Page 126 - I Live in the Slums: Stories (The Margellos World Republic of Letters)

couldn’t imagine. I suddenly recalled her embroidery of the waterfall and the
ocean. Ah, now I dimly understood her. She belonged to a different world. As
for me, I was only a shallow young girl. No wonder I admired her. Not one of
our neighbors knew that Qinglian’s uncle was a giant. Was it something she
wanted to hide? I thought it was quite the opposite—something to show off.
Qinglian and I saw things completely differently. She was different from all the
rest of us.
I kept walking. How far had I gone? I had been calling out to Qinglian, but
she didn’t answer. Had she reached the mountaintop? Was she unable to hear
sounds from below? The floor under my feet rose much higher again, but
judging by the height of the pillar of light, I was still quite far from the roof.
Maybe I wouldn’t ever get there; maybe that place belonged only to Qinglian.
The path she’d taken had everything—flowers, birds, cherries, chestnuts. I, on
the other hand, was surrounded by darkness. When I was a child, Dad had
dragged me past this building, because he had known that I wasn’t made for

places like this. I never guessed that after so many years I would be able to
revisit this place—and even see the giant uncle. When I considered this, my
excitement rose again.
Look, he was crossing the pillar of light again! When he wasn’t talking, there
was no sound to be heard. His feet stood on the level where I was; his head was
probably on the mountaintop.
“Uncle!”
He didn’t answer.
I continued wandering in the dark. Snowflakes were falling inside the column
of light! Or rather, not snowflakes but extremely tiny birds falling toward the
ground. I heard the gentle thumps as they thudded to the floor, and then they
scattered. Although I couldn’t see them, I could sense the vitality inside this

deserted building. They didn’t call out, but I kept hearing their voices. All of a
sudden, the shrill caw of the crows rose, and then the column of light
disappeared, and the room fell deathly still again. Perhaps this was a gigantic
crow. It called out three times, and then the silence grew even more frightening.
My blood curdled. What was going to happen?
I grabbed something out of the air. It seemed to be a lizard. It was odd: I felt
particularly tender toward the tiny critter I was holding. I even stuck it on my
face. The thought of its being alive was comforting. Something alive was here
with me, but it bit me on the face and my face swelled. The wound smarted, but I
didn’t want to just throw it away. I kept clutching it. Maybe it wasn’t a lizard
after all. It had rough skin.
There was a buzzing sound, and the air seemed to be vibrating. It was
probably Uncle talking, but I couldn’t hear a word he was saying.