sister and brother. All these thoughts made noisy incursions into their storehouse of memories. The horns on their heads fell away. They held their noses and coveredtheir eyes, but it was too late: a rainstorm of tears burst uncontrollably from each of them. Binu was forgotten, and they began to wail piteously.
General Deer bent low at the waist and cried at the riverbank as thoughts of another river took shape in his mind. The thatched hut he called home was on a riverbank. His father fished off the opposite bank, while his mother washed clothes on this side. And he cried and he cried, until he heard his sister calling his name from the hut. ‘The sweet potatoes are cooked. Go home and eat.’
Chancellor Deer wept at some wild chrysanthemums and watched as they turned into speckled bamboo, out of which a turtledove flew. He chased after it, and ended up with a handful of wild chrysanthemum petals. Opening his hand, he cried out, ‘Turtledove, where is my Turtledove?’
Another boy wept at a tree and thought back to the time when he was apprenticed to a blacksmith. After his master had produced a hoe, a rake or a scythe, it was his responsibility to saw the proper length of wood and affix it as a handle. He had been well fed back then, but his belly wasn’t as big as it was now.
The last deer-boy was the one with a gourd hanging from his neck, and he cried at their bound captive, whoreminded him of his mother, then of his grandmother and his elder sister. As he cried, he called out, ‘Mother! Grandmother! Sister!’ Binu, who was still gagged, did not respond, and the boy anxiously tore the gag from her mouth and cried out again, ‘Mum!’
Three of the boys suddenly recalled the road back home. One said he wanted to head east, home to his sweet potatoes. One said he wanted to go through Blue Cloud Pass, back to his mountain hut. The third said he wanted to go back to the Cotton City blacksmith to fix handles to hoes. Before the sun came up, they hurriedly left the forest. Only the boy with the gourd remained to watch over Binu. He was too young to recall the road home, so he removed the sash that covered her eyes, broke the chain with a rock, and said to her, ‘Get up, you can get up. You might as well go home too.’
Binu’s face, bathed in tears, was illuminated by the white light of suffering, which stung her eyes. She looked up at the limbs of the old elm tree and asked the boy, ‘What is on my face? Is it dew that has dropped from the tree?’
‘What do you mean, dew?’ he said. ‘Those are tears from your own eyes.’
‘What made you boys anger my tears like that? When tears flow from someone’s eyes in Peach Village, thatperson’s death is not far off. Child, your elder sister here is about to die!’ She looked at the gourd hanging from his neck, and her eyes brightened, but only briefly. She reached out and pinched his cheek; he knocked her hand away. She stared at him, a sad smile appearing at the corners of her mouth. ‘It’s you,’ she said. ‘No wonder you stayed behind with me. And no wonder you carry a gourd with you. Child, I’ve seen you in a dream. You will put me in the ground and you will cover my grave, for you are my gravedigger.’
‘What do you mean, cover your grave?’ The boy was dumbstruck. ‘You are very much alive,’ he said. ‘How can I be your gravedigger? Do you want to be buried alive?’
‘Death itself has sent you to be with me, child,’ said Binu. ‘It is here. Now that I’ve entered the forest, I shall never get to Great Swallow Mountain. And what good would come of it, even if I did, since my bundle is gone and my heart is broken. What can I give Qiliang if I do see him? You, child, are my gravedigger. Go to the tool shed and bring a shovel back with you. And a hoe.’
Gravedigging
Dawn was on its way. Binu sat under the tree waiting for Death. The dark outlines of ancient trees were sketched against the blue sky, and a subtle, pungent odour of moss
General Deer bent low at the waist and cried at the riverbank as thoughts of another river took shape in his mind. The thatched hut he called home was on a riverbank. His father fished off the opposite bank, while his mother washed clothes on this side. And he cried and he cried, until he heard his sister calling his name from the hut. ‘The sweet potatoes are cooked. Go home and eat.’
Chancellor Deer wept at some wild chrysanthemums and watched as they turned into speckled bamboo, out of which a turtledove flew. He chased after it, and ended up with a handful of wild chrysanthemum petals. Opening his hand, he cried out, ‘Turtledove, where is my Turtledove?’
Another boy wept at a tree and thought back to the time when he was apprenticed to a blacksmith. After his master had produced a hoe, a rake or a scythe, it was his responsibility to saw the proper length of wood and affix it as a handle. He had been well fed back then, but his belly wasn’t as big as it was now.
The last deer-boy was the one with a gourd hanging from his neck, and he cried at their bound captive, whoreminded him of his mother, then of his grandmother and his elder sister. As he cried, he called out, ‘Mother! Grandmother! Sister!’ Binu, who was still gagged, did not respond, and the boy anxiously tore the gag from her mouth and cried out again, ‘Mum!’
Three of the boys suddenly recalled the road back home. One said he wanted to head east, home to his sweet potatoes. One said he wanted to go through Blue Cloud Pass, back to his mountain hut. The third said he wanted to go back to the Cotton City blacksmith to fix handles to hoes. Before the sun came up, they hurriedly left the forest. Only the boy with the gourd remained to watch over Binu. He was too young to recall the road home, so he removed the sash that covered her eyes, broke the chain with a rock, and said to her, ‘Get up, you can get up. You might as well go home too.’
Binu’s face, bathed in tears, was illuminated by the white light of suffering, which stung her eyes. She looked up at the limbs of the old elm tree and asked the boy, ‘What is on my face? Is it dew that has dropped from the tree?’
‘What do you mean, dew?’ he said. ‘Those are tears from your own eyes.’
‘What made you boys anger my tears like that? When tears flow from someone’s eyes in Peach Village, thatperson’s death is not far off. Child, your elder sister here is about to die!’ She looked at the gourd hanging from his neck, and her eyes brightened, but only briefly. She reached out and pinched his cheek; he knocked her hand away. She stared at him, a sad smile appearing at the corners of her mouth. ‘It’s you,’ she said. ‘No wonder you stayed behind with me. And no wonder you carry a gourd with you. Child, I’ve seen you in a dream. You will put me in the ground and you will cover my grave, for you are my gravedigger.’
‘What do you mean, cover your grave?’ The boy was dumbstruck. ‘You are very much alive,’ he said. ‘How can I be your gravedigger? Do you want to be buried alive?’
‘Death itself has sent you to be with me, child,’ said Binu. ‘It is here. Now that I’ve entered the forest, I shall never get to Great Swallow Mountain. And what good would come of it, even if I did, since my bundle is gone and my heart is broken. What can I give Qiliang if I do see him? You, child, are my gravedigger. Go to the tool shed and bring a shovel back with you. And a hoe.’
Gravedigging
Dawn was on its way. Binu sat under the tree waiting for Death. The dark outlines of ancient trees were sketched against the blue sky, and a subtle, pungent odour of moss
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