1.

We do many things in life without the slightest sense of consequences. Of course, if everyone has that extra sense, disaster would never happen and good things would come in bunches. Life would become easy. Then we living creatures would be dumber as a consequence. There would be no reason to be smart as there is nothing for us to struggle against. At any rate, the fact is that most of us have no idea about what would happen next to us. Poor us. Things unrelated spring up in sequence and we fall into the traps, some crying and others smiling. Somewhere there is logic of chaos, maybe. One constant is that we endure on no matter what.

When I was a youngster, eleven or twelve years old, I fulfilled a strange role of a father for some of the kids in our village. I was fathering kids my age or younger, it's hard to believe, isn't it? However, it was true. Half of our village men worked in the cities, the provincial capital or the county capital. Most of them were truck drivers or machine operators or simply manual laborers in large factories. One dignified guy worked as the chef in the governor's mansion. He claimed that the governor wouldn't taste any bowl of noodles unless he put the seasonings in. It made one wonder what the governor ate when he was traveling away from his mansion or that particular night when his favorite chef was bragging in front of us. Anyway our village men did nothing glorious but earned a decent salary nonetheless which seemed to be plenty in the countryside. Men needed women so they came home during the weekend, often getting off the bus Saturday evening and left town bright and early on Monday while their kids were still in sleep. And there were times some of the men didn't come back at all. Their absence created a vast void in the households where dumb kids were looking for a male figure for strength and security. Don't get me wrong, all the mothers did a superb job in disciplining those little rascals by spanking and other physical ways or verbal abuses. It was almost commonplace that a fed-up mother chased one of the little rascals down the streets waving a bamboo stick high in the air. Panting and screaming, what a life.

Once the whole town witnessed one of our most beautiful women chasing her son down the street with a full head of steam.

"Shame on you! Shame on you little bastard! Watching your own mother taking a bath. You will be condemned to death by your ancestors." She cried like a teenager herself. Her beauty spoiled her and her lack of education and exposure to life outside of the area prevented her from growing up. Still, the whole village was shocked. Sure, a boy peeping at her mother taking a sponge bath was pretty unspeakable; but, to shout it out across the town was really a spectacle. Some of us had to run home and lock the door behind. Shame on us all.

Of course, we could always find excuses for our beautiful woman. What for? To spoil them and to prevent them from growing up, of course. This particular beautiful woman had a playful husband, a man-child himself. Whenever he came home, he started the teasing or foreplay as in modern terminology. He never had the decency or sense to put on an attempt to avoid their children. Inside a farm house, rooms were clustered together and noise insulation was never an architectual concept in the local culture. Every tiny noise was heard and felt by all at home, if not by the whole town. In harsh winters as the fuel was scarce to heat up only one family clay bed, kids must share beds with their parents. It was small wonder that some little ones were sexually awaken early.

The poetic injustice of our town was when this little guy actually put his little thing into a little girl at the time when both of them were only nine years old, the same beautiful woman wasn't so apologetic to the girl's mother who came to protest.

The absence of men in everyday life created a lot of nervousness in our town. Worse yet, when men came home, they came back with an attitude. Men's exposure to the city sophistication created a lot of extra baggage for their women to carry. Most of the women were illiterate thus felt inadequate in front of their men; women from Sunny Lin didn't like to visit cities much. They felt beautiful at home because their husbands brought home nice clothes for them. But they felt earthy and out of place in the cities no matter what they put on. So they preferred staying home waiting for their men. Looking for your man was a laughable act. Only men were allowed to be horny; a horny woman was scolded and spat upon.

There was frustration, suspicion of men. Yet women were not allowed to express their dissatisfaction openly. Often some of the frustration felt by those mothers was vented onto those little devils.

The biggest conflict at home by far was the city distrust and countryside relaxation. For example, all the men scolded their wives for not locking up their kids: children shouldn't allowed to leave home after dark or can't travel two miles away from the village without the company of an adult. It was silly because we were far enough from the city and its vices to travel miles without worrying about being lost or kidnapped. In other words, we were closer to the honest mountains than the jungles where tigers devouring monkeys. Still men only gave orders; women must nod.

My father used to work in the city but he was not a manual worker. His intellectual side got him into political trouble early on in his career and was sent back home before I was even born. So my sister and I didn't have to deal with this weekend reunion and weekday departure ordeal. As I grew up into an independent young man with good grades in school and a thinking mind, many mothers in the village somehow trusted their mischievous boys to my company. With me, they were allowed to do things that were normally forbidden. Maybe growing up with an intellectual father I inherited some of his confidence. Of course, I had a track record that I knew what I was doing.

Some of the mothers openly told me that they admired my ability to read books. Most of their husbands were illiterate but they pretended that they were cool. Women always seek the bottom-line: Scholars were glorious in our village. To make a long story short, I was in command of a troop of eight to ten little tykes most of the time. I could lead them to mountains many miles away for a whole day and nobody would sweat. I would take them swimming in the reservoirs without getting any of them into any beating. Some of them little rascals got tied up and hanged in the air for going swimming by themselves without the permission from their mothers or in the company of trustworthy figures such as me. Their fathers whipped their little asses off with wet leather belt during the weekend as their mothers cried in front of their men out of frustration. Life was pain and tears, tears and pain. Of course little did we know tears and pain had a strong repercussion on us later in our lives.

My duty as a father for many little kids was none exemplified in the most memorable ritual in their childhood: story telling. Kids in our village may not have enough to eat but no one starved to death. Yet, we were all starving spiritually. Story telling was really important for their physical and mental health and yet it was largely ignored because nobody had the time to tell stories to them.

Our story telling session usually took place in a raining day. Eight to ten of them little ones came together and curled in a doorway or someone's dining room. I told them whatever I read from the books as I was the only one in their age group who could read and actually read a lot of books. Their favorite story was of course Monkey King. It absolutely blew their minds to hear Monkey King could transform into 72 forms and blow up some hair from his ass into full-sized monkeys.

"Could King Monkey change into a house?"

"Of course, he once changed himself into a temple, with his tail as the banner pole."

"Wow!"

"Could he, Wen Ge, change into a tree?" Wen Ge or Older Brother Wen was my name with respect.

"A tree, that's easy. He does that all the time." I scolded the little fella.

"Wow! He could change into anything. That's awesome! Totally awesome!"

"Don't talk, you big mouth. Let Wen Ge tell the story." He was scolded by a kid a little older than he was.

"Please, please, Wen Ge, tell us once again how the Monkey King stride for eighteen hundred thousand Li with one arch of his body." The little fellow ignored the scolding.

It got boring for me because I had to repeat some parts again and again to send them home happy.

Then once in a while our story time became a "what happened today or the other day?" session. The other day, our school had an all-school meeting and one of the teachers was explaining about some rather bizarre affair between a teacher and one of the most beautiful or the most developed girls in school. It was a damaging allegation against the teacher and the girl. I had no idea why we the little ones needed to hear all about that. They could do whatever they damn please and we would care less.

Anyway, our headmaster painstakingly tried to put on some positive spins on things. Yet just as the explanation got to the key part, the alleged party, Teacher Lin Jianfeng, a good-looking young guy who seemingly had never got enough attention, good looks and good jobs in a town of women and all, casually strolled up to the podium and took a folded newspaper out of his jacket pocket. It looked like a flower wrap, except there was no flower. He promptly smashed the thing to Headmaster Lin Yueyang who was narrating something that did not interest us little pupils but other teachers, and maybe a few other students in the upper class. The package broke. It was human waste freshly produced by the handsome Lin Jianfeng. Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. Our respected headmaster had fresh human waste all over his carefully shaved face, in front of a couple hundreds of kids and teachers. It was a dreadful day, dark and overcast. And it smelled really bad. The next day was a Sunday and it rained. So the story must be told about "Why did Lin Jianfeng throw shit on the Headmaster's face?"

I had to tell them little ones as much as I knew, because they wouldn't quit nagging me. On the other hand, I knew too much.

2.

Our life was pretty hard. We had barely enough to eat and to cover our ass from being frozen. True, no one starved to death or froze silly. But we lived in the neighborhood of embarrassing poverty as some families told us that they went to see their relatives afar. In actuality, they went to places relatively better-off to beg in order to survive. It was such an embarrassment to Sunny Lin. Yet the state propaganda was constantly reminding us that life could have been worse and we shouldn't forgot the terrible past, our parents' and grandparents' time, blah, blah and blah. The problem was that we country bumpkins had limited imaginations. Beautiful words couldn't comfort churning stomachs. Our alleged good life couldn't cheat our minds. We may be quiet but we were not fools We didn't appear convinced as dissatisfaction sprouted from empty bellies.

Our parents' disposition was carried out by some of us little kids into the school. This was noticed by our teachers. Their eager revolutionary spirit together with their nimble minds quickly came with a bunch of ideas. Once a decision was made; an implementation was sure to follow. Revolution was not a dinner party, you say. Even teachers were tired of study groups, all school and even all town rallies. Really, what was good of the revolution if we had no food to eat and no clothes to cover our butts?

"Wait, wait, before you go home, remember tomorrow we are going to go on an all day field trip. So come to school at six o'clock and bring your lunch." Our class teacher, nineteen year old Lin Wanwan, almost forgot this major announcement. She always stumbled over profound things. The more important the event was, the bigger time she messed up, with a smile.

3.

There was a guy of high idealism lurking in our district. He gave up his relatively easy teaching post on the flat lands and volunteered or subjected himself to teach kids up in the high mountains. Wang Yuncheng was the guy's name. It means cloud's journey. He was the top student of his class through high school. Still, being too deep into the earthy country, his talents was not well nurtured thus did not amount to anything such as going to college. His legendary fame landed him a good job in his village elementary school immediately after his high school graduation, though.

Clearwater was a tiny village compared to our town. Clearwater was beautiful as the Clearwater River winded around it like a baby girl clinging to her dear mother and gives this little village the name.

Yuncheng was an average looking guy but an excellent teacher. His coming overwhelmed Clearwater Elementary School. He was multitalented and could teach Chinese language, mathematics, music and sports. His vigorous sense of responsibility prompted him to take quite a load as the rest of the bunch were simply occupants of their positions. Yuncheng hated non-contributors in life. He took up so much that he almost rendered other teachers useless. The bottom line was that in everyone's eyes he took himself a little too seriously. He strived to be different. He disliked the nonchalant attitude of his colleagues who put too much energy into flirting and intruding on each other's marriages and privacies. Yuncheng loathed behavior as such and stepped on it with genuine spite.

Essentially Yuncheng lived in one of the smallest villages in the world but had the entire world comfortably tugged under his arms. He had ideals. He wanted to know and above all to teach and to contribute to life. Yet his goodness reflected his imperfection as he had a terrible time relating to mere mortals around him. His popularity kept dropping like the mercury in the winter freeze. In the matter of a few months, he had worn out his welcome here. Soon his loneliness mushroomed like the heavy snow. Then there was his failed romance with a female colleague in the coming year. All the events led to his eventual resignation from the school.

Resignation from a countryside teaching position by itself sounded like an oxymoron in Chinese life. It was nothing short of suicide. Almost a sin in some eyes. The whole village was stunned. Villagers shook their heads so hard that a few of them had to see a doctor to repair their necks. In our part of the country, the cash earned by a school teacher was the envy of hapless peasants who barely had enough to buy salt for dinner. Yet Yuncheng walked away. He took his belonging out of the school. He didn't look at anyone in the eye. Many elderly shed tears for him. Sure, he actually had tears in his eyes. It was tears of joy, of newly felt heroism and a great liberation. He was excited by his own plans which was unfolding as he was walking under the gazes of a few eager eyes. He felt like a man. He managed to flash a smile on his face. He left the village and went straight up to the mountains.

The north slopes of Mount Xiong'er were barren and harsh with bare rocks and meager soil of gargantuan sand pebbles. Yet, the canyon called Black Bear Creek is mysteriously fertile, lush and green, a great deal of rare Chinese herbals grow there. Rare medicine cure rare diseases thus kept the cash flow into the canyon. Wild flowers blossomed with unrelenting vigor with both their the sizes and colors that challenge human imagination.

4.

The biggest mystery along the Black Bear Creek was that for centuries, no newcomers could ever settle in. Those who tried got no luck; the strong-headed did not last long, nor did they come out alive. The children of Black Bear Creek were getting dumber as the centuries rolled on and the heart of Black Bear Creek was becoming brute with time.

The red hot Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution on the flatlands was so powerful that it had the mountain dwellers temporarily scared into non-action or silence. Hunting riffles are no match with machine guns, you see. The survival of Black Bear Creek had its number one rule: never ever run into a military conflict with the government. Whoever rules the country is none of Black Bear Creek's business. This rule may have saved Mister Wang Yuncheng, for in the eyes of those mountain dwellers Yuncheng looked too smart not to represent the government. The halo over his head was too radiant for the mountain dwellers not to grant his wishes. However, retreating did not mean defeat, mind you.

Black Bear Creek got its own School and the teacher was Wang Yuncheng. It took some persuasion to get 10 or families together as they scattered into several slopes and valleys. The hunters, mountain dwellers, and medicine men and women, social outcasts, the offsprings of the unfortunate, all drew blanks when this well-mannered educated man came to knock on their door to tell them the importance of education for their children. Did he mean that the civilized world reserve a chance for our kids to be somebody else? Did he mean that our children shouldn't grow up like us? What's wrong with us? Humm? Maybe he had a point. Life is living hell in the higher altitude. At the end it's their earthy good nature that yielded an automatic nod to this passionate Mister.

Yuncheng was thrilled to the verge of jumping into the creek naked. But again he didn't want to scare the natives off. Passion needs a venting channel but this particular mister was no lunatic. He was one of those souls who just needed his corner of world. He just needed his own arena to succeed. He designed and built a decent school. It was not an easy job. He had to flatten a field of decent size amidst trees, slopes, creeks and giant rocks. He had the picture of kids playing soccer ball in his mind. But it was impossible to have a whole acre of flat land in this damn canyon. Moving a mountain isn't as easy as one thinks. At the end he had to compromise with the mountain. At any rate, a strawhut was the main building of the new school. An annex was built to be his living quarter and kitchen. The beauty was in the details. The mister had the sense of using cement and rocks to solidify the foundation and planting trees around his "campus" to hold on to the soil. Otherwise, the annual summer flood would wash everything away and possibly his sweet self all the way down stream of Clearwater River.

After a few years the mountaineers stopped worrying about finding their school and teacher somewhere downstream along the Black Bear Creek, though no one was prepared to shed a swallow's tear for him. That was the beginning. To warm a bowl of water takes roughly the time to smoke a bamboo pipe of tobacco. To warm a mountain takes a good size heart a life time. Yuncheng with Promethean heart did win the folks over at the end.

Inside the hut, there were six rows of plank waist high and six rows of rock benches knee high. Not well crafted, with no decoration but very sturdy. Those were the desks and benches for those dumb little pupils. Each grade sat in vertical row. Teacher Wang commanded five grades, Chinese language, mathematics, music and sport activities. Kids were too quiet, too timid, too suspicious and too dumb. The teacher must supply all the energy. Energy was Yuncheng's specialty. That was the real reason he was there, to supply and project energy or life into the souls of an evolution that embarked on a reverse course. He dared not to mention incest and its severe consequences but he was confident that his teaching will lead them to some open doors and windows.

"I am not here to teach anyone anything but love. I am here to love. I always tell my students and their parents that Clearwater River leads me to Black Bear Creek." Those words were published on newspapers.

It was a challenge for Yuncheng, so it seemed, to get chalk, pencils, pens and paper and of course text books. There was no cash, though some of the medicine diggers had wads of cash hiding away in under their pillows. Yuncheng had enough sense not to solicit funds from them. Money was what got many others killed before him. What opened the mountain dwellers' eyes was that not only did Mr. Wang successfully persuaded the upper bureaucracy to supply him with all the necessities but also got enough cash and materials, and personal connections, to build a hydroelectric dam in the upper stream of Black Bear Creek. Kids could swim and the school and a few families had electricity. Light was the biggest change in the Black Bear Creek canyon. There was a cultural revolution of a quiet and healthy variety going on here in the mountains. For a nation that was hungry for heroes, this story of lighting up a mountain was circulated rather widely. Yuncheng went to many meetings in the county, the provincial conventions. He was sent to Beijing for holding a golden heart under his ribcage. He loved the attention, for it gave him leverage to apply funds for his school.

Wang Yuncheng's fame made the rest of ordinary minds jealous and curious. The ripple effect was felt far and wide. Our school teachers got their juices going. However, everything came with a disguise. A field trip was arranged for us fourth and fifth grades, those who could endure a day's worth of travel by foot, in order to teach us little rascals what hard life really was. In actuality our teachers could find out what the heck this Yuncheng was up to there in the mountains. Maybe he hid a secret lover in the mountains. Let's find out.

We the little ones had our own curiosity. We were waiting for that day with equal, if not greater, ecstatic excitement. We hated the confinement of the school and loved the idea of wandering the mountains for a change. Ah, that Monday in May, 1973, finally came. When the day dawned, it was nothing short of a spectacular day. We were asked to get to school two hours earlier than usual, for it takes almost four hours by foot to reach the Black Bear Creek and we must get back before dark in the evening. Otherwise, our parents would be really concerned. The early rise enabled us to see the morning glow that was nothing short of splendid. I myself was mesmerized for the duration of the peach and light orange. The sun dazzled my eyes and mind for the whole week. It was the first time ever in my life that I saw something so magnificent. I was a little bewildered, with great pleasure, of course. Up until then, I never got up early in my life. The pinkish orange glow reflects on everything and every face. The mediocrity, the sadness and the ugly could be covered, beautified, decorated and made happy with the magic of the infant sun. I saw another world, totally different from mine. That added a new dimension to my life and imagination.

5.

Black Bear Creek strolled out of the mountains and became Clearwater River. Clearwater River was the first poem of my life. The water becomes jade in the morning glow, so slow, so gentle, so tender. Everything was serene and content. We quietly passed through the Clearwater village without waking up a soul. All 200 of us.

"Kewen will be a painter, an artist in the future." Our drawing instructor, Mr. Rock, has been groping our class guardian, young Lin Wanwan. He tried to show interests in whatever she randomly threw at him.

"No, Kewen will be a writer or a poet." Lin Wanwan insisted on her original point. She was our Chinese instructor thus only cared about composition. Actually she knew much less than we expected from her. I, Lin Kewen, could easily out compose her.

Wanwan was almost the opposite to what Yuncheng was in high school. As much as Yuncheng was outstanding, Lin Wanwan was pretty average. Funny thing about Wanwan was that she still retained that baby-face at age 19. It would take decades for her to grow out of that chubby girly look. The first day she walked into our class was when we just got to the 4th Grade. We liked her instantly because we found in her a playmate, only a little taller and little rounder, though not by much. Our previous teachers drilled us pretty hard with discipline and heavy duty math and Chinese character memorization. Maybe young Wanwan would cut us some slack. We loved the giggles and the mischievous and sheepish smile she constantly heaved at us. She wanted instant approval from everyone, including us her pupils and we gave to her in earnest. Unlike most of the adults in our life, she was genuinely happy, worry-free and care-free. She did not strut around like a teacher or a roaster or an angry hen. So we genuinely liked her as the head of Class 4-1 (because each grade had two classes, fifty students cramming in one room of dirt walls and dirt floors).

Wanwan which by the way sounds like dinner bowls but really means reticent, polite and docile in a girl or woman. it's a pretty name. Wanwan and I had a secret connection that was made at the instant she stepped into the classroom. Because my mother had died when I was little, that created a huge void in my heart for affection, female or motherly affection. So I was genuinely sweet, pleasing to adult women. This was partly why most mothers in the village liked me. Too bad, this panda-like Wanwan was too young to be my mother. But she saw the strength and certainty in my personality and the charisma in my character. Those were great vehicles for her to deal with a class of 50 ready to be teens. She had that great smile only for me, it was like a warm hug. I would do anything to get that. And she knew it and used it well.

Wanwan was not the best qualified person to be a school teacher, she was too ordinary, lacking the necessary aura of intelligence and charisma. Charisma may be a better persuasion for countryside teaching than knowledge. However, Wanwan was married to the son whose father held the highest political position in town. Wanwan's husband was our village idiot. However, his father, Mr. Black Heart was a frightfully evil man. We villagers always thought that it was divine intervention that his cruelty resulted in his son being retarded. There was Tao somewhere in our great country. Of course, when the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution was put to an end, Mr. Black Heart booked a room in the county jail. Twelve years of time was far from enough to punish someone who had killed, tortured and assaulted a great many men and women in a span of a few years.

Poor Wanwan, she had always to tell everyone that her marriage was arranged by her parents and she was left with no choice. The fact was that she did not put up a good fight to resist it. She might be average-looking but marrying an idiot with no education was obviously selling herself short and for a prize. In her days young people, especially those who went to high school, had gained the clout in the town life to fight for their rights. Marriage and family were in the heart of all fights between the new generation and the decadent tradition. Although Wanwan preferred that we kids in her class didn't know, we were fully aware that the whole town looked down on her. We kept quiet because none of us could afford to be at odds with Mr. Black Heart. Her marriage sent her to our classroom where a number of outstanding high school graduates were reduced to manual laborers.

Wanwan's peculiar position seemed to provide an opportunity for Mr. Rock, a married man who constantly looked for extra excitement. Some men of our species would like to try their hands on anything female. Due to his ordinary looks and ordinary talents, Mr. Rock felt abandoned by time. Only his extraordinary gift in flattery and demonstrative sweetness got him this envious position. He wanted to cash in ever so badly. In his small mind, Mr. Rock assumed that the idiot at home could not satisfy the seemingly unenlightened Wanwan. In school, Mr. Rock now considered himself an artist, a painter by virtue of playing paint day in and day out. And the paint was free, on top of all the glory. As mediocre as Mr. Rock was, the idiot who shared the bed with this deliciously round and white and silky warm body couldn't even pick up a brush. Mr. Rock was confident that he had tremendous advantage in appealing to the sleepy eye of Wanwan from that angle. There must be a soft spot in Wanwan's heart. She went to high school, did she not? Maybe some day Wanwan would pose nude for Mr. Rock. There would be a big scandal and Mr. Rock would go down as a hero in challenging the decadent culture of ours. Wouldn't that be romantic?

However, in our part of the country nothing would ever come out of this silly rat chase. Only the chase refused to come to an end. That was all. To add insult to Mr. Rock's injury, Wanwan due to her newly acquired prestige by marriage suddenly found courage to cast her little eyes directly at Lin Jianfeng, the handsome idol of the bunch in pathetic Sunny Lin. Once again Mr. Rock was reduced to his usual supporting role on the big stage.

6.

Lin Jianfeng, the head of Class 5-1, was a playboy according to local standards which meant he flirted a lot and didn't score much. Not much could be translated into action, though a few of them kept trying their luck. Jianfeng had his standards. For example, he would never return looks to the likes such as the round, curve-less Wanwan. He reviled Wanwan, for her marriage and most of all her dreadful looks.

Jianfeng himself was an outstanding student by his own right in high school. What he lacked, in comparison with Yuncheng, was the unruly spirit and undying aspiration to be different and to reach far and high. Then again, Jianfeng didn't have to be as stubborn as Yuncheng in pursuit of the extraordinary. For one thing, Yuncheng did not have Jianfeng's exceptional good looks. Women and girls came on to Jianfeng like flies after a piece of rotten meat in the summer. In Sunny Lin where women outnumbered men by five to two. In a town like this, Jianfeng was the consensus sex symbol. That alone was enough a gratification and you bet that Jianfeng thoroughly enjoyed that special attention and the tremendous feeling. Adoration was a daily occurrence for him. So what else does one need in life, really? If what you want in life comes to you easy, why struggle?

On the other hand, Wanwan wasn't the type who appreciates any wild spirit in a man. She only desired things that were appreciable, either reachable by hand or dreamable free of sweat. She thought painters were messy and oily. Poor Mr. Rock. A sex symbol or physical appearance was all what the creator ordered to satisfy Wanwan at her age and in that social environment. She preferred substance over style. Mr. Rock was right in his estimation: Wanwan's husband was so severely retarded that it was too ugly to be around at home. Sex life is not a pure physical thing. On the other hand, Mr. Rock was wrong because he did not figure out what was churning inside Wanwan's heart. Of course the idiosyncrasy of Mr. Rock wouldn't even give himself a chance to think that Wanwan had somebody else besides Mr. Rock in her mind. For Mr. Rock, room for others meant doomsday. "I have what you want, because I see you are what I want." The essential tragedy of human existence.

Wanwan was a weak person and she got along with her weakness rather well. At her tender age she had reached the point of enjoying being weak, for there were always some idiots trying to help her out, including us little school boys. She had no problem in admitting that I as her student could write better essays than she could. Her strength was that she celebrated the fact that a twelve year old could be more thoughtful, more intelligent than she was. She wasn't mad or jealous but happy. She was after all only nineteen herself. She looked at us in our eyes and decided to be a young girl again. Her skin was fair and face round and chubby. She had that girlish giggling with which a lot of the girls in our class could identify. We would play silly little games with her and she even got mad at us once or twice to remind us that we must treat her as an equal partner. Most of all, she loathed responsibility. She would ask me how to pronounce a character or what it meant in front of the whole class so that she could avoid the trouble opening up a dictionary. She just wanted to get by with the day, not learning. She gradually pushed me to deal with those rough kids who gave her troubles. She was content to stay in the background. Of course she nurtured a lot of cheap chivalry in me, that got me into a lot of trouble with those bullies in school.

On that field trip day, Wanwan's jealous young heart cooked up a plan. And the plan had me play the central task. She wanted me to keep an eye on Jianfeng the playboy because rumor said that Jianfeng was wading into some muddy water with Sunny Lin Elementary School's beauty queen, Lin Ailing.

Who could blame Jianfeng or anyone for falling for Ailing? At age 14, she was so fully developed that one would at least think that Ailing was Wanwan's older sister if the two stood together. Ailing was head and shoulders above Wanwan both in height and in beauty. Most of all Ailing was hundred times more pleasant and more elegant than Wanwan by nature. Ailing had this unique slim figure, elegant demeanor, rosy cheeks, silky hair and porcelain skin. She was one that really made some of us forget that life was actually hard. Most of all, Ailing made us proud of our soil and water. She was living proof that we lived in a spot of the earth with superb quality. Of course by the same logic we were acquiescing that Clearwater had better water because it brought up a brilliant Yuncheng that was unmatchable for years to come.

Anyway, like every girl in town, Ailing was enormously fond of the good looks of Jianfeng. God almighty, he became her teacher. Their relationship was the talk of the town. For some, it was terrible because Jianfeng was married to a gorgeous woman who just gave birth to a lovely little girl at home. Oh, those good-looking people, they never made life easy for anyone. Not that we wanted to make it less interesting for us, mind you. Rumor had it that Jianfeng was keeping Ailing in his room late into the evening. This made a number of people jealous and furious. This was partly why Wanwan asked me to keep an eye on Jianfeng and Ailing during the field trip. In school there were enough eyes behind doors, walls, bushes, windows to keep the two creatures at bay. But a field trip meant the unexpected.

7.

Before sunrise, the corner of our world was very peaceful. Not silent, as a long line of us school kids and teachers were vigorously marching towards the dark mountains. Our world was sad, poor and boring. But that morning, it was full of rich color and lively spirit. The feeling was so surreal that even the wicked, the naughty and the obnoxious among us became quiet. Our senses were overwhelmed by the magnificent display of mother nature. A faint smile was on a bigger face; a faint smile was on the sky and the whole world became nice. Happiness was only a state of mind. That morning, the late spring field was undulating with grace in fresh pink and the mountains held still with strength in its customary dark blue. That morning all the hearts beat in unison. Bodies that used to run against each other was rounded into a great harmony. Sometimes along the road of our life, however pathetic, we are presented with the sight of great beauty and vigorous vitality. It's really up to us to capture and appreciate those moments.

The foot-trail leading to Black Bear Creek winded around this beautiful stream of clear water. With all kinds of flowers and plants at their spring best, it was such a treat to the eye and all senses. Again, it was up to the eyes, souls and senses to capture the offer. We were excited to wade through the shallow streams a few times. Giggles, laughter and genuine joy rose and fell as we reached the mouth of the valley. The valley with its immense, mysterious beauty injected life and spirit into us and we in return brought the valley alive. Mr. Rock never failed to show his great knowledge of plants and flowers. And even the usually lofty Jianfeng chimed in once or twice to correct Mr. Rock or added refined details to Mr. Rock's tireless effort in illustration. It was all for fun for everyone, specially us little pupils. However, to Mr. Rock's dismay, Wanwan was full of ready compliments for Jianfeng instead of him. We kids were happy to see our teachers so relaxed and so full of esprit. Sometimes we just preferred such a friendliness to nasty infight. Their way of behavior and mood affected us so much. We were under their mercy as they molded our lives forever.

"Black Bear Creek! Black Bear Creek!" Kids in the front started to shout. It was a shout mostly for our tired legs.

"Where? Where is it?" Some of us started to ask.

Black Bear Creek was no village and had no bear, black or brown. The center of all activity was where the school was located. All it had were three log cabins hiding behind huge groves of trees. All three cabins were locked as the mountain dwellers went away to attend their business during the day. The sun shined brightly and the creek water ran free with happy spirit.

Here in Black Bear Creek we a bunch of kids who still hadn't learned how to wash our neck and behind our ears suddenly became big town snobs. We were not impressed by the storied site of the Black Bear Creek Elementary School. The school had no gate, for one thing. Could anyone imagine that? Actually it had neither walls nor fences. In China, no walls means non-entity, non-existence, not legitimate. They had no playground. All they had was a shabby straw hut. Wind and rain rendered it brown and farcical. It was like a bad toy with "this is not permanent" writing all over it.

The truth was that this straw hut had been there for more than a decade, older than most of us kids. A few kids from Black Bear Creek had graduated from this shabby hut and one girl even went to junior high down on the flat land.

The kids came out of their hut to greet us. They became intimated because we seemed to dress better and appear smarter. Girls such as Ailing made some of them silly mountain kids gasp for air. It was like they had just ran into a goddess who could move and move with grace. Although we were here to visit their classroom and its poor condition, the kids became afraid that we would laugh at their life. Indeed, some of the silly ones among us made some smart cracks. Then our teachers had to scold them to a stop.

Of course we got to meet the hero, Yuncheng. He, too, dressed funny with patches on his pants and fingernails long and dirty, more like the mountain dwellers than us big town peasants. Our teachers certainly made him look draggy by contrast. But none on the flat lands had those pair of eyes as he had. His were full of light and confidence, imagination and perhaps beauty.

"First of all, I want to welcome you all. Welcome to our humble school. I have never met so many good-looking people in my life." He laughed calmly. "You guys are so smart-looking, you made my kids nervous."

"All right, since you have traveled this far to see me and my kids, I will let you all in one family secret. The great Tang poet Wang Wei was a direct ancestor of mine. It is very possible that he had set his foot on this part of the world. I could feel him around here.

"We Chinese are the offsprings of a great people. We have to take our fate, our destiny into our own hands. We ought to believe in ourselves. I strongly believe that if given opportunity, most of us would leave a mark in this world. Many of you would do better than I have done of course. I see many bright eyes among you. We must believe." Foam started to spill onto Yuncheng's lips. He really got into his philosophy and ego trips. But it was something we didn't hear everyday. Too bad our teachers hurried him up so that we could keep our fatuous schedule. Our teachers must show that we were from the flat land thus born nobler or higher. We had to play an upper hand over the hapless mountain folks, though we came to worship his heroism.

We brought lunch, dried steam buns and the locals supplied water. After lunch, we were encouraged to climb the hills. There would be competition.

8.

"Kewen, I want you to follow Class 5-1 and watch that Lin Jianfeng as closely as you can."

"OK." I was not very enthusiastic to be a spy. But Wanwan gave me that look that I could not refuse.

It was a tough climb, steep and even dangerous from time to time. But it was fun for pre-teens like us. Each class had a red flag to put on different hill tops. Whichever flag reached the hill-top, the flag carrier must wave to the the referees stationed in the school yard with timer and a pair of binoculars. It was almost like a military exercise. But that was how we were brought up and educated.

Wanwan was right. Just as the trail was out of the sight of the judges from under the hill, Jianfeng pulled a trick. While the competition was really between the physically fit individuals of each class, the difficult part for the teacher was to take care of those physically weak and awkward.

At our age, a lot of girls were actually stronger and more capable than boys. But a few girls, like Wanwan our teacher, preferred being weak and in need of attention. Wanwan took a look of the hills and decided to remain at the school yard as a referee. The school princess, Ailing, also wanted to remain at the school yard but Jianfeng, her teacher, insisted that she go along with the rest of the class.

"You can do it." Jianfeng encouraged her with a smile. It was a handsome smile. The big difference is that Jianfeng would scold any of us boys if we showed a little hesitation. Maybe the handsome smile alerted Wanwan. They were into something which was a little beyond my scope of interests.

Anyway, I couldn't disappoint Wanwan. She was my teacher but also my little sister, so it seemed most of the time. We got things done with eye contact. It was magic. She always granted my wish, like getting mad at certain kids I didn't particularly like or backed down from those who I considered my friends. In return, I helped out with all I could in many aspects of life.

I trailed Jianfeng's class within a few yards. Normally Jianfeng was alert or had extra sense and would have caught me if I was no careful. But today he was totally concentrated on something else. As he hushed the strong and fit along, he stayed behind to take care of the weak and whiners.

Ailing, the tall, the slim, the frail, and the beautiful, was falling behind almost from the get go. She really made my job easy as long as I hid myself well. Pretty soon there was considerable distance between Jianfeng and Ailing and the rest of the eager beavers. Jianfeng of course wanted to take care of the flower that was Ailing.

Then they found a side trail and turned into some bushes. I followed along. Oh, my goodness. I saw them kissing. Wait a minutes, he was taking her pants off, putting her down and got on top of her. She was moaning. I was becoming all red. I can still hear the fresh moan decades later. It was such a beautiful spring day. Everything inflated and everything was throbbing under the bright sunshine which carefully penetrated through the thin forest haze and creek mist. I fell down on my stomach and took a little break. Then I went down before they finished their business. I felt dazed as I was almost stumbling downhill.

"What did you see?"

"Oh, nothing. I only saw Teacher Lin held Lin Ailing's hands when the trail became too steep." I looked into the distance away from the hills and the attentive eyes of Wanwan. I felt that her eagerness was so disharmonious with what was in my heart. However, what really was in my heart then? I couldn't tell. I was terribly lost. This whole field trip became depressing. Spring became suffocating all of a sudden. I was deeply disturbed. I didn't know what to do but decided to adopt the "see no evil and speak no evil" policy. I didn't want to get involved in a big scandal. Who was on top of whom was not my business.

"That little bitch." Wanwan was deeply angry at Ailing. Ailing, though in her teens, was already taller than Wanwan. The limpy arms and legs made Ailing look like a willow tree, while the short and round figure of Wanwan seemed graceless in comparison. Jealousy turned Wanwan really ugly. I started to have second thought of her being my closest buddy.

However, the outdoors love-making scene was seen by someone else. Lin Lili, daughter of our school Headmaster Lin Yueyang saw them with binoculars. Lili had also reached her puberty. She, too, was quite developed. While Ailing was limpy thus appeared slim and tall. Lin Lili was just as tall as Lin Ailing. But Lili had the typical local women's thick, big thighs and waist and big upper body. Our women were made to be good workers in the field and at home. Only a few of them offered some aesthetic value for some chauvinist eyes. So by comparison, Lili looked at least ten years older than Ailing and half as attractive, in the eye of Jianfeng or any man breathing our dry air. Although some sick old men would volunteer their opinion that they preferred Lili to Ailing, Lili wanted her share of attention in the same arena where Ailing played. Specifically, Lili wanted to attract the eye of Jianfeng. She made no bones of her desire. Only Lili failed the competition miserably against Ailing. This made Lili fierce, for she secretly felt that the school was her play field because of her father's position and because Mr. Rock flattered her tail off all the time.

The funny thing was that Wanwan was too lazy to take care of her jealousy. But Lili was energetically doing her part. She had the sense of carrying these magnificent military binoculars and saw more than I did. The scandal was thus brought to an all school meeting. That day we saw human waste was tossed in our school yard.

This episode of life would have fast faded as my brain cells become old and complacent. I didn't want to remember those ugly moments of life anyhow. However, as it turned out, most of us Chinese had this home-coming habit. I knew I didn't have to come back to where I grew up. But being Chinese, I couldn't help. I am afraid that someday I would die at the spot where I was born. Something in life is really irresistible.
 

1.

When Xiong'er could barely sit up, we bought him a high chair. He fell in love with that piece of colorful plastic and metal 'toy' of his and could spend hours in it. Amazing was that the high chair provided a platform for him to pick up spilled rice after dinner. His act was nothing short of mesmerizing to me. His clumsy hand would inevitably spill some rice here and there, that was normal for a 7 month old. But he had an eye on them. His proportionally large head cocked to the side, big eyes totally focused on a few scattered grains of rice which were barely distinguishable from the white surface of the high chair. Yet his little jelly fingers managed to pick them up one by one and put them into his mouth. If you are a baby, everything goes through your mouth. Mouth is the human organ that got developed first from the day a little body is separated from the mother's body. There he was, barely holding up his heavy head and yet completing a rather difficult task. It was such a scene. It reminded me of no other than my own father. My father would squat down, head cocked to the side, totally concentrated, picking grains of wheat off the ground where we had just aired our harvest.

Little babies grew up fast.

"Xiong'er, finish your dinner." I hear myself saying this often these days.

"I'm not hungry, mama." He addressed everything to his mama, even when he was talking to his daddy.

"Please don't waste food, Xiong'er."

"My tummy is full, mama."

"..." I had a hard time containing my emotions.

"Do you know, Xiong'er ..."

"What?"

"When Daddy was little, there was no food."

"No food? Humm?" The concept perplexed him to no end. His head, now more proportional with his body, was churning and trying to understand this. Thinking make it cock to the side again.

Xiong'er does not finish dinner. It's a daily occurrence now. This bothers me a great deal. For those of us who went through starvation, wasting food is a cardinal sin. I have to do something about this. I have to plant some concept into Xiong'er's head to make him realize how precious food still is to many of us in this world.

"I am going to take Xiong'er to the village where I grew up so he can see by first hand what "no food" is." I talk to my wife.

"But you said folks in your village are no longer starving."

"That's true. Humm?"

"Plus, Xiong'er is too small to travel that far." Mothers are forever protective. No wonder Xiong'er always addresses everything to Mama.

"He is six years old now and I want to take him there before he gets into elementary school."

"The dirty air there would get him sick for sure." My wife starts to walk away from another of my daily inspirations.

"The air there is cleaner than anywhere on earth. You've got to trust that life can rise up to any challenges and overcome any adversity. Overcoming adversities is called living." Maybe some day Xiong'er will pick up my babbling habit.

"What's that?"

"Never mind."

2.

"Xiong'er, Daddy will take you to the village while Daddy grew up."

"Where?"

"In China, very, very far."

"Do I get to take airplanes?"

"Yeah. And train and bus. Noisy buses."

"Cool. I want to go with you, Daddy."

"We will be away from your mama for a few days."

"That's OK, Daddy. Is that OK, Mama?"

"I suppose." My wife is not too enthusiastic thus very nonchalant. Maybe she thinks that I am just talking or babbling.

Xiong'er is a good sport in the airplane and hotels. He likes everything he sees. Even when I am tired of all the air travel, trains and buses, he keeps my spirit up by finding things fresh and interesting.

"Look, Daddy, that grannie is carrying chickens in a big cage on her back. Funny she moves that big cage."

"Look there, Daddy. That uncle is pulling a big wheelbarrow, with lots stuff on it. Go, Uncle, go."

"..."

People would stare at this cute little guy who speaks fluent English. Some smile and others don't. Are we from the Mars? But we really look like them. Strange.

"When are we going to the village, Dad?"

"Tomorrow."

"Why not today?"

"Because the bus has left."

"Why don't we take a taxi? That grandpa wants to drive us."

"It's too expensive."

The next day we took the morning bus to the village. Coming back with my son to the place where I left as a teenager makes me feel like a foreigner. Nothing is familiar to my eyes any more. All the shanty houses are gone. Everything is rebuilt with new bricks and cement. Some streets disappeared and others altered. I could easily get lost in my own village.

Xiong'er's cousins love him to death. And they, too, don't finish their meals. There went the meaning of my trip, except for the part that I take Xiong'er to burn some paper money at the now flattened site of his grandparents. Burning paper money is absolutely fun to Xiong'er who does not care about the concepts of remembrance and tradition.

We take the evening bus back to our hotel in the city. There is no room in my brother's house. I don't feel comfortable with the newly built place. I feel lost there. I couldn't stand the alienation.

3.

"Are we going back to California, Daddy?"

"No, Xiong'er. We are going to visit Black Bear Creek?"

"What's that? Are we going to see some black bears? Yikes. I am scared."

"No, it's a village up in the mountains."

"Which mountains?"

"Ah, the mountains that share the same name with you."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you will see, dear."

4.

Now the hotel tells us that we can't check out and in as we plan to stay one or two nights away. Customer service is still a foreign concept in this part of country. That's OK, they at least allow us to store our luggage for free, thanks to Xiong'er for standing out and making folks know that we are from some place else. Anything or anyone from outside of this country is treated slightly more decently. People adore Xiong'er wherever he goes. That brings a lot of convenience to us.

Another bus ride takes us to the foot of the great mountains. As we are getting off the bus, I suddenly realize that we have lost the chance to wind around the Clearwater River. The bus didn't go through the town I grew up and went straight up from the other side of Clearwater River. The trees are too tall for us to see anything out of the bus windows. And the rocking made us too sick to look anyway.

The bus reaches Black Bear stop about noon. There we check into a small family inn, the worst condition Xiong'er has ever seen in his life. It's like the "Little Farm" and the pigsty. But folks are really friendly. They have seen many travelers but never anyone who comes from the U.S. and yet speaks the local dialect. And this Xiong'er has that great charm that nobody could resist.

"This is how people live and some kids have no food." I seize the opportunity to preach, in English of course, for I don't want to offend anyone here. "And you will see worse up there in the mountains." Black Bear is not yet Black Bear Creek.

Xiong'er has no recollection but I can tell that the condition up in the mountains has improved a great deal. The foot trail that winds around the Black Bear Creek, the upstream of Clearwater River, has been widened and reinforced with gravels and pebbles. I can even see tire marks of motor vehicles. I start to have strange feelings. Rationally, I should be happy that life has been changed for the better for folks in this corner of the world. But emotionally I really miss the tranquility of yesterday, the out of this worldly peace of the valley. The tire marks are like a loud invasion and almost renders my trip meaningless and my mind paralyzing. Some parts of the world are not meant to be civilized.

Xiong'er does not know the difference. He no longer sees clean Toyota Camries running up the highway here. Folks here still carry stuff, heavy stuff, on their shoulders. The amount people can carry really amazes him and reminds me of a lot of the hardship in the past.

Still, there is no reason for me to disturb Xiong'er's happy mood. Xiong'er and I play along and we inch towards the school of memory. I really hope that the school is still there and remains the same. But I no longer have the confidence. Life should change for the better. Only sometimes better does not necessarily mean good, that's all.

5.

The moment my eyes meet Yajuan's eyes, a thunder exploded from under my feet. The land starts to flatten by tilting to one side then the other. I mean mountains big and small, valley deep and shallow, start to even out or fade away. Even the air becomes little thinner. Breath became heavy and difficult. My body starts to fly and my mind starts to drift.

Ye Yajuan, do you know your eyes have awaken me up so many times in the dreams of my adult life already? No, I don't particularly remember your face because you were one of the girls. I didn't pay too much attention to you at all when I was in high school. Yet I remember your eyes to every minute detail. I have heard the call from those big smiling eyes with that long eyelashes so many times. I have been reduced to tears when I close my eyes and see them smiling at me. They are large and affectionate. They have been telling me how love is transmitted through eyes without the convenient vehicle of language. Eyes become beautiful because they express love; love sparkles because it is transmitted through the eye. True love does not need words to transmit.

Yajuan has changed. In my memory she was very frail with dark complexion when she was in her teens. Kids often joked that a gust of wind would blow her off the cliff. She was quiet, frowning a lot. She didn't socialize much with us local kids as she was transferred from a sizable city.

But now, more than a decade later, she has become quite a beauty and her skin shed its former shade and becomes smooth and fair. I don't know whether it's the sweet water in the mountains that nurtures her skin or her skin has stretched out to show her youthful beauty. The fact is that she is here. She teaches at Black Bear Creek Elementary School.

"Kewen!?" she recognizes me almost at the first split second when her eyes meet me. Oh, those eyes. Screaming out, she instantly becomes pale and pink in the matter of seconds.

"..." I stand there like a fool, for I don't remember her name. Ah, those eyes! Those eyes belong to you.

"Yajuan?" I mumbled under my breath. My brain muscles still have some good reflexes, which temporarily saved me from embarrassment.

"You remember me and my name?" Yajuan starts to cry.

"Of course, how could I ever forget?" I am a good actor.

"You mean you knew."

"Not exactly. But time has revealed a lot and dreams don't lie." I talk like an idiot but I am telling nothing but the truth.

Tears starts to stream down her cheeks.

"Xiong'er, this is Yajuan Ayi (auntie)." I try to use Xiong'er to get us out of the situation.

"Xiong'er? Your son? He is so beautiful. So handsome, just like you, a carbon copy of you." Yajuan let all her affection out on Xiong'er.

"Ayi, you are very beautiful."

"Such a sweet child. I wish your daddy ... oh, how would I know?" Yajuan takes Xiong'er into her arms and Xiong'er gives her a big hug and a sweet kiss. Yajuan starts to smile and I start to breathe more easily.

6.

This is mind boggling. Not only did the Black Bear Creek Elementary School get a new building with electricity, road paved, walls with cement foundation, they also have this breathtaking Yajuan teaching here. The later development simply blows my mind off.

Yajuan is one of those people who becomes more beautiful with age. She might have some childhood trauma that prevented her from blossoming at the appropriate age. For one thing, she seemed incredibly skinny in my memory. Only now her beauty extends herself fully. She is natural, without an ounce of makeup. Her hair is black shining. She is still tall and slim and now curvaceous. The most astonishing part of her beauty is her calm and poise. Coming from a society of flamboyant commercialism and "look at me" mentality, she is nothing short of a mouthful of fresh air, so beautiful and so calm. Only the unexpected reunion made her blush for a few moments. And those big eyes and exceptional long eye-lashes. I feel that she would kill me with her eyes. I have to look away.

"I know you would come ..." her eyes resume that trademark smile familiar to me in my dreams.

"I know I would come but I had no idea I would see you here. When did you come and why did you become a teacher here?"

"You ask big questions. I love to talk to you. I am dying to talk to you. I thought that I would never have a chance to tell you all this. Do you plan to stay long or you are in a big hurry like in the past?"

"I literally spent 15 to 16 years in Sunny Lin."

"But you left for good before I had the courage to introduce myself to you."

"I don't remember you speak this sharply." I try to make fun of her.

"I can't afford to be wish-washy any longer. Anyway, let's get Xiong'er some lunch. He must be hungry and tired after walking for so long. He is so handsome. He is more handsome than you were when you were a child."

"I know. I didn't know there was McDonald's in this damn world." My humor doesn't seem to work on her as she is still serious. "I suppose I can spend two days here. Is that a big hurry?"

"Not really. Maybe one day is good enough because I will accompany you and Xiong'er back to the city to see you off. This way I can talk to you more. I am a good talker now." She smiles sheepishly.

"That would be lovely."
 

1.

I came to Sunny Lin when I was eleven. My grandma, a pediatrician, came back to where she was born to help deliver healthy babies or to reduce infant mortality rate in the town hospital. I was sent here later to live with her because my parents were sent to Xinjiang to reform their bourgeois minds. I love my grandma and don't mind living with her at all. But I hated situation I was thrown in, for it meant punishment and exile. The most depressing part was that I didn't even know if I would see my parents ever again.

I didn't like Sunny Lin Elementary School at all at the very beginning. There was nothing in the school that delighted me. The desks and benches were awkward and worn out, buildings were no more than shanty houses, kids were dirty and teachers lousy with bad manners. Oh, boy, it was doldrums of big time. I wished to speak to no one. I wanted the whole world to leave me alone. I wasn't pleasant, even though teachers and kids were extra nice to me because I was a city kid. I was simply woeful.

Then I saw you. It was strange, I almost immediately spotted you in the corner of my eye the first day I reported to this new school, though were in the same grade but not in the class. I was assigned to Class 4-2. I didn't like the accent of the local speech, though I had been familiar with it since my childhood as grandpa spoke it. However, whenever I listened to you speak in front of the whole school, my bias started to melt down. Sure you had unwashed neck, and dirty clothes, just like the rest of the kids. But you had a totally different manner. You have this spirit that seemed to transcend the whole town, the whole land, and maybe the whole world. For one thing, you spoke from your heart. And your heart was peaceful and confident. Your heart buoyed my soul.

You woke me up. You made me open my eyes. You spoke to me in my dreams, "Yajuan, if you open your eyes, you will find something even in this corner of the world that would make you happy or at least less miserable." So, life started to come back to me. I started to respond. All was because of you. And the beauty was that you didn't even know all the transactions in my heart. I was secretly savoring all those years that I was the only one who discovered something in you. It was incredible. Suddenly my world was not that deplorable any more. I started to see sunny skies and even wandered under the perfect moon-lit evening alone a few times. The countryside was peaceful. The sky was so big and stars so numerous in Sunny Lin as opposed to the city where I grew up.

Till today I have never seen anyone like you in my life. Maybe a person is only allowed to meet one person in her life time.

However, thanks to the culture we lived in, my misery changed from one type to another as it was virtually impossible for a twelve year old girl to approach another twelve year old boy in this sick feudal hotbed. By the time I discovered you, I had also noticed that the countryside is full of watchful eyes and punishing forces. There is such a stupid line between boys and girls, men and women that feelings and emotions are rendered homely. Hearts are made to wither at an early age. In the city, boys and girls loved to be with each other. Here, it was scandalous as if we could commit adultery at that age. What the hell got into folks' head here? The irony was that the only legitimate activity out of emotion, as I found out later, was adultery. Maybe the prevention program must start from young age. Yet it was like planting seeds.

Anyway, you couldn't imagine how frustrating it was for a girl like me who was so used to be friends with anyone, boy or girl, not so long ago. You know what? Boys were dumb at that age. Yes, you were included. You had no idea what was going on in a girl's mind. It was so unfair to expose a young girl to such a brutal frustration.

What was nice about being young was that I didn't give up; or the life inside me didn't want to give up. I went out my way to spy on you. I first made friends with the girl next door to you. You remember HuiHui, don't you? I wasn't particularly fond of HuiHui because she was really slow mentally. She was a lot of what I really resented at the time about Sunny Lin. However, the flip side of the coin was that secrets were safe with her; nuances went undetected thus unsuspected. Like many countryside folks, HuiHui and her family were really honest, nice and kind. They were so thrilled that I chose HuiHui to be my friend. Since I lived with my grandma, I had no obligation to raise pigs or goats or help with farm work so I volunteered to help out HuiHui's family. In exchange, HuiHui made it possible for me to stay as close to you as possible. My heart followed you like a compass needle. I was so thrilled to eavesdrop on you. I was an actual participant during many evenings when you were story-telling for the kids in the village. You had no idea that I was only a few feet away on the other side of the wall. I had heard all the stories you were telling beforehand. But I was moved to tears many times because the way you were telling them, with such love and incredible creativity. You were the stories, as opposed to being the channel of the stories. You had a way to touch my heart and the hearts of those kids without even trying. I had no idea that one person could lock heart with another person so easily and so readily. Ah, the details, a word, a gesture, everything from you drew me closer and closer to you through the years. Those were monumental moments in my life; the feelings were precious, until today and many years to come.

You remember my eyes? I am so happy to hear you say this. Yes, I couldn't take my eyes off you whenever I had a chance to look at you. You became my source of life. I talked like I were eight hundred years old. You are right. You should know how fast we aged these years. The difference between you and me was that I had feelings and you had time. Still I had no idea that you would disappear from my sight in such a hurry.

Remember that evening? Who could forget that evening? That evening it rained incessantly. Only I loved every minute of the rain. Rain brought me closer to you. That evening the rain was so poetic. That evening I was struck by your explanation of the Black Bear Creek field trip, a trip I didn't go because I was new to the school and didn't feel particularly well that day. The human waste throwing scene at school meeting disgusted me. I couldn't eat that day. Grandma thought I was ill. I was, in my heart and all over. It was so ugly.

However, your story telling softened my heart. I felt like a fool. There was a much broader story behind the nastiness of the scandal. There was life and struggle everywhere, especially in the countryside where life is harder and more boring. Folks in the countryside didn't try any less hard than we did in the cities.

Of course, I had no idea about the story of Wang Yuncheng. There was action, failure and success in the countryside life. And you summarized them so well. Only a heart with genuine love could see everything so free of bias. From that evening on, I stopped my obsessive inward-looking. I started to take interest in what was going on around me in this earthy little town. And later I became obsessed about that field trip episode recreated through your story-telling To revisit that part of life and again was my way to remember you and cherish my feelings for you. Ah, that evening. The story of your heart-felt narration was so beautiful that I actually cried that night in bed. I felt ashamed of myself for being weak and wobbly about my own suffering. The difference between the city and the countryside was so enormous and yet life in the mountains were even worse. I heeded your message. You were not just satisfying the kids' curiosity of the fights between teachers. You were outlining the beauty of the land and that character of the local folks in the name of Yuncheng. You saw something deeper in the heart, the land and the mountains. You had love in your heart for the land and for the people. The kids were so silent that evening. They were captured by your emotions. They were overwhelmed by something deep and wide. You gave them a piece of your heart. I almost cried on the spot. I wanted to go to Black Bear Creek and knelt down to cry, in the way folks mourn their dead here in the village. I used to shake my head when I saw that but I gradually understand the deeper meaning of the ritual. I started to appreciate the misery and its venting channels. Life shouldn't be this hard on anyone. Heart is the same soft and tender everywhere.

I cried once I got to Black Bear Creek. I went to Black Bear Creek with HuiHui and others. We had the time to climb a hill there. It was also spring time. Once on top, I saw how beautiful the landscape was and yet I saw folks toiled with the land and carrying stuff, heavy stuff, struggling on the road, back to the sky and face to the ground. I burst out in tears. I couldn't control myself any longer. HuiHui and others were in big panic. Of course they were more surprised when I suddenly shifted to laughter, really crazy laughter. I never did that thing in my life. But I felt that way. The environment was just right for me.

"What's wrong, Yajuan? What's wrong, Yajuan?" HuiHui took me into her arms like a mother. She was only a year older but really looked like my mother in appearance. She had a big strong body and her facial expression was very motherly.

"..." I looked into the empty eyes of HuiHui and couldn't say anything. She wouldn't understand me, I thought.

"You miss Kewen, right?" After a long silence, she actually murmured out a line. You were in college by then.

"Not exactly." I wasn't lying to her. You may have got me started on this track but my mind was not full of you at that moment. At a higher altitude, I saw a lot about life more than what my own heart could contain and my mind could comprehend.

However, I remember everything you said; everything out of your mouth reached my ears then my heart. I remember that you mentioned in Yuncheng's speech that he was directly related with the Tang poet Wang Wei. When I read Yu Qiuyu's prose "Yangguan Snow" I started to get moved in a fresh way. Suddenly there was you, my childhood love. Suddenly I had the desire to see Yuncheng, the offspring of Wang Wei. Suddenly I feel that my love for the man has become love for all the good men around me who struggled for a better life what would never be. Love was blossoming with such force. You know, I almost fell in love with Yuncheng. My heart was so aged that I felt I belonged to his age group. You were my angel who delivered a great message to my heart but you had no idea how much I had in my body and soul. In terms of men and women, you were way too young for me. And you were gone.

I fell in love with the way Yuncheng talked, hands constantly waving, saliva coming out of his mouth, eyes fiercely staring at his audience. He spoke with substance and conviction. He had a brain and he used that thing. Like everything else in my life, I was too late. Far from what was reported in the newspapers, he was driven to Black Bear Creek by love.

2.

Until death befell him, Yuncheng always believed that he gave up everything down on the flat land on behalf of the kids up in the mountains. He chose to be a teacher and his aspiration was none other than teaching pupils. He was unique because he was determined to get out of the traditional mode of doing things. He dared to start from scratch in carving his own niche in a society that is thousands of years of age and stiffening by the second. One could say that he was willing to take the risk to fail; but in Yuncheng's mind, failure never loomed larger than an accidental annoyance. The opportunity to break new ground got his blood going and the pioneering to fill the blanks of the young minds up in the mountains made him feel like a man. He may appear frailer than those thick bodies who could move mountains but his heart and will were infinitely stronger.

On the hand, few people knew, even Yuncheng himself refused to acknowledge or believe, that his heart was struck by the tremendous beauty of Xie Yulan. His fateful meeting with Yulan marked the point of no return for him. Black Bear Creek became a huge magnet and Yuncheng became a little needle in her epic attraction.

It was strange. Yuncheng never heard of Xie Yulan before he met the person, though rumor was circling around the area for years about a phenomenal beauty residing deep in the Black Bear Creek. Legends said that since she moved into the mountains, the Clearwater River had become more elegant and charming. Little yellow or green sticky stuff started to clear away between pebbles in the riverbed thus the river ran with a greater tranquility, clarity and purpose.

Back in Yuncheng's mind the Clearwater River attracted him with its natural grace since he was a small child. He couldn't wait to go up stream and to explore the possibilities of a hydroelectric dam there. He had read into hydroelectricity for years before he became a teacher in Clearwater Elementary School. Electricity fascinated him and also frustrated him, for he knew that he may not be able to see electricity in his life. Or the damn country wouldn't have enough resources to send electricity to this forgotten corner of his. Building a hydroelectric dam was a radical idea because even the flat land had no electricity and in the county capital, a sizable city, folks were still goshing about their electric street lights at the time. Yuncheng saw advancement of life in electricity. He couldn't stand a minute of the backwardness and its stagnation. Above all, he took matters into his own hands.

It was not easy task. Yuncheng sustained a few unfruitful attempts. So, on an April Sunday in 1964 Yuncheng decided to do a whole day exploration. Now his teaching job allowed him the luxury of such a leisure trip.

That was a unique day. The valley of Black Bear Creek was full of the energy or qi of the Yin variety, warm, damp and intoxicating. The air was sweetened by flowers and plants. The great aroma of the spring made him, the consummate romantic type, drunk in the heart. He was moved to the point of poetry thus he wrote a poem for this particular April.
 

April is soft breeze
and slips by without notice

Rich colors and fantastic aroma
All induce numbness

Look, it's April again
Not until October

when the days suddenly lose their long legs
and darkness laughs in my face

I will once again remember and regret
how she has slipped between my fingers

After having endured so many winters
life becomes pale under the blanket of despair

This is the first year I actually wake up
Ah, April, please spare me a hug

Let this silent soul remember forever
This April is ripe while it passes me by again

"Umm." A human voice.

"Ah..." He heard a human voice and looked around. His mouth gaped at the sight of the beauty. In his wildest dreams, he couldn't even come up with such a creature, slim and tall and curvaceous, casually and grim color clothes couldn't hide her magnificent figure. Her hair, my goodness, her hair was absolutely black drifting down behind her back matching the beauty of Monkey Apron, the quiet waterfall. Something was lofty about her and yet she stood there in the spring sunlight with a calm expression. And those big expressive eyes of sparkles could stop an army or start a new war.

"Who is she? Why is she here?" Yuncheng started to wonder. But he controlled himself because he did not want to be rude and meddlesome.

"The creek water is sweet and pure. You don't need to boil it to drink. Be a man." Here words were pretty sharp. Only extremely confident women speak this way in life. Her eyes were fixed into his without blinking while her hands combing her freshly washed hair casually with joy. "What are you doing there? Doing your homework up in the mountains? That's a romantic notion." She didn't allow him to interrupt her and continued her comments.

Yuncheng wasn't bothered by her sarcastic remarks. He was amazed by the way she talked. She talked with an obviously educated tone and noble manner which were definitely not local, let alone mountainous. "Who is she?" Yuncheng was a calm person under most circumstances. Today he was in total shock in his heart but still he did show any sign of his astonishment. Still he had a hard time remembering where he was even. He tried to pull his mind back from the illusion that he had just bumped into a fairy, a non-human spirit. According to ancient teaching, the more beautiful she is, the more harmful the experience is to one's health. The only problem is that Yuncheng took pride in his education and believed in no superstition.

"It's hard for me to understand why people came to the source of sweet water carrying a dirty tin can." Wow, such sharp wits and wonderful accent. She finished washing her hair and wrapped up her stuff and left rather abruptly. Yuncheng was dumbfounded because she seemed to have more education than he did. How could this be? She spoke with great precision and elegance. Sure, she seemed to be making of mockery of his dirty tin can but her comments made perfect sense. One must remember the concept of ethos: the same exact words spoken by different people create entirely different effects. Yuncheng forgave her. No, Yuncheng let her into his heart, though unconsciously.

"I am thinking of building a hydroelectric dam here. Right here. Do you think ..." Yuncheng caught himself just in time. Why would she care? But he caught a glimpse of a smile from her. It was a smile which may or may not be a true smile. Still that beautiful face haunted him day and night and sped up many decisions for the rest of his life.

That smile and that valley were on Yuncheng's mind for weeks to come. He couldn't concentrate any more on his teaching job. The Monkey Apron and the nameless fairy had captured his soul. He walked among mere mortals soul-less thus heartless and mindless. He broke up with the young woman who had the nerve to play with his patience and flirt with other men, much less men they were! So despicable?

3.

Xie Yulan, easily the greatest beauty that had ever graced this corner of the world of meager land and towering misfortunes and rocky mountains, settled in Black Bear Creek with the least fanfare and a great deal of mystery and secrecy. Rumor said that she was the daughter of a former KMT military man, princess of a five star general. Furthermore, she was born out of wedlock. Her mother was a rebellious high society teenager from the beautiful port city Qingdao.

As an infant Xie Yulan was passed from hand to hand to a series of Ah Mas. It was a watershed experience. For some people childhood trauma makes them bitter and revenge-minded; they grow up as obstructive forces in society. Only a few of the souls who actually appreciate the challenge in being traumatized; they are true gold and the more fire they go through the purer they become. Xie Yulan was one of the latter. The lack of a normal childhood only added strength to her character.and she turned that traumatic experience into spectacular feminine strength: her own beauty with great love and intelligence, as opposed to her mother's menace with resentment and laziness over the general's abandonment and many of her failed love affairs. On top of Yulan's natural beauty was her acquired grace that was not only scarce in this part of the world but the world as a whole. She belonged to a special few women in China who were actually educated, thanks to her father's towering position.

Yulan was a student back in Peking when the Communists struck fast as they were taking over the country by big chunks. The general had a few mistresses and concubines but he loved no one but this daughter. When Peking was surrounded by the People's Liberation Army, General Xie sent out his personal bodyguard to rescue his treasure love from the fallen city.

Gao Yuan, General Xie's bodyguard, was an extremely talented young man. He mastered the art of Hua Shan swords at a very young age. With almost minimum training, he became a devastating marksman during the war time. He was ambitious but his disadvantage was that he was born into a poor mountainous family. His luck took a good turn when General Xie discovered him. This General Xie was a remarkable man. He had an extra sense that no matter how much power you have now, you are going to be in a jam some day. With such a self-imposed insecurity, he went everywhere to recruit talents and surround himself with talents and trusted souls. He treated talents with respect and goodness. For example, he attended many provincial Kung Fu contests. There he found Gao Yuan and invested a lot in this seemingly one-dimensional young man. He knew that Gao Yuan was much more a complete person and took him as his personal guard. Sure enough, when the Communists started to turned the table on the KMT on the battle fronts, Gao Yuan saved his life a few times on close calls. When General Xie saw Gao Yuan paid special attention to one of his mistresses, the general simply let him have her. In return, Gao Yuan would do almost anything for General Xie, including giving up his life.

Gao Yuan got the young lady out of the big city all right. But they had trouble catching up with the tidal retreat of the KMT army. After some debate and hesitation in mind he brought Yulan over to Black Bear Creek and hid in the mountains. With his extraordinary ability, Gao Yuan could have sneaked past the battle front and caught up with his good general. However, Gao Yuan knew that the KMT was not going to recover its past glory. Gao Yuan's mountainous background did not prepare for re-rooting in any place that was too far off the yellow earth. Plus the great beauty of Xie Yulan intrigued him in a different way. From now on he wanted to make independent plans.

Yulan was only 16 that year. It was highly romantic for her to be rescued out of a city surrounded by hundreds of thousands of enemy troops. Her prince came riding high on a white horse and took her out of the city with ease. It made her heart beat faster. Gao Yuan was no doubt her hero. She would do whatever Gao Yuan told her to do. So she came to Black Bear Creek willingly and happily. She seemed to feel safe here. She felt empowered here among strong towering mountain peaks.

Black Bear Creek was not too far from where Gao Yuan grew up. He loved this spot when he was a kid. He dug a cave half way up on a cliff with stone steps leading to its carefully disguised entrance. Nobody but Xie Yulan and himself were allowed in. No one knew that the cave had two secret exits, like emergency exits or escape channels. Everything was carefully measured and planned in Gao Yuan's hands.

Yulan became Gao Yuan's wife, not by choice but by fate. Yulan offered no protest. Gao Yuan's physical prowess was stimulating when she was young and dreamy. She was all smiles. When she smiles, she is like a goddess. That made Gao Yuan really proud and happy. Only in the long run, her desire for deep appreciation and minute understanding created a huge void in her heart. During the days that the Communist authority went after her and Gao Yuan, she even wished that they got captured so that the relationship could end. But most of the time, survival instinct kept her heart quiet and suppressed.

Eventually Gao Yuan himself realized that Yulan was too much a beautiful thing for him to keep. His life was too limited to accompany her for the long journey. The mismatch was sad and profound. Gao Yuan aged faster than he expected. He realized that life has many more aspects than he could command by sheer physical prowess and steel will.

"You can't be seen by others!" Gao Yuan kept repeating that to Yulan through the years, though his voice has become smaller and smaller. Not many people in the valley of Black Bear Creek had ever seen Yulan in person. So it was purely accidental that Yuncheng bumped into Yulan. It was a special day. Yulan only came out to wash and play when the valley was absolutely empty of human existence. Also Yulan was lured out of her cave by that brightness and charm and rich aroma of that April day. Fate dictated that when Yulan spotted Yuncheng, she didn't retreat and hide at all. Something inexplicable happened and she even volunteered her comments. She appeared calm but her heart was touched by this young man. She had the strong desire to reach out to him, with no regard to consequences.

That day Gao Yuan went deep into the mountains to hunt mountain boars. He kept Yulan and himself well-fed. Even when the rest of the country experienced great starvation, his cave was well-stocked with dried and preserved meat and vegetables. For him to get a bag of grains from any guarded or unguarded structure was like a snap of fingers. Gao Yuan was a master in things as such. Anyone who got in his way would be knocked out for days. However, he never touched anything within fifty miles of radius. He even went out of his way to deliver some timely gifts in the forms of food, clothing and cash to local authorities and some desperate folks. When others wanted to thank him, he always begged them to leave him and Xie Yulan alone.

4.

"I saw a nice young man today by Monkey Apron." Yulan greeted Gao Yuan in a rather rebellious tone late that evening. This was the first time in years that she started a conversation. She hadn't initiated a conversation for a long time since they settled at Black Bear Creek. Today she spoke with obvious defiance and spirit.

"Young man? What young man?" Gao Yuan was startled big time. The day long hunting made him tired but the topic put him on immediate alert as his eyes beamed some frightful lights.

"He looked like a student who wanted to build a dam on the waterfall."

"A dam? What good does a dam do here?"

"For electricity ..." she looked at him with some ill feeling.

"Ah ... is that doable?" Things in the books were what alienated Gao Yuan the most all his life. He carefully avoid subject in such a variety in front of Yulan. When unavoidable, he became subdued and yielding.

"I think so. But he needed a lot of help."

"What kind of help?" Help is a concept that Gao Yuan felt close to.

"Well, money, material, workers and equipment, you know."

"Hmm? But why does he want to build dam here?"

"I don't know. You want to find out or you want me to find out for you."

"Let me do it. Don't let others ..." He stopped half way under her resentful stare.

The conversation brought a strange feeling upon Gao Yuan. He was not jealous, even after he learned the fact that Yulan had talked with the young man. However, the unknown young man had aroused a great deal of curiosity and suspicion in his busy heart. He led such a life that it dictated that he suspected everything and everyone out of habit. Anyone new to the valley alerted him first. Actually his cave was at such a position so that he was the first to see any invading force into the valley. In other words before danger came he was ready to strike or to retreat through those carefully crafted exits and routes.

5.

Partly because Yuncheng's heart was left in Black Bear Creek, he was not terribly frightened when a strange man sat on his bed smoking a tobacco pipe late Monday night when he was too excited to sleep. How can you frighten someone whose heart is left in some place else? Sure the man looked strong, athletic and his eyes were like those of a vulture. But Yuncheng did not appear scared. That impressed Gao Yuan.

"How did you get in here?" Yuncheng asked calmly.

"I have my ways of course. My question is what do you want in Black Bear Creek?" Gao Yuan cut to the chase. He had no fear.

"I see. You are from Black Bear Creek ..."

"Heard you wanted to build a dam by Monkey Apron."

"Yeah. I am looking into it."

"Well, my wife told me that you told her that."

"Your wife? Oh, I see. You are a lucky man I must say."

"Don't even bother." Gao Yuan became severe.

"All right. Tell me what you really came here for." Yuncheng refused to be intimated by the man who appeared like a mountain boar. A mountain boar, right, that was how he appeared to him.

"What do you really want to do in Black Bear Creek?" Gao Yuan's eyes were beaming with threat and anxiety.

"I want to build a school up there."

"A school? Are you serious?"

"Of course I am. I am tired to teaching in the school down here which has formed its own ways. I want a school of my own. I want to go where no one has gone to." Yuncheng seemed to have forgot that this man came to investigate him with threat and hostility.

"Who will be the teachers?"

"I will be."

"You mean you'll resign from your current job?"

"You got it. Wait, how do you know I am a teacher?"

"Never mind. But I like the idea of building a school there."

"So you support my idea?"

"Hell, yes. Let me know what you need. You will be surprised by how much I can help you."

"You had nailed the deal for me, big brother." Yuncheng smiled. He was happy. It had been a happy day for him.

"Remember, I have one condition."

"What is that?" Yuncheng asked without much enthusiasm.

"You will let my wife get involved with the school. She needs a school for her own good."

"Ah, that. No problem. I like very much that someone could help me out. You know, I could get sick and my family down here may need me from time to time. It is so reassuring to have someone to take care of business when I become unable."

"I mean my wife has to get involved much more that spot duties."

"That's what I mean: we can co-teach the school."

"Don't eat your own words." Gao Yuan stood up to pat Yuncheng. Yuncheng also stood up. Gao Yuan was a little shorter but his hand was very heavy and his stare severe.

"Also, my wife's involvement can't be known by others, except those students of course."

"I don't want to take all the credit but I guess I have to." Yuncheng winked at Gao Yuan but Gao Yuan wasn't amused.

"You will see, young mister. There is much more credit than you can claim and you must claim them all."

Young mister? Yuncheng knew that this man of unknown age and background was a member of the previous regime. For one thing, teachers were addressed simply as teachers now.

Yuncheng had no idea that Gao Yuan used to be a construction worker in the provincial capital during the war, before his involvement with General Xie of course, and his knowledge of cement, rock cutting and water usage all came very, very handy in building both the school and the dam. It was Gao Yuan, instead of Yuncheng, who was instrumental in erecting the first small hydroelectric dam in this province of China's hinterland. All Yuncheng did was writing proposals for cement and the generator. All in all, it was pretty simple stuff.

It was actually Gao Yuan who pushed Yuncheng to speed up the process in building the school for Black Bear Creek. After that evening visit, Gao Yuan became obsessed with the school idea. Of course he did not tell anyone, not even Yulan that his heart desired a school for the goodness of Yulan. He couldn't stand the withering of Yulan's heart and spirit. He wanted that school right now so that Yulan could have something to look forward to and feel thrilled about every day. He was waiting anxiously for the school to complete. He didn't even worry about the potential complication that Yulan would get closer to Yuncheng who had a lot more to offer to her than he ever would in this life. Instead, Gao Yuan felt that Yuncheng was doing him a great favor.

To make Yulan happy, Gao Yuan was willing to give his life in a heart beat. Only sometimes his life wasn't enough. Almost a decade had passed. It was way too late for Gao Yuan to return Yulan to his father who had retreated to Taiwan. Given the turn of events, Gao Yuan couldn't face his general again. He knew if in this life he ever bumped into General Xie, he would have to hand his own shotgun to the general and beg the general shoot him in between his own eyes. He betrayed the trust. No, he violated the trust. Black Bear Creek might be safe and sound and beautiful all year long but Yulan belonged to neon-flashing city life. Yulan was suffering in silence. That drove Gao Yuan mad.

Yuncheng and the school offered the best chance to make Yulan happy. Gao Yuan realized that profoundly. For Yulan, Gao Yuan didn't mind carrying huge loads up and down the mountains. Hills to be flattened and rooted, rocks to be chiseled, molded, lumbers to be cut and fit, flood control, wind resistance, everything must be carried out on shoulders and moved by hands. For that, Yuncheng finally realized the distance between books and practice and the difference between having Gao Yuan and not having Gao Yuan. Because of Gao Yuan and Yulan, a few shy or anti-social folks came out of their caves to give a hand. Most importantly, almost all of the parents principally agreed to send their kids to the new school.

"Yulan, the school is built. I am sorry it's not as nice as the one you went to in Beijing."

"I like it very much. I like the strawroof much better than the brick and tile style in the city. It feels natural and warm this way. It is romantic, you know. Nice, really nice. I am excited about the newness of the whole thing."

"Yuncheng is really a nice young man."

"Thanks for your help. You must be tired after the dam and the school."

"No, I feel more energy. It has been a good work-out for me."

"Thank you."

"..."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Oh, nothing."

"I never saw tears in your eyes before."

"Well, I never heard you thank me like this before. Maybe I am getting old." Gao Yuan was a little embarrassed by his lack of control of his own emotions.

"I knew you are trying to lift my spirit. I appreciate that." It was the first time ever that Yulan threw herself into Gao Yuan's arms, sobbing.

A few days before the opening of the school, the school met some resistance because a few parents changed their minds and would rather keep their kids home for some labor. But the school opening with electric lights was such a smash. Some political leaders from as far as the county capital came to the opening. The day celebration was dull with a lot of empty talks and credit taking. Mountain dwellers didn't like to mingle with politicians; otherwise, they wouldn't have been living in the mountains in the first place. But the evening celebration was sheer madness. All the folks in Black Bear Creek got to see electric light and meet Yulan that night. She struck them dumb. That electric bulk, her out-of-this-world-ly beauty created more electricity in the valley air than previous thousand years combined. Folks smiled with genuine enthusiasm, something that hadn't happened for centuries. Yuncheng's innocence, idealism and energy and Yulan's beauty and manner were powerful persuasion. Kids got mad with their parents if they didn't allow them to come to school.

Yuncheng lived in the school as Gao Yuan skillfully built an annex connecting to the main building for him. Yulan often brought food for Yuncheng. Bachelors don't know how to take care of themselves. It is universal.

Teaching kids, and getting the province and the county to supply text books, pencils, paper and chalk, were easy. Twenty five kids, five grades under one roof was no bother but romantic for Yulan and Yuncheng. All it took was love and care for the kids. They even managed to send one bright girl down the hill to the flat land for junior high. For the great achievement and remarkable endurance, Yuncheng was elected super school teacher of the year for many years in the county and the province. He was becoming a local celebrity as people heard him speak on radio and read him on newspapers.

5.

"Yuncheng, do you know what accompanies my heart and soul through the years?"

"Tell me. I am dying to know."

"Poetry, all kinds of poetry, though my school only pointed me to Tang and Song poetry."

"I love poetry, too, especially Song poetry."

"Why Song poetry?"

"Because everyone loves Tang poetry better." Yuncheng flashed a mischievous smile.

"Which poet do you like the most?"

"Li Qingzhao."

"Why?"

"Because she had the courage and the touch to made sadness palpable and alluring."

"How so?"

"She let us know that being Chinese is sad, close to being hopeless. Maybe she meant being a happy Chinese woman is impossible."

"Umm? That's interesting. But I like Li Bei, Wang Wei, Song Dongpo. I like the man that could erase sadness, or even death, with a wave of his arm. I like uncontrollable laughter that brightens the whole world. Maybe my father was like that, though he was not a poet."

"I can understand Li Bei and Song Dongpo and their inhabited style of poetry and life. But Wang Wei? He seems quiet and peaceful. Which poem of Wang Wei are you talking about?"

"Song of Wei Cheng."
 
The morning rain has washed off all the dust,
our inn sits in the middle of spring green and new willow trees.
Drink it up another round, my friend,
for there will be no more friends once west of Yangguan.
"You read it really well, Yulan. You have a good voice and good accent."

"Yeah, I spent a few years in Beijing, you know.  Not everything has to be read really aloud.  If one reads a good poem too loudly, the voice obstructs the poem and diminishes the beauty."

"Thank you, Teacher Xie.  I know that poem. But what's so inhabited about it?"

"Well, you know what 'west of Yangguan' means, don't you?"

"Ancient battlefield of course."

"There you go. It means that this friend of Wang Wei may or may not come back after they part that day."

"So?"

"Look, it's getting late. I'd better hurry up and go home."

They parted everyday in the middle of a good conversation. They seemed to want to make it so interesting that after their separation they still had something to think about. All in all, it was the eye contact that did more talk that words. The eyes had said so much that life had become too off balance, which in turn created a lot of anxiety and sleeplessness.

A few days later, just as Yulan was bidding her abrupt good-bye. Yuncheng stopped her. "Wait, I wrote a poem for you. Well, it's just like me, another shameless display of idiosyncrasy."

"Let me read it please." Yulan couldn't wait.
 

Previous Life and Coming Life

Come, my dear, come and sit next to me
Let me do some small talks into your ears.
Actually the days to tell this kind of story are long gone,
One has no reason to cling on faded glamour for a whole life.
Glory and shame both had us made
Even if everything in our life turns out to be false,
Remember, the blood in our bodies is the same as our ancestor's.
Luck brings us together but not the luxury of love
Maybe next life we could turn into dust and fly off hand in hand.

After thousands of years of desert dwelling in cold solitude,
Our legendary poise, magnanimity, enthusiasm and poetry
All evaporated into the thin air and shut up in a desert smoke.
Only in drunk dreams we could steal a glance
Of the pair of sharp eyes of wisdom that belong to our ancestors
And the peak of human civilization.
Once we looked at the whole world from high above
Yet we never look down on human life and its meaning.
Never did we nurture arrogance and prejudice in our genes.
Our confidence renders no need to look over our shoulder
when marching. We strolled past fierce storm, bright sun,
new life and death with such poise, calm and charm.

Suddenly, all of this seemed to be nothing but an discolored dream.
Now all the storied sites are covered by dust and shame.
We are terribly lost: tears bitter, heart full of resentment.
Where went yesterday's poise and confidence?
Could this be true? A phenomenal civilization only crystallized
into one warm heart? Could this be true?
Remember, my dear, I am the only star that could warm your heart.
A star that has gone through so much collision and fall
still endures on and waits for you in great solitude,
A star that was born out of dust shall return to dust
but still keeps on shining brightly for you ...

Just as Yulan was stepping out of the door of the great straw hut, a bolt of lightning exploded just down the creek. It was such a deafening blow that Yulan saw a giant fireball came down to her face and turning into a beautiful white horse strolling towards her against the backdrop of a great sunset. She fainted, with a smile of happiness.

Yuncheng rushed to take her into his arms. Before he was inside the hut, he saw a giant tree was cut into halves by the fierce bolt. Rainstorm, huge rainstorm, came down with vengeance. Hell suddenly broke loose. The world outside of the strawhut became darkness and moved off vision.

Now, the door is shut. Yulan is in Yuncheng's arms. She is so happy, so soft and so beautiful. She is not pale but rather pinkish, like a young girl. Her long hair hangs onto Yuncheng's knee. Yuncheng can hear his own heartbeat. This beautiful woman has filled his life day and night and night and day ever since that fateful meeting at Monkey Apron. The envisioned loneliness of being a teacher in the mountains never materialized. Instead, Yuncheng becomes energized, creative and brilliant. Kids feed on his energy. Yulan's calm and beauty balance his crazy energy rather well. They work together as a great team. They talk about almost anything. Still there is that distance. There is a distance between two educated people. They seem to feel that there is too much time to rush anything. And both of them have too much respect for Gao Yuan to do anything to dishonor him.

Today, she fainted. The rainstorm walls the whole world outside the strawhut. It's August. The air is warm. But Yuncheng can't kiss her. That would be cheating. So just as he carries her off to his room and puts her on his bed, she springs back to life and wraps her long and soft arms around his neck and kisses him in the mouth. It happens so suddenly that Yuncheng is struck dumb and lost. He does not know what to do.

It takes him a few minutes to recovers senses. The rainstorm provides them a long kiss. Suddenly the world becomes hot amidst a huge rainstorm. First the room starts to spin and their bodies go along with the ride. Two bodies without the restriction of the clothes now try to catch the rhythms of the rushing rain storm. Oh, the mountains are out of breath, trees whistle, the creek swallows with huge amount of water. And another strike from the heavens, a big splash. Forest may have been flattened and craters may have appear. Yet the steady rain is so tender and rhythmic. Every summer storm strikes three times. When the last thunder rolls in, the earth seemed to have flattened.

Yuncheng does not feel tired afterword. He feels the energy flow and tries to grab Yulan back into his arms. But Yulan stops him right there. She carefully tidies things up.

"We have tomorrow." Just as she says that, not only does the rain stop also the sun comes out shining brightly. Remarkably, the valley does not change much, except that big tree. Nothing seems to have happened, except ...

Gao Yuan waited for Yulan by the cave's entrance and was happy to see that she came back without getting wet or anything.

"Oh, the wind just blew your hair off a little."

"Yeah?" Yulan reached for her forehead but didn't panic. Yulan was extra nice to him that night, though her heart was broken into pieces.
 

1.

"How would I tell my side of the story, Kewen?" Yajuan eventually came back to the story of herself.

If going to college was the measuring tape of a youth's success, I guess I totally failed. I was a good student. But my parents' political trouble got me into a mood and an attitude came out of that mood. I was emotional for too long a time during the crucial years in school. I needed a rational voice at the time but my grandma was too loving to push me. So I didn't study as hard. I took my eyes off the books and homework in protest, I guess. I detested this world of cruelty and inhumanity. In the meantime, I was in love with you. I was Kewen-watching all the time. There was too much adrenaline in me for me to sit down really. I was constantly on the move, getting nowhere but never giving up. I needed love so much. I wanted to be overwhelmed thus to forget the ugliness of this world. Love has always been the most painful part of my life.

On the other hand, the stupid line between boys and girls prevented me from getting close to you. In retrospect, I am glad that I did not budge into your life and disturb your heart. You with your innocence and hardworking nature got yourself off the ground. The end of the Cultural Revolution was both good timing and good bless for you. You took the National College Entrance Examination and passed with excellent marks. The whole town was proud of you. I was proud of you with a little jealousy and guilt, maybe.

I had no idea that my world could turn upside and down so many times in such a short span of time. The greatest irony in my life lies in the fact that I was kicked down to the countryside, to Sunny Lin while you, the one I love, left Sunny Lin and went to college in the city I grew up.

Do you still remember how many people came out to send you off the day when you departed Sunny Lin for college? There must be more than two hundred folks standing in the steady rain. No one sought shelter; they were so happy to see you go. Many eyes are wet. Guess who cried the most fiercest in her heart? No, I wasn't even standing in the street. I was looking you off from behind the window of my grandma's dormitory on the second floor.

You left and never came back. Finally you left the country. I was so crashed. Hopelessness came back to haunt me again and again. I was like a kite that had its string cut, aimless and wet. I guess my highest admiration for you was that you didn't let what was going on in the world outside of your heart affect you. You kept on being yourself; therefore, you were never truly miserable as I have been.

Anyway, my bad luck continued. My parents never did return from Xinjiang. They both were buried in a bad sand storm. I was crashed again. However, this time I was a little more seasoned and more prepared for almost anything. I had a better understanding of life and tragedy. I became more willing to put personal tragedy in perspective. Poor grandma did not survive the harsh news. I was the one who supplied her with energy. Still that was not enough. It was time of mourning and wandering.

A year or so later the authority rectified the reputation of my parents. In other words, they were wrongful deaths. Or, they died for nothing. Wrongful death was part of our daily routine. Ten thousand yuan was given to me for compensation. However, in this world there are a lot of things that could be never compensated by money. My parents and my love can not be measured by dollars and cents.

Life on top of the waves and at bottom of hell taught me to face reality with courage. I can't let misery and anger eat me alive. Later they arranged me to work in the county hospital as a nurse's aid. I couldn't be a nurse because I had no credential. I accepted the position and left the village and came to this small city because nothing in Sunny Lin was left for me.

2.

Back to the city everything had changed. City life no longer excited me and life became boring or annoying. Housing was a terrible problem. My money which was paid with my parents' lives was a subject of jealousy by some doctors and nurses. On top of all, the job was a humiliating experience because not many of the nurses or even doctors were any brighter than I was. At the end it was a job that provided housing and security.

The most intriguing part of the job was that it eventually brought Wang Yuncheng into my life. As a local celebrity, he checked into the county's best hospital as a VIP patient. As the best nurse's aid in town, I was assigned to care for him. He had no idea that I knew of him at the beginning of course. I was happy to take care of this legendary man. Only it had become very disheartening to see him suffer from a throat cancer which was at a very advanced stage. The cancer was eating his throat out. That was the greatest tragedy of our time: our heroic teacher lost his voice forever.

Still the brave soul never moaned even once. Not even in his dreams. He in the worst possible moment even tried to smile at me, for he didn't want to see me cry. I could never forget how a hand of bones and excessive skin tried to reach out, trembling in mid-air, in the attempt to wipe the tears off my face. He was so peaceful in heart and so brave in soul. His only regret was that he couldn't go back to his kids in school soon enough. And gradually he made it clear that he wished to see Xie Yulan one more time. But he didn't get his wishes, as he never did leave the hospital. And Xie Yulan never came. Instead, she sent one or two kids down to deliver a few letters to him, that was all.

Our hero died. Our country had no cure for cancer.

3.

"Teacher Wang, I got a book here and I want to read some paragraphs for you."

He smiled broadly to show his approval.

"It's a collection of prose by Yu Qiuyu."

He showed some puzzlement on his face.

"He is gaining more fame recently."

The baffling expression on his face disappeared.

I was reading Yu Qiuyu's "Yangguan Snow." I knew he would enjoy this. And when I was reading the following paragraph, I saw his face glow.
 

Today, guided by Wang Wei's "Song of Weicheng," I started my journey to Yangguan. Before I left the hotel in a small city, I asked a local elderly for directions. "It's far away," he replied, "and there is nothing there to look at. But that does not stop those men of books from taking on the hard road." The old man looked up at the sky, said, "It doesn't look the snow'll stop for quite a while. Please don't be so hard on yourself." I made a bow to him and turned around and marched into the deep snow.

Desert was immediately outside of the small city. Nothing but endless snow and whiteness was the desert. There was not even a wrinkle in that flatness. Traveling in other places, I always tried to spot something as my temporary destination, such as aiming myself at a tree, then a rock. But here, I opened my eyes so hard that they hurt; but still there was nothing to spot, not even a dead leaf, a dot of dirt. I had no choice but looking up. Never before had I seen such a perfect sky, not an inch was eclipsed, smooth-edged all around, tightly covering a round earth. Above this land, the sky is a sky in its real sense. Under such a sky, the land also becomes perfect land. Walking alone between this sky and this land, a midget becomes a giant. And walking alone between this sky and this land, a giant becomes a midget."

Suddenly it cleared up, the wind stopped, the sun broke out shining. I had had no idea that the snow on the desert melted so fast. In a split second, stretches of sands could be seen already, and the sands were already dry. Vaguely there seemed to be lines of smoke appearing on the horizon, without any movement, and the color were getting darker and darker. It puzzled me for a while before I realized those were shoulders of mountains reappearing out of the melting snow.

The uneven arrangement of the land appeared with a frightening pattern and left only one possible explanation: those were ancient tombs.

This place was far away from that small city and did not look to me like the cemetery for the city folks. The molehills that had once been the tombs were beaten up by wind and snow, collapsed, deserted and unrecognizable; there was not even a trace to indicate that any one had ever come here to mend them. Then why were there so many of them, and so tightly clustered to each other? Again, there was only one possibility: this used to be an ancient battle field.

Aimlessly walking amidst the numerous tombs, I started to see the images of T.S. Eliot's Wasteland. Here on the historic wasteland of China, I could hear horsehooves like raindrops, battlecries like thunderstorms, hot blood like watercascades; I could see the gray hair of aging mothers in central China, the long and frustrated looks of young wives in their southern boudoirs, the night cries of little children in their cottages along the lakes and rivers. A farewell was held under the willow tree back home; the general had his eyes widened with anger; the battle flag was making the noise in the gusty wind. All those are gone, long gone, in a bowl of dust and smoke, in another bowl of dust and smoke. I had to believe all the soldiers were facing the enemies in the north when death befell them; I had to believe every young man wanted to look back at the last moment, to cast their eyes on the land once familiar to them. Then they fell, ever so listlessly, to become sand duns.

I have no idea: had those sand duns, clusters of stars, earned a line or two somewhere in any of the official documents? As officials of documents leafed through the thicket of records, this piece of land had been buried deeper and deeper into the sands. In the mountains of our 25 history books, the chapters spent on this piece of wasteland are relatively glorious, for here had been the frontiers of many dynasties, shouldering the historical task to provide safety and prosperity for the Central Kingdom. In this sense, the sand duns here appeared self-confident, the history books on this part can still recall the old glory. Just like the dull, dry and cold land, the historical theme of this Northwestern corner also appeared simple and straightforward.

It is an entirely different story for the land inside, though. There are mountains upon mountains, rivers across rivers, flowers and plants of all kinds, shades and shadows of all shapes. The maze created by time can daze the clearest mind; the morning bell and evening drum always appear so mysterious or even sinister. There do not exist any sand duns lying on the ground wide and open; everything there appears puzzling and puzzled, in spite of the beautiful scenic views all around; and there have been who knows how many unhappy souls of wrong deaths who had no choice but to swallow their
anger and agony lying deep under. In contrast, lying here naked is a chapter of glamorous history, which does not mind my fast moving feet of the 20th Century to step on them and rub on their faces.

I saw trees in the distance now and picked up the pace. Water ran under those trees, the sands seemed to tilt here and there. Climbing on top of a small sand hill and looking up, there it was, a deserted and eroded big bowl of earth on a hilltop. My instinct told me, that must be Yangguan.

More and more trees appeared into view, and there were even houses and buildings. It seemed right this way: any pass or point of military significance where soldiers used to keep their horses must have all these. After making some turns I climbed on top of yet another sand hill; at the foot of this big bowl of earth, I searched around and found a stone tablet, on it there were four carved-in characters "Yang Guan Gu Zhi" (the ancient site of Yang Guan)."

I was on top of a high point from which fields in all directions could be seen. The northwest wind marched over thousands of miles then collapsed down on me. I stumbled for several steps before finding my footing. Standing still now I could hear my teeth trembling and knocking on each other. I had no doubt that my nose must have turned purple in the cold. I blew some air into my hands and used them to cover my ears and jumped up and down several times. When I calmed down, I opened my eyes. The snow did not melt here. Of course not. This so-called ancient site has lost all of its symbolic make-ups, except the ancient beacon tower, the big bowl of earth that could be seen from distance. Even the big bowl had already half-collapsed, with layers of sands and mud lying around, bushes of reeds here and there. Reeds were blown up by the cold wind, still trembling after thousands of years. The Northwest Mountains in the field of my vision were all covered by snow, drifts upon drifts, stretching endlessly to the far horizon. Whoever comes to stand here will have the feeling of standing on a rock by the ocean. Oh, those mountains, they look like an icy ocean with cold waves.

Wang Wei was really a nice guy. Writing about Yangguan of such condition, he still managed not to let out all the horror scenes and frightening sounds and shrieks. Instead, he wrote with tenderness and ease: "Here, my friend, bottoms up, there will be no friends for you once west of Yangguan." He glanced over the fresh willow trees out of the window of the Weicheng inn, then looked at the luggage of his friend, and flashed a smile while pouring wine from a clay pot. Yeah, let's do another round, my friend. Outside of Yangguan, it will be very hard for you to find an old friend to drink with you like this. That cup of wine, I know, was not refused by Wang Wei's friend. No, not even a hint of hesitation but bottoms up.

This farewell scene exemplifies the demeanor of Tang people. Most of them would not shed tears or piss and moan, no talking friends out of going afar. There was a much wider field in their vision; they had themselves a wide road as their life path. Departures were frequent, they walked away with poise and confidence. Such posture took on even a higher style in Li Bai, Gao Shi, Cen Shen. Among the many portraits painted by artists from different regions and times, it does not take one long to recognize Tang portraits: healthy both in bodily and spiritual expressions, calm eyes, with extreme confidence. When an European sees the smile of Mona Lisa, he or she recalls immediately that her natural self-confidence was born in the heart of those artists who just awoke from the horror of the Middle Ages and started to believe the brightness of the future. The smiles on Tang portraits are even more serene with less inner torments. In Europe, those artists fought a shipwrecking battle and man-handled that smile into the books of history with great stubbornness. It's not difficult to calculate how many years had elapsed between the Tang time and the European struggle. Unfortunately, the Tang Dynasty did not pass the great confidence of their artists to their children. Today the wind and snow at Yangguan appeared sad, even still bearing that uneroding power.

Wang Wei was a true genius both in poetry and painting. The distinctive line between poetry and painting as drawn by Lessing and other Western scholars did not bother Wang Wei a bit as he seemed to stroll back and forth between the two fields of arts with ease. Sadly, the palace in Chang'an only had a very narrow side door for artists who must bow their heads like servants to their powerful masters when getting in and out to provide entertainment for the rulers. The God of History, that old man with long gray beard, was so saddened that he could only look away when confronting such a phenomenon. Then he had to devote to the family records of all the kings and emperors while his hands and head shaking with age and disbelief. In our history, arts were not allowed to take too many chapters, our aspiration and appreciation for beauty are also kept to a minimum.

As a result, the colors of paintings from every corner of the states and kingdoms started to darken. And Yangguan has never received any line of poetry with tenderness and warmth. There have been more men of letters departing for the outside of Yangguan but none of them had been more than who they really were: demoted officials and exiled dissidents.

Oh, even a bowl of earth, a city of stone, couldn't bear the blow of these many deep sighs. Yangguan has collapsed, collapsing in the spiritual land of a people. It has become nothing but a deserted site, a wasteland. Behind it, sand graves are like surges of an ocean; in the front, ice waves are falling down on top of it. Who can imagine, a thousand years ago, this was the place that testified the lofty meaning of the life of many men, and the great field of vision of great artists? Who can...?

There should be some Mongolian horseback guitars playing and Qiang flutes blowing with their distinctive high-pitched sounds of extraordinary beauty and sadness, in absolute harmony with the natural sounds of this particular place that call for total devotion of any man who dares to step on this land. Sadly all those sounds have become the death music of the soldiers. Since the people as a whole couldn't bear to listen to this music, it thus disappeared, gone with the wind.
 

"THANK YOU! Xiao Ye. You have such a sweet voice. You should be a teacher. Your excellent reading brought the mountains, the valley, the strawhut school to me.

I was so happy to see these lines.

"Most of all, I see Yulan. I see her teaching the school all by herself. ... I wish she was here to listen to your reading. She would be as thrilled as I am."

Silence.

"Xiao Ye, could you buy a copy of the same book for me? I want to give it to Yulan."

"Certainly, Teacher Wang. I will hand deliver the book to Teacher Xie."

With that happy note, Wang Yuncheng fell into sleep and never woke up again. He left us still in his early fifties. I had the urge to cry but I controlled myself. Maybe silence was the best way to remember this extraordinary man.

4.

I took his ashes to Black Bear Creek. There I gave the book to Xie Yulan. She took the urn of Wang Yuncheng's ashes into her arms and almost broke down. But she didn't cry. Maybe she also knew that crying was not what Yuncheng wanted her to do. I was