José was astonished.
“People on the frontier have good hearing.” He laughed out loud. “And so you and your wife can’t get lost in Pebble Town. How could you? Huh?”
Although José was sure the man meant well, his laughter made him uncomfortable. And while this person was talking, he never stopped using the towel; he scrubbed his face until it was like a shiny red apple. Ordinarily, José loathed people with this kind of face. And so he took his leave and went back to the room. The middle-aged man shouted from behind, “Why don’t you cherish your happiness? And don’t do anything rash.”
An elderly silver-haired woman had come to their room and was whispering to Nancy. Smiling at him, Nancy said the old woman was the institute’s director. José promptly exchanged greetings with her. This woman director had a nice way about her. Looking at her closely, José thought she wasn’t very old at all. She smiled a little and said to José, “Just ignore the man outside. He’s a little crazy because he was unlucky in love. He’s the janitor here.”
The director’s words startled José. He thought everything here was a little topsy-turvy. Yet, Nancy was composed and didn’t seem surprised. She and the woman director seemed to get along very well.
“I’ve been thinking—you’ve just arrived. Your apartment is ready for you. Now the most important thing is for you to feel at home, so I’m not going to assign you any work for a while. Just wander around wherever you like. Go have a look around—get a sense of Pebble Town’s geographical location.”
After she left, José thought for a long time. What did “geographical location” mean? Did it suggest the snow mountain or did it suggest the frontier? And what about “get a sense of”? Looking at him, Nancy laughed, “You’re making too much of what the director said. Actually, she’s an old mama!” José felt this was even stranger. How had Nancy fused into this environment all of a sudden? Changes in women were unfathomable. She had actually said this eccentric director was an old mama. Then was the madman who had pulled them in the rickshaw a warm-hearted brother? When the two of them had stood on the hill, she’d been utterly discomfited. He had even thought she regretted coming here. But after only one night, she had changed her mind.
They were taken to the top floor of a three-story building. The apartment—a loft with a slanted roof and a large glass skylight—was huge. Sleeping on the large bed was like entering outer space.
Ecstatic, Nancy immediately lay down in the center of the bed with no thought of moving. José fetched the luggage, and started unpacking and putting things away. They had two rooms: the living room in front, the bedroom in back. While José was going back and forth moving things around, a continual “da, da, da” sound came from the roof, as though someone were pounding with a wooden stick. And the sound wasn’t coming from just one place; it seemed to be in constant motion. “Nancy, listen!” “What? I heard it all the way here!” “Could it be birds?” “I think it’s the wind.” “How can the wind make a noise like this? It’s like a wooden stick pounding.” “Probably that’s the way the wind is here.” José couldn’t come up with a response, so he went on dealing with the luggage. After a while, the pounding sound started on the skylight. José stood on the bed to look more closely, but he saw no stick pounding on the glass. He thought, Nancy’s way of thinking has changed so quickly that she might as well be a local! See, she’s sleeping contentedly, even snoring. Then someone came to the door, and José jumped down from the bed at once. The person came in without knocking: it was the jilted janitor, his face still glowing red. Without waiting for an invitation, he took a seat in the living room.
“I need to talk with someone,” he said as he looked around.
“I’m busy now. Do you mind?”
“No, no. Go ahead, go ahead. I just need you to lend me an ear. Is your wife asleep? Perfect! I’ve come to talk about my personal problems. I have a regular job with the Design Institute, but I’ve never married. Why? Because I have high standards. The woman I fell in love with is a beautiful Uighur. She lives with her family on the mountain. How many years have passed? I can’t remember. Who would keep track of something like this? I’ve seen her only twice. One time was at the market, which was only a little bazaar back then. She showed up with her father. Huh, I know you won’t believe this. No one ever did, except for me. Mr. José, are you laughing at me? I see your chest moving. Never mind, I’m used to that. My story always makes people laugh because it sounds crazy.”
The janitor was lost in thought as he looked at the wall in front of him. José thought, It’s got to be his memory of this romantic encounter that keeps him active and gives him a positive outlook.
“My name is Qiming. You may call me old Qi,” he broke the silence abruptly.
“I just want to ask: When the wind blows over the roof, why does it sound like someone pounding it with a wooden stick?”
“Ah—good question. That’s how things are on the frontier—the intangible is tangible. I have to go to work now.”
He got up and left.
Nancy turned over in bed, and shouted, “I saw it!” José looked to see her pointing at the skylight. She looked straight ahead: Was she awake? José sighed inwardly: it was as if she were sleeping in outer space. In the past, when they lived in the interior, their bedroom was closed in: heavy drapes blocked the soot and the light. Back then, he had often joked that these deep blue velvet drapes were the “iron curtain.”
José continued putting things in order. A picture frame accidentally fell from his hand and broke into pieces. It held their wedding photo. Now both their faces were a mess. From the other room Nancy asked:
“Who’s here?”
“No one. Go back to sleep.”
“But I hear a man and a woman.”
José hid the picture frame and turned around. Sure enough, a man and a woman were standing there. Evidently, everyone here was used to entering without knocking. He gave a slightly embarrassed smile and said, “Hello.” They smiled slightly, too, and said, “Hello,” introducing themselves as neighbors. They told him to call on them if he needed anything. Their home was to the east, three doors away. “These three apartments are empty, but you mustn’t open the doors by yourself,” the man added. José asked, “Why not?” The man frowned and thought for a while before finally answering, “No reason. It’s simply our custom here. Maybe because we’re afraid a wind will blow the door down.” José noticed a white flower of mourning on each of their chests. The man explained that their beloved dog was seriously ill and wouldn’t live long. José said, “But it hasn’t died yet.” The woman answered, “But it will die eventually. If not tomorrow, then next month.” They seemed critical of José’s attitude. They glared at him and then fell silent.
Nancy had dressed and come to join them. She was wearing a necklace with a jade toad hanging from it. She invited them to sit down. The man and woman hesitated bashfully for a long time, and finally decided to leave. By then, José had almost finished dealing with their luggage and putting everything away. But Nancy didn’t seem to realize this. Holding her head and complaining of a headache, she paced back and forth. José asked her what she had seen when she was sleeping. She said she’d seen a crane flying up from the south and circling above the skylight. “Cranes live a long time,” she said.
“I didn’t like their bravado.” She was suddenly infuriated. “Why white flowers? What for? No one wants to die, right?”
“True. I don’t like them, either,”
