Page 127 - I Live in the Slums: Stories (The Margellos World Republic of Letters)

“Juhua, I’m really happy . . . You’ve managed to get hold of . . .”

Qinglian’s voice came from a faraway place above me. I thought wherever
she was, she wasn’t in the building. Maybe she was in outer space. What had I
gotten hold of? Did she mean this little creature I was holding? This was a cold-
blooded creature. I was holding it in my hand. It had no wings, yet it could
actually drift in the air. I decided to take it home and raise it.
I was excited about going home. Qinglian, you gave me such a bizarre
experience. Now I really wanted to go home, but I also really wanted to try some
new things. What I wanted most right now was to meet up with Qinglian. Did
she still care about me? She certainly wasn’t avoiding me. This was the first
secret the two of us had shared. I decided not to tell my parents about Crow
Mountain. Then again, Qinglian and I probably wouldn’t meet here. This seemed
to be one of her principles: she had to be in her place, and I had to be in my
place. My face was numb where it had been bitten. Would I die? The little thing
bit me again on my palm. It hurt a little, but it was much more exciting. If I
brought this little wingless thing that could still drift in the air home with me, it
could drift back and forth in the air all day long. How jealous the neighbors

would be when they saw it!
But where was the door? I couldn’t find it, and so I had no way of leaving. I
sat on the floor, the little thing in my hand. I listened closely. It was the roar of a
faraway waterfall, and I imagined what it must look like—the mist of the
waterfall against the sky.
“Uncle,” I said to the air.
“Have you gone where she is?” I immediately heard Uncle’s voice and then
the echoes in the vacant building. I felt a tremor, like a small earthquake.
“No, Uncle! Qinglian is far away from me!”
“You’re such a silly child,” Uncle laughed.
The floor where I was seated shook with the sound of his laughter. I was
terrified.
He finally stopped laughing. Once again, I saw the candle drifting in the air.

A door appeared where the candle was. I got up at once, walked over there, and
pushed the door open. Next to the door was a small basement room. A weak
beam of light on the floor passed through the window. The room was neat, and
there was even a mosquito net over the bed.
When my eyes grew accustomed to the light, I noticed many small bookcases
lining the wall of the room. There was an ancient book on the table, and next to
it was a pair of small spectacles. There were also some ancient books on the bed
stand. Wasn’t Uncle a giant after all? Was this his room? Why did I think it must
be his room?
The door creaked open, and a humpbacked old man with glasses and a goatee