Page 125 - I Live in the Slums: Stories (The Margellos World Republic of Letters)

eyes away from the light. I was afraid it would vanish. All of a sudden, the
pinprick of light became a gigantic pillar of light as wide as a bowl, which kept
stretching upward. I realized that this wasn’t a five-story building—it was a huge
vacant room. The column of light penetrated the roof and shot toward the sky,
and I finally managed to approach it. I tried putting my hand into the column
itself, and immediately the tragic caw of crows reverberated. Frightened, I drew
my hand back. After resting a while, I had to try again. This time I couldn’t put
my hand in because a strong electrical current threw me to the floor. The crows,
the crows! I thought my head would explode.
I lost consciousness. It was a very long time before I came to and heard
Qinglian’s feeble voice coming intermittently from far away.

“Juhua, there are so many . . . Are you coming? Oh . . .”
Her voice was drowned out by the caws of the crows. I stepped away from
the pillar of light and hid in the dark. The floor was shifting under my feet, and
in relation to the column of light, I sensed that I was ascending. Perhaps I had
reached the third floor! The crows’ caws changed to whispers. I had never heard
crows make sounds like this. Perhaps they weren’t really crows?
“Qinglian!” I heard myself cry.
I couldn’t find the wall. Why not? Wasn’t I in a large building? Even if the
building had no floors, it must have an outer wall. I walked and walked, and still
couldn’t find the wall. The crows had all flown down below me. I was excited to
think that I was in a vacant building where I could walk up and down freely. I
could tell I was walking fast. But where was Qinglian? I had no destination, and

I was disoriented. No, I still had some sense of direction. My aim was to avoid
the pillar of light. So was I going in circles? No. Look, I was ascending again,
perhaps as high as four stories, I thought, since there were no floors.
“Qinglian!”
“Don’t shout . . . I’m almost there . . .”
She would be there soon. Maybe she was approaching the peak of Crow
Mountain along a path that had red cherries and maybe chestnuts along the way.
I had nothing here. We were on the same mountain, but I was also in a vacant
building. How bizarre. Ah, I saw the giant’s feet cross the pillar of light. He
made no noise as he passed by.
“Uncle!” I shouted.
“Don’t shout. Be quiet!” he said.
The sound echoed all over the room, as if Uncle’s voice were booming from a
loudspeaker. Qinglian’s uncle must be a powerful man. She’d never told me
what she did here, even though she came to see him every year. She was good at
keeping secrets. How would it feel to have a giant for an uncle? I simply

couldn’t imagine. I suddenly recalled her embroidery of the waterfall and the