Chapter Seven: Feeling as If Someone Pushed Me

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Little Qiu sat alone in his room, gazing out at the towering mountains beyond, and at an owl perched somewhere on the slopes. For some unknown reason, the owl kept hooting at him, its voice mournful and unsettling, sending a chill through him.

“Could there be something ominous in this house? Otherwise, why would that ghostly creature keep crying out like this?” Little Qiu wondered, puzzled. Yet, no matter how much he thought it over, he found no answers.

His thoughts drifted back to his childhood, inevitably leading him to remember his mother. Without her, he would not be who he was now.

Back then, after finishing his work in the muddy fields, he would prepare to eat inside the house. But first, he had to wash his feet clean; otherwise, how could he sit down to eat? The only place to wash was the small pond just outside the door, where a few little fish usually swam. Now, however, the water was so murky that he could see almost nothing.

Little Qiu stood on a slippery stone by the pond. Though the stone was slick, it was enough to let him wash his feet properly. Only after cleaning them could he eat; otherwise, his father would surely scold or even beat him.

As soon as he stepped onto the stone, for some unknown reason, he felt a sudden shove. Opening his eyes and looking around, he saw no one—no one had pushed him. What on earth was happening?

The ignorant boy slipped and fell into the pond. He felt something under his feet as he tried to climb out. When he finally pulled himself up, he saw that his foot was badly scratched and bleeding heavily.

Frightened, Little Qiu screamed and cried uncontrollably, perhaps sensing he was in grave danger. The child’s tears flowed freely.

At that moment, his mother hurried over and pressed her hand over the wound, staunching the blood. Without her, the bleeding might never have stopped.

Thinking of this, Little Qiu sighed deeply. His mother was truly wonderful, and he owed her so much. Yet where was she now? That, he did not know.

Outside, the rain continued to pour, relentless. In the deep darkness of the stormy night, nothing could be seen— not even the massive trees on the mountains.

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Little Qiu lit a lamp and sat quietly beneath its glow, reading a book. Though not very thick, the book was no simple matter; in this remote village, few could claim to understand its contents.

Since returning from school, he had spent nights reading. Only through books could he let the bitterness inside him drift away on the wind. Only by releasing the pain in his heart could he find even a small measure of happiness.

Yet even reading was difficult now. Voices outside broke the stillness with loud insults. Thinking of his great mother being so loudly abused, Little Qiu’s anger flared, but he dared not speak out. After all, he was but a scholar; facing the village’s ruffians, he knew he would be no match.

He remained silent, though inwardly defiant. He dared not show this on his face—if the wrong people saw, it might cost him his life.

So he sat at his worn desk, listening to the night insects and reading by the pale light of a kerosene lamp.

The night deepened. After a long time, his eyes grew weary and his spirit tired. He left the shabby house and walked along the lonely dirt path of the village.

Standing by a small river, he listened to the water flowing eastward and gazed at the oddly shaped trees growing on the mountains. With these trees as companions, life had once seemed so good.

For some reason, he felt the urge to swim across the river. Though narrow, it was no easy crossing; a person would need some effort to get through. Thinking this over, he hesitated, but refused to give in. What was there to fear? Swimming across to see the island’s scenery would be nice. At least he could sit on the smooth stones there, cool off, and listen to the songs of a young girl. Wouldn’t that be pleasant?

He entered the river. Fortunately, the water was not too cold, but on this night it felt less warm. Immersed, he suddenly broke out in goosebumps. Was he really so afraid? Afraid of what exactly, he could not say.

He had heard stories of drownings in this river—terrifying tales that haunted the village. But Little Qiu did not believe in such nonsense. When a person died, everything vanished into dust. What use were these ghost stories?

Still, as he swam, fear crept in. The water was icy, howling like a fierce north wind. Shivering, he reached the river’s center, and a dreadful thought struck him: what if something grabbed his foot? What could he do then?

Moreover, it was the dead of night; even if he called for help, no one would come. He would have to wait for death.

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As he swam into deeper waters, an owl circled overhead, as if wanting to perch on his head. But seeing he was not a tree or stone, the creature finally decided to leave, abandoning any thought of settling there.

Little Qiu sighed. “At least you have some conscience,” he thought. “If you had perched on my head, not only would your weight be unbearable, but your terrifying cries might have scared me to death. Then how could I swim?”

The wild wind roared, and the waves surged. In the depths of the river, Little Qiu felt lost and disoriented. Which direction should he swim?

He did not want to continue, but he had no choice. If he stopped, the consequences would be dire.

He did not know how long he had been swimming. His strength was nearly gone. If he stayed in the water much longer, his days might truly be over.

Finally, he reached the opposite bank and sat on a rough, unattractive stone by the water’s edge. He gazed at the moon hanging in the sky—a moon so beautiful it captivated him utterly.

A cool wind swept by, chilling him to the bone, but sitting by the riverbank was a comfort. After a while on the small island, Little Qiu dared not linger longer. He plunged back into the river and swam to the far shore.

Back in his room, he sat under the lamp, staring out the window. Rain continued to fall—not bitterly cold, but the sound left his thoughts adrift. What would become of the days ahead? What was the point of sitting here by the desk?