She hadn’t gotten a good look at the old man at the gate, had she? He might have been disguised. She’d heard that the wolf that had disappeared for years was once more active around here. Wolves frequently showed up in this little town. Uncle Meng Yu walked around late at night. Wasn’t he afraid? “Wolves,” Liujin couldn’t help saying. Glancing sharply at her, the old geezer said, “Hunh.”
Liujin saw Meng Yu’s wife—the woman other people called “Mrs.”—pass by. What was she doing here in the middle of the night? She was carrying a bamboo basket filled with fried bread. After setting the basket down next to this geezer’s feet, she glided away. Liujin withdrew to the back of the grape arbor and sat down amid the irises. Just then, the old woman reappeared at the door. She yelled, “She’s Mr. Sherman’s woman. What are you thinking?” The bear-like old uncle stood up and snarled at the old woman. Although Liujin couldn’t understand a word he said, her heart was thumping like a drum. It was really scary: she had been trapped by the hunter, and however hard she struggled, she couldn’t break free without losing an arm or a leg. How could this old uncle, whom she had never met before, yet felt some affection for, have such a complicated relationship with Meng Yu’s family? She wanted to shout at him: “WHERE DO YOU COME FROM?” But many wolves began howling at once. And then the “Mrs.” disappeared. Some raindrops were falling from the clear sky. The old uncle staggered to his feet and headed out. Liujin noticed that he wasn’t going to Meng Yu’s home. He walked east down the middle of the street. He moved like a sleepwalker. The moon was bright, and another flock of geese flew past. The sounds reverberating in the sky made her think of her parents in the tall building in the industrial city. The letter she received from her mother the day before had said marriage was predestined. Was she hinting about this Mr. Sherman? But Liujin wasn’t sure what Mr. Sherman was really like. What impressed her most about him was the way he touched the cloth at the market. That made her speculate that this kind of man must be deeply interested in making love. But her general impression of him was vague: he wasn’t like the geography teacher, nor was he like the stonecutter. Liujin didn’t know what to think of him; she wasn’t at all sure of her feelings. God knows, she had never thought of him in a romantic way. Why did the people around her assume she did? And did this man really think of her in that way?
She bent down and picked up the basket of fried bread and threw it into the trash can. After a few seconds, she even threw the basket in. She was afraid of such things and afraid of everything connected with that family. Could Uncle Meng Yu and the old man Meng Yu really be the same person? How ridiculous. That courtyard was always crowded with sheep and goats. If you wanted to see anyone in the family, you had to squeeze past these dirty animals. And the people in the family seemed to always know all the secrets in this little town. Although they were very quiet, Liujin didn’t think the tension in the courtyard had ever relaxed. The house was gloomy inside. She recalled the encounter that night in the poplar grove: What kind of hatred did Song Feiyuan feel for the dead trees?
She returned to her room, where—under the lamplight—she saw her father looking seriously at her from his photograph on the wall. A little animal had stopped on the glass on the left side of his face, so his face appeared to have a dark scar. Oh, it was a little gecko! Liujin loathed mosquitoes and flies, but loved geckoes. Sometimes, she caught geckoes in the garden and brought them back to her room. She called them “the insect cleaners.” But tonight, this small thing made her father’s face look a little fierce. She whisked the small critter with a feather duster several times, but it didn’t move! Such an obstinate little creature. When she sat down, her father was still staring at her. She hadn’t looked at this photo for such a long time that she had almost forgotten it. So, had her father not forgotten her, or had she subconsciously not forgotten her father? In the few days before leaving, Father had frequently looked at the garden in a daze, but he hadn’t even glanced at her. It was as though he’d forgotten he was leaving Pebble Town. A few days later, he had left without looking back. He hadn’t turned around to look at her when boarding the train, either. Liujin thought she must have inherited her father’s disposition, so she shouldn’t expect—what on earth had she ever expected? “Dad, Dad,” she cried out in her mind, a little absently, a little sentimentally. In the blink of an eye, the small gecko dropped to the floor. She walked over quickly, bent down, and picked it up. But it was dead. When Liujin looked up at her father once more, his eyes had clouded over.
She walked into the courtyard again and buried the gecko under the irises. It was after midnight when she finished, yet she was still fully awake. She spied the shadows of several people on the ground. Who were they? Who was standing next to the poplar? No one. There was no one at all. But then whose shadows were they? Several shadows were next to the steps at the entrance, too. In the bright moonlight, the edges of the shadows were sharply focused. How strange. Looking toward the right, she found several more at the courtyard entrance—and they were moving inside. Liujin rushed back to the house and closed and bolted the door. She leaned against the door, shut her eyes, and recalled the scene just now. Then she lay down, but she didn’t dare turn the light off. She kept watching the window, waiting and waiting. Those things made no noise. She didn’t believe in ghosts. Then what were these shadows? Could shadows exist by themselves? Thinking about these gloomy topics, she felt that the deeper she went, the less control she had. Finally, she could only drop into a whirling abyss.
Holding up the piece of homemade cloth, Mr. Sherman smelled it and then smelled it again, as though he were going to devour it. Liujin noticed that one of his ears was moving. “This design is not readily available. People say that the printing and dyeing process is difficult,” Liujin commented.
“Ah, I know. My family does this kind of work!” He laughed, and his glasses flashed with light.
“Oh, I see. You’re a professional.”
Mr. Sherman was embarrassed. He put the cloth down and hurriedly departed, saying he had to buy groceries. Liujin wondered if she’d said something wrong. He didn’t really seem interested in her, so how had the old man Meng Yu reached his conclusion? There was a commotion in the market, and some people surged toward the exit. A child said, “Wolf!” and an adult covered the child’s mouth. How could wolves come to such a populated place? What nonsense! Liujin had thought for years that people coming to this market tended to rush around impulsively. Once—no one knew who had spread this rumor—it was said that a certain stall was handing out free soda pop, and people had hustled over there. Many people collapsed from heatstroke, and one person was actually trampled to death by people squeezing past. All day long that day, Liujin smelled disinfectant. Her nausea made her hiccup. When Liujin sold cloth, she usually didn’t dare look at her customers. She thought the customers in this market were too mean, and she’d better keep her distance. Now, when she looked up, the market was deserted. A large pool of blood had formed in the circle of chairs in the center of the market where people took their breaks. She didn’t know if it was animal blood or human blood. Or was there really a wolf?! Her boss was smoking non-stop. He was in low spirits as he said, “There won’t be any more business today. These hooligans!” “Who’s a hooligan?” “Who? The people who start rumors!” “What’s that blood?” “It isn’t blood. It’s fake!” He raised his voice sharply and angrily. The shopkeepers on either side of him craned their necks uneasily to look at him. He sat down again dejectedly, and complained to Liujin, “People are sneaky! You might as well go home now.”
Liujin had no sooner left the market than she noticed that the people hadn’t gone far. They were congregated next to the square, looking on. She was disgusted with their behavior. Among them were many regular customers who came here every day. Why were they so harebrained today? Did they really believe the wolves had come here? Impossible! She deliberately walked into their midst to find out what they were saying. But they weren’t saying anything; they just silently made way for her. Wherever she walked, people got out of the way. A little girl called to her.
“Sister Liujin, someone asked me how to get to your house. I told him.” This was Xiyu, a harelipped child.
“What did
