Chapter 64: The Past is Too Painful to Recall

He had originally planned to go up the high mountain to farm, but unexpected consecutive days of rain made the ascent impossible. He had no choice but to stay put in his dilapidated house, listening to the relentless patter of the raindrops.

When night fell, Shaoqiu was left all alone in the ruined dwelling. Staying here, there was truly not a single person to speak with. He could only dwell on the past, and the past was truly too painful to look back upon, yet he could not help but recall those unbearable memories.

That afternoon, Shaoqiu had gone up the mountain alone, following the winding mountain path. It was the season when wild fruits were ripe, and the fruits all over the mountains and plains sent their fragrance wafting for miles, so enchanting that one lost all desire to return. On that day, noticing the wild fruits growing more and more numerous on both sides of the road, Shaoqiu had kept walking deeper into the mountain, paying no heed to the quiet descent of night.

Naturally, he was not hungry; with such wild fruits, who could speak of hunger? Yet as he ate his way along, he kept eating even though his mouth had grown completely sour. He could not blame his own gluttony, for the wild fruits were simply too delicious.

The mountains were profoundly silent at that moment, save for the incessant chirping of insects. Upon hearing the insects, Shaoqiu's mood lifted greatly, and he was no longer plunged in the misery and sorrow he had felt upon arrival. Yet at this tender young age, he suddenly heard someone calling him affectionately. He looked up, but saw no one at all. Perhaps he had misheard; deep in this vast mountain, who else could be calling him?

At that moment, he thought of turning back. As the night grew deeper, if he did not return and stayed alone deep in the mountains, what sort of behavior was that? Yet, unable to resist the temptation of the wild fruits, his feet absolutely refused to turn back. Moreover, the moonlight was enchanting, and the mountain breeze carried the fragrance of flowers. To linger in the mountains was truly a most wonderful thing.

Inadvertently, he found himself standing at the edge of a precipice. Peering over, he saw a bottomless abyss. If one were to fall, it would mean far more than shattered bones; not even a skeleton would remain.

Out of sheer curiosity, Shaoqiu peered down into the depths of the cliff, for he heard what sounded like a luminous treasure gleaming below. The light emitted by this treasure was bright enough to illuminate a vast area, and within the space lit by the treasure, quite a few people were fighting, just like watching a movie. How could Shaoqiu, lingering at the cliff's edge at that moment, ever wish to turn back?

Standing thus upon the mountain, with no other people in sight and only the moon hanging high in the sky, the chill of the moonlight caused Shaoqiu to cough continuously. When he suddenly looked back, the path by which he had come was no longer to be seen. Shaoqiu was not panicked at that moment; tears were already hanging on his face when he caught sight once more of the light emanating from the treasure below the cliff. In that radiance, vast fields of flowers could be seen gently swaying in the breeze, and the diffusing fragrance caused Shaoqiu, sunk in the deepest gloom, to laugh softly to himself.

Just then, he heard someone calling him again—this time it was his mother, though for a moment he had no idea where she was calling him from, especially since he had lost his way back and no longer knew how to return.

Furthermore, the people down below the cliff were locked in fierce combat, and they could even fly. Not only that, but at that moment, he caught sight of Xiaohua, who was smiling at him persistently. With Xiaohua's company, what reason was there not to stay, and what was there to fear?

Young Shaoqiu lingered at the cliff's edge, peering this way and that. For reasons unknown, a howling gale suddenly whipped across the mountain peak. In an instant, dust flew everywhere, and massive boulders came hurtling down from the sky, crashing against the strange rocks on the mountain and striking sparks like lightning...

Shaoqiu finally felt afraid and no longer wished to stay at the cliff's edge. Yet it seemed as though someone was persistently calling him while pressing down on his head, forcing him to remain. To descend the cliff now seemed entirely impossible. Amidst the howling wind, when he looked down into the abyss once more, the sounds of battle had grown even louder, and then he saw the Bull Demon King carrying an enormous boulder and hurling it directly upward, landing right beside him.

Had Shaoqiu not dodged quickly, that single blow would have cost him his little life.

Just as he was wondering what to do, a voice emerged—though where it came from remained unknown—urging Shaoqiu to jump down and fight the Bull Demon King, declaring that the Bull Demon King was an utter villain who had not only stolen Shaoqiu's candy but had also struck his mother across the face.

Hearing this, Shaoqiu searched around him, picked up a stone, gripped it tightly in his hand, and made ready to leap down and smash the Bull Demon King to death with the rock.

At that very moment, however, he heard his mother calling, and countless flashlight beams flickered across the mountain as someone approached—it was none other than his mother. His mother embraced Shaoqiu, who had been left alone in the mountain. When he looked down toward the cliff once more, all was dead silence; the light of the treasure was gone, and the Bull Demon King had vanished.

Shaoqiu followed his mother down the mountain, though he inevitably received a few blows along the way. The crying that burst forth at that moment briefly shattered the stillness of the mountain.

Shaoqiu returned to his hut with his mother. Only then did he realize his stomach hurt terribly, and white froth began to bubble from the corners of his mouth. His mother quickly called a doctor, who gave him some medicine, and the stomachache subsided.

That very night, taking advantage of his mother's absence—she had likely gone out to farm, for the industrious mother still had to labor in the mountains by night to finish the work left undone by day, failing which the family could not survive—Shaoqiu slipped out the door and made his way to the small riverbank. The river was rising, and the turbulent, muddy current rushed madly eastward along the riverbed, its roaring sound fierce enough to shake the tiles from people's roofs.

Under the cloak of night, there was no moon—let alone the moon, not a single star was visible, and one could not even see one's own hand when stretching it out.

The reason Shaoqiu had gone down to the riverbank was less because he wanted to witness the surging floodwaters and more because he heard someone calling his name. For some reason, the voice calling him truly sounded more affectionate than his own mother's, compelling Shaoqiu to follow that sound toward the riverbank.

Although it was summer, the night air was still somewhat chilly, and a biting wind kept blowing. For some inexplicable reason, Shaoqiu's body suddenly grew intensely hot. Even after removing his clothes, he still felt unbearably feverish. He thought of stepping into the river to take a bath; only by bathing could he dispel this intense heat.

By the dim, lingering light of the sky, Shaoqiu saw that the small river had transformed into a vast torrent. The rushing water tore relentlessly eastward, sweeping along ruined houses and snapped trees, leaving devastation in its wake.

Gazing at the yellowish-brown, foul-smelling river water, upon which drifted feces and gliding venomous snakes, Shaoqiu dared not enter. Yet that voice continued to call to him, so affectionate that it convinced Shaoqiu the caller must be a close relative.

The voice seemed to come from the opposite bank, yet when he listened closely, it appeared not to exist at all. Caught in this realm of illusion, Shaoqiu nevertheless plunged straight into the river water. Instantly, his body was no longer hot; on the contrary, the feeling was remarkably pleasant.

Flung into the raging current, Shaoqiu swam forward stroke by stroke. Perhaps he was simply accustomed to swimming in this river, for within a short while, he had crossed to the opposite bank. Standing there on the far shore, he watched as the river surged even more violently, hurling rocks into its bed and tumbling them over and over, demonstrating the terrifying might of the water.

Shaoqiu stood watching, knowing that trying to swim back now was out of the question. Just as he stood there, the earthen slope behind him suddenly collapsed, plunging Shaoqiu back into the rushing river. He tumbled up and down amidst the ferocious current, appearing for all the world as good as dead.

At that exact moment, Shaoqiu caught sight of his mother once more. She reached out her hand and grabbed him firmly, dragging him ashore with great difficulty. Once again, a severe beating was unavoidable, and his crying rang out loudly by the riverbank.

Ever since that day, Shaoqiu had not dared to enter the river for many years. To this day, the mere sight of river water still filled him with lingering dread. That was truly a night too painful to look back upon.

...

Shaoqiu reminisced about the past in this manner.

Just then, someone hammered repeatedly on the door, as if another visitor had arrived. He pulled open the door; in the dilapidated, desolate village, the moonlight spilled down, but outside the doorway, there was still nothing at all.