Afraid the workers returning to the site the next day might find it, Dahe dug a hole under the big rock beside the shrine and buried the candy he had brought home. He looked back at the shrine reluctantly once more, then turned and went down the mountain by night. His daughter might wake in the middle of the night, and he needed to be there for her.
At first, the following year passed peacefully. Third Uncle’s household received the relocation compensation, enough to cover Dahe’s brother’s tuition and living expenses, so they no longer asked him to contribute. Dahe gradually saved some money and began preparing to build a new house for his family, as Xiuxiu and her mother had planned.
Tourism in the county was developing. The town and nearby villages had been linked into a circuit of scenic attractions. The area was newly opened, but several big buses already rumbled into the village every day, unloading countryside photographers carrying enormous cameras. They photographed little fish by the mountain stream, then went hiking.
A footpath had been built up the mountain behind the village, winding from the foot of the slope all the way to a small heavenly pool near the summit. Strange stones and trees made the scenery unusually beautiful. There were no guides yet, so visitors passing the shrine stopped of their own accord to read the inscription on the stele.
“What an effective god! He can keep us safe all the way up the mountain!” they exclaimed. Then they laid out offerings they had brought, such as fruit or biscuits, and burned a few sticks of incense.
Villagers sold the incense at the foot of the mountain, alongside local snacks such as fried dried fish and stinky tofu. Xiuxiu used her eldest uncle’s connections to get a job selling tickets at the scenic area’s entrance. Little Qiuhan sat on her lap, grinning toothlessly at tourists and squealing happily.
Just as the year seemed likely to end without trouble, one winter day Dahe received a sudden call from Xiuxiu. She was crying uncontrollably. Little Qiuhan had been coughing and running low fevers, so Xiuxiu had finally taken her for a thorough examination at the county hospital. The doctors discovered a congenital heart condition, a fairly unusual case. They did not dare operate at the county hospital and told her to go to the provincial capital.
Dahe took all he had saved that year, requested leave, and hurried home. Only when he reached the hospital did he learn that his daughter had also developed pneumonia. The poor child, only a year and a half old, lay in a hospital bed with an intravenous line in her forehead. Even her crying sounded weak.
The doctor called Dahe into the office and explained that the little girl’s heart condition required surgery. But she was very young and undernourished, so an operation now would be extremely risky. He recommended waiting six months to a year, while taking great care to prevent complications such as this bout of pneumonia.
After two weeks in hospital, the family returned to the village exhausted and anxious. The prospect of the operation’s costs filled the young couple with worry. They agreed that Xiuxiu would go out to work again; sometimes she could earn more as a masseuse than Dahe did. Her mother would look after the child. When they had saved enough, they would bring her to a hospital in the other province for surgery.
Dahe stayed in the village a few more days. He persuaded Xiuxiu to let him take their daughter up to worship the mountain god, provided they went while plenty of other people were around. After all, no one had seen a wolf there for ten years, and tourists traveled up and down every day without any danger.
Dahe carried little Qiuhan and a packet of candy up the mountain in broad daylight, following a group of tourists wearing little yellow caps.
The altar was so crowded with offerings there was barely any space left: an assortment of biscuits, beef jerky, jelly cups, and chocolate, whatever visitors happened to have with them. A rubbish bin stood beside the shrine so the sanitation workers could regularly throw away the offerings when they rotted.
Dahe discarded a shriveled apple to make room for his sweets, which included a box of Dragon’s Beard Candy he had bought in the county town.
He opened the box and picked up a piece to amuse his daughter. Little Qiuhan, who had only just recovered, waved her chubby hands and babbled.
He tore off a few fine sugar threads. The little girl grasped them in both fists and eagerly tried licking them. As though she could scarcely taste anything, she blinked curiously at Dahe before trying again.
Then she suddenly broke into a delighted, babbling smile and stretched the hand holding the damp sugar threads toward something behind Dahe, as though offering them to someone.
Dahe froze. Hesitantly, trembling, he slowly turned his head. Behind him stretched the seemingly endless mountains. Far away, a few tourists laughed and chatted on the stone path. There was no one directly behind him.
Yet his little girl kept holding the sugar threads in that direction, babbling and smiling, her bright dark eyes blinking.
Dahe hugged her tightly. He felt as though all the air had been sucked from his body, his ears ringing. Gasping with emotion, he knelt facing the depths of the mountains.
“Protect her. Please protect her.” He set his daughter beside him, bowed his back and prostrated himself, as though trying to grasp a single fleeting corner of an invisible robe.
His daughter sat unsteadily at his side, still babbling. Her fingers loosened, and the sugar threads she had held up drifted away on the wind.
Back in the other province, Xiuxiu learned that the sauna and massage parlor where she used to work was no longer doing much business. Skilled at finding opportunities, she contacted former colleagues, and one of them introduced her to a newly opened establishment.
She again lived in a staff dormitory provided by the parlor. Husband and wife stayed in separate places across nearly half the city and saw each other only every week or two, just as in earlier days. Each buried themselves in work, barely even keeping in touch. One day when they met, Dahe noticed Xiuxiu wearing an obviously expensive new dress. He hesitated, then finally asked, “That dress was expensive, wasn’t it?”
At first Xiuxiu said nothing. When he asked again, she snapped irritably, “A friend gave it to me. It didn’t cost anything!”
Dahe wasn’t trying to forbid her from spending money, but things were different now. Every spare coin was supposed to be saved for their daughter’s operation. But Xiuxiu insisted she had not wasted money, so he could say no more.
Toward the end of the year, Xiuxiu’s mother called to say little Qiuhan’s condition was very poor. The couple pooled what they had saved and borrowed more from Xiuxiu’s relatives. Then her mother brought the child to the other province for the operation.
The surgery itself went reasonably well, but Qiuhan was weak and recovered poorly, running several more low fevers. Fortunately they proved to be false alarms. Still, the nights of hospital observation stretched on, and money flowed away like water.
Xiuxiu’s mother stayed at the hospital. Dahe and Xiuxiu rushed there after work every day, then hurried back separately around midnight. Their lives were tight and full of fear. The surgery, treatment, meals for three adults, and the child’s nutritional supplements all had to be paid for by the young couple. When the money ran short they began calling around for more loans. Xiuxiu tried to reclaim the relocation compensation from Third Uncle’s family, but Third Aunt swore over the phone that it was all gone: some had gone toward repairs to the house, and the rest was needed for Third Uncle’s treatment and her son’s education. Not a cent remained.
Their generosity had earned no gratitude. All the money Dahe had handed over had brought them no help when they needed it most. Xiuxiu grew irritable and picked fights with him again and again. Dahe, as quiet and slow with words as he had been for decades, accepted her accusations without a reply.
The family even spent Spring Festival at the hospital. They ate dumplings beside the bed and settled the frail, thin child to sleep. Xiuxiu’s mother stayed on the neighboring hospital bed, while the couple went out together. Exhausted, they rented the cheapest nearby room they could find for the day. It smelled of rot inside. There was only one bed. Dahe showered and sat at its edge drying his hair when Xiuxiu suddenly embraced him from behind.
She had washed first and smelled of cheap body wash. Helplessly she rubbed her cheek against his back, wrapped her arms around his waist, and whispered, “What are we going to do? We can’t borrow any more… The doctor says if things go badly she’ll need another operation… Dahe, I’m scared…” Her arms slowly moved downward.
Before her hands reached his private parts, Dahe awkwardly pulled them away and stepped forward to sit on the sofa with its peeling upholstery. Xiuxiu remained kneeling on the bed, staring at him.
“Get some sleep…” Dahe said, head lowered, as he bent to lie down on the sofa.
Suddenly a yellowed pillow came flying at his feet.
“I know you don’t want to touch me! I know you think I’m dirty!” Xiuxiu went into a frenzy. Clawing at the bedsheet, she screamed hysterically, “Even the child I gave birth to is disabled! You think we’re burdens! You’d rather give your money to that heartless family than save it to treat my daughter!”
Dahe was startled and hurried to explain. “I… I don’t look down on you. How could you think that? I’ve never rejected Qiuqiu either. She’s not disabled! She’s just ill. I’d give her anything. I’d give you anything. I just… I just… I truly don’t feel that way about you…”
“Who do you feel that way about? Who?” Xiuxiu screamed through her tears. “Chen Dahe, you damned bastard! When I liked you, you didn’t want me! After I married you, you despised me! It’s been two years and I’m nothing but an ornament! Are you impotent? Are you? Chen Dahe, you’ve got no balls! I never should’ve married a poor, empty-headed fool like you! I should’ve gone to him. I should’ve gone to him… Waaa…”
Still sobbing, she suddenly raised her head and looked at him with venom. “You think Qiuqiu is really your child? You useless, spineless man! You think…”
“Enough!” Dahe cut her off.
He shot to his feet, his large frame blocking the dim bedside lamp. His voice was low, and he spoke with an anger she had never seen in him. “You… you can go to whoever you like. What you do is up to you.”
He held back again and again, finally saying only in a deep voice, “But Qiuqiu is my daughter. I’ll get her well.”
Without another glance at Xiuxiu, he turned, opened the door, and left.
Xiuxiu remained kneeling on the bed, stunned for a while, then suddenly began trembling again.
He had known all along. Of course he had known all along.
Ever since leaving the province, Xiuxiu had been dazzled by a world of wonders she had never seen. In this enormous world full of possibilities, Dahe, a dull, clumsy tree with a thick trunk, no longer seemed remarkable. The affection she had held for him for more than ten years nearly vanished. She became entangled with a regular massage client, a mature and steady man, witty and well traveled. It was easy to fall deeply in love with him. Even when she became pregnant, she could not bear to end the pregnancy. But he already had a family and would never acknowledge her publicly. Rather than return to the village pregnant and unmarried, to be shamed by everyone, she turned to Dahe.
Little Qiuhan had not actually been premature. Dahe had not touched Xiuxiu on the night they were drunk. Nor had he touched her on any night in the more than two years since.
He had known, yet he married her anyway. He married her, but never touched her.
She felt humiliated by the favor he had granted her. It seemed as though every god and Buddha in heaven was laughing at her selfishness and naivety, looking down on her. They must all think Dahe so noble and great, while she was so petty and selfish.
But that wasn’t how it was! She had never asked for this false act of mercy. If he had accepted her affection sooner, if after marrying her he had truly been with her… she need never have been drawn to another man, never endured all those years of neglect.
She refused to admit her vanity or hypocrisy. Instead she curled up, whimpering, feeling miserable and with no one to rely on. All she could do was hide under the quilt and sob aloud.
Dahe returned to the hospital, intending to spend the night on the hard plastic chairs in the corridor. He folded his large body onto a narrow bench, hugged his arms, and stared blankly at the white wall at the far end.
His world was simple and clear, and however many complications life thrust upon him, he handled them in the simplest way he knew. He accepted hardship and pain, adapted to his circumstances, never complained, demanded nothing and expected nothing from others. Xiuxiu had deceived him, and he knew it. He understood that she had felt helpless and afraid and had needed his help. He had wanted to help her and did not blame her for lying. But he truly had no romantic feelings for her. Even embracing her felt awkward, and he did not know what more there could be between them. As for little Qiuhan, she was his daughter. From the moment he heard her first cry and saw her wrinkled smile in the photograph, she had been his daughter. He cherished and protected her, and would give everything for her. If not him, who else in the world could be her father? What worried him was not her birth, but how he would earn enough money to continue her treatment.
His mind was in chaos. He plainly could not sleep. But then he remembered that he was the father of a lively, lovable little girl. His daughter was suffering in a room just beyond the wall, and he had to rise early to collect her test results, then drive to earn the money for her medical care. He promptly closed his eyes and forced himself to sink into endless darkness.
He hoped to dream of a small, low old shrine, and a pair of hands, cold but gentle, stroking his head and soothing his pain and sorrow. Yet he had not had such a dream once in ten years.
A breeze came in through the window at the end of the corridor, spiraled through his hair and out the other end. It crossed rivers and mountains thousands of miles away and settled on the roof of the delicate little shrine halfway up the mountain.
Lounging on the shrine roof, the immortal yawned. Holding a cigarette between two fingers, he raised it to his lips and pretended to take a puff, imitating the tourists he had watched by day.
Then he immediately choked and coughed violently, doubling over.
He sat up in embarrassment, brushed the ash from his clothes, and looked at the big black rabbit curled in his lap. The creature had abandoned its warm burrow just to bother him. He could have sworn there was contempt in its two brown eyes.
The mountain god vigorously rubbed its long ears and declared self-righteously, “What? Just because I don’t know how, I can’t try learning?”
He flicked his fingers, turning the cigarette to ash that scattered in the wind. Then he beckoned, and an apple from the altar appeared in his hand. He bit into it and sighed while playing with the rabbit’s ears. “You little beast, are you hungry?”
The rabbit, already full of grass, flicked its ears and couldn’t be bothered to respond.
“I’m actually a little hungry,” the mountain god remarked to himself as he stroked its soft fur. “No candy for me this year.”
His face was calm and distant, holding the loneliness accumulated through centuries of solitary years. Softly he added, “I wonder if there’ll be any next year…”
After a silence he tugged at the rabbit’s ears again, remembering the little girl who had shared Dragon’s Beard Candy with him, just as adorably foolish as her father. His eyes warmed with a gentle smile. He wondered how that little girl had grown.
Author’s Note: I told you Dahe wasn’t a scumbag…
Next chapter: a reunion, and the BL romance begins…