by Yan Lianke
It was like the instant when the winter sun is about to rise in the east.
It was like the instant when the summer sun is about to set in the west.
The mountain range was glowing red.
The land was glowing red.
The entire world was burning bright red.
Beneath the red glow, the trees, rivers, villages, houses, and livestock were brightly illuminated, like a landscape or an entire world fashioned from agate. Led by Yan, we ran to the front of the embankment, whereupon I suddenly found myself extremely thirsty. My body felt so parched, I wanted to leap into the reservoir from the top of the two-hundred-meter-tall embankment—to drink some water and drown. I stared down at the reservoir, which was illuminated by the firelight. It occurred to me that Father would surely leap out of the water, like a fish. As everyone was staring intently at that fiery sun, I was staring instead into this boundless reservoir. My lips were cracked, my throat was cracked, and my heart was cracked, to the point that I wanted to leap into the reservoir and drink myself to death.
At this point, I heard shouts coming from somewhere.
These were ear-piercingly loud cries.
“The sun has come up!”
“The sun has come up!”
“Daylight has arrived! The sun has come up in the east!”
This sound was coming from the western side of the embankment. Everyone turned to look, and saw that the fiery sun was illuminating the embankment as brightly as if it were daytime. The sky was illuminated, and everything under heaven was illuminated—including the villages, rivers, mountains, the trees and crops and flowers by the roadside, as well as both the harvested and the unharvested wheat and beans. They were all illuminated and clearly visible. In a village to the west of the embankment, there were countless people standing in the entrance staring up at the fiery lake on the east side of the embankment. “The sun has come up!” . . . “It is light outside!” . . . “The sun has come up!” . . . “It is light outside!” . . . They shouted, jumped up and down, and clapped their hands, as though the entire village and the entire world were full of children celebrating the New Year. The residents of the villages below the embankment all walked out of their homes. They all ran out of their homes. They stood in the village entrance, which was bathed in daylight, where they were banging their gongs, beating their drums, and shouting at the oil-fire sun on the eastern mountain. “The sun has come out!” . . . “It is light outside!” . . . “The sun has come out!” . . . “It is light outside!” . . . These shouts came in waves, like the endless waves of grain that fill the fields at this time of year, or like people celebrating the arrival of rain to break a summer drought. The entire land was illuminated by the red glow of this sun rising over the eastern mountains. The entire land was illuminated by the clear, bright light of the sun rising over the eastern mountains.
Following these shouts, the cocks in one of the villages finally began to crow, after which all of the villages were soon filled with the sound of crowing cocks.
From somewhere, there was the lowing of recently awakened cows, and soon all of the villages were full of the sound of lowing cows.
At this point, the sun came back to life. Time also came back to life. The lively sound of cocks crowing and cows lowing was transmitted to Gaotian Town. People were banging their gongs, beating their drums, and shouting. “The sun has come out!” . . . “It is light outside!” . . . “The sun has come out!” . . . “It is light outside!” . . . Suddenly, the lamplight and fighting disappeared from the town. The sunlight hovering over the eastern mountain shone down on the town, illuminating everything that had lain in darkness during the Gaotian night, which had reduced every sound to deathly silence. Everything now seemed to come back to life. For a long period, Gaotian had been trapped in a state resembling death—a predawn stillness before the sounds that typically signal dawn. This was an atypical stillness, resembling the sort of stillness that lingers, just before dusk, after the daytime noises have disappeared. This was an atypical stillness, resembling the sort of deathly silence that one finds at the instant when daytime and nighttime exchange places. Following this deathly silence, another sound came rumbling through, as the world came back to life, and time itself came back to life. After that extraordinary silence, I heard a coarse and heavy buzzing, after which people began pouring out of Gaotian and the surrounding villages, shouting crazily at the eastern sky and the eastern hill.
“Quick, come look! It appears as though the eastern hill is on fire!”
“Quick, come look! It appears as though the eastern hill is on fire!”
Some people emerged from their homes, while others stood in the town’s streets. From our position up on the embankment, we could see that the town’s streets were full of people. The open areas outside town were also full of people. There was the sound of gongs and firecrackers, together with jubilant shouts and raucous applause. It was as if in the crowd that had gathered at the entrance to town, my mother was also shouting and jumping around. She, however, was jumping more slowly than everyone else, and every time she landed her body would bend awkwardly, as though she were about to topple over. In the end, she always managed to remain upright, and each time she bent over she would leap up again and resume shouting.
“Daylight has arrived! . . . The sun is alive and has risen! . . .
“Daylight has arrived! . . . The sun is alive and has risen! . . .”
The outsiders began surging out of town, heading back to their respective villages. Some were driving carts, while others were chasing after them. One group after another, like soldiers fleeing a devastating defeat. Most of the carts were empty, and everyone was empty-handed. If the carts were carrying anything, it would invariably be fellow villagers who had been wounded or the bodies of those killed while dreamwalking. The outsiders pulled their empty carts and their wounded companions, and watched the sun rise in the east. From a distance, we could see that they were depressed and demoralized, and we could also see that the townspeople were chasing after them and attacking them with stones and carrying poles. The outsiders did not fight back, as though they felt they deserved to be beaten. Instead, shielding their heads and faces with their arms, they fled, rushing back to their respective villages and homes.
They all returned to their respective villages and homes.
They returned to the new day.
Postface: Nothing Else to Say
1.
What else is there to say? This is simply what happened.
This is what happened in that year, in that month, and on that day.
Bodhisattvas . . . heavens . . . gods and masters . . . as well as Chinese Zen Buddhism . . . temples . . . lofty realms . . . epiphanies . . . Laozi . . . Zhuangzi . . . Confucius and assorted celestials and deities from other sects. I don’t know how many people died while dreamwalking that night, or how many people died in the entire world. All I know is that in the town of Gaotian, 539 people died that night. I saw the complete list, from which I can recall the following:
1) Shen Quande, male, thirty-six years old. While dreamwalking, went to a field and began threshing grain, but touched an electrical line and was electrocuted.
2) Wang Ergou, male, forty-one years old. While dreamwalking, joined the town battle and was killed.
3) Hu Bingquan, male, eighty years old. While dreamwalking, jumped into a river and drowned himself.
4) Yu Rongjuan, female, sixty-seven years old. While dreamwalking, jumped into a river and died.
5) Zhang Mutou, male, thirty-seven years old. While dreamwalking, became a martyr for the Great Shun, and died.
6) Hu Dequan, male, sixty-eight years old. While dreamwalking, became thirsty and fell into his home’s water tank and drowned.
7) Ma Huzi, male, twenty-seven years old. While dreamwalking, joined the town battle and was killed.
8) Yang Guangzhu, male, thirty-five years old. While dreamwalking, became a martyr for the Great Shun, and died.
9) Niu Dafeng, male, thirty years old. While dreamwalking, tried to steal something and was killed.
10) Niu Xiuxiu, female, twenty-six years old. While dreamwalking, tried to steal something and was killed.
11) Yu Xiaoshen, female, sixty-five years old. While dreamwalking, hanged herself for some reason and died.
12) Ma Mingming, male, eighteen years old. While dreamwalking, raped a woman and was killed.
13) Zhang Cai, male, forty-one years old. While dreamwalking, had a fight with his wife, then hanged himself.
14) Gu Lingling, female, twenty-three years old. While dreamwalking, committed sodomy with someone, then drowned herself in a well out of a sense of shame.
15) Yu Guoshi, male, thirty-eight years old. While dreamwalking, participated in the town battle and was killed.
16) Yang Dashan, male, twenty-six years old. While dreamwalking, participated in the town battle and was killed.
17) Yang Xiaojuan, Yang Dashan’s sister, sixteen years old. While dreamwalking, a man tried to rape her, in response to which she took her own life.
18) Liu Datang, male, thirty-five years old. While dreamwalking, participated in the town battle and was killed.
19) Li Tianbao, my father, forty years old. While dreamwalking, immolated himself while making the sun rise.
37) Ma Ping, female, thirty years old. After her husband died while dreamwalking, she jumped into a well and drowned.
47) Qian Fen, female, thirty years old. After her three-year-old son fell into a ditch and drowned, she jumped into a river and drowned.
77) Li Dahua, female, thirty-six years old. Normally kind and diligent, was beaten to death after trying to steal things while dreamwalking.
78) Sun Laohan, male, ninety-one years old. While trying to wake up other dreamwalkers, was pushed down by a dreamwalker and died.
79) Zhou Wangzhi, male, forty-nine years old. Teacher. Suddenly began weeping inconsolably while asleep and died.
99) Tian Zhengqin, male, fifty-two years old. Town mayor. While dreamwalking, was killed during the popular uprising organized by Li Chuang.
100) Guo Dagang, forty-eight years old. Deputy town mayor. While dreamwalking, was killed during the popular uprising organized by Li Chuang.
101) Li Xiaohua, female, four years old. Because her father carried her into the town battle and then dropped her, she was trampled to death.
202) Sima Lingxiao, forty-eight years old. Deputy town mayor. While dreamwalking, was killed during the popular uprising organized by Li Chuang.
303) Li Chuang, male, thirty-one years old. Originally served as the deputy director of the town’s department of armed forces. A descendent of the rebel Li Zicheng, he led a popular uprising while dreamwalking and established the Shun dynasty, after which he was hanged.
404) Hao Jun, twenty-seven years old. Manager of a grocery store. Was killed trying to prevent dreamwalkers from robbing his store.
505) Hao Junwen, sixty-seven years old. Committed suicide after watching his son die.
506) Gao Zhangzi, male, forty-seven years old. Manager of a farm tools store, died while dreamwalking owing to unknown causes.
507) Little girl, about three months old, nameless. Her mother carried her when going out to harvest wheat and then put her down beside a field, whereupon the girl died of unknown causes.
508) Mao Xiaotiao, twelve years old. While dreamwalking, was trampled to death by troops fighting in the town battle.
538) Zheng Xiuju, eighty years old. Was scared to death by the actions of the dreamwalkers.
539) Zheng Junjun. Committed suicide after the rest of his family was killed.
Buddhas . . . bodhisattvas . . . divinities, landlords, and Jade Emperors—these are some of the 539 people from our town who died during the great somnambulism. I don’t know how many others died, or how people died in neighboring towns. All I know is that this government-compiled list of the deceased from Gaotian Town was ninety-five pages long. It was as long as a book—almost as long as one of Yan Lianke’s novels. It seemed as though virtually every family lost someone, and virtually every household had someone who had been injured, and corpses were strewn throughout the streets like autumn leaves or fallen grain. Several days later, graves began sprouting up like mushrooms in the abandoned fields outside town. A few days after that, the town established a new government and, in order to help guard against the infectious diseases that the decaying corpses might bring, the new town government brought in twenty carts with a total of 420 barrels of antiseptic—approximately as much antiseptic as the amount of corpse oil my father burned that night. In the scenic compound where my uncle lived, an additional ninety-nine people died that night. My uncle and aunt also died, having been beaten to death while trying to take the dreamwalkers some food. After my uncle and aunt died, all of their belongings were stolen, including their tables and chairs, their bowls and chopsticks, and their curtains and light bulbs. Even the flowers and saplings in their courtyard had been dug up and taken away. Every town had dozens and dozens of dreamwalkers, and it was reported that in the county seat and in the provincial capital they were even more terrifying. In all, the night lasted more than thirty-six hours, and at least a thousand people were killed in the ensuing uprisings and riots. By the time the sun finally came up and brought an end to this once-in-a-century stretch of darkness, the television and radio stations in the county, city, and provincial seat began simultaneously broadcasting the same announcement, stating that in Henan Province there had been only a small number of locations where dreamwalkers had managed to create a disturbance. Meanwhile, the afternoon editions of the city papers—in the “local oddities” column positioned in the lower left-hand corner of the front page—also carried an identical announcement:
IN OUR CITY’S MOUNTAIN REGION, THERE APPEARED SOME SMALL-SCALE CASES OF SOMNAMBULISM
Recently, it has been hot and people have been busy harvesting wheat, and a set of peculiar meteorological and geographic conditions generated a phenomenon of seasonal darkness. As a result, in some of our city’s mountainous regions—including a number of roads and villages bordering Shuihuang Township in western Chuanbei County—people began to dreamwalk as they transitioned from a state of exhaustion to a state of brisk activity. Some went out to harvest and thresh wheat while dreamwalking, while others stayed awake and tried to rouse the dreamwalkers, in the interest of social order and interpersonal relations. In Zhaonan County’s Gaotian Town, there were false rumors about large swaths of dreamwalking-related deaths and social disturbances, and in order to put a stop to these rumors and promote a stable social order, the government sent in a large number of national cadres and public security officers to conduct an investigation and also help the masses to regain a good and productive social order.
2.
Bodhisattvas . . . gods . . . there is one more thing that I need to tell you. In our town, 539 people died, more than 490 were seriously injured, and there is no telling how much property damage there had been. Every household suffered either a fatality or a serious injury, and was also subject to looting or vandalism. Every household either had people who were dreamwalking, or had people who were taking advantage of the general somnambulism to wreak havoc. After this devastation, however, few households appeared to be particularly distraught, and few families were weeping. I was initially bewildered by this. Normally, after someone died, everyone would react as though the sky itself had collapsed, and half the town would be in tears. Some people even died from heartbreak after their relatives were killed—while weeping, they would take one breath and choke on the next. Sometimes two people died on the same day, or five people might die over a three-day span, and the townspeople could never rest easy. The weeping drowned the town for two weeks or a full month. However, on this particular day three months ago—on the day that the nighttime was extended interminably—539 townspeople died, to the point that virtually every household felt an impact, but most residents were rather subdued, and simply wait
ed until dawn the next day. When the sun finally appeared, the surviving townspeople quietly came out of their homes and began collecting the corpses.
There wasn’t a single drop of crying.
At that point, in the western sky there appeared a corpse-fire cloud like the one that had risen over the eastern embankment. The ensuing sunlight gathered in the western sky, where it drove away the clouds and the darkness. In this way, the nighttime ended, as though having been blown away by the wind, leaving behind a community full of shattered doors and windows, and discarded clothes and shoes, as well as assorted hand fans and cart wheels. There were also jet-black bloodstains, cut hair, and severed limbs, and the hoes, sickles, and axes that had been used as weapons—and even after all of this had been cleaned up by the relatives of the deceased, the streets nevertheless remained as still as death.
