Nineteen years ago, I followed a tattered company of soldiers over the tortuous highway through the towering mountains from Hanchung in Shansi to Szechuan. It was in November and every time I think of that long trek, my memory is filled with slushy mud and never-ending cold rain. It brings me pain, and when I think also of the long, trouble-filled road of life, a feeling of utter exhaustion comes over me.
It was really too cold. Our jackets and trousers, from which the cotton batting was already emerging, were dripping wet. The coldness seeped in as if intentionally trying to freeze the blood of this company of stragglers. The rain, sometimes a sprinkle, sometimes a downpour but mostly just a steady drizzle, splashed our weatherbeaten faces. As time passed, you forgot the reality of the rain and even that in this world there was ever a past or future, or the possibility of a sunny day long lost to memory.
The company's ranks had already broken up, each man with his own wornout knapsack on his back; legs numb, and on his feet, the straw sandals tied over and over again with hemp cords. Too many of our comrades had slipped and fallen for any new victim to rouse sympathy. Then there were the cadaverous looking sick ones, coughing in the cold wind, staggering step by step on legs as thin as the bamboo stick they held in one hand.
The men in this company were all from the farms and had been drafted during the war against Japan. Loyal and simple, they were haggard with the trials of the long trek. But they had inherited the obstinancy of their ancestors so that, like camels, they walked silently on, step by step, neither murmuring against the heavens nor harboring any resentment against their fellow men. Their faces were without expression and seemed to be in harmony with the sky, which was darker and heavier than slate.
Since then, during nineteen years of aimless wandering, whenever it is a rainy day, I think of those vagrant days and my mind fills with those same impressions, the raindrops of my memory seeming to dampen my eyes. Once again I feel the long whip in my hands as I stand in the empty loneliness of the middle of the road. In those days, I was the lieutenant of this lien (1) and my duty was to lead them to a certain designation, after which I was to return to my original post. By the time we had crossed the Szechuan border, all of us, myself included, were sick but we could not afford to collapse because we had to live till we reached our destination. We made such slow progress that we had to keep on, day and night-a forced march. This was a soundless company. Nobody had said much of anything in the past two weeks; the only sound was the shuffling of the straw sandals. Even my angry shouts were limited to occasional curses at the men for their slowness.
Among the ragged scarecrows of this company was a stout fellow by the name of Tsao Fei-Lung (2). He did not do much talking either but his eyes were clear and penetrating. Whenever we stopped at a small village and spent the night in some family's neglected old ancestral hall, he would always manage somehow to find a basin of hot water for me to soak my feet. Various similar attentions caused me to relax my control over his movements and in an unspoken agreement, he was given a little more freedom. This was not too noticeable, as he was in truth a ranking sergeant.
This wild, panther-like man was around my age and had two years of village schooling. I remember he was the only one in the entire company who had offered his services to the army. Why he wanted to become a soldier was nobody's business. I found out later.
In everything but name, he had already become my companion of the road. Not only was he familiar with all the paths of frivolous dissipation-eating, drinking, debauchery, gambling, smoking; he was an expert at all of them. Just seeing the string of gold rings tied around his waist made that clear.
As we approached the city of Chengtu, we received orders to bivouac at Hsintu and wait for further instructions. The weather was either dark and lowering or raining; we were dispersed in separate quarters which were, of course, the deserted houses of that area. The troops under me were lucky enough to be billeted in a small ancestral hall of one of the abandoned homes.
Geographically speaking, this place was situated on the edge of a plain; the long broad yellow highway stretched out past our door. Every day a continuous stream of dilapidated trucks fully loaded with merchandise and "yellow fish"(3) crawled by through the slushy mud. Around us were untilled fields with wild grass, clumps of withered trees and desolate graves. The tombstones with their indecipherable inscriptions were sunk in the mire and even those half slanted above the ground were covered with green moss. Scattered among the fields were clumps of bamboo groves that indicated people were living there. Behind was a long unbroken chain of reddish-brown mud mountains, like a surrounding wall, without any towering precipices or rugged cliffs but simply an undulating shape under the silver gray skies, almost like a suffering reptile prostrated between heaven and earth. The scenery was just the right setting for our group of people, for both had many of the same characteristics. I am not exaggerating.
As life settled down to a routine, there was not much to do. Every day I led these men in soldiers' uniforms in military songs. It was not easy to pass the days.
I did not have to stand duty and in my lethargy I felt an unutterable loneliness. Often I would stand alone at the edge of the bamboo groves, staring vacantly at the distant brick-red hills covered with a filmy layer of green. The never-ending drizzle covered everything with mildew; only the newly grown pea sprouts touched the land with a spot of jade green. Especially in the early dawn and late dusk, when the assiduous bugler climbed onto a high ridge in the midst of the wind and rain and blended his string of clear notes with the smoke and drizzle, I was filled with a desolate sadness that I will never, till the end of my life, forget.
One day, I was standing, bemused, in the sunset. Sergeant Tsao and another sergeant approached silently from a side path. When they realized that the shadowy figure standing beside the bamboos was me they were somewhat surprised.
"Lieutenant! What are you doing standing here alone?"
"I was feeling depressed, loitering around, so I came out for a breath of air," I said.
The other man prodded Sergeant Tsao's arm but Tsao paid no attention to him. Tsao smiled and said:
"Lieutenant, will you consent to do me the honor? We are going to the little shop by the road for a few drinks; they have something good to chase down the wine."
It was apparent that Sergeant Wang was worried and a little disappointed, so my curiosity was roused.
"What is there that is so good and such a secret? Tell me, Sergeant Tsao!"
"We better speak softly. If the local people knew, they would not lend us their pots to cook. Dog meat!"
"What's so extraordinary about dog meat?"
"It's not that. This farmer's dog was barking day and night; really annoying, so our men caught him in the middle of the night and after dragging him among the graves, they killed him. They cut off his leg as a present to please their sergeant and now the sergeant asks the lieutenant to share the pleasure. Let's go, Lieutenant!"
Having just finished such a long march, I was indeed feeling greedy. Our food then did not consist of much outside of green vegetables in our soup. I had not tasted meat for over half a year. I did not say another word, just turned and followed them.
When we entered the thatched hut by the roadside we smelled smoke and felt a sudden warmth. There was a glowing red charcoal brazier in one corner of the room. At that moment, there were no customers in the room, nor any waiters, either. Several large glass containers on the black wooden counter were filled with sesame candy, peanuts, thin crunchy wafers, fried rice candy and other things to eat. In the closet against the wall were a collection of candles, white tape, dried vegetables and umbrellas and cigarettes, while in the other half of the room were placed a small dark brown jar of wine and a brightly varnished square table with four bamboo chairs. There was a door which led to the back part of the hut. I pulled out a chair and sat down. The other two, as if they had entered their own home, went directly toward the dark interior.
After a little while, as I sat with bent head, warming myself by the fire, I heard a slight cough. I lifted my head and saw that there was a young girl standing behind the counter; very dignified, without a trace of a smile. Her eyebrows were long and smoothly arched over her large dark eyes, which were bright and clear; her nose was like a delicate carving and her mouth was small and thinly lipped. Her even features blended with her white skin into an overall effect of refined beauty and grace. This was indeed a rare flower and my heart contracted in surprise, leaving me breathless.
The corners of her mouth drooped a little and gave her an air of lofty superiority. Her eyes slanted up while her brows were twisted in a slight frown. She was dressed in a gray cotton gown and a white cloth was wrapped around her head—was she in mourning for someone? With such striking beauty, it would be natural for her to have an evil destiny(4) That was my immediate thought. From her appearance, she could not have been over twenty years old. When our eyes met, she turned her face away and looked out the door, as if there was no one there. Her proud arrogance gave me a feeling of inferiority and unconsciously, I withdrew my gaze and continued looking into the fire, trying to guess at the background of the girl's life.
"Lieutenant! You will have to wait a while!" Sergeant Tsao stuck his head in through the back door. "I have to cook this myself. I say, Hsiu-yuin,(5) do give our lieutenant some fried rice candy!"
"Sergeant, you go tend to your work," I said. The little room was quiet again. The girl's vacant eyes seemed to be fixed dazedly on the rain dripping down from the eaves. Some time passed, then as if she had just remembered, she spoke as if to herself, without even turning her head:
"Do you want to have some fried rice candy? Help yourself."
"Thank you!" I bowed, half-rising from my seat. "If I want some, I'll help myself."
"What is there to thank me for!" Her voice took on the tone of a slight rebuke. "You're a queer one, as if you think I'm afraid that you won't pay for what you eat!"
At that moment, a corpulent old woman with a bamboo hand warmer (6) in her wrinkled hands came into the room, breathing out vapor. When she saw me sitting there so stiffly and then saw the expressions on both our faces, she seemed to feel that there was something amiss.
"Officer, the rain is so annoying! Do sit here a while, warm yourself and wait to drink some Ta Chu (7) Ai-i, Hsui-yuin has been spoilt since she was a child and doesn't even know to serve guests. Really hopeless!" She smiled and made her voice apologetic.
"Po-po! (8) You really talk too much. You had better go and smoke your water pipe!"
"What is the matter with you, child. After Po-po is dead, who will spoil you then? With such a temper, see if you won't get whipped after you get married off!"
The girl pouted: "Po-po, there you go talking nonsense again. Hsiu-yuin won't talk to you any more!"
"If Hsiu-yuin won't talk to Po-po, then what is the use for Po-po to go on living?" Her voice was filled with a plaintive sadness.
"Hsiu-yuin was only joking with Po-po–Hsiu-yuin will always be with Po-po."
"What if Po-po dies?" The old woman placed her face against the young one's.
"Hsui-yuin will go and become a nun! Hsiu-yuin won't want to live either!"
Listening to the low voices of grandmother and granddaughter, I understand a little more about them. I lifted my head silently to look at them again and noticed that eyes of both were filled with unshed tears.
After the dog meat was ready, Sergeant Tsao filled three bowls with Ta Chu, and what with playing the finger game and eating and drinking, we made merry until the little shop put up its shutters and the oil lamp became dim, its flame tinged with blue. The girl named Hsiu-yuin had gone to sleep long ago, and only the old woman was left, nodding over her charcoal hand brazier. The faces of both sergeants were brightly flushed with wine and although they were not yet drunk, they were fast approaching that stage. It would not do to go on any longer.
"Sergeant Tsao, it's getting very late," I said. "We had better go back."
"I, Tsao Fei-lung, am just like a dragon. I have flown around these many year!!. Lieutenant, I'm not afraid of telling you the truth—this time I was paid to take someone else's place. Having put away several ounces of gold, it's about time for me to rest a bit." His eyeballs were red from Ta Chu. "Sergeant Wang here knows me best. A frank person does not talk in riddles. I, Tsao Fei-lung, on the march I'll not change my name, and sitting around, I'll not change my surname. This time, I will settle down here in Szechuan as a good civilian."
Sergeant Wang teased him in a low voice. "Sergeant Tsao, you have gone crazy over Hsiu-yuin! Only afraid she'll not accept you!"
"Even the iron used for the beam of a house can be ground into an embroidery needle; if you just take the time you'll succeed in anything!" Tsao patted his chest: "I have my ways. I am a dragon—dragons fly with the clouds, tigers fly with wind—when a dragon meets a cloud he will not want to fly any longer."
I listened silently without putting in a single word until we stumbled our way back to quarters. But the girl had made a deep impression on me.
Afterward, I went there again several times, and as before, I found every movement of the girl Hsiu-yuin to be more interesting. I believed in the other man's self-confident way of thinking and had no reason to butt into this affair; I just wanted to see how strongly a man can manage his own destiny.
Two weeks later, our troops were reorganized, transferred, and sent off. I understood this 'dragon-like' man's loyalty; he managed not to desert while under my command. Of course, Tsao Fei-lung himself knew very well the right time for him to fly on his way.
This affair was not too unusual an experience in my life. I was only concerned about this particular dragon, whether he had actually retired peacefully into the cloud.
We could not control our days but had to go wherever the troops were sent. From our point of view, war was as ordinary as eating and dressing. Eight years of fighting and at last we won the final victory. But forgetful people no longer remembered the price we had paid in blood and sweat. The group of men who had marched that year from Hanchung to Szechuan was scattered like falling flowers floating to the four corners of the world on the unfeeling waters of time. I, with my strong lust for life, was left to go on with the struggle.
In the thirty-sixth year of the Republic (1947), when the fighting with the Communists broke past the border, reaching Liaoning and touching the western part of Haichen Hsien, we came face to face with the stubborn enemy at Liu-erh-pao. It was in the freezing winter of the northeast, and when I went off to buy myself a drink in the little village shop, I unexpectedly met the same Sergeant Wang who had been with me that time when we marched the recruits into Szechuan.
I asked him to have a drink with me and afterward, as we staggered drunkenly through the door, the moon was clear as a mirror. As we strolled along over the deserted cobble road, our shadows looked like two black snakes swimming in the silvery waters of the river. The reason I can remember that scene so clearly was because of a happy piece of news that Sergeant Wang told me.
"That fellow, Tsao Fei-lung, really is a man of many resources. That time, not long after we were reassigned, he deserted again. He didn't forget Hsui-yuin and this time, he really caught her. In the thirty-third year of the Republic (1944) when I happened to pass through Hsintu again, I went to that little shop to see him. It was extraordinary! The flying dragon had become a submissive, earthbound dragon. A beautiful face looks even more beautiful in mourning: Hsiu-yuin had become a woman and even more lovely than before; her grandmother had just died. That bastard Fei-lung had gold with him so he did good business. He really was in luck. He was thinking of coming back into the ranks but I advised him to content himself with being a shopkeeper."
"Did he invite you to another meal of dog meat?" I remembered our rash foolhardiness of the past and blurted out the question without even thinking.
"Huh! This time there were four dishes of food to go with our wine. That fellow Tsao Fei-lung really is capable. I have bowed to him long ago."
Time flies past and changes the original destiny of men; Tsao Fei-lung was only one among millions. We are all unequal to the joys and sorrows that time brings us. At that time I had already been raised to the position of a lien-chang (9) and Sergeant Wang long ago had become Lieutenant Wang.
In the battle at Liu-erh-pao, we won a partial victory. In the midst of this tug-of-war fighting, Lieutenant Wang was killed. We did not belong to the same company so that it was through a fellow soldier who escaped that I heard of his death.
In the thirty-eighth year (1949), I followed the army from Shanghai to Taiwan and during the years of vigorous training that followed, I had little time to remember the old days and their effects on my life. In a flash, nine years passed by, and in the ever springlike climate of the island, time seemed to stand still and we almost forgot the creeping up of old age.
On January twenty-third of the forty-third year (1954), the mainland anti-Communist fighters came back from Korea(10). The delirious happiness and warmth of the nation's welcome was something that no one will ever forget. There was one group of men stationed at Yangmeichen, between Hsinchu and Taoyuan. I knew that among them were some of myoid comrades, so one sunny afternoon, I took the train to Yangmeichen. My main thought was to find out something about the conditions of the mainland under the rule of the Communists in the past few years. I found an old friend and asked him to have supper with me in the town.
We walked over the stone bridge and at the crossroads, behind a grove of bamboos, came upon a little brick house. There was a sign at the door - four black words on a piece of red paper: "Szechuan Small Chow." Myoid friend was a Szechuanese and I always had been very fond of peppery Szechuan food, so that we entered the door without hesitation.
The waitress was a Taiwanese girl. After we had ordered our meal, we especially asked for two small bottles of Kinmen Kaoliang(11). The only window of the small house was splashed with the many colors of approaching dusk and the darkness of the room was brightened by one slanted ray of golden light. After we had drunk three cups to each other, a little girl came running in from outside.
"Pa-pa, Pa-pa! I'm hungry, I want to eat." "Yao-wa-erh,(12) don't fuss. Be a good child and as soon as Mama has finished cooking for the guests, she will give you your supper." A woman's voice spoke from behind.
"I'm hungry. Pa-pa is no good, he is a bad one!"
"Ha ... ha! Pa-pa has been a bad one these many years; did you hear this from your Ma-ma, Yao-wa-erh?" This was a man's voice interrupting.
"Pa-pa, this is not your business!"
This conversation between father and daughter was not carried on in lowered voices and was amusing. In the indistinct light of the room, I looked toward a far corner and saw a man with a wooden stick in one hand sitting in a bamboo chair. His head was thrust forward and it was apparent that his body was already bent and deformed. After a burst of laughter, he started to cough. The phlegm gurgled in his throat and his voice sounded like the blowing of a bellows. I could not see his face clearly but felt the penetrating clearness of his eyes. I took another look at the little girl; the tiny body standing there had an air of pride. She was facing the setting sun so I could see a pair of large dark eyes with very clear whites, a delicate straight nose, a small thin-lipped mouth, two long slender arched eyebrows. Such a familiar and moving face! Without my realizing it, this little girl led my thoughts back to what I had not thought of for a long time. Time stopped, or had it run backward? I almost cried out in surprise; I was filled with an indescribable confusion.
"The food is really wonderful!" My friend was full of praise and at the same time he raised his voice. "Boy! You can't see any more in this room! Why don't you bring some light?"
"Ai-ya! I'm sorry. I just remembered, the electric light has broken down. Ah-tsu, light a candle! Mister! Are you one of the anti-Communist patriots? From Korea? Native of Szechuan?"
The man sitting in the corner had broken into the conversation. His old-sounding voice was filled with emotion; he wanted to get up but fell clumsily back into his seat. I realized then that he was a cripple.
"Ta Lao-pan (13), I'm from the town of Tseliugin in Szechuan. I just came back from the anti-Communist POWs in Korea. Have you also been to Szechuan?" My friend asked.
"Yes, I did go there. I even lived there. This was ten years ago. My wife is from Chengtu. I also served in the army."
"How come you become a lao-pan, a shop owner? Ha! You must have done pretty well, huh?"
"Huh! My leg is crippled, I am finished .... old. Six years ago I was still fighting the communists in Szechuan. I managed to escape with my life but was wounded in the process. I dragged my wife and child with me to Hainan Island and then here to Taiwan. Now I have retired. As soon as a man is crippled, there is no use for him in the army."
"You are indeed a courageous hero!"
"Not at all! I'm over forty now. That's not really old according to years but my heart is already old. I'm not worthy of being called a hero but have become a bear! Ha! Ha!"
The candlelight wavered and the shadows in the gray darkness were like ever-pursuing ghosts, following me. The wine was really good, it made them forget I was there. I drank glass after glass, eating the peppery hot food; not saying a word, just listening to them talk.
"Is business good?"
"This town has grown up in the last few years.
Even the express train stops here now. After all, it's doing business with the soldiers. I can't eat army food any more, but I'm unhappy if I'm not around soldiers. In the past, if it were not for a woman, and at present, if it were not for my bad leg, I would still be loath to leave the army!"
"I'm sure you are not telling the truth! You have a wife and a child - what else can you wish for?"
"Huh! What else is there to do after a leg is crippled? I am happy enough to spend the rest of my life with my wife. This woman of mine ... " the cripple put his stick on the ground and lowered his voice: "Mister, this wife of mine is the root of my life! My leg is crippled, my left eye was blinded by gun powder. This body here really is not worth a cent. My wife is young, bad tempered but good hearted. Now, it's her turn to tend to the cooking, to wait on others to support me. I have a conscience; I must use the latter part of this old, crippled and blind life of mine to look after her. Ai, when one loves another, it is all a matter of heart .... a warm heart."
"This is also good fortune reaped from some good deed done in your first life. Having a good wife brings satisfaction in everything, isn't that true, Lao-pan?"
"You're perfectly right! Everybody must have some temper; a woman with a temper is like wine that has an after taste. Don't you agree?"
"Can you tell me your name, please? Your words are so very true. If you don't speak the same language, half a word would be too much to say. After returning to my own country from all those years of fighting for the Communists in the ice and snow, you are the first new friend I have made."
"Not worthy! Not worthy!" He raised his voice but it was still depressingly hoarse, "On the march, I'll not change my name, and sitting down I'll not change my surname. My surname is Tsao and my name is Fei-lung."
Sure now, I bowed my head on the table. The empty wine bottle was swept onto the floor. My friend from Korea turned to me and said:
"Drunk! You're drunk! How come your wine capacity is not as good as it used to be?"
I stretched out my hand and waved him to silence. At that moment a woman's low husky voice was heard:
"Tsao Fei-lung! Tsao Fei-lung! You crippled thing, you're just talking a lot of nonsense and not paying any attention to Little Yuin. Ah-tsu! Take the rice and dishes out; the child is starved."
I covertly watched the cripple painfully get himself up off the chair, tuck his crutches under his arms and hop his way toward the back of the house. From the back, he looked exactly like a lame monkey.
Not long afterward, the cripple again called out "Ai, Ai! Little Yuin has crawled on to the bed and fallen asleep. Wake up, good child! Go and find your mother and eat."
I was deeply moved and wanted to go over and grasp his hand, to talk happily about the past. But I warned myself repeatedly: "Mustn't rake up old memories for other people." Who knows what added misery these old memories would bring to one who was so brave and loyal?
Hurriedly, I finished eating and after paying the bill, I stood up. At that moment, the only other person in the room was the waitress, counting the money and clearing the dishes. I walked out of the little shop with my friend, shoulder to shoulder, and he asked questioningly: "Are you drunk?"
"Are you drunk?" I answered him with the same words.
Actually, neither of us was drunk. Outside, the sky was clear and high, the sea of clouds like a vast ocean... one tuft of cloud over another until the entire heavens were covered, even the new moon and the stars. Standing on the bow-shaped roadside, looking at Taiping Mountain, it certainly resembled a tired old dragon. As I walked back with my friend over the stony road, the bamboo on both sides of the road quivered gently and it sounded like the tinkling of jade ornaments. By the time we crossed the bridge, we were both clear-headed again. Bending our heads, we could see the rippling of the clear water like a stream of silver and when we suddenly lifted our heads again, the white clouds had already turned to a smoky mist. I thought of the capricious clouds and perverse ripples, ever uncertain and changing. If God would deign to let me live a little longer, what would this world be like in another fifteen years? The great changes of the world are exactly like the drifting clouds that float over my head—the vagrant clouds of a thousand variations! Everything in the future is created by an unseen hand; so many things cannot be resolved by man —gazing at the transient clouds, I was overcome by a sense of fleeting impermanence.
How true! It seemed that I was remembering all this just a while ago, but before you could even snap your fingers, it has already been another five years.
(1) A company of soldiers, nominally one hundred and twenty-six men.
(2)Fei-lung means literally "flying dragon;" this has importance later in the story.
(3) Those who did not have regular tickets but paid a negotiated sum of money to the driver to be allowed to ride. Because of the transportation shortage, yellow fish were a familiar feature of the war years.
(4) It is an age-old Chinese superstition that if a woman is too beautiful, something unhappy is destined to happen to her.
(5) Literally translated, "Graceful Cloud."
(6) A woven bamboo basket with a charcoal burner inside to carry around for keeping the hands warm.
(7) Ta Chu is very a strong wine produced in Szechuan.
(8) Po-po means grandmother.
(9) Officer in charge of one lien; a company of nominally one hundred and twenty-six men.
(10) Fourteen thousand Chinese Communist soldiers taken prisoner by United Nations forces in Korea chose to come to Taiwan rather than return to Communist-ruled territory.
(11) Kinmen Kaoliang is a strong white wine made on the offshore island of Quemoy.
(12) "Yao" is the Szechuanese term for "Youngest"; Yao-wa-erh means literally "Youngest Child."
(13) Literally "Big Boss," or "Big Shop Owner."