Tales of the End of the Century

In late autumn, the jujube tree leaves began to fall. They didn't all fall overnight; a few leaves fell each day, very slowly. Every morning, the first thing Old Hu did was sweep the fallen leaves in the yard into a pile and pile it under the jujube tree. He said these leaves would decompose over the winter and become the best fertilizer next spring. Bai Ye squatted nearby, picking up the leaves one by one from the pile of pebbles. He had polished every single pebble, round or flat, new or old, recognizing each one. The flat, round pebble that the young man surnamed Ji had brought from the riverbank back home was placed at the outermost edge of the pile, close to Zhao Zhiyuan's gray pebble. The cement fragments, old nuts, and red clay beads placed by the three men from the old industrial area were arranged side-by-side near the stone table leg, close to the cooling tower. The black basalt placed by the man in gray was at the innermost edge, with Vasily's pebble right next to it, still faintly bearing traces of lime he had picked up from the filing cabinet next to the second backup facility of Project Aurora. Old Master Chen sat under the jujube tree for most of autumn. After the mooncakes he brought were all distributed, he placed his old jar on the windowsill of the west wing and watered the vegetable patch with a ladle every evening. As the moon grew thinner each day after Mid-Autumn Festival, his hands, deformed from the cold at the old sentry post, gradually warmed up, and he no longer needed a mirror to confirm that his fingers were still his own. That period seemed both very close and very far away.

Bai Ye picked up the pebble that Old Master Chen had taken from under the jujube tree and placed it on top of the pile of pebbles. A faint trace of chalk dust remained on the pebble—not from recent writing, but from when the pebble had rolled around several times at the bottom of the jar when he put it in his bag. He gently blew away the chalk dust, then took a small round mirror from his pocket and turned it over. The tin bird was still the same tin bird, its wings folded, its head tilted, its outline somewhat blurred in the last glimmer of the setting sun. He put the mirror back in his pocket, stood up, and walked to the courtyard gate. A thin layer of poplar leaves had fallen on the dirt road, gently pushed southward by the north wind.

Tie Niu walked over to him, holding the end of the spare reflective rope in his hand. This rope had followed them through the mining area, the old industrial zone, and every abandoned transfer station; now only a small section remained. He tied the end of the rope in a figure-eight knot on the gate hinge, letting the rope dangle and sway gently in the wind. "People will have to follow this direction to find us later. Those from the old geological exploration line outside the border will probably take a long time to reach us."

Lan Susu placed the oscilloscope on the stone table. On the screen was one of the remaining coordinates marked "direction unknown" on the White Dove supply list—deep within the old geological exploration line, where the faint frequency had yet to break free from the background noise. She rechecked the list of those who hadn't yet arrived, then spread the half-page of scrap paper that Old Master Chen had brought back from the second backup site of Project Aurora a few days ago on the table. The scrap paper had been soaked in water and then dried, its edges brittle and crumbling, but it still had a few lines of writing lightly drawn in pencil—left by an earlier group of people transferred from Project Aurora to the outskirts of the mine. There was no date, no number, only direction. She placed this scrap paper side by side with White Dove's hand-drawn map, pointing to the dried-up riverbed at the deepest part of the exploration line—at the end of that river lay an abandoned old geological exploration camp behind the mountains.

Bai Ye looked down at the riverbed. Last time, deep in the mining area, Old Wei flipped the mirror over and placed it next to the kerosene lamp. He said he no longer needed to help others repair roads, but they were different—there were still people scattered even further away than the overseas transit station. The warm, resonant light emanating from him was the first stake on the next stretch of road.

“Let’s go to the mining area.” He placed the enamel mug on the stone table. “Old Wei left the reflecting mirror next to the kerosene lamp in the cave. He can’t repair the road for us anymore—but we’ll use his method to knock on the first door. Not to pave the road, but to let those furthest away know the way. The rest—each time they cross a riverbed, each time they traverse a stretch of barren river bend, they’ll find their way. Just like when Old Master Chen set off from the old outpost, he walked for an entire summer relying solely on the first piece of rope the gray-clad man left on the outer wall.” He slowly turned the chalk writing at the bottom of the mug to face north. “We still have rope left. Further north from the old geological exploration line, at the end of that dry riverbed, there are probably two or three more people. The signal is weak, and the frequency is different—it’s not that they haven’t found their own letters, it’s that they haven’t found the ground yet. Last time we came out of Old Wei’s shelter, didn’t we already confirm that Project Aurora had left a number of self-sufficient bases deep in the old geological exploration line at the northern end of this mining area? The gray-clad man’s supply list has its number on it.”

Lan Susu lifted the pencil from the riverbed line on the map and turned to Tie Niu. "The old geological exploration line has been abandoned for over a decade, but the Aurora Project's supply transport network covered that entire mountain range—the hand-drawn map you brought back from deep within the mines marks the location of the ammunition depot. If that depot still exists, it's likely connected to an old tunnel leading to the exploration camp. We can find it." She added a small line to the far left of the supplies list—"Gray-clad man, rope knot, behind the mountains."

Tie Niu tied the remaining end of the reflective rope to the lowest branch of the jujube tree. The new branches that sprouted this year would grow even higher next year, and the rope would eventually follow the branches upwards, looking from a distance like the last section of an anchor chain before it's pulled up. "Departing tomorrow morning. Old geological exploration line overseas. Prepare everything we need to take tonight."

After dinner, Bai Ye sat under the jujube tree until late. He placed the enamel mug on a stone, watching the moonlight filter through the increasingly sparse jujube leaves and spill onto the pebbles. Each pebble reflected the moonlight, each one unique. He took a small round mirror from his pocket and turned it over. The cracks cut his face in two, their reflections mirroring him in sync. He turned the mirror over, placing it next to the enamel mug. By this time tomorrow, they would already be on their way to the other side of the mountains. He would bring back the first chalk arrow Old Wei had taught him, the mark that Bai Dove had drawn on the cooling tower wall for years, and the reflective rope that Tie Niu had tied behind every opened door, into another unilluminated darkness. Those who hadn't yet arrived, their mugs still empty, their reflecting mirrors still half-open and tucked into their backpacks—they didn't need anyone to write for them, they only needed a door to knock on.