Tales of the End of the Century

The man who emerged from the electrical room stood at the door for a long time. He was a man in his fifties, wearing an old, faded work uniform with frayed cuffs and a silver badge from Project Aurora pinned to his left breast pocket, its edges worn smooth. He clutched a mirror face down in his hand, his knuckles slightly white from gripping it so tightly. He glanced at Bai Ye, then at the upside-down enamel mug at Bai Ye's feet, his lips moved, but he remained silent.

Bai Ye didn't stand up. He squatted there, turned the enamel mug upside down, took a water bottle from the side pocket of his backpack, poured half a cup of water into the mug, and then gently pushed the mug over the threshold of the electrical room. The water rippled a few times in the mug, then slowly calmed down, reflecting the few streaks of grayish-white sunlight filtering through the workshop ceiling.

The man looked down at his reflection in the tank. The reflection looked back at him on the water's surface, in sync, without delay. In the reflection, he saw two other people standing behind him—one tall and one thin, both standing beside a rusty cabinet deep inside the electrical room, hesitant to approach.

"When they shoved the mirror into my hands," the man finally spoke, his voice hoarse like sandpaper scraping against sheet metal, "they said I could leave once the person in the mirror stopped working against me. Now it's not working against me anymore. But I don't know where to go."

Bai Ye pushed the enamel mug forward another half an inch. "No need to know. The mug is here, the water is here. Drink."

The man squatted down, picked up the enamel mug, and took a sip. The water was cold, chilling him from his throat all the way to his stomach. He put the mug down and looked down at his hands. His fingers were still trembling slightly, but not from the cold.

At this moment, the tall man behind him emerged from beside the rusty cabinet. He wore an old military overcoat without epaulets, the hem stained with dust. His left foot was clad in a liberation shoe, and his right foot in an old cloth shoe with a worn-out heel. He carried no mirror, only a piece of chalk that had become limp from being held so tightly. He walked to the entrance of the electrical room, squatted down next to the man carrying the jar, and placed the piece of chalk on the threshold, next to Bai Ye's jar.

"I've slept under the cooling tower for three winters." The tall man's voice was low, each word sounding as if dug from frozen ground. "Every winter, people come—not to find us, just passing through. They draw arrows on the outer wall of the cooling tower with chalk, then leave without leaving their names. Every year, the arrows get closer to where we're hiding. Last winter, the arrows were already drawn on the outer wall of the electrical substation. I guess we'll be out of here before this winter."

Bai Ye stared at the piece of chalk on the threshold. He knew who had drawn those arrows—the old industrial zone's number was on Bai Ge's supply slips, and he would draw an arrow on the nearest wall after each delivery. He didn't know how many people were sleeping under the cooling tower; he just kept sending things in and marking the way out. Each mark was moved forward a little, extremely slowly, so slowly that the light inside wouldn't blind the people in the cave.

The small, thin figure who hadn't come over until now finally emerged from behind the rusty cabinet, standing behind the other two people, holding an enamel mug. The mug was badly damaged; a piece was dented at the rim, half the handle was broken off and reattached with thin wire, and there was a layer of dried tea stains on the bottom. She placed the mug on the threshold, next to Bai Ye's mug. The two mugs were about the same size and color, both with small pieces of porcelain chipped off, the rims worn smooth to the touch.

She spoke softly. She wasn't a participant in Project Aurora, just a temporary worker at a brick kiln near the cooling tower. One day, she saw a chalk arrow on the outer wall of the electrical substation. Not knowing what it meant, she followed the arrow and found the three people hiding inside. She brought them steamed buns and water, and helped them connect clean water from an abandoned water pipe in the factory area. She herself didn't have any cracks, but she learned to knock three times on the threshold every morning to signal them, to let them know that the reflection was still there, and that she was still there. As she came more often, the tall man gave her his extra enamel mug, telling her to put it in the pile of mugs as well.

Tie Niu looked at the enamel mug she was carrying, pointed to the dent in the mug, and said, "Only when something is being passed out through a narrow ventilation shaft underground would you get this kind of dent. The action of passing things out is the same in the brick kiln shed and the mine shaft ventilation shaft."

Lan Susu placed the oscilloscope on the ground. Three new signals now appeared on the screen—right here in the workshop, less than three meters from her. These three signals had been settling at the bottom of the cooling tower for a very long time. Previously, Lan Susu could only roughly outline a blurry old industrial area on Bai Ge's hand-drawn map; now, their frequencies were gradually surfacing, following the man carrying the vat, the tall man in the old military overcoat, and the woman who had come from the brick kiln.

Zhao Zhiyuan squatted at the entrance of the electrical room, placing his enamel mug on the threshold alongside the three other mugs. He took out the tin bird-shaped mirror from his pocket, flipped it over, and placed it next to the mugs. "We're all the same up north; when we wake up, the first thing we do is check if the reflection is still there. We used to be afraid to put the mugs in the same place. The depths of the mine are different from the outside—we're all waiting, waiting for someone to put their mug on this threshold first." He gently pushed the mirror half a turn, the bird on the back facing Bai Ye.

Bai Ye picked up the piece of chalk from the threshold and turned it over. A tiny arrow was engraved on the back, pointing directly at himself. Each time Bai Ge drew an arrow on the wall, it was only an inch ahead of the previous one; he had spent many years guiding these people from under the cooling tower inch by inch to the surface. Bai Ye put the chalk back on the threshold and stood up. "Now you don't need to wait anymore. The path has reached your feet. You yourselves pushed open the crack in the stone slab; now just move forward."

The man carrying the jar stood up and turned the mirror right side up. The mirror was clean, and his reflection looked at him in sync. He turned the mirror over and placed it face down next to the enamel jar, then bent down to pick up a small piece of crushed ash from the threshold and placed it beside the jar as a pebble. The tall man also stood up and put the piece of chalk back into his coat pocket. The woman arranged the three jars neatly, pushed Bai Ye's jar back to his feet, and then stood up, leaning on the rusty cabinet for support.

Bai Ye bent down, picked up his enamel mug, and put it in the side pocket of his backpack. He walked to the load-bearing pillar in the workshop. The yellowed engineering drawing on the pillar was still there, and the chalk writing in one corner of the drawing was slightly brightened by the sunlight. He pressed his hand on the writing for a while, then turned and walked towards the factory gate. Tie Niu followed behind with his axe. As he crossed the threshold, he noticed that a small piece of reflective rope had been tied to the side of the door frame—the end of the rope was connected to a freshly tied figure-eight knot, and the end of the rope was still covered with red clay from the brick kiln. He recognized how the knot was tied, remembered the same rope end that Bai Ge had left outside each door, and remained silent. Sunlight was already streaming in from the broken skylight, shining on the row of enamel mugs on the door frame of the electrical room.