Page 124 - I Live in the Slums: Stories (The Margellos World Republic of Letters)

idea. Qinglian’s mother looked like an old monkey. She always crept when she
went up and down stairs. She smiled at me when we met but never said a word. I
had no way of approaching the remote world inhabited by Qinglian and her
mother. Was this why I adored her?
Now Qinglian was taking me to this place, but wasn’t the distance between us
just the same as it had always been, like the distance between heaven and earth?
I had wanted to see the inside of Crow Mountain for years. I had even imagined

an exceedingly tall tree in the middle of this building. Now that I had muddle-
headedly tumbled into this dungeon, was it really what I’d hoped for?
Dismayed, I heard Qinglian call out again. She sounded far away, as if calling
down from the sky.
“Juhua, after you go up the slope, don’t stop to pick the cherries. Once you
start, you won’t be able to stop. You have to be resolute.”
“Qinglian, Qinglian! I’m done for! I can’t get to the place you’re talking
about.”
I heard my voice rebounding like an ear-shattering explosion. How had things
come to this? I made an effort to stand up, and held out my arms to feel my way
as I walked. I touched a pillar! I hugged it tightly. I was overcome by emotion.
“Why are you hugging my leg, kid? You have to do this by yourself.”

The old man’s voice came down from above. The smooth pillar turned out to
be his leg! I blushed. I hated myself for not being better at this. So this person
was a giant. Who was he?
“I’m Qinglian’s uncle, the gatekeeper here.”
He was talking from somewhere above me. He could see through to my
thoughts. Qinglian’s uncle was a giant. She’d never told me this. I felt somewhat
reassured; this place wasn’t a dungeon; it was merely the basement where
Qinglian’s uncle lived. I wondered whether he’d been testing us by not opening
the door when we’d knocked for such a long time. How strange he was.
“Hello, Uncle! Qinglian and I came to see you. Can you tell me where I am?
And where Qinglian is? My name is Juhua.”
“I’ve heard her speak of you, Juhua. Of course, you’re in my home. Where
else could you be? Generally, I don’t let anyone in. Anyone I let in can get
whatever he or she wants. Juhua, think carefully: what do you want?”
“Me? I want to go wherever Qinglian is,” I said loudly.
Then I saw a little light across from me, as if someone were carrying a candle,

or as if a candle were floating along of its own accord. When I moved toward the
light, I sensed someone holding me back.
“Uncle, is that you?”
No one answered. After spending so much time in the dark, I couldn’t tear my
eyes away from the light. I was afraid it would vanish. All of a sudden, the