Yu Yan Chen is a poet and literary translator. Her poems and literary translations have appeared in the US, UK and China. Her first collection of original poetry, Small Hours, was published by New York Quarterly Books in 2011. Her translation of The Chief Cellist, a children’s book by Taiwanese author Wang Wenhua, was published by Balestier Press. She currently resides in Singapore.
Li Juan (李娟) was born in 1979 in Xinjiang Province. She spent her childhood in remote towns in both Sichuan and Xinjiang. She used to work on the assembly line, but became a government employee at a later time. In 2007 she resigned to write full time. Her works center on her sensitive meditations while living among the Kazakh nomads of the Altay region. Her prose collections include Nine Chapters of Snow, Corners of Altay, My Altay, Please Sing Out Loud while Traveling through the Night, and Remember Little, Forget More. Corners of Altay has been translated into French and Korean. She has also won a number of prestigious awards including the People’s Literature Award, Zhu Ziqing Prose Prize, Mao Dun Literature Prize, and Shanghai Literature Prize, among others. She currently lives in Altay, Xinjiang.
Preface
Corners of Altay is a series of essays depicting Li Juan’s experiences in the Kazakh-speaking region of the Xinjiang Province in western China. In the 1990’, she and her mother, one of the few ethnic Han people living in the Gobi Desert, first operated a tailor shop, then a nomadic grocery store for their equally mobile customers. They would follow the herds in the summer, but they would fend off the winter by staying put in a temporary abode. This piece is about a pet rabbit as the season turns.
Twenty Centimeters to Spring
Li Juan
We spoke in broken Kazakh to do business with our customers, and although they only understood it vaguely, we would always achieve what we wanted. It didn’t matter that we didn’t speak their language, as long as we were able to find a way to be understood, everything would turn out all right. Otherwise, we would have to rely on imagination to guess what they wanted.
At first, I had no idea how to use imagination to help, and getting one small item sold would seem strenuous. I had to point at items from one end of the shelf to the other and from the bottom up to the top, while asking, “Is this the one? How about that? This one? That one?”
After much commotion, all the customer wanted was perhaps a box of matches worth ten cents.
As usual, my mother enjoyed handling matters based on her understanding. Although I felt she had misunderstood things on many levels, what she did based on those wrong impressions often ended up correct, so I can’t really complain much.
Now let’s talk about the snow rabbit.
It was a snowy winter’s night. Although it was late, we continued to toil away quietly while hovering around the stove. From time to time we would drift into a conversation about things that happened long ago. Suddenly the door was pushed open and someone came in with a thick cloud of freezing air and fog. We asked him what he wanted, but this gentle looking person couldn’t make himself understood after a long and convoluted explanation. We finally gave up on him and continued with our work. At last, he sank into deep thought and came up with a straightforward question, “Do you want a dzeren?”
“A dzeren?” We were surprised.
“Yes, a live dzeren.”
This time, we were even more surprised.
By then my mother and her apprentice Jianhua had begun to talk about where to keep the animal. Before I could respond, they had made up their mind that the coal shed would be the best place for it.
“What do we raise a dzeren for?” I asked.
“Who knows, let’s get it first.”
Having said that, my mother turned to that gentle looking person, “What’s your lowest offer?”
“Ten Yuan.”
We were taken by surprise for the third time, because ten Yuan would not be enough. Although dzeren literary means yellow sheep in Chinese, it is really a wild animal as beautiful as a deer, which makes it much bigger than a sheep.
I immediately joined their camp, “That’s right, after we buy the yellow sheep, I am going to ask for some feed from Ahan, because he hasn’t paid us for the flour since spring…”
Our excitement delighted the visitor too. In fact, he was almost proud of himself. Afraid that he might change his mind, my mother went to the counter immediately to get the money. She even added, “My good fellow, if you have more yellow sheep later on, please don’t forget to bring them to us again. We will want as many as possible. Don’t ever take them elsewhere. It would be a waste of time to do that, because besides us, no one else would want them…”
After paying him, all of us followed him outside for the yellow sheep.
A boy stood in the snow. His jacket bulged, and something was wrapped inside.
“Oh, a baby yellow sheep.”
The child gradually unbuttoned his jacket.
“Oh, the yellow sheep is white.”
…
This was what happened: in a snowy winter’s night, we bought a wild rabbit rather foolishly for ten Yuan. If it were other people, ten Yuan could have fetched at least three rabbits.
I started out this piece talking about misunderstandings, this was precisely the point.
Nevertheless, we had bought the rabbit and we were all enchanted by it, so there was no complaint. It was worthy of the ten Yuan we had spent! It was almost as big as a baby sheep, and therefore much bigger than the rabbits sold for three or four Yuan each. Besides, it was amazingly alive, unlike the ones sold to others, which were usually frozen solid.
It even had blue eyes. Whose rabbits have blue eyes anyway? (I learned much later that all of the wild rabbits have blue eyes. Only house rabbits have red eyes.) This species is also called the “snow rabbit,” as white as snow, so bright and shiny that if it were lying in the snow, there would be no way to spot it. However, I heard that as the weather gets warmer, the rabbit’s fur would gradually take on a muddy hue, which would blend in well with the Gobi Desert while running around.
With such a clever disguise, why did it still get caught? Perhaps it was still not strong enough. It was absolutely outrageous for people to set traps – we couldn’t help but curse that gentle looking person whenever we saw the scars on the rabbit’s hind legs, which were clamped by the trap.
We found a metal cage, put the rabbit in the corner of the coal shed, and checked on it many times a day. All it would do was stay still in the cage, forever chewing on half a frozen carrot. Grandma visited the rabbit most often. Sometimes she even stole the popcorn from the shelf to feed it. She would say to the rabbit, “Rabbit, it is such a pity that you are all alone…”
Whenever I overheard those words, I couldn’t help but feel sad. All of a sudden, I could also sense the plight of this poor rabbit, and Grandma’s situation wasn’t any better either… It was always so cold. All she could do was to put on layers and layers of clothing, which made her bulgy and bulky. She hardly went anywhere except to hover near the stove all day long. Ever since we had the rabbit, she started to make trips between our grocery store and the coal shed. With her hands holding onto the wall for support, she would walk gingerly back and forth on the same path as she moved about the icy ground. Sometimes she would cover her ears with her hands, sometimes she would hide her hands in her pockets.
How dreadful the winter was!
Yet, how lovely it was to be inside our house, so warm and cozy. Even though the coal shed was dark and dirty, but it beat being outside in the freezing cold. We were affectionate with the rabbit and fed it whatever we ate. Soon it grew fat and languid, with its deep blue eyes shinier than ever. If anyone dared to suggest stir-frying our pet rabbit and making it into different dishes, we would not hesitate to hate this person.
We loved this rabbit to bits, but we didn’t dare to let it roam freely. What if it escaped? Without any food, it would probably starve to death in the cold. Perhaps it would be captured by the villagers again. In our mind, it would have the best life in our house under our care.
We loved the rabbit so much that my mother would often stick her hands in through the openings of the metal cage to stroke it slowly. The creature would tremble slightly, burying its head deep between its two front paws, while the long ears drooped down flatly on the ground.
There was no way for it to hide from us, because there was nowhere to go. But we didn’t have any bad intentions, and how could we have made it understand?
As time passed, the weather gradually got warmer. Although it was still cold, the worst part of the winter was behind us. To our surprise, we noticed some muddy furs on the snow white rabbit! Apparently, it could detect the arrival of spring much more sharply than we did.
Then one day, we discovered that this depressed rabbit had escaped and we were sad and surprised at the same time.
But how did it escape? Where could it have gone? After all, there was snow everywhere in the village; there were people and dogs everywhere; where could this rabbit go to hunt for food?
We searched around in the vicinity of the yard, until it took us far away from the house, but there was not a single trace of the rabbit. For a long while we would search anxiously in the snow piled high on both sides of the road whenever we went out. We even put some cabbage in an obvious place in front of our house, hoping that the rabbit would find its way back. Days passed, and no one had the heart to clear it away even though it had turned frozen solid.
Meanwhile, the empty metal cage continued to occupy the same spot in the shed, as though it were waiting for the rabbit’s return – as though it would one day reappear inside the cage, just as mysteriously as its sudden disappearance.
Then the rabbit really did appear inside the cage again…
It was about a month after it went missing. We had taken off our thick jackets and walked about light-heartedly, awakened to the thoughts of accomplishing a plethora of things. We took down the felts and the plastics covering the windows, rolled up the heavy cotton curtains hanging on the doors, and stored them underneath the beds to be used next winter. We even cleaned up the coal shed and straightened the pieces that had fallen off.
Then we saw the rabbit again.
Let me point out that the metal cage remained by the foot of the wall in a dark corner all this time. One would have to stare at it for quite some time in order to see any movements. If it were a rabbit with snow white fur, you would be able to spot it right away. Yet, we had been going back and forth for several days, before we realized that there was something alive inside. Still, I wasn’t sure, for it could have been something dead. It was curled up in the far end of the cage. And when I looked at it some more, I was able to make out its form. “Isn’t that our rabbit?” What used to be a coat of thick and smooth fur was by then thin and scattered. It was wet and dirty, and I couldn’t even make out its face.
I am usually afraid of dead things, but I worked up the courage to touch the rabbit with my hands. Its body was a bag of bones and nearly given up. I had no idea whether it was still alive because there was no sign of the rabbit breathing. I grew even more scared, for I believed that a creature about to die can be scarier than a dead one. As death descends on it, its soul is probably at its most volatile and most vengeful. I ran away quickly and told my mother, and she rushed back to take a look.
“Wow, why did it come back? How did it come back?”
From afar, I watched as my mother carried that creature, our rabbit that went missing a month ago out of the cage. She fed it some warm water by wetting its mouth, enticing it to drink, after which she succeeded in getting the rabbit to take the leftover rice porridge we cooked that morning.
I wasn’t sure how she was able to revive that snow rabbit. I didn’t dare go through the process with her, because watching alone was scary enough. I have little tolerance for death, especially those dying around me. It makes me feel guilty.
Fortunately, our rabbit won the battle and survived. Then it got stronger than ever before. By May, its fur had changed completely into the muddy color fit for Gobi and it hopped around inside the yard, chasing after my Grandma for food.
Now, let’s go back and find out what happened exactly. Since the metal cage we used to cover it only had five sides (which meant that the bottom side was empty), and since it was close to the wall, the rabbit simply started digging a secret cave. It was a rabbit after all, an expert at digging holes. The dark shed was filled with loads of random things, but who would have known that there was actually a hole behind the cage? We’d always thought that the rabbit escaped through the biggest opening between the two metal bars!
The hole dug by the rabbit was rather narrow, about the width of one’s upper arm. I put my arm in but couldn’t reach the end, so I took a hook used to clear the stove, but even that failed to reach the end. Finally, I used a wire and made a more accurate measurement. It was over two meters long, heading east towards the front gate. If the rabbit had dug another 20 centimeters, it would have reached the outside world.
That was unimaginable! When we sat around our table having a warm meal, when we finished a day’s work and began to fall asleep, when we once again found delight in new and fun things, discovering happiness as a result, that rabbit was busy digging alone in the underground, enduring hunger and cold, digging bit by bit with the same movement – the movement towards spring. For an entire month, there was neither day nor night for it. I had no idea how many times the rabbit had to confront its own mortality during that month. It had probably realized the impossible nature of getting out alive, but it continued to sense the approaching spring, however dire the circumstances might be. For that month, it would sometimes slowly crawl back into the cage, looking for something to eat within its confine. But there was nothing, not even a drop of water, except for a layer of icy frost on the wall. So all it could do was to climb up the metal bar and chew on the cardboard box on top of the cage. We discovered much later that the bottom part of the box, wherever it could possibly be reached by the rabbit had been chewed off. It was also eating pieces of coal that had dropped inside the cage. In fact, when it was found, the rabbit’s face and teeth were pitch black. Yet, we remained ignorant about the whole thing. It was only at the brink of its death, that we discovered that the rabbit was there all along!
Everyone says that rabbits are timid. But as far as I know, they are brave animals. They face their death without fear, even when captured or trapped. When our rabbit escaped into the hole, despite the hunger and dire circumstances, it remained calm and collected in the face of death. When confronted with life’s many changes, it trembled and struggled perhaps not entirely out of fear, but because it didn’t understand what was going on. What does a rabbit really know then? In a way, all of the creatures of this world exist beyond our comprehension. They elude us, and the communication between us was nearly impossible. No wonder my Grandma would say, “Rabbit, Rabbit, you are such a pity…”
How lonely our lives can be even if the spring has already arrived. Our rabbit, on the other hand, is joyfully running inside the yard, its two front paws holding onto my Grandma’s shoes, chewing and biting them like a puppy, as though it had forgotten everything. Compared to us, it seems much more adept at leaving the bad memories behind, and therefore much more capable of experiencing the deeper joy of life.
离春天只有二十公分的雪兔
李娟
我们用模模糊糊的哈语和顾客做生意，他们也就模模糊糊地理解，反正最后生意总会做成的。不擅于对方语言没关系，擅于表达就可以了，若表达也不擅于，就一定得擅于想象。而我一开始连想象也不会，卖出去一样东西真是难上加难——你得给他从货架这头指到那头：“是这个吗？是这个吗？是这个吗？是这个吗？……”再从最下面一层货架指到最上面一层：“是这个吗？……”这样折腾到最后，对方要买的东西也许只是一毛钱一匣的火柴。
我妈总是喜欢按照自己的理解做事，虽然我总是觉得她在很多地方都理解错了，可是按照这种错误理解所做的事情，做到最后总能变成对的。我也就不好再多说些什么了。
然后说雪兔。
有一个冬天的雪夜，已经很晚了，我们围着火炉很安静地干活，偶尔说一些远远的事情。这时门开了，一个人挟着浓重的寒气和一股子雾进来了。我们问他干什么，这个看起来挺老实的人说了半天也说不清楚，于是我们也不理他了，继续干自己的活。他就一个人在那儿苦恼地想了半天，最后终于组织出了比较明确的表述：“你们要不要黄羊？”
“黄羊？”我们吃了一惊。
“对，活的黄羊。”
我们又吃了一惊。
我妈就立刻开始和建华她们讨论羊应该圈在什么地方。我还没反应过来，她们已经商量好养在煤棚里了。
“真是的，我们养黄羊干什么？”
“谁知道——先买回来再说。”
然后她转身问那个老实人：“最低多少钱卖？”
“十块钱。”
——我们吃了第三惊。黄羊名字里虽说有个“羊”字，其实是像鹿一样美丽的野生动物，体态比羊大多了。
我也立刻支持：“对，黄羊买回来后，我去到阿汗家要草料去——他家春天欠下的面粉钱一直没还……”
见我们一家人都高兴成这样，那个老实人也满意极了，甚至还有些骄傲的样子。我妈怕他反悔，马上去柜台取钱，一边还说：“以后再有了黄羊，还给我们拿来啊，多少我们都要，别人家都不要去……去也是白去，这种东西除了我们谁都不会要的。”
给了钱后我们全家都高高兴兴跟着他出去牵羊。
门口的雪地上站着个小孩子，怀里鼓鼓的，外套里裹着个东西。
“啊，是小黄羊呀。”
小孩把外套慢慢解开。
“啊，是白黄羊呀？”
……
事情就这样，那个冬天的雪夜，我们糊里糊涂用十块钱买回一只野兔子。要是别人家的话，十块钱最少也能买三只。
我前面铺垫了一大堆理解的误区之类的话，这里终于用上一点了。
不管怎么说，买都已经买回来了，我们还是挺喜欢我们这只兔子的，不愧是十块钱买回来的，比别人家那些三四块钱的可是大得多了，跟个羊羔似的。而且还是活的呢，太漂亮了，别人买回来的一般都已经冻得硬邦邦的了。
再而且，它还长着蓝色的眼睛呢！谁家的兔子是蓝眼睛？（但是不好意思的是，后来才知道所有的野兔子都是蓝眼睛的，白色家兔子才红眼睛……）这种兔子又叫雪兔，它的确是像雪一样白的，白得发亮。而且听说到天气暖和的时候，它的毛色还会渐渐变成灰土黄色的，这样，在戈壁滩上跑着的时候，就不那么扎眼了。
既然它的伪装这么高明，那为什么还会被抓住了呢？看来它还是弱的呀。那些下套子的家伙们实在太可恶了——无论什么时候，我们一看到兔子后爪上被夹过的惨重的伤痕就要骂那个老实人几句。
我们找了一个铁笼子，把它扣在煤棚的角落里，每天都跑去看它很多次，它总是安安静静地呆在那儿，永远都在慢慢地啃那半个给冻得硬硬了的胡萝卜头。我外婆跑得更勤，有时候还会把货架上卖的爆米花偷去拿给它吃，还悄悄地对它说：“兔子兔子，你一个人好可怜啊……”我在外面听见了，鼻子一酸，突然也觉得这兔子真的好可怜。又觉得外婆也好可怜……天气总是那么冷，她只好整天穿得厚厚的，鼓鼓囊囊的，紧紧偎在火炉边，哪也不敢去。自从兔子来了以后，她才在商店和煤房之间走动走动。经常可以看到她在去看兔子或从兔子那里回来的路上小心地扶墙走着，遍地冰雪。她有时候会捂着耳朵，有时候会袖着手。
冬天多么漫长……
但是我们家里多好啊，那么暖和，虽然是又黑又脏的煤棚，但总比呆在冰天雪地的外面舒服多了。而且我们一点儿也不亏待它，我们吃什么它也吃什么，很快就把它养得胖胖的，懒懒的，眼珠子越发亮了，幽蓝幽蓝的。要是这时有人说出“你们家兔子炒了够吃几顿几顿”这样的话，我们一定恨死他。
我们都太喜欢这只兔子了，但又不敢把它放出来让它自由自在地玩，要是它溜出去的话，外面那么冷，又没有吃的，它一定会饿死的。而且要是被村子里其他的人逮住了，就更不妙了，我们就相信只有我们家会好好地对它的。
我们真的喜欢这只兔子，我妈常常把手从铁笼子的铁丝缝里伸进去，慢慢地抚摸它柔顺乖巧的身子，它就轻轻地发抖，深深地把头埋下，埋在两条前爪中间，并把两只长耳朵平平地放了下来。
它没法躲，它哪儿也去不了。但是我们真的没有恶意啊，它怎样才能知道呢？
一天一天过去，天气也渐渐暖和一点了，虽然外面还是那么冷，但冬天最冷的时候已经永远地过去。我们也惊奇地注意到白白的雪兔身上，果真一天天、一根根地扎出了灰黄色的毛来——它比我们更先、更敏锐地感觉到了春天的来临。
就在这样一个时候，突然有一天，这只性格抑郁的兔子终于还是走掉了。我们全家人真是又失望又奇怪又难过。
它怎样跑掉的呢，它会跑到哪里去呢？村子里到处都是雪，到处都是人，它到哪里找吃的呢？
我们出去在院子周围细细地寻找，一直找到很远的地方。好长时间过去了，每天出门时，仍不忘在雪堆里四处瞧瞧。我们还在家门口显眼的地方放了块白菜，希望它看到后能够回家，后来，竟然一直都没人最先去把那块冻得邦硬的白菜收拾掉。
那个空空的铁笼子也一直空罩在原地，好像它还在等待有一天兔子会再回来，像它的突然消失一样，会突然从笼子里冒出来。
后来，它居然又重新在笼子里冒出来了……
那时候差不多已经过去一个月了吧，那时候我们都把老棉衣换下来了，一身轻松地干这干那的，窗户上蒙的毡子呀、塑料布呀什么的都扯下来了，棉门帘也收起来卷在床底下。我们还把煤房好好地拾掇了一下，把塌下来的煤堆重新码了码。
就在这时，我们又重新看到了兔子。
顺便说一下，煤房的那个铁笼子一直扣在暗处的角落里的，定睛看一会儿才能瞧清楚里面的动静，要是有兔子的话，它雪白的皮毛一定会非常扎眼，一下子就可以看到的。但是，我们过来过去好几天，才慢慢注意到里面似乎有个活物，甚至不知是不是什么死掉的东西，它一动不动蜷在铁笼子最里面，定睛仔细地看，这不是我们的兔子是什么！它浑身原本光洁厚实的皮毛已经给蹭得稀稀拉拉的，身上又潮又脏，眉目不清的。我害怕死掉的东西，但还是斗胆伸手进去摸了一下——一把骨头，只差没散开了。不知道还有没有气，看上去这身体也丝毫没有因呼吸而起伏的感觉。我更加害怕——比起死去的东西，我尤其最怕这种将死未死的，总觉得就在这样的时刻，它的灵魂最强烈，最仇恨似的。我飞奔地跑掉了，跑去商店找我妈，我妈也急急跑来看——
“呀，它怎么又回来了？它怎么回来的？……”
我远远地看着她小心地把那个东西——我们已经失踪了一个月的兔子弄出来，然后用温水触它的嘴，诱它喝下去，又想办法让它把早上剩下的稀饭吃下去。
至于他们具体怎么去救活这只雪兔的，我不清楚，我实在不忍心全程陪同到底，我在旁边看着都发毛。我实在不能忍受死亡。尤其是死在自己身边的东西，一定是有自己罪孽在里面……
不过好在后来，这兔子还是挣扎着活了过来，而且还比之前更壮实了一些，五月份时，它的皮毛完全换成土黄色的了，在院子里高高兴兴地跑来跑去，追着我外婆要吃的。
现在再来说到底是怎么回事——我们用来罩住那只兔子的铁笼子只有五面，也就是说下面是空的，而且又靠着墙根，于是兔子就开始在那里打洞——到底是兔子嘛，而煤房又暗，乱七八糟的堆满了破破烂烂的东西，谁知道铁笼子后面黑咕隆咚的地方还有一个洞呢？我们还一直以为兔子是从铁笼子最宽的那道栅栏处挤出去跑掉的呢。
那个洞很窄的，也就手臂粗吧，我就把手伸进去探了探，根本探不到头，又手持掏炉子的炉钩进去探了探，居然也探不到头！后来，他们用了更长的一截铁丝捅进去，才大概地估计出这个小隧道可能有两米多长，沿着隔墙一直向东延伸，已经打到大门口了，恐怕再有二十公分，就可以出去了……
我真的想象不到——当我们围着温暖的饭桌吃饭，当我们过完一天，开始进入梦乡，当我们又有了别的新鲜好玩的事情，并因此而欢乐、幸福……那只兔子，如何孤独地在黑暗冰冷的地下一点一点，忍着饥饿和寒冷，坚持重复一个动作——通往春天的动作……整整一个月，没有白天黑夜。我不知道在这一个月里，它一次又一次独自面对过多少的最后时刻……那时它已知生还是不可能了的，却在绝境中，在时间的安静和灵魂的安静中，感觉着春天一点一滴的来临……整整一个月……有时候它也会回到笼子里，回来看看这里有没有什么吃的，没有的话，就攀着栅栏，啃放在铁笼子上的纸箱子（后来我们才发现的，那个纸箱子的底面能被啃食到的地方全都没有了），嚼煤碴（被发现时，它的嘴脸和牙齿都黑黑的）……可是我们却什么也不知道……甚至当它已经奄奄一息了好几天后，我们才慢慢注意到。
都说兔子胆小，可我们所知道的是，兔子其实是勇敢的，它的生命里没有惊恐的内容。无论是沦陷，是被困，还是逃生，或者饥饿、绝境，直到奄奄一息，它始终那么平静淡然。它发抖，挣扎，不是因为害怕，而仅仅是因为它不能明白一些事情而已。但是兔子都知道些什么呢？万物皆在我们的想法之外，沟通绝无可能。怪不得外婆会说：“兔子兔子，你一个人好可怜哟……”
我们也生活得多孤独啊！虽然春天已经来了……当兔子满院子跑着撒欢，两只前爪抱着我外婆的鞋子像小狗一样又啃又拽——它好像什么都不记得了！它总是比我更轻易去抛弃不好的记忆，所以总是比我们更多地感觉着生命的喜悦。
(Reprinted with permission from the author)