[Mountain Dwellers] Author: Liu He

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Mountain 　　Man
Author: Liu He Word Count 　　:
81371 words 　　TXT
Package: [attach] 　　1565355 　　[ 　　/ 　　attach 　　]
＊　　... 　　I'm a child of the mountains. Until I was eighteen, I lived in the mountains, a paradise and a haven, 　　like a fleeting dream, completely out of place in the hustle and bustle of the city 　　. There was electricity there, but the nights were always dimly lit. The post office in town had two light tubes, and every time the adults came back from there, they would marvel 　　: "Shouldn't these lights be round? How come they emit white light?" There was also television. Every night at six o'clock, 　　all the children would gather at the village chief's house with their son, Wang, 　　anxiously waiting for the static on the screen. The village chief would calmly adjust the angle of the two antennas on the television, while several children outside would 　　shout into the house, constantly reporting whether the television relay lighthouse on the highest mountain had lit up. 　　Actually, the mountains are truly wonderful. The people of the mountains have a special feeling for them, a mixture of respect and awe. Why? These rolling 　　, verdant mountains are our providers, our source of food and clothing. The grain we eat, the firewood we cook, the cloth we make, 　　the wood we build—all come from the mountains. In the summer, during summer vacation, we'd go up the mountains with our parents to dig for medicinal herbs: Yellow celery has tiny purple 　　flowers that sway quietly in the gentle mountain breeze; Solomon's seal grows in abundance, and finding just one stalk can yield half 　　a bagful; Platycodon grandiflorus is even more amazing—a stalk of the same size has 　　a root no bigger than a fingertip in the soil, but in the rocks, the root is much thicker, though it's quite difficult to dig up. 　　A group of us would go up the mountain for days at a time, only needing to bring some dry rations. The mountain spring water was clear and sweet, and 　　there were many wild fruits: apricots, hawthorns, sorghum berries (small strawberries), and lotus root—all so delicious. Winter was also a good time for hunting. 　　Heavy snow in the mountains could close them off for days at a time. Once up there, rabbit tracks were everywhere, and pheasants...? There were wolves and rabbits, 　　but the mountain people rarely killed them. They were considered the mountain's guardian spirits; with wolves around, rabbits wouldn't dare to damage the crops. 　　The New Year was the most lively time. Adults were happy, and children were even happier. Every village had a market, packed with people 　　! Everyone went to buy New Year's goods, fish, and new clothes for the children. Firecrackers were the most popular. 　　In a bountiful year, everyone was joyful at the end of the year. Whoever slaughtered a pig would invite the whole village for a meal, and this would be a 　　proper celebration for quite a while. 　　There was only one rugged road connecting the mountains to the outside world, and the main mode of transportation was horse-drawn carts. During the busy farming season, people tended the fields; 　　at other times, they went up the mountain to dig for herbs and firewood; and at the New Year, they would go to the market—the carts were always full of people, chatting and laughing. A few families with better living conditions 　　owned bicycles, which we children jokingly called "iron donkeys." Later, a few families bought motorcycles, which we 　　jokingly called "electric donkeys." 　　My grandfather was the most learned man in the village; he was probably one of the last private school students in China. Unfortunately, he was born in that 　　era, and his great-grandfather's dream of a scholarly life was shattered by the smoke of war. However, the family 　　still had a considerable collection of books, mostly tattered, but complete with the Four Books and Five Classics. When I was little, those books were my nightmare. 　　Other children would play after school and do their homework, but I couldn't. I had to memorize them. Not understanding was acceptable, but 　　not being able to recite them was absolutely unacceptable. There were only two days a month when I could skip memorizing; my grandfather said those were 　　the days when they delivered things to their teachers 　　when they were young. It might sound funny, but even though I didn't recognize most of the characters in the books, I could still 　　recite those obscure characters fluently. Perhaps that was because…? This forced "abundance of knowledge" 　　resulted in excellent grades in Chinese language from elementary to high school, especially in classical Chinese and composition. 　　Many teachers couldn't place the sources of my erudite sentences in their essays, yet they were always perfectly apt. They could only sigh repeatedly at 　　how much this kid had read! 　　Perhaps influenced by my grandfather, or perhaps this personality trait was simply inherited, my father also had a 　　habit of forcing me to study, but thankfully not with books, but with his only hobby and proudest skill: the erhu. This ancient Chinese 　　musical instrument was my only joy during what felt like an incredibly dark time. In the sweltering summer, after dinner, sitting 　　in the courtyard, listening to the melodious sounds of horsehair rubbing against the strings and vibrating the drum, I would easily become engrossed, 　　oblivious to the blisters forming on my fingers from the strings. 　　Thus, I completed my elementary and middle school education through the Four Books and Five Classics and the erhu, and 　　entered high school with excellent grades (except for English). 　　In high school, I lived in a county town more than 20 kilometers from home. There were many more buildings, and I finally saw fluorescent lights and 　　electric fans. Compared to the village, it was undoubtedly much more open, and I began to yearn for the outside world; children 　　always crave novelty. 　　I knew that going to university was the only way, so I studied very hard and my grades were quite satisfactory. 　　There was only one bus running between the mountains every day at noon, and I went home every week, but I couldn't catch the bus 　　, so I ran back. Life in the mountains gave me a strong physique, and my three years of high school, 　　besides reading, writing, and playing the erhu, gave me another hobby: basketball. 　　This was, of course, largely due to our physical education teacher. He told me that he had been 　　a student in the sports department of Beijing Sport University, and during the Tiananmen Square protests of 1989, he had been somewhat radical, resulting in him being "exiled" to 　　teach in our remote area. His skill level was truly impressive. It wasn't until I got to university that I realized this 　　country bumpkin actually possessed a set of ball skills that I didn't think were anything special, but were enough to attract girls' attention—all 　　thanks to him.

Even now, I can't say whether being born in such a place was lucky or unlucky. It was a simple
place, where everyone was indifferent, peaceful, and detached from worldly affairs, yet sadly, it exists in this noisy, complex, and utilitarian world .
Who can imagine how powerful the impact of reality is...
People always strive for higher places; it's the destiny of survival. Everyone says that the law of the jungle is the rule of the animal kingdom,
but how much more civilized is human society? Survival of the fittest? It's just a different way of saying it. What does it mean that the weak don't
have the right to live? What right do those who pride themselves on civilization and technology have to deprive others of their living space?
When I came to Beijing, I realized that the sky could be gray, and so could life. Yanyuan, located
in a corner of H University's campus in Haidian District, a bustling area of Beijing, was a beautiful and tranquil place, which was
my paradise at the time. There were many trees there, though I didn't know their names, but the familiar fragrance of grass and trees often made me
linger.
Actually, H University isn't very well-known in Beijing, a city full of prestigious universities. Only
a few of its programs, such as our School of Business and School of Electrical Engineering, are among the best in the country, boasting top-tier experts and academicians. However, in terms of overall strength,
it can only be considered a second-tier university at best. When I first arrived, many students complained: the school lacked strength, the teaching buildings
weren't attractive, the library had few books, and some even said they wouldn't apply to certain schools. But I felt everything was
so new and exciting; the world was so vast, and the future seemed so far away…
I remember my first meeting with Xiao Siyun was on the afternoon of my registration day in front of the dormitory building. At that time, I
didn't know she was in our class. She drove a red Ferrari,
stopping at the fourth-floor girls' dormitory across from our building amidst the whistles of a group of boys and the chatter of the girls. Back then, she had flowing black hair, and a pair of
orange sunglasses concealed her bright, beautiful eyes. She wore a white tank top with a sheer overlay, revealing a small,
rounded navel adorned with a pendant. Her lower body was covered by a tight, sky-blue mini-skirt, almost entirely
exposing her long, perfectly shaped thighs. Several white straps bound her delicate feet to thick-soled shoes
, each toe adorned with pink nail polish.
The thrill she stirred within me was indescribable. This was the first time I, as a normal man, had appreciated a
woman whose every gesture exuded youthful beauty, and I was deeply moved. She was so beautiful! Every man would
feel immense pride to possess her, and I was no exception. However, I knew clearly that it was impossible.
The gap between us was too vast. She could drive sports cars and live in luxury apartments, while my only possessions were a few old books and
an erhu. Our life trajectories would never intersect…
Registration was now open, tuition was due, and I was completely stunned. For me, fresh out of the mountains, the outside
world, though wonderful, was also full of helplessness. The exorbitant tuition fees made me cling to student loans as my only lifeline
. But upon arriving, I learned that the loan wouldn't be available until the second semester, and I
wouldn't receive any assistance for the next six months. How could I, nearly penniless, survive in this city for six months?
Haha, six months would have passed in the blink of an eye in the mountains, but here it felt like an endless, unknowable long time.
Those few days, I sought help from many teachers and even school leaders, but the results were so disappointing:
some politely refused, some coldly observed, and some mocked. I will always remember that moment of setback;
I felt as if I were instantly frozen solid, a bone-chilling cold spreading from my head to my toes.
In the full-length mirror in the department head's office, my eyes were empty, filled with a deathly stillness. In my youthful arrogance, I
finally had a painful realization: this is the world outside the mountains, and these are the people of the world outside the mountains.
In such an environment, I could only despair. An endless gloom, like a thick fog, shrouded my heart, impossible
to dispel. For those few days, I was like a walking corpse, shuttling between the classroom and the dormitory,
the heartless words of the teachers and secretaries echoing in my ears. I probably will never again in
my life remember the words of someone I just met.
Everyone in the class knew about my situation. I didn't know what they were thinking. For a whole
week of classes, I didn't speak to anyone. I was afraid they would be just as indifferent. I couldn't bear
to endure any more blows. Like a wild beast afraid of the light, I just wanted to hide in a dark corner and lick my wounds alone
.
The other 25 classmates only knew that my name was Lin Peng, that I lived in room 303 of the second boys' dormitory, and that I was a student from a poor family
. In their eyes, I was withdrawn, extreme, and unsociable—in short, difficult to approach. How could they know
the pain and resentment in my heart? The class monitor collected class fees, and the Youth League secretary collected Youth League fees. When I stammered and said I didn't have any,
their expressions were somewhat helpless. A few rich kids were also laughing at me, but I didn't care anymore.
What could someone whose heart is already numb care about?
I know that my poor relationship with my classmates was half my fault. After all, they weren't nearly as
sophisticated as the leaders. It's just that I was too stubborn in thinking they should be like those who hurt me, and I didn't want to get close to
them. Most city kids are actually just as naive. They know very little about crops, but they
yearn for rural life; they also want to be independent, so they admire rural kids who mature early.
So even though they knew I was hard to approach, some people still tried to help me integrate into the group. Young people are always
relatively simple and enthusiastic. After they learned that I was good at basketball in PE class, they always
invited me to play. Several classmates even secretly put up various tutoring posters on my desk. I will always be grateful to them
. They made me, who was stuck in my ways, realize the sincere side of other young people, and it brought
a turning point to my life at that time. With my excellent Chinese skills and beautiful handwriting, I easily found several tutoring jobs
, gaining some income. Although it was still a struggle, it was a world of difference from before.
Gradually, my mood improved, and I became more talkative in class. I really thought that
this crisis in my life was about to pass, and that I could single-handedly explore new horizons in the vast world beyond the mountains
. But I was wrong again; the world is far more complex than that. Fate played another
trick on me, not so small, but significant.
I had four tutoring jobs, all located relatively close to the school. My Thursday and Friday evening tutoring was for
Li Xi, the son of Ye Rong, a white-collar worker at a foreign company. That Friday, September 21st, after preparing my lesson, I knocked
on her door, only to be greeted by a completely different, almost cold, face.
"Lin Peng, did you steal money from my family?" Ye Rong didn't even let me in, but instead
sternly questioned me in the hallway.
"What? Auntie? When did I steal your money? Did you lose any money?" I was stunned by this sudden
question, and my words became somewhat incoherent.
"Don't play dumb! I never expected that someone who seemed so honest and kind, helping you like this, would turn out
to be so despicable!" Her barrage of words clearly indicated that she had already concluded I had stolen
a considerable amount of money from her family.
"Auntie, I think you've made a mistake, it really wasn't...it wasn't me. May I ask...may I ask how much
money you lost?" At this point, I still had some quick wit. I knew she was convinced it was me, so the only way to change things was to divert
her attention and place my hopes on the police.
"You still have the nerve to ask that? Haven't you even had time to check yourself? Hmph, I
'll give you one more chance. Give me back that 30,000 yuan right now, and I'll let bygones be bygones."
Good heavens! 30,000?! I suddenly found myself burdened with
a debt that was undoubtedly astronomical to me. "Auntie, please calm down, okay? You and Xiaoxi have been so good to me, how could I...
how could I do such a thing? I really didn't take your money. Maybe you just forgot where you put it..."
"Looks like you're really stubborn. Fine...fine..." She ignored me and
took out her phone. Soon after, I was taken away by several police officers. I only remember one of them being named Ye? Sister-in-law Rong
.
Actually, they had no right to arrest me; they had no evidence whatsoever. Having almost no
knowledge of the law, I was tormented all night in a daze. I don't even know
how I endured that night—the beatings, the brutal beatings, first my hands, then the belt.
I gritted my teeth, suppressing the urge to cry, and glared at them. Were these police officers? They looked more like vicious gangsters
. I didn't confess. I didn't do it. Why should I confess? In the end, they
couldn't get anything out of me, and the next day, they reluctantly sent me back to school, my eyes bloodshot and my face bruised.
The moment I entered the school gate, I couldn't help but let out a long sigh. I had never felt
safe in a school like this. It was all over, I told myself. This society still has its principles.
When I got to the dormitory, I suddenly found my wardrobe ransacked. My roommates
looked at me with strange, even contemptuous, eyes. I smiled and asked them what happened, but their answers plunged me back into a cold hell:
someone suspected me of theft. Their eyes were mostly filled with disdain as they spoke, and my heart
sank: It's over, it's over…
In class that afternoon, I saw something even more devastating, something that plunged me into despair: the school gave me a
disciplinary warning. I looked at the official document: "Given that Lin Peng was accused of theft off-campus
, seriously damaging the image of the school and contemporary college students, it has been decided to give him a disciplinary warning
…"
This document was prominently displayed on the bulletin board in front of the cafeteria. Seeing the students pointing and whispering about me
, I realized: everyone knows I'm a thief. Haha, I, Lin Peng, am a thief! I
wanted to cry but had no tears. That evening, I unusually managed to occupy a table alone in the crowded cafeteria.
Just when I had begun to have hope that everything would get better, I was easily crushed again.
I found that I wasn't as heartbroken as I had imagined. They weren't worth my pain. I only felt
anger, endless anger. But what was there to be angry about? Perhaps I was never meant to have all this. My current
situation is simply restoring me to my original state. Facing all this, I gasp for breath, as if
trying to expel it all from my soul. The sky begins to darken, mirroring my mood. I
can't stay in the dormitory any longer. I take out my erhu and walk into the Yenching Garden. It's my most loyal companion, and
now the best way for me to express my longing for my family.
The setting sun casts its last rays, the red clouds are desolate—a sorrowful scene, a sorrowful person. And
so, the equally sorrowful piece, "Moon Reflected in the Second Spring," drifts through the woods of Yenching Garden. I didn't like this piece before; it was too sad.
Life should be full of joy. But now I finally fully understand the state of mind Abing was in when he created this piece.
The bright moon is cool, and the heart-wrenching music accompanies the soul-crushing sound. Before my eyes, I vaguely see Abing's
lonely figure walking alone in the alley. So bitter; her beloved weeps at the moment of parting? He took off his red undergarment, how
much helplessness he felt? In the sleepless night, clutching the only thing his lover had left him, he wept hoarsely… Had he loved the wrong person?
No one could tell him; only the bright moon and the lake kept him company. The lake was silent, the moon was still, quietly listening to
his sorrow flowing from his fingertips.
In some ways, perhaps he was lucky; at least I understand the endless sorrow he poured into his music. But
who understands my pain? What did I do wrong? Tears finally rolled down my cheeks uncontrollably, one drop,
two drops… Tears! If you could wash away all the ugliness of the world, then I would gladly let them flow like a burst dam.
At this moment, I, this mountain man, cried like a fallen child looking at my mother,
filled with grievance and self-pity, until that gentle voice appeared.

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