Tales of the End of the Century

Three days after Bai Ge left, Lan Susu spread the map out on the stone under the jujube tree. This map, left behind by Bai Ge, was hand-drawn, with fine pencil lines, marking latitude and longitude and several winding contour lines. A small circle was drawn in the upper right corner of the map, with three words written next to it. She had repeatedly compared the location of the gaze signal with the pencil circle on the map using an oscilloscope, and it almost perfectly overlapped with the position of the circle.

"Deep in the Yanshan Mountains." She slowly moved her finger up a very thin contour line. "From Yushugou, head northwest, first take the provincial highway, then turn onto a dirt road. When the dirt road ends, the rest of the journey can only be done on foot."

Tie Niu squatted down beside him, looked down at the contour lines on the map, and said that this road might have been a temporary road for transporting timber, abandoned for at least ten years. The roadbed was still there, but it was hard to say whether vehicles could still pass through. He put the axe next to the door frame, stood up, and went to check the jeep's tires and chassis.

Bai Ye sat under the jujube tree, holding an enamel mug. A small piece of chili oil floated on the water, left by Old Hu when he mixed cucumbers that morning. He looked down at the water, and his reflection looked back at him, in sync, without delay. Since entering the realm of resonance, he had become less familiar with the face on the water's surface—before, he would check if the reflection was a beat too slow or if its blinking frequency was off; now, he didn't need to check. The reflection was just a reflection, and he himself was himself. He no longer needed to doubt either of them.

Old Hu came out of the kitchen carrying a bulging woven bag containing noodles, steamed buns, a jar of freshly mixed cucumbers, and a small bag of chili seeds. He placed the bag in the back of the jeep and then took two cloves of garlic from the windowsill and stuffed them into his side pocket.

Lan Susu packed the oscilloscope into her canvas bag, along with several blank cassette tapes, two boxes of spare batteries, a handwritten copy of Sergei's notes, and her own notebook—the boundary comparison chart on the title page was already worn and frayed from being turned so many times. Tie Niu placed the axe in the crevice next to the driver's seat, switched his gloves to his left hand, and rolled up his right leather glove, stuffing it into his back pocket. Bai Ye poured the water from the enamel mug under the jujube tree roots, placed the mug on a rock, bent down, picked up a pebble, and pressed it onto the map. The pebble was one the gray-clad man had picked up under the jujube tree before he left; it was flat and round, its edges smoothed by the rain.

"That pebble was placed by the man in gray," Old Hu said.

"I know." Bai Ye straightened the pebble and placed it next to the pencil ring. "Let it wait here. It will still be here when we come back."

As the jeep rounded the poplar stump, the sun had just risen over the eastern ridge. Old Hu stood at the gate, holding an enamel mug in his hand; the chili oil had evaporated, leaving only a faint shimmer on the surface. He had promised Bai Ge he wouldn't come along, and stood at the gate for a while, until the car disappeared into the birch forest at the end of the dirt road.

The car drove for more than three hours on the provincial highway. First, there were farmlands on both sides of the road, then the farmlands turned into wasteland, the wasteland into low shrubs, and the low shrubs into birch forests. The birch trees were straight, their bark shining white, and sunlight filtered through their canopies, carpeting the dirt road with a layer of scattered gold. Tie Niu wasn't driving fast; one hand rested on the steering wheel, and his other gloved left hand rested on the window. An axe was stuck in the gap between the driver's seat and the armrest, handle facing upwards.

Lan Susu sat in the back row, an oscilloscope resting on her lap. Every now and then, she would check the screen to see the signal changes. The frequency of the monitoring signal was extremely stable, and its direction had not shifted even slightly since it started. It didn't approach, it didn't urge her, it just stayed lit.

Bai Ye sat in the passenger seat with his eyes closed. He wasn't sleeping; he was practicing. After entering the realm of resonance, his range of perception was much wider than before. If he didn't actively restrain himself, the vibrations of the jeep's engine, the friction of tires over gravel, and the rustling of birch leaves in the wind would completely fill his senses. He focused his attention on his breathing, suppressing all unnecessary background noise to a minimum. Then, that gaze quietly lit up at the very edge of his perception, remaining in place, neither stronger nor weaker, just shining.

"Is that gaze directed at that old lady?" Tie Niu asked.

"It should be." Bai Ye opened his eyes. He remembered Bai Ge's description of her—"She saw it the moment you broke through. Not just heard about it, she saw it. From a great distance, there was a very bright light on the level of consciousness. She said it was the door opening."

Around noon, the car turned off the provincial highway and onto a dirt road almost completely overgrown with weeds. The road conditions were worse than Tie Niu had anticipated, with one pothole after another, scraping the undercarriage several times. At the end of the dirt road lay a half-collapsed, rocky slope, with several broken logs remaining on its surface—the old timber transport ramp. Tie Niu turned off the engine, got out, examined the slope, and said the car could only go this far; the rest of the way would have to be walked.

The three carried their luggage and walked up the scree slope. The slope was steep, and the scree slipped and rolled away underfoot, with several stones rolling into the deep ditch beside them every few steps, the echoes taking a long time to return. After walking for about an hour, the terrain suddenly leveled out after crossing the scree slope. There was a small flat area halfway up the mountain, where a crooked pine tree grew. Its crown leaned eastward, and there was a very old split mark on its trunk, almost identical in shape and location to the axe mark made by Tie Niu with his left hand on the jujube tree in Elm Gully. Pine needles fell on the stone slabs under the tree, accumulating in a thick layer, rustling underfoot. Further ahead was a wooden door. The door knocker was rusty, and there was no lock on the door, only a weathered, gray peach wood bolt across it, which could be easily pushed open with a gentle lift. A sliver of light shone through the crack in the door.

Bai Ye placed the enamel mug on the stone slab under the pine tree and walked to the wooden door. A stone slab was embedded in the door, its inscription identical to that in the photo of the white dove. Lan Susu stood behind him and turned on the oscilloscope. The gaze signal on the screen was very close, so close that she no longer needed to look at the screen. Because she herself could feel it—not with her eyes, not in her mind, but from behind the door a very steady, quiet, and continuous gaze, silently looking this way through the door panel.

Bai Ye reached out and pushed open the wooden door.

The courtyard was smaller than I had imagined. An old locust tree stood there, beneath which was a stone table and two stone stools. On the stone table sat a rough earthenware teapot, steam still rising from its spout. A very faint sandalwood scent filled the air, mingled with the cool, crisp aroma of pine needles and mountain mist. An old woman in a grey cloth robe sat on one of the stone stools, pouring tea. She glanced up at the three people at the doorway and pushed her teacup to the empty seat opposite her. The tea was already poured—three cups, one full, two shallowly filled, as if she had known all along that three people would be coming.

Bai Ye stepped across the threshold into the courtyard. Behind him, Tie Niu placed his backpack under a pine tree, and Lan Susu turned off the oscilloscope and put it into her canvas bag. The old lady watched Bai Ye sit down opposite her and slowly spoke through a cup of hot tea.

"I know you. You just opened the door a short while ago."

Bai Ye took out the photo of Sergei taken at the entrance of Yunlong Temple and placed it on the stone table, saying that the person she was waiting for should be him. The old lady looked down at the wooden door in the photo, and after a while, she reached out and flipped the photo over. The ink of the pencil writing had faded considerably.

"It's time for him to get his things back," she said.

Bai Ye pulled out a yellowed handwritten booklet from his pocket—the one that Sergei had borrowed years ago, which had been lost and wandered for many years before finally returning to Bai Ge's hands. The old lady took it, but didn't open it immediately; she simply touched the four characters on the cover. Then she looked up at him.

"Tell me first—where are your companions now?"

Bai Ye placed the enamel mug on the stone table. It was empty; the water had dried up. He took the small round mirror from his pocket and placed it next to the mug, back facing up. The tin bird, wings folded, tilted its head. "It's in the mirror. It's not going to fight me anymore. I raise my left hand, and it raises its left hand too. I'll turn the mirror over, and it'll be waiting for me on the back."

The old woman looked down at the tin bird on the back of the mirror, remained silent for a long time, then placed the booklet on the stone table and pushed it in front of Bai Ye. "I'm not waiting for you. I'm waiting for someone who can turn it over and let it continue to follow me." She opened the booklet to the first page, the yellowed paper densely covered with tiny characters. "I was gone the year he took the booklet—not dead, but gone. All that remained in Yunlong Temple was this gaze. People come, people go, some borrow things and don't return them, and some travel over mountains and rivers to return them. The tea is getting cold, you drink it first." She pushed the teacup towards Bai Ye.

Bai Ye picked up his teacup and took a sip. The tea was warm and slightly bitter, leaving a faint aftertaste on his tongue. He placed the enamel mug on the stone table and turned the small round mirror over. The crack was still there, slicing his face in two. He raised his right hand, and the person in the mirror raised his right hand in sync, without delay. He turned the mirror over so the back was facing up and placed it back next to the mug.

The old lady looked at the tin bird and smiled slightly. A breeze blew in from outside the courtyard gate, and the leaves of the old locust tree rustled for a moment.