by Hua Bai
Muzhami. She approached me gradually. Sunamei, my dear
little sister. I guess the goddess would not do it better than she. She knew what a man wanted, and she knew how to
play. And she could make me jump up like a leopard at any moment. Since I had Lida – yes, her name was Lida, an elf –
since I had her, whatever I wanted to eat or wear she had sent to my room and I spent my days like the prince of
Nepal. But by the end of the month, Lida gave me a stack of slips. As I did not know what those slips were for, she told me they were bills for clothes, food, and other things we had ordered. Of course, I had to pay for them. I had plenty of gold and paid her instantly, although I did not expect them to be so expensive, wiping out half of Jiacuo’s wealth. The following day, Lida gave me another slip. What expense was this? She explained to me that it was what I owed her. I was confused. When had I borrowed money from her? Why
should I pay money to her? I had bought a lot of expensive clothes and jewelry for her. She said I must pay the money she had earned with her body. I could not understand why one has to pay to make axiao. I also had a body. Why didn’t she pay me? I asked her how much she wanted. She showed
me a number on her fingers that took my breath away. She cost almost all the fortune I had. That is to say, I would have to beg my way home to Tibet. I explained to her in words like our Mosuo singing: We made axiao like a female and a male bird coming together. You gave me your passion, and I gave you my feeling; you gave me your gratefulness and I gave you my love; you gave me your heart, and I gave you my liver; and you gave me blood, and I gave you tears. Why do you ask me for so much money? She suddenly turned
into a dumb brute without a shred of human understand-
ing. She could not understand even one word of what I had 2 5 8
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said. I decided that I could not give her money. If I did, what would she become? Could she be still counted as a
human being? Wouldn’t she be reduced to a creature with-
out a soul? A beast without human feelings? Her tenderness for me, her smiles, her tears, her screams stimulated by my strong love, her little mouth that had kissed my body, and her body marked by my mouth – could all these be bought
for money? I liked her, loved her, and she was my axiao. I could not pay her. I told her, ‘You are my axiao. Axiao are not ordinary friends. Xiao means lying down together like newly born babies, my dear axiao, Lida!’ But Sunamei, she was unable to understand me. She became a stranger. No, a thing, a thing without feelings, without a heart.
“In order to get money from me, her whole family came,
barking around me like dogs. Later, a swarm of police came like wolves, trying to tear me into pieces. Among those
dogs and wolves, Lida glared at me with clenched teeth. I had to throw all my gold, silver, and pearls at their feet.
Crawling on the ground, Lida, like a dog or wolf fighting for bones, fought for the scattered jewels. I had nothing left but a little money to pay my way to Tibet. As I was leaving Calcutta, I did not say good-bye, for in such a huge city you could not find a soul worthy of your farewell. I had once taken Lida as my dearest, yet she preferred to become an object. On my return route, I could no longer see any beauty in the city women. Perhaps their faces were as beautiful as Lida’s or even surpassed hers; I did not wish to see them.
When you were penniless, they became icy cold, like things without souls. They were merely beasts, dogs, and wolves.
When I reached Tibet, feeling ashamed to visit Jiacuo’s
family, I buried his bones in the Himalayas and read a thousand Buddhist sutras for him. Bidding his soul good-bye, I rushed toward my hometown, toward our Mosuo Xienami. As I was approaching Xienami, the face of Muzhami
became clearer and clearer. At the sight of the lake, I felt I could almost touch her face. In the whole world, only
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Mosuo women on the banks of Xienami are women, not
objects. They are women of flesh and blood, women of feelings and heart, women of gratitude and love, women with
souls, and women of beauty. Only among the Mosuo women
on the banks of Xienami can one find a true axiao. Hooray, I have come home!”
“Awu Luruo, did Muzhami still open her huagu to you?”
“I think she would have, except her – her huagu already held somebody else. Although, despite all hardships I had brought her a pair of silver bracelets inlaid with diamonds, I did not give them to her, because I could not use things like money to buy her away from the man she loved. I dropped
the bracelets into Lake Xienami.”
“What happened later, Awu Luruo?” Like a little girl,
Sunamei asked impatiently, “Did you find any axiao? ”
“No problem, my little sister. I have had eight axiao since. Yet I’ve never given them a thing. You know, Sunamei, it is not because I am a miser.”
“I know, Awu Luruo.”
“I have not taken anything from them, not even a waist-
band. I’ve told them: ‘What I give you is my heart, and you should give yours in return. I treasure a person’s heart, and nothing else.’”
“Awu Luruo, if you were still a young man, I would be
your axiao, too.”
“I believe so.”
Sunamei stopped asking questions, and Awu Luruo grew
silent. Only the eight horse hooves kept chanting on the road: Gone, gone, gone, gone…
Evening came. The three people and two horses camped
in a warm valley. Awu Luruo took down the packs from the horses and set a bonfire to boil tea. After shackling the horses’ hooves, Luo Ren went to the stream to wash his face.
Sunamei tagged along. Squatting by his side, she asked,
“Did you hear all of Awu Luruo’s story?”
“Yes.”
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“Your ears are really sharp.”
“My ears are not so sharp, but the mountain path is too
still.”
“Brother Luo Ren, if I give you my heart, will you give
me yours?”
Luo Ren shook his head.
“Why? Aren’t I good enough for you?”
“It’s not that.”
“You don’t have a heart?”
“Yes. But my heart is tied with many strings.”
“Nonsense.”
“I never tell a lie.”
“Then please tell me, what are the strings?”
“Later. Wait until you live in the city for some time. If I tried to tell you now, you would not understand.”
“Because I am too silly?”
“No. I’m afraid I cannot explain clearly.”
“Are there things in the world that cannot be explained
clearly?”
“Yes, many things.”
Luo Ren led Sunamei by the hand to the bonfire to help
Awu Luruo cook some corn. Before the corn was ready, they sat silently drinking tea. Sunamei murmured to herself from time to time, “Are there things in the world that cannot be explained clearly?”
After the meal, Awu Luruo spread a large piece of felt on the grass, and the three of them lay down on it, with Luo Ren sandwiched between Awu Luruo and Sunamei. Wrapping himself with a horsehide blanket, Awu Luruo was
snoring away in no time. Covering herself and Luo Ren with a cha’erwa, Sunamei lay awake, staring at the stars, but after a while she put her arm around Luo Ren’s neck and also fell asleep. Luo Ren simply could not sleep. Although his body was burning hot, he dared not make a turn. Sunamei’s red lips breathed rhythmically across his neck. He was receiving the most severe punishment – he was nailed on a strange
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, 2001 2:56 PM
cross, with an iron loop around his neck. He was not
released until dawn, when Sunamei woke up.
Sunamei uttered in surprise, “Brother Luo Ren, you slept like a log.”
“Yes!” Scampering up to the stream, Luo Ren dipped his
dizzy head into the flow of the icy water.
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I gaze at her window. In the past it was pasted
over with black paper; now a cloth curtain with tiny blue flowers hangs there.
I felt lonely not participating in hard labor
for three days. Actually, it took only three hours to write a report on my parents’ deaths, but I had to hold on to it for three days to show my serious attitude. After handing in the report, I rejoined the others who were breaking stones. It was an endless job, because “dig tunnels deep” was part of the long-term strategy of the party and the nation, part of the grand policy of “preparing for war and natural disasters in the interest of the people.” Once a nuclear war broke out, all humankind would perish, except for the Chinese, who
would have had the foresight to stay in their tunnels to avoid the shock waves, radiation, and the pollution of the nuclear explosion. According to the warden, there must be a seat for every prisoner in the tunnel, because those who lived to see the outbreak of a nuclear war would be much cleaner than any Western devil. Even they would be superior humans. Being so valuable, they must be put into the tunnels for protection. The warden’s words were truly
encouraging and raised the prisoners’ spirits.
He added, “How can I prove my theory? The fact is that
in Western capitalist society, even a junior high school student can indulge in sex – Luan [reckless] gao!” The Chinese character gao is a magical word. It can be used to describe 2 6 3
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the most splendid movement, as in “to purge all the counterrevolutionaries we must gao [launch] a mass campaign.”
It can also be used to describe things too vulgar for words, such as adultery and rape. In the warden’s speech, it became a euphemism for fucking. “You (referring to us prisoners)!
During your time of forced labor, you have no problems
with your lifestyle.” (By lifestyle he meant extramarital sex.) The Chinese characters for lifestyle literally mean make and wind. I could not help turning a wry smile: true, things here are airtight. How could anyone make wind? While both the warden and I were vouching for the purity of our imprisoned life, an incident occurred that not only damaged the warden’s prestige but also gave me a shock. For all the prisoners, the incident became sensational news that seemed to carry more artistic value than all the gossip in circulation.
Without coincidences, books would never be written.
The incident happened right in our cell number 10045. Its hero was number 809998, next number to mine, the riddle
Kang Sheng had failed to solve. On the night after I handed in my report, the warden suddenly came in person to our
cell number 10045. We all stood up to show our respect.
The beloved warden, all smiles, pointed at number 98 with his right forefinger. Number 98 was overwhelmed by such
an unexpected favor. What was he dreaming? Nobody
knew. But I believed he was not expecting much more than the hero, with a pack of dynamite in his hand, ready to blow up an enemy bunker. His face swelled red, his eyes shone like those of a rat when its tail is caught, and his hands nervously rubbed the seams of his pants. The warden asked:
“Number 98, is your father a carpenter?”
“Yes, sir!” Number 98 answered like a soldier. “My father is a carpenter, my grandfather was a carpenter, and my
great-grandfather was also a carpenter.” He knew three generations of workers or poor peasants could aid a person’s political credibility. When he had traced his lineage back to the third generation, the warden cut him short with a wave 2 6 4
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of his hand. Enough was enough. The warden must believe
ten generations were no different from three, because even an air force pilot’s enrollment form required only three generations.
“Come with me.”
“Shall I take my things?”
“No.” The warden’s negative response informed us as
well as number 98: this was not a release from prison. The slightly raised heels of number 98 now dropped to the
ground, and his red face started fading into whiteness. The warden walked ahead with his hands clasped behind his
back. Number 98 followed him. I gloated somewhat over
his misfortune: number 98 could watch only a dull outline that inspired no fantasies.
Number 98 was gone with the warden. The four inmates
left behind started trying to solve the riddle. No one could.
The clock on the faraway tower told us 9:00 p.m. had
passed, then 10:00, 11:00, and 12:00. At about 12:42
(number 97 had a precision clock in his brain, never as much as a minute off. If he said the clock in the tower was going to strike, it struck in fewer than ten seconds. I once imagined all people being able to do like number 97: the clock and watch industry would go bankrupt) number 98
returned. When the guard opened the door and locked it
behind him, we all sat up as if on command. “What’s up?” I bet the prisoners in the cells on our left and right also pricked up their ears. But number 98 gave no reply. Taking off his clothes with a deliberate rustling noise, he slipped wordlessly under his quilt. Everyone could feel his complacency.
“Have you been struck dumb, young fellow?” Unable to
check his curiosity, number 97 nudged him. “What did you do over there?”
“Confidential.” With this, he covered his head with the
quilt. The message was clear: no questions. “What I did
cannot be told to anyone.”
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“Damn you.” We lay our heads on our wooden blocks and
stopped questioning him. But our minds were still guessing furiously. Such guesswork was torture because the answer was sleeping right beside me, yet I was unable to grasp it.
That night, I bet, except for number 98, we all suffered from insomnia.
During the day, number 98 still broke stones in the yard, but every night he was taken out. All the male prisoners cast their eyes at him whenever they could, and some female prisoners also gazed at him. Our curiosity increased daily.
Although he and I slept bottom to bottom in the same cell, I could not find out what he was doing over there – sometimes for three hours, sometimes for four hours, and each time seemed even longer. What was he doing? That devil
guarded his mouth like a sealed bottle. It was damned
annoying – especially because his spirits had improved
greatly, not just a bit, and they were getting better and better. The four of us wished we could press him on the floor and dig the words out of his throat with our fingers. Of course, this was only a wish, and no one dared do it. One night something abnormal occurred. Number 98 did not
come back at twelve o’clock – even at one, two, or three. We four lay awake as the riddle became more and more puzzling. At half past three, number 98 was brought back like a drunkard, supported by two guards. His face was puffy
as a basketball. As soon as the guards left, we sat up. We waited wide-eyed and silent. “What happened?” we finally demanded. “Torture? Have you been on trial every night?”
Number 98 shook his head and said with a sigh, “No.”
Although his face was swollen, his tongue was still slippery.
“I have been doing carpentry work every night.”
We were all annoyed. What was the
need of hiding a job
like carpentry?
“I worked in the women’s cells.” This seemed to be a
sound reason.
“The female cells were not part of the prison at first, but 2 6 6
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a vocational school of technology. The school was changed later.” A good change, indeed! Culture counted for nothing compared with dictatorship.
“The windows and doors over there are made of wood.”
Chinese women could easily be locked in with paper doors and windows, let alone wooden ones.
“The warden asked me to repair the rotting ones.” A
good chance to have his eyes. He probably even talked or flirted with the women.
Once the dam burst, he could not hold back any longer.
“The night before last, I was changing the door frame in a small cell occupied by three females, all pretty young. The eldest was no more than forty, and the youngest only a bit over twenty. The guard watching me had a sudden craving
for tobacco. Fumbling in his pockets, he fished out an
empty box, so he went to look for a cigarette. Don’t think I saw those three females clearly at the beginning. I wasn’t clear about what they were like until the guard had gone.
During his absence, the older woman smiled at me as the
second tugged on my trouser leg, inviting me to talk with them. But I didn’t dare.” Obviously, he was not telling the truth.
“If I’m lying, call me a dog! The youngest, covering her face with a bed sheet, stared at me with burning, charcoal eyes. They were all okay looking.” Too ambiguous. “Okay
looking”? After three years’ imprisonment one could take an old swine for a great beauty. He must have been blind.
“Honest. In the eyes of men in our situation, every one of them was a sylph. I fixed my eyes on them while hammering the nails. I don’t know why, but I desperately wanted to memorize their looks so I could take them like three boxes of candy back to our world of male prisoners and savor them slowly.” He sounded quite sincere.
“The eldest chirped into the ear of the second. The sec-
ond nodded and then whispered to the youngest, who nei-
ther nodded nor shook her head. The second bent over and 2 6 7
