He closed his eyes in an expression of torment.
‘It’s interesting how they change…Well, and then…’ She continued to investigate the clouds, apparently grown completely accustomed to the dangerous environment. ‘It’s like a big cruise ship cutting through a choppy sea. Look, there’s a row of waves.’
He, on the other hand, was thinking of the precariousness of their situation, that they might fall into the abyss at any moment.
‘If the cable car has broken down and cannot move we will soon become mummies.’ He glanced at her full forehead with his half-closed eyes, wondering at her ability to enjoy the scenery. He didn’t want to talk about the clouds. Inwardly, he cursed the damned cable car, though it wasn’t so much out of hatred for the thing as an attempt to vent his fear. With one breath he damned the car’s creators and a whole lot of other people and especially Swan Valley. Finally he calmed down.
‘If we are going to die here…could you…compose a poem for me?’ Suitang said. ‘I don’t want to die silently…When people find us, they will have your poem, and people will remember my love.’
‘Women! Damn your vanity!’ He liked her look of fearlessness before death. It was full of longing. But at the same time, he felt his heart jolt, and after the stabbing pain, a drop of blood dripped on Qizi’s face. She had been pushed onto the stage by vanity, and now a greater desire was controlling her, making her sacrifice her life. If he were to replace vanity and desire with more edifying words, it would be idealism and faith. This was what had become clear to him, after much pondering. When he had devoted himself to working in the hospital in a desperate attempt to anaesthetise himself against his memories of the past, people had taken it as an act of selflessness and applauded his exceptional conscience, praising him as a model of morality in the medical community.
‘As long as I live, I will have my vanity.’ Suitang wore a look that suggested that she wanted to talk to Mengliu about love. ‘Will you write for me? Do it now. If we don’t die it will still be a keepsake.’
He was suddenly angry. ‘Do you know that I have a phobia of heights? I couldn’t squeeze out a fucking fart right now, much less a poem.’
‘I’m afraid of heights too. But I’m not afraid when I’m with you. Do you know why?’ Women are more able to maintain their composure at crucial moments than men. Suitang didn’t get angry, even though she had every right to accuse him. ‘Because we are doing something meaningful.’
Mengliu’s face regained a little colour, his shame doing much to dispel his fear of heights. He wondered why he had been losing to women so often recently, why they had continued to pamper him like a baby, tolerated and given way to him, overlooked all his flaws. He was like their dog. They had all been confused by his superficial heroism. He wasn’t going into the nursing home because of Yuyue or for the truth, or at least, not completely. He lacked the quality of courage. He was naturally uninterested in truth, except for medical truth. But as for the question of how to go on surviving, he had his way…and his walks through the forest were proof of that. He would quietly take every opportunity he could to inspect the lay of the land. He drew a map of Swan Valley in his mind. It could not be completely isolated. There must be a way out. As for the river suddenly disappearing, he imagined that it must have continued flowing beneath the mountain, like a ghost. But now the river that flowed secretly beneath the mountains was filled with squid. Yes, that’s definitely how it was. And this cable car was the instrument for crossing the river.
‘Maybe we can get away from Swan Valley from here…if the cable pulls us over safely.’ He wanted to grab Suitang’s hand, but his fingers were stiff. He felt excited by his ability to let go now and stand on his own. He was blowing on his hands and slowly rubbing them together to warm them. He tried several times to look down at his feet, but failed. At last, gritting his teeth, he did look down, but all he could see was a river of rolling clouds.
Suitang said it would be horrible if they just ditched Juli and Yuyue. ‘Yuyue is waiting for you, you know. You must honour your word.’
‘They are on their own turf, with their own sense of law and order. We can’t do anything about that.’ He found he was overcoming all of his mental obstacles. He looked out from their cage and was awed by the beauty around them. He was thinking, Maybe the cable car stops here to let people feast their eyes on paradise before sending them to heaven. Such views only appear on a road close to heaven.
A gust of wind ran across the valley, shaking the cage.
From afar, they must have looked like a fallen leaf hanging on a spider web.
Suitang whispered, clinging to Mengliu to balance herself, ‘Well, if you won’t write, I can’t force you. But I want to know why you are so hardhearted. Even for a dying wish, you won’t do this to satisfy me?’
‘…If you want to think like that, I can’t do anything about it. Qizi would understand. She knew what I thought. She chased me out of Round Square because she didn’t want me to accompany her, to sacrifice myself fruitlessly. She was a true believer, but I wasn’t. She thought of the public, but I only thought of her. I was just tagging along. To be honest, I did not want to share in the fruits of their victory — but even more, I did not want them to lose so tragically, blown away like ashes in the wind…’ He was silent for a while, tears shining at the corners of his eyes. ‘So we need to think about how to get back…people cannot live without their motherland, even if it has no feeling for them, even if it takes everything from them, even if…’
As he was speaking in this sombre fashion, in these parallel sentences, she interrupted him. ‘Here, chew this. I think we should make love now, right here.’ She eyed him with a sort of apocalyptic indulgence.
He chewed the gum. He had thought of this possibility countless times, but today it didn’t attract him at all.
The cage, seemingly startled by Suitang’s words, began to twitch. With a burst, a bang, and a clicking sound, it started gliding towards the other side.
24
After entering a black hole, the cable car suddenly accelerated, whizzing along like a bullet. Mengliu felt like the top of his skull had been ripped off, and the skin on his face peeled back. Suitang’s long hair whipped about him, burning his face like fire. Without thinking, he grabbed hold of the railing and pulled Suitang into a protective embrace. He heard her shout, but couldn’t make sense of the garble of words that came speeding out of her mouth. Then he couldn’t hear anything, and after that he knew nothing.
When he awoke, they were lying on a wooden floor. The room was hot, and he was sweating. The beating of war drums slowly retreated from his ears, and he felt a kind of warmth, like sunshine after a storm. A ray of light struck his eyes, and he mistook it for the sun. When all the other lights came on one after another, he realised he was on a stage framed by a scarlet curtain, with a piano on one side, and various props on the other. The ceiling was dozens of metres high. He saw a circular painting on the ceiling and black velvet seats with yellow armrests filling three storeys of the auditorium, all of which were empty. The white gauze curtains on the boxes were held back with gold herringbone hooks. He recognised Darae’s work in the relief work covering the walls. At this point the familiar smell of the sea stimulated a memory. It seemed he had been here before — he remembered his conversation with the robot. Yes, that was here. Presumably the hall had been renovated extensively after the destruction he caused. He remembered it fully. It wasn’t a dream. He pulled himself up, and shook Suitang, who was like a sparrow hawk in full spin when she awoke, asking where they were as she looked around. When the light struck her body he saw fine traces of blood on her face.