Frontier. Can Xue

have noticed every move they’d made. When they were on the desolate hill, they’d felt keenly that the world had deserted them. When José recalled the days and nights on the train, he felt that Nancy had undergone an inner upheaval, because on the train she was longing for small town life and had vowed solemnly and repeatedly that they would never go back to the big city—their hometown. As they neared their destination, she became jumpy. Pointing out the window at one quiet little town after another, she asked, “Is it like this? Does it look like this? . . . What do you think? Will it look just like this? Huh?” Unable to answer, José was perplexed and alarmed. He knew that his wife’s train of thought was always unusual. But just now, why had she said that it had never occurred to her? José thought it should have been the other way around: she should have foreseen everything. When they had first seen the little advertisement in the newspaper, they had resolved to give up everything in the large Smoke City and set out for an unfamiliar place. People who could move so far must have thought things through quite thoroughly. What on earth was wrong with Nancy? Had some little setback beaten her down? No, no, her whispers must hold a hidden meaning. Then, what was this hidden meaning? José thought: as soon as he’d reached this small town, everything buried deeply in his past had emerged and slowly unfurled before his eyes—but he couldn’t see it well. For example, when the man was pedaling them slowly out of the city this afternoon, a familiar feeling had welled up in his heart. He couldn’t say when that feeling had arisen, but it was certainly related to things in his previous incarnation. He’d experienced this before. This made him suspect that it wasn’t because of the newspaper ad that they had left Smoke City; perhaps this had long been premeditated. After this, when the man abandoned them, he had felt even more suspicious. Outside, a gale blew up, threatening to rip the roof off. The room suddenly became cold. Nancy snuggled up to his chest, and they wrapped the thin quilt tightly around themselves. A loud shout in the corridor was followed by hurried footsteps. Door after door was opened, and then closed, as if everyone was running out. Outside, one gust of wind was closely followed by another. Then someone blew a whistle, as if in a military camp. The two of them didn’t dare turn on a light, nor did they want to get up and see what was happening because they were exhausted from the day. Nancy murmured, “It’s really noisy tonight.” They decided to ignore everything and go to sleep. And then they really did fall asleep.

      José awakened at dawn. After going to the washroom, he went to the now calm courtyard. The courtyard at the guesthouse was several acres large. Some shrubs grew there, but there wasn’t a single old tree; the only trees were young, newly planted firs. José reflected that if there had been any old trees, they might have been toppled by last night’s gale. The sun was almost out, and he smelled again the distinctive clear, fresh air. The day before, this had almost brought him and his wife to tears. The guesthouse was located on high land. When you looked out, you could see the snow mountain. He could see it well because no fog blocked his vision. It stood there indifferently. José sighed lightly: Ah, so this was the snow mountain! It wasn’t completely snow-covered. Only the peak was white, probably because it was so high. People said it was four thousand meters above sea level. For some reason, the middle-aged man who had brought them here the day before was standing in the courtyard washing his face. He placed the washbasin on a block of stone, and wiped his face with a towel until it glowed red. José walked over to him.

      “Washing the face is a kind of exercise,” the middle-aged man said.

      “True, true. You’re really fortunate.”

      José surprised himself by saying this. What had he meant by it?

      “You’re right. I’m bathing with the chilly breeze blowing in from the snow mountain. Every morning, I stand here and bathe in the wind, and listen to the birds on the mountain and the cries from the snow leopards and the black bears.”

      “So far from here—and you can still hear them!” José was astonished.

      “People on the frontier have good hearing.” He laughed out loud. “And so you and your wife can’t get lost in Pebble Town. How could you? Huh?”

      Although José was sure the man meant well, his laughter made him uncomfortable. And while this person was talking, he never stopped using the towel; he scrubbed his face until it was like a shiny red apple. Ordinarily, José loathed people with this kind of face. And so he took his leave and went back to the room. The middle-aged man shouted from behind, “Why don’t you cherish your happiness? And don’t do anything rash.”

      An elderly silver-haired woman had come to their room and was whispering to Nancy. Smiling at him, Nancy said the old woman was the institute’s director. José promptly exchanged greetings with her. This woman director had a nice way about her. Looking at her closely, José thought she wasn’t very old at all. She smiled a little and said to José, “Just ignore the man outside. He’s a little crazy because he was unlucky in love. He’s the janitor here.”

      The director’s words startled José. He thought everything here was a little topsy-turvy. Yet, Nancy was composed and didn’t seem surprised. She and the woman director seemed to get along very well.

      “I’ve been thinking—you’ve just arrived. Your apartment is ready for you. Now the most important thing is for you to feel at home, so I’m not going to assign you any work for a while. Just wander around wherever you like. Go have a look around—get a sense of Pebble Town’s geographical location.”

      After she left, José thought for a long time. What did “geographical location” mean? Did it suggest the snow mountain or did it suggest the frontier? And what about “get a sense of”? Looking at him, Nancy laughed, “You’re making too much of what the director said. Actually, she’s an old mama!” José felt this was even stranger. How had Nancy fused into this environment all of a sudden? Changes in women were unfathomable. She had actually said this eccentric director was an old mama. Then was the madman who had pulled them in the rickshaw a warm-hearted brother? When the two of them had stood on the hill, she’d been utterly discomfited. He had even thought she regretted coming here. But after only one night, she had changed her mind.

      They were taken to the top floor of a three-story building. The apartment—a loft with a slanted roof and a large glass skylight—was huge. Sleeping on the large bed was like entering outer space.

      Ecstatic, Nancy immediately lay down in the center of the bed with no thought of moving. José fetched the luggage, and started unpacking and putting things away. They had two rooms: the living room in front, the bedroom in back. While José was going back and forth moving things around, a continual “da, da, da” sound came from the roof, as though someone were pounding with a wooden stick. And the sound wasn’t coming from just one place; it seemed to be in constant motion. “Nancy, listen!” “What? I heard it all the way here!” “Could it be birds?” “I think it’s the wind.” “How can the wind make a noise like this? It’s like a wooden stick pounding.” “Probably that’s the way the wind is here.” José couldn’t come up with a response, so he went on dealing with the luggage. After a while, the pounding sound started on the skylight. José stood on the bed to look more closely, but he saw no stick pounding on the glass. He thought, Nancy’s way of thinking has changed so quickly that she might as well be a local! See, she’s sleeping contentedly, even snoring. Then someone came to the door, and José jumped down from the bed at once. The person came in without knocking: it was the jilted janitor, his face still glowing red. Without waiting for an invitation, he took a seat in the living room.

      “I need to talk with someone,” he said as he looked around.

      “I’m busy now. Do you mind?”

      “No, no. Go ahead, go ahead. I just need you to lend me an ear. Is your wife asleep? Perfect! I’ve come to talk about my personal problems. I have a regular job with the Design Institute, but I’ve never married. Why? Because I have high standards. The woman I fell in love with is a beautiful Uighur. She lives with her family on the mountain. How many years have passed? I can’t remember. Who would keep track of something like this? I’ve seen her only twice. One time was at the market, which was only a little bazaar back then. She showed up with her father. Huh, I know you won’t believe this. No one ever did, except for me.