that night, Yongxi, wrapped in her blanket, was frightened awake by a swishing sound outside her tent. A silver needle was weaving in and out of the fabric in the corner where she’d slashed the large hole. Clearly, Jijia was outside fixing it. Her heart couldn’t help softening a little; she could see that he was a meticulous man. But she made no sound, and let him suffer on the outside.
Jijia had never imagined that one day he might establish a tent and share his life with a woman. But as he sat under the star-filled sky, it suddenly occurred to him that it would be a fine thing to watch over this herd of yaks and this tent. It was a scary thought, so he stole another look at the small tent. Only when he heard the quiet, even sound of Yongxi’s breathing did he turn back and continue to look at the starry sky and dream.
*
At night, Gongzha usually just looked for a grassy hollow out of the wind. With his chuba wrapped around him, the chill didn’t bother him.
Once, ten minutes after midnight, he heard the lone howl of a wolf not far off. At first he assumed that it had found food and was calling its comrades, so he thought nothing of it. But the wolf’s howl became louder and louder, especially as daybreak approached. He also saw a flock of vultures circling overhead. Vultures were the sign-bearers of the grassland. Wherever they appeared, something below had died or was about to die.
Although the wolf howl repeated, this was not a sign for attack. Although the vultures circled, they weren’t descending. This was unusual; it meant that their target was still alive or at least was still exhibiting some signs of life. Wolves would not waste their energy on an unnecessary fight, and vultures would not prey on a living creature.
What kind of animal was about to die – ass, yak, antelope? Gongzha was curious. He looked at the sky. It was already turning red in the east, so he opened his chuba and stood up. He whistled for his horse, took up his gun, mounted, bag in hand, and galloped off to where the vultures were circling.
From quite a way off, he could see the small yellow tent on the mountainside and the wolves circling it. He was shocked. This was the depths of No Man’s Land and he hadn’t seen a human being for many days. What was a city camper’s yellow tent doing there? He raised his gun and shot one of the wolves that was in the middle of howling. Seeing that the horseman speeding towards them had a gun, the other wolves fled, legs splayed, and disappeared in a flash over the ridge.
When Gongzha reached the tent, he leapt off his horse, pulled down the zip of the door flap, and saw that a Han woman was lying there in a sleeping bag. Her face was deathly white and several large bubbles were forming at her lips. He called to her twice, but she didn’t reply. She didn’t even move. It seemed she’d fallen unconscious from altitude sickness. Gongzha crawled into the tent and felt her nose. She was still breathing faintly. He searched in his chuba for a small bottle, poured out two sugar tablets and stuffed them into her mouth. Then he went outside, scooped up a handful of snow, melted it and fed it to the woman.
He knelt by the door of the tent and looked out. The tent had been pitched halfway up the mountain facing west, but the wind was strong and it wasn’t a good spot. He carried the woman out in her sleeping bag and laid her on the ground. Then he strapped her tent and her bag onto his horse and mounted with the woman in his arms. He wanted to find somewhere on flat ground for her to rest.
When they got to a valley, Gongzha laid her down on the grass, put up her tent, spread out his sheepskin chuba inside it, then took her out of the sleeping bag and wrapped her in it. Next he took a bottle from her backpack, found a spring and fed her some water. Once her breath had become less ragged, he left her in the tent and laid her sleeping bag out in the sun.
In the afternoon, Gongzha went in to look at her. Her colour had improved and he fed her two more sugar tablets.
*
Feng was muddled that whole day. In her dreams she was sometimes in Shanghai and sometimes on the grassland, and she thought she might be dying. Later, she tasted something sweet seeping into her parched mouth. She didn’t know what it was, but she swallowed it instinctively.
After that she was soaring; she seemed to be in a warm embrace, like when her mother had held her as a child. And then? Then it was as if her body was somehow unwrapped and she was lying on something as soft as clouds.
And after that… After that she couldn’t remember anything!
When she woke, it was already the morning of the next day. Her finger twitched, then twitched again. Her body slowly shivered, then shivered again. All of the bones in her body hurt, but the pain told her that she was still alive, that she hadn’t become food for either the wild wolves or the starving vultures out in the wilderness. She wanted to sit up, but she didn’t have the strength. She opened her eyes and took in everything around her.
She was still in her little yellow tent. She was still alive. She hadn’t died. Feng flicked her eyes back and forth. She didn’t know if she should think herself lucky or if she should cry bitter tears. She was alone and out in the wilds – she might be alive right now, but what about tomorrow, and the day after that?
Just then, someone unzipped the tent flap. A bearded man appeared outside and, using rather basic Mandarin, asked, ‘Awake you? How feel?’
‘Was it you who rescued me?’ Feng’s tears fell uncontrollably. Another human being at last!
‘Yesterday morning found you. Unconscious you, altitude sickness had, ate my medicine, sugar tablets.’ His word order in Mandarin was sometimes incorrect. He didn’t smile but lowered his head, came into the tent and half knelt by her side. He shook two black tablets out of his medicine bottle, propped her up with one hand, put the tablets in her mouth, helped her to a couple of m
outhfuls of water from the bottle next to her, then supported her as she lay back down, and covered her with the sheepskin chuba again. ‘Your sleeping bag not let air out. Can’t use here.’
When he finished, he turned to crawl back out.
‘Wait,’ Feng called softly. She was afraid he might leave and not return. She’d already gone several days without speaking to anyone and she was longing to talk to another human being. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Gongzha.’
‘Gong… Gongzha?’
Gongzha didn’t understand why Feng was so surprised by his name. He looked at her inquiringly.
‘Do you have a friend called Zhuo Mai? With a son called Zhuo Yihang?’
Gongzha stared at her in surprise. ‘I do, yes. You know them?’
Feng’s tears began to flow again. Zhuo Yihang had told her to go and find Gongzha, promising that he would introduce her to the real Tibet, would show her how people lived up on the plateau, take her to see wild animals in their natural habitat. She had certainly had a taste of the real Tibet, not to mention its animals in their natural habitat – enough to almost cost her her life.
Gongzha felt quite helpless. He was more afraid of seeing women cry than of many things; when women cried, he never knew what to say. ‘You… what you fear is not. You are not that sick. Not accustomed to here is your body. Once you have medicine, you fine.’
‘I’m a schoolfriend of Zhuo Yihang’s. It was he… He’s the one who told me to come and look for you.’ Feng was racked with sobs; the trauma of her experience was finally catching up with her. ‘He said you would take me to see the wild yaks and the Tibetan antelopes. I went to your house in the county town and I saw your sister Lamu and your mother Dawa.’
‘You saw Lamu?’
‘Yes. We all stayed at your house for quite a few days.’ Feng was sobbing now, overcome with distress.
‘You all? But I only see you!’
‘Our car broke down and it was snowing and we got separated.’
‘Where did it break down?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know which road.’
‘We need to find them. They danger have.’ Gongzha looked at Feng with an earnest expression on his face. ‘Meat more eat, you heal faster. Tomorrow find them go we.’
Feng dried her eyes and nodded. When Gongzha saw she’d stopped crying, he closed the tent flap.
That night, Feng felt a little better. She dressed and climbed out of the tent. Gongzha was nearby, roasting some kind of meat on a stick over a fire; its delicious aroma filled her nose. When he saw Feng, he cut off a chunk and passed it to her.
Feng accepted it and took a bite; her mouth was flooded with flavour. ‘What meat is this?’
‘Guagua chicken.’
‘Wild chicken?’
‘Yes. Mountain opposite are many. Hit a few.’ Gongzha rotated the stick over the flames while adding twigs and yak pats to the fire. ‘Zhuo Mai and Yihang, well?’
‘Yihang is alright; his business isn’t doing badly, but his father passed away.’
‘Zhuo Mai… is dead?’
‘Yes, he died two months before I came here.’ Feng looked up at him. ‘The meat’s burning!’ she said hurriedly.
Gongzha was distracted, thinking about Zhuo Mai, remembering him with his guitar, how the skinny young Han doctor used to sit there singing to the moon. They were about the same age – how could he have left this earth? He hadn’t even realised the stick of meat in his hand had caught fire. He snatched it out of the flames and glanced at it. The meat was charred, so he tossed it away and began roasting a new chunk over the flames.
‘You and Uncle Zhuo must have been good friends?’
‘When he was in the army, he often came to the grassland to take care of the herders.’
‘When I was little, Uncle Zhuo often told us about Tibet. He loved eating Tibetan mushrooms best. He’d asked some friends to send him some, but he died before they arrived.’
‘How did he die?’
‘Heart disease. A doctor told him his heart had become acclimatised to the high altitudes of the plateau and that he would have to adjust his lifestyle now that he was back in the city. But he just carried on working as hard as ever, almost as if he wanted to die. He didn’t look after himself at all.’
Gongzha didn’t respond, just stared into the fire. Last year, Zhuo Mai had written to him and promised that once he retired he would come back and visit the grassland. He’d also said that his work unit was based very near Shida’s and that the two of them often went drinking together and talked a lot about life on the grassland. He’d envied them then, old friends together, laughing about their shared past. How nice that must have been. These days, Gongzha had no one he could talk to, and even if he had, no young person could possibly understand what life had been like for him and his friends.
‘Zhuo Yihang said that he lived on your grassland when he was young?’ Feng said, trying to find something to say.
Gongzha nodded. ‘He was very young then. Wherever Zhuo Mai went, he went too.’
Feng gazed at Gongzha’s face in the firelight. She thought for a moment, then asked, ‘Why did you come here?’
‘I came to find a bear.’
‘Kaguo?’ Feng said, remembering Lamu’s story.
‘Lamu told you?’ Gongzha handed her the roasted meat.
‘Yes.’ Feng nodded. ‘You should eat too.’
‘I’m eating this,’ Gongzha said, using his knife to put a hunk of raw, bloody meat into his mouth. ‘You Han like to eat cooked meat.’
As Feng watched him nonchalantly sawing at the meat and wolfing it down enthusiastically even though his knife was streaked with blood, she suddenly felt terrified. What kind of person was this? He seemed so wild. Her stomach began to heave and she hurried away from the fire and threw up what she’d just eaten.
‘What is the matter? Feeling uncomfortable, are you?’ Gongzha went over and handed her the kettle.
‘I’m fine.’ Feng waved him away, took the bottle and gulped down several mouthfuls.
That sudden burst of fear had petrified her and she scurried straight back into her tent. Zhuo Yihang had told her that Tibetans ate raw meat, but she’d thought he’d meant the wind-dried yak and mutton like they served at the Tibetan restaurants in Lhasa, or like they’d had at Lamu’s house; when you dipped it in hot pepper, it wasn’t that bad. She certainly hadn’t imagined that Gongzha would eat meat that was still dripping blood.
Gongzha returned to the fire. ‘You want more meat?’ he asked, raising his voice a little, a smile playing on his lips.
‘No!’ Feng shot back immediately. She buried herself in the lambskin chuba as if Gongzha might want to eat her too.
In the middle of the night, Feng heard Gongzha singing a Mandarin song over and over again.
‘Today I must go to a faraway land
When we parted you said, “Please don’t forget me.”
Our promise hangs high in the sky
Those white clouds, those stars, that moon
Bear witness to our promise that in the next life we will meet again
And never forget each other.
‘Beautiful shepherdess, I love you
No matter how the world changes, you are forever in my heart.
Beautiful shepherdess, your laughter echoes under the blue sky
And deep in my heart.
‘Oh, give me a tent
I want to take your hand and live together free of pain.
Oh, give me some land
I want to dance with you there, slowly and forever.
‘Shepherdess, sweet shepherdess
When will you return and make our love run smooth?
My greatest hope is not to be separated
Has our love in this life already scattered?
Could it be that loving you brings only despair?
Every day without you is a tragedy.’
The waning moon hung over the empty, never-ending wilderne
ss and the silhouette of its mountain peaks. The stars glittered in the sky. Beneath them lay a solitary tent, the glow of a dying fire and a song of ageless sorrow.
*
Nyima County was the first place to see the sun set and the first to see the moon rise; it was the place nearest to the heavens and furthest from the sea. It was the highest point on the roof of the world. Rongma was the most remote town in Nyima County and the closest to No Man’s Land. It comprised just a few mud-brick homes with dirt roads running between them and was usually very quiet, as quiet as the old yaks lying by the outside walls, too lazy even to look up. Occasionally an old lady might come out of one of the houses carrying a water bucket as she emerged into the light, a babbling grandchild or a lamb following behind.
But today the quiet little town was bursting with energy. A big crowd of herders in old sheepskin chubas had assembled in the large, simple courtyard in front of the county government office. A man in a police uniform emerged from a squat building and addressed them. ‘Please, everyone, make as much effort as you can over the next two days and search again carefully. We cannot let that young woman die in the wilderness.’
Agang, Haizi and the others had come to Rongma to report Feng missing.
The herders lowered their heads and bowed their agreement. They split into their pre-arranged groups, collected their horses from the entrance and headed off.
Beyond that range of mountains lay No Man’s Land, and every herder feared it.
*
The midday sun beat fiercely down on the browned earth.
The two people and the horse walked slowly.
Gongzha was in front, leading the horse; his chuba, the bags of dried meat and the backpack were strapped onto the horse’s back. Feng followed behind, wearing Gongzha’s leather hat. It was a bit big for her, and she had to push it off her face occasionally. She carried the gun in her right hand, its forked stand dragging in the dirt and tracing two meandering lines through the dust.
Love In No Man's Land Page 28
