The 8th Sky_A Psychological Novel With An Unforgettable Twist

by Leigh Lyn

  “Dinner,” Ah Ping said, with a huge grin and putting it in a shallow tub.

  Seeing the horror on my face, Xiao Xiong laughed. “You see the fins? It’s an eel, not a snake.”

  Although the huge animal could feed all of us for a day or two, Ah Ping hooked up another worm and again swept it into the water. This time it took longer, but the limp line tensed up again. The sudden pull jerked the fishing rod into the water but, leaning over the edge of the boat, Ah Ping grabbed the bamboo handle just before it disappeared. Together with Xiao Xiong, he hauled up a fish about a foot long. It too had a brown-mottled pattern on its body.

  “You heard of snakeheads?” Ah Ping asked me.

  “The people who smuggle people across borders and charge them their life savings for it?” They made the news whenever a batch of their cargo died, which sadly was often.

  “See this?” Ah Ping said, holding up the squirming fish. “This is the real snakehead they’re named after.” He put it on the floor of the boat. To my surprise, the fish stayed upright. Supporting itself with its two side fins, it waddled toward me.

  “These walking cuties are fearless die-hards who walk across dry riverbeds when water is low,” Xiao Xiong said.

  I jumped back as the fish snapped at me, exposing two full rows of sharp teeth. Ah Niu, who had been sitting next to the punter, rushed toward us, took off his shoe and, to my horror, beat the fish with it until it stopped moving.

  “He’ll taste the better for it,” Ah Ping said, putting it in the tub with the eel. Satisfied with the catch, the men took out a set of playing cards and played a local game while Ah Niu took over the punting. The little boat continued its course until all light had been extracted and it was dark except for an oil lamp hung from the boat’s mast. In the absence of the moon or stars, the men relied on their ears rather than their eyes to guide them. The trickling sound of water grew into a thundering water mass invisible to the eye.

  Pointing at a black silhouette, Xiao Xiong said, “On top of that mountain is a trail that will take us to 8th Sky, but tonight we’ll set up camp down here.”

  Camp turned out to be nothing more than a few oil cloths on the ground surrounding a campfire, but the fire-roasted eel and delicious snakehead made a feast. As a matter of fact, it was the best fish I’d ever eaten in my life.

  “In China, we’re all snakeheads, crawling toward the water to wherever we might survive. And we’ll survive depending on our tenacity and resilience to go whether the tide is high or low,” Xiao Xiong said. “Once you get used to it, life on the water is not bad. You move, run and get away quicker than on land.”

  I moved my oil cloth away from the heat of the fire, only to move it back when Ah Ping mentioned the hyenas, wolves, and other wild animals.

  “The scariest is a wilder-man who roams the mountains,” Ah Li said.

  “Did he not leave these mountains because of the bloody dam?” Ah Niu asked.

  “Everyone moved,” Ah Li said. “It’s not the end of the world. They’ll come back.”

  “No, they won’t.” Ah Ping frowned. “A fucking disaster, that’s what it is.”

  “Oh, come on, look how much more business the dam brings: all the cruises and tourists. It’s all good.”

  “Not really; what about Baiji? I haven’t seen one of those for years.”

  “What’s a Baiji?” I asked.

  “You mean who is Baiji? Legend says she is the reincarnation of a princess whom her family drowned after she refused to marry a man she didn’t love. They call her the goddess of the Yangtze,” Ah Ping said.

  Seeing the puzzled frown on my face, Xiao Xiong explained, “It’s a kind of dolphin with a long pointy snout.”

  “The last one was seen five years ago. She was called QiQi,” Ah Ping said, peeking at Xiao Xiong. “Maybe you know where she is?”

  The men chuckled. Tired, they soon called it a night and went to sleep under the starless sky. In the hours it took for day to break, I stared into the blackness, imagining what my life would have been like had I been born here. Would I have been taught to conform, adhere to the social norms and etiquette and then, when grown-up, to obey my husband like QiQi, putting myself at the bottom of priorities and then disappear when reaching old age like QiQi’s mother? Or would I have been a princess who would choose to drown and turn into a dolphin instead?

  The first light sneaked up on us, revealing the source of the thunderous noise as a waterfall from a steep rocky face of the mountain. Around the cold ashes of last night’s fire, the men began to stir in their sleep. Xiao Xiong was the first to sit up, and he gave the nearest chap a gentle push, who woke up the one next to him. Soon they were all up and about. Ah Niu and Ah Ping disappeared and, an hour later, a shrill whistle came from the top of the mountain, after which they lowered a rope with a metal grip. Xiao Xiong and Ah Li fastened the grip to the handle of one of the wicker baskets. Within seconds, Ah Niu and Ah Ping hoisted it up, followed by the rest.

  After they’d hoisted up the last piece, Xiao Xiong led the way up stone steps hewn in a crevice in the rocks so narrow I’d think twice about inhaling too deeply. Step by step, we climbed up and up. Two hours later, we looked over the top of the rock face. The air was thin and chilling to the bone. Leaning against a heap of boxes and baskets, Ah Niu and Ah Ping had fallen fast asleep on a billowing meadow while waiting for us. Xiao Xiong woke them; they loaded the baskets on the yoke bar, hoisted the boxes back on their shoulders, and we were on our way. The velvety green plane narrowed until it was barely wider than a foot path.

  After an hour, the path dropped off, and we were walking on three inches of barren earth toward the cloud underneath us. Before we entered it, Xiao Xiong moved toward the front of the row and passed a rope to the back. He tied it to my wrist with a smaller rope. The men behind us did the same, and on we went through the white mist. Xiao Xiong up was front using a bamboo stick like a blind man, followed by the rest of the men and me. By the pull of the rope, I sensed which direction to go, and we shuffled down the steeply-sloping path. Two hours later, the air had warmed, and the mist rose. Our field of vision increased and revealed we were walking under the blanket of clouds along the ridge of a mountain range stretching further than the eye could see.

  “Count yourself lucky to be on the Dragon’s Back,” Xiao Xiong said. “We used to hike up the old-fashioned way until Ah Ping here hewed the stone steps for the tourism board—”

  “Helped hew the steps,” Ah Ping corrected him. “All the factories on the Yangtze closed down, so I had time on my hands.”

  “Tell me about it. The government took my land and then that bastard of an official pocketed my compensation. I reported that bastard!” Ah Niu continued to swear.

  “Oh, you did? What came of that?” Xiao Xiong asked.

  “He got arrested, but no one gave me my money back.”

  “But thanks to Ah Ping, the new shortcut reduces the trip from four to two days.”

  “Thanks, Ah Ping.”

  Around us, mountain lay on top of mountain, each layer a wash lighter. It was like we had entered a Chinese ink painting. “Is the path going to get worse?”

  “We’re almost there,” Xiao Xiong pointed at a clearing on a plateau a mountain away.

  There it was, indeed. I recognized the cluster of brick cottages spread over the ledge from last time. What I didn’t see was a path that would bring us to it. “How do we get down there?” I asked.

  “There is no path to speak of, but the good news is that it’s downhill from here.”

  We finished the last of the food, after which we stepped off the path into the wilderness. We waded through high grass and unkempt bamboo on the steep slope, which slowed us down. Xiao Xiong knew his way blindfolded, but the humidity and temperature were stifling. As time passed, I blocked out my thoughts and concentrated on each step. A little over three hours and a few blisters later, we reached the plateau. After four, five days of traveling, I’d arrived.

  A
wooden portal signaled 8th Sky’s precinct as a security camera gazed down at the men. Xiao Xiong reached out to press a doorbell or buzzer.

  “Hang on,” I said, staying out of the camera’s view. I took an envelope out of my weekend bag, handed Xiao Xiong his payment, thanked him and the other men, and wheeled around.

  “Where are you going?” he called out. “I thought you want to visit 8th Sky?”

  “I do,” I whispered, “but without the fanfare.”

  Chapter 44

  Squatting at the base of a tree, I watched Xiao Xiong and the men walk into the compound. It was dimly illuminated by lights concealed under the overhanging roofs. Dinner had just finished, from the smells lingering in the air. Guards in black uniforms, whom I hadn’t noticed on the previous visit, were standing around. I looked for the CCTV cameras and found the one-eye-spies below the roof eaves at building corners and above entrances. Staying out of their range, I scrambled along until I saw laundry drying in a small yard. With a racing heart, I stole and changed into one of the linen outfits with long, billowing sleeves before continuing on my way.

  Two guards were sitting on a low wall at the edge of a courtyard eating sunflower seeds, spitting the shells on a plate between them and talking in the same dialect as Xiao Xiang’s men. In the middle of the yard, a handful of women were practicing a martial arts routine. As I walked past them with a lowered head to hide my flustered face, I heard a mechanical humming noise. Looking up, I spotted a tiny light in the black sky, which grew larger as the buzz became louder. It was the G.Y. helicopter that had brought me here the first time.

  Judging by the heightened security, a special event must be happening. Tonight was not a good night to do what I wanted to do, but it couldn’t be helped. Keeping my head down to avoid the gaze of the guards, I walked toward the quiet edge of the plateau and slipped behind a pair of giant decorative urns. There I squatted down, making myself as comfortable as possible, and waited for an opportunity to talk to Shi Gong.

  Three hours later, the noise had died down except for a low buzz near the main block where the event was happening. The courtyard and passages were empty, and I quickly headed to the back of the ledge, where the forested slope met the flat compound. Remembering Shi Gong’s quarters to be on the right, I kept the trees to my right until it came into sight. Deserted though it might seem, a surveillance camera above the entrance glared at me. If the guards were paying attention, they would see me enter for sure. There must be another way.

  I scrambled along, staying near the tree-line until I’d passed Shi Gong’s quarters by a hundred yards. I ran right up to the edge of the ledge and peeked down. My knees went limp. Fifty yards below me, the stone steps to the little pavilion had shrunken to a thin shadow above a black ravine with the Yangtze glimmering far below. Staying at the outer edge this time, I crawled until I reached mid-way of my distance to the compound. Looking down again, I gasped and scrambled further another half distance and looked again. I did that three more times before I dared to hoist myself over the edge and drop myself. I’d make a terrible spy.

  “Family?” Shi Gong said, staring bewildered at my disheveled clothes, manic hair, and swollen ankle. After gathering enough courage to let go of the edge, I landed awkwardly. I stumbled up the stone steps to the courtyard with an ankle that hurt like hell.

  The glass doors to the yard were open. White gauzy curtains fluttered in the wind, and I ventured in. Standing at the edge of the dark living room, I listened for sounds, but it was dead quiet. I’d scurried to Shi Gong’s sleeping quarters on the upper floor. The room was austere with nothing in it except for a single bed, a drawer chest and an armchair. Dark roof rafters hung low, contrasting with the blank white walls in which the only interruption was a doorless doorway opening onto Shi Gong’s bathroom.

  I could hear the blood rushing in my ears as I looked for a glass from which Shi Gong had drunken; a hair, a used tissue, anything that had his DNA on it. Positive as I’d prepped myself to be, my chest grew tight on seeing the bathroom was clean enough to eat off its floor. After searching for a while, I was about to give up when I found a gray hair at the bottom of a bamboo dustbin. I wrapped it in a tissue and, gratified at last, I returned to the living room where I waited.

  Having grown restless after two and a half hours, I dropped the bomb and told him we were relatives the minute he came in. But seeing the surprise on the man’s face, I realized how difficult it would be to convince him. Then, I caught the thoughtful way he examined my face. And it suddenly occurred to me he knew.

  “I haven’t heard from my family in fifty-two years,” he said.

  “I only found out a couple of days ago.”

  “Is that right?” he asked, his face jaded. “I’ve already conciliated with the fact I’ll never have any nieces or nephews.”

  I nodded. “The family doesn’t know I’m here.”

  “They told you we died, didn’t they?”

  I nodded again. “My mother swears by it. She also disputes you are a ‘we.’”

  Shi Gong took a deep breath. “How much do you know about us?”

  “I was informed my eldest uncle was alive a few weeks ago, but I didn’t know you were my uncle until four days ago.”

  “So you didn’t come to G.Y. because of me the first time?”

  “No. What about you? How long have you known?”

  He frowned before his face suddenly lit up. “Oh no, I only know just now, after you told me.”

  “But you didn’t question what’s an outrageous claim. I thought—”

  “I was checking your ears. You have no lobes; a hereditary trait in our branch of the Li clan.”

  My hands shot out to touch my ears. He was right. Straight lines delineated my ears into my jawline where my lobes should have been.

  “So you don’t know about the deal?” Shi Gong asked.

  “The deal?” I stared at him.

  “They never told you anything, did they?”

  “I was hoping you would tell me.” I stared at him.

  Shi Gong’s eyes glazed over. “I guess I should.” He paused for a second or two. “I had a lung condition when I was little. Eight decades ago, the treatment cost them their lifeblood and more, which was more than my parents can afford, so they sent my twin sister away to volunteer for some experiments.” Shi Gong cast down his eyes. “I felt terrible when I found out.” He paused.

  “Were you cured?”

  “I’m standing in front of you, aren’t I?”

  “You are indeed.”

  “I didn’t find out until I was seventeen. I had a big fight with your grandmother, and I left.” Shi Gong looked up. “Do you mind if I ask, if they didn’t ask you to come, why are you here?”

  Shi Gong’s face was inscrutable as I told him about my episode, my blackouts, my flashbacks, my conspiracy theory, my ghosts. I told him everything. By the end, I felt drained. He stared at me and, after a long silence, asked what I thought was happening.

  I shook my head. “Rather than losing my mind, I feel like I’ve been robbed of it. I’ve wondered if something happened in the past and if my mother knows more than she is saying.” I looked away to avoid those turbid gray eyes, which looked straight through me.

  Shi Gong sat back. “I was seventeen when I noticed the address on the letterhead of letters your grandmother got each month as long as I could remember. It was always the same company: Gao Yao Incorporated. I asked around and found out that it was a state-run clinic, so I decided to look my sister up.”

  “Like I’ve come to look you up.” I nodded. “How is she?”

  “Let’s go for a walk,” Shi Gong said. “There is a better place to talk about this.”

  A breeze heavy with humidity dabbled my skin as I followed Shi Gong up to the northern side of the mountain. The slope darkened as it rose toward the sky, rendering the electric torch-light Shi Gong had with him hardly more effective than a firefly. Stabs of pain shot through my injured ankle, but my mind w
as reeling.

  “You know where the name 8th Sky comes from?” Shi Gong asked.

  “Is it because we’re on top of so many layers of clouds?” It seemed obvious.

  “The word ‘sky' in Chinese also means 'day'. ‘8th Sky’ means the ‘8th Day'. It follows the number seven, which has a special auspicious meaning in Chinese culture and surpasses it in luck and ability to bring fortune.” Shi Gong pointed at the mountaintop, where the stark silhouette of a temple was set off against a starless sky.

  “Let’s go there.”

  I’d been to numerous temples which tended to look the same, but this one beat the others in drama. Though its rosewood doors were open, it was deserted and pitch-black inside. Shi Gong found and lit several red candles. Gaudy deities lined opposite sides of the little hall. Inside the main hall, there were altars and Buddhas of different sizes and height, lying, sitting and standing around in every position.

  “These are the gods our grandparents worshipped, and their grandparents before them,” Shi Gong said, leading me to a bench on the side. “Ours is a big family with many small cages, of which your grandmother had the only master key.” Shi Gong sighed. “I felt suppressed. Life seemed provincial and rigid in contrast with Mao’s patriotism, which set my heart on fire. So, I ran away. I wanted to unlock the cages; I wanted to help my sister and make something out of myself.”