Chapter Thirty-Three: The Great Grim Mountains at Midnight

Shaoqiu returned to his room and stood before the door, when he suddenly heard a sound inside. It was just a single noise, and then all fell silent again. He pushed the door open to look, but there was no one there. Yet, he had clearly heard footsteps just a moment ago—what could this mean?

After entering, he cooked and ate his meal, then sat under the flickering, dilapidated lamp, feeling deeply troubled by Old Man Hua’s maddening behavior. But, as things stood, what could be done?

Just then, someone spoke outside. Listening closely, he realized it was Xiao Hua. She was merely walking by, but as she passed his door, she let out a soft laugh. Was this a clear sign that she wanted to be with him? Shaoqiu thought this to himself, and his mood brightened significantly; he sat in his chair and actually began to hum a little tune. Xiao Hua, however, heard none of this and would never know.

Opening a book, Shaoqiu began to read. While he was engrossed in the pages, the door to his kitchen opened. It was not the wind; it was Auntie Hua. Why she would enter this room, Shaoqiu was at a loss to understand.

"I'm thirsty, I've come for a drink of water," Auntie Hua said, walking over and standing behind him to watch him read.

"If Xiao Hua finds out about this, what will I do?" Shaoqiu fretted. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to drive her out, so he just sat there in agonizing awkwardness, staring at the book, though he could no longer take in a single word.

Auntie Hua stood behind him as if she had no intention of leaving. After a while, she mentioned that she was tired, walked over to Shaoqiu’s bed, and lay down.

Auntie Hua was something of a loose woman in the desolate village. Since losing her husband, almost every man in the village had had his way with her. Yet, for some reason, she had taken a fancy to Shaoqiu and wanted to stay in his room. Shaoqiu didn't know how to force her out, for if a scene were made, everyone in the village would know.

It wouldn't matter if others knew, but if Xiao Hua found out that he had spent a night in the same room with such a woman, what would she think of him?

Shaoqiu could no longer tell if he was reading the book or if the book was reading him. Auntie Hua was now sprawled out on his bed, fast asleep, her limbs splayed wide. The sight made Shaoqiu’s heart race and his blood surge.

Still, he forced himself to look away. Besides, for some unknown reason, Xiao Hua’s singing drifted in on the wind from outside, making the woman on his bed seem all the more sordid.

Shaoqiu wanted to fly into a rage, but he dared not, and he had no idea how to wake Auntie Hua. The only solution was to keep reading.

He did not know how long he had been lying on his own bed when Auntie Hua finally stirred. She stretched, let out a long yawn, and hurried out of the room. She did not say goodbye to Shaoqiu, nor did she utter another word, vanishing into the distance like a ghost.

For some reason, the lingering scent of her, that woman’s perfume, left Shaoqiu nostalgic for a long time; he even closed his eyes, a faint smile on his face.

A crescent moon hung outside. A wind blew, carrying a chill, but it meant nothing to Shaoqiu, for his heart was warm—at least for this night. Yet, it was also bitter, especially when he thought of Xiao Hua.

Though sleepiness washed over him, Shaoqiu dared not climb into bed; it felt as if there were something terrifyingly hidden within it. But, unable to bear the torment of drowsiness, he hardened his heart and climbed in. At that moment, a great wind began to howl outside, carrying with it clouds of dust, as if everything were conspiring to bury him in total darkness.

The night was pitch black once the lamp was extinguished, and the things that lurked in the shadows were far more terrifying than the darkness itself. With no one to confide in, he could only bear it in silence. The sound of Old Man Dog, drunk, echoed outside his room once more. Yet, at this moment, the sound was strangely comforting; at the very least, it warded off the dread of this haunted house. But then, a different kind of fear descended from the heavens, making it impossible for Shaoqiu to go on living in this desolate village.

Old Man Dog’s voice trailed off, carried away by the wind to some unknown place.

In this place, Shaoqiu seemed to hear the wind from the Gelimu Mountains, which sounded incredibly shrill in the night. The stream flowed eastward. The gurgling water made the night all the more unbearable, keeping Shaoqiu from sleep, forcing him to listen only to the wind on the Gelimu Mountains.

On the mountains, a woman’s cry for help rang out—a sound of extreme misery—but it vanished as quickly as it had come. All that remained was the rustling sound of the moonlight falling upon the village. From somewhere else came the coarse, boisterous laughter of a man, as if he had earned a fortune or finally won the heart of a beautiful woman.

It was a bleak night. On the Gelimu Mountains, things had quieted down, yet it seemed as if someone were still weeping softly and incessantly. None of this was Shaoqiu’s concern, and naturally, he did not need to care. He heard voices arguing near Auntie Hua’s house.

It was Old Man Dog. He was trying to force his way into her room. Auntie Hua refused to let him in, so the drunk and shameless old man simply sat down before her door, refusing to leave. The villagers were indifferent to such matters; they were long accustomed to them and saw no reason to be alarmed.

Old Man Dog remained camped before Auntie Hua’s door, and his loud, drunken bellows reached Shaoqiu even in his own dilapidated room. Shaoqiu dared not go out to intervene; in this desolate village, taking a life was not considered a grave matter.

Shaoqiu could only lie in bed. Suddenly, he felt that the bed was strangely warm, and more than that, the scent left behind on the bedding was surprisingly pleasant. However, as soon as he heard Old Man Dog’s roar from above, the thought of enjoying the fragrance vanished.

Old Man Dog seemed to be acting out his drunken impulses, and by the looks of it, he was ready to strike someone. There was almost no one in this village that Old Man Dog dared not hit, but in the dead of night, whom was he planning to attack?

"I am going to enter your room today. It’s too cold out here, and I must sleep in your room. Is there anything wrong with that?" Old Man Dog demanded of someone.

"This is my room. Please leave, or you will meet with retribution," a woman’s voice replied—it was clearly Auntie Hua.

"No, I must sleep in your room. I dare not sleep in my own; I am afraid of the cold, and your room is not cold," Old Man Dog insisted.

The rest of the conversation became lost to Shaoqiu.

On the Gelimu Mountains, the wind continued to howl. Countless stones were swept up, falling onto the tiles of Shaoqiu’s roof, leaving his crumbling shack even more dilapidated than before.