前言 | Foreword

 

石牢

班宇

 

一九九二年，我被父亲安排出去躲避一段时间，具体原因不便明说。当时，父亲孤身一人在边境住寨，负责物资调配，有些权势，听说我的事情后，连夜派车返沈，暗中将我接走，以便占据主动位置，争取一些疏通时问。我来不及收拾行李，只拎几件随身衣物，便掀开防雨苫布，钻入卡车货厢，借着手电筒的光束指引，侧卧在钢制轴承的弧底。我在里面分不清白天夜晚，伴随着单调的引擎声入眠，很快又被冻醒，我能感觉到，卡车一直向北开去，温度越来越低，风声剧烈，车身不断摇晃，如行在钢索之上，艰难地维持着平衡。我也如同一位杂耍演员，在狭小的空间内，奋力变换姿势，将全部衣服都套在身上，即便如此依然寒冷无比。整个行驶过程中，卡车只停过两次，第一次应该是经过加油站，我听到外面有很多说话声，极其嘈杂，但分辨不出说的是什么，不到一刻钟的时问，便又开走；第二次应该是在桥上，我听见急速的流水声，从山峰之问奔污而出，有人从护栏的缝隙里扔来一袋面包，一个军用水壶，当时我烧得很厉害，几乎是用尽全部气力，将食物送进嘴里，但没过多久，又都吐在身上，狼狈不堪。我时而清醒，时而昏迷，当时觉得，这趟车似乎永远也无法抵达目的地，或者说根本没有目的地，它的使命就是一直开下去，没有尽头，而这是我能想象的最为严苛的惩罚。

 

所以当我被架起双臂，再抛到平地上时，觉得-切极不真实。阳光毒辣，我躺了很长时间，缓慢开双眼，望见清晰的群山，长舒一口气，有两个人站在高处，抽着烟，窃窃私语，偶尔发出几声冷笑。我双手撑在地上，想要站起来，却接连失败，狠狠摔在地上，四肢完全不听使唤，动作僵硬，嘴里也是一股腥味。我万念俱灰，向着天空，发出了一声极为怪异的惨叫，断断续续，像是被野兽扼紧喉管，那两人不慌不忙地将烟掐灭，朝着我走过来，他们的脚步很轻，几乎听不到声音，速度却很快，我还没反应过来，便在我身边蹲下来，脱掉我沾满秽物的外套，一头一尾，将我抬入室内动作麻利，我一点力气也没有，任其摆布。进屋之后，他们将我放在一张斑驳的木床上，又递过来一杯水。我闻着热水的味道．感觉精神恢复了一些，这时，我才仔细打量这两个，一位五十岁左右，戴着狗皮帽子，体型很壮，膀大腰圆，耷着眼皮，身上散发着浓重的旱烟味道，另一位要年轻不少，留着半长头发，总是低着脑袋，眼神有点阴，右脸上有一道很长的疤嘴里嚼着枯草。一杯热水下肚，我觉得自己还在发着高烧，想起临行之前，口袋里装了几片药便胡乱吃下去。睡着之前，我听见疤面人问年长者，今天是几号。年长者答道，十二月七号。我将棉被提到下颌，仔细披好，半闲眼睛，心里想着，我离开沈阳那天，好像是十二月十号，但这也不大重要。

 

我虽十分疲乏，但睡得也不踏实，习惯颠簸之后，躺在这样平稳的床上，反倒不适应，我做了几介短暂混乱的梦，其中一个是狭窄的山径上，零气流滞，父亲走在前面，我默默跟在身后，他的步伐很快，我有,点跟不上，我轻声喊他几句，也没有回应，只好向前疾跑几步，想要伸手抓住他的衣服，却不小心滑倒。地面湿润，遍布苔痕，我很着急，可怎么也爬不起来，双腿无力发颤，高声叫着父亲，他停在不远处，回头望向我，脸庞比从前更为瘦削，日光里全是恨意，我不敢与之对视，便低下头，将耳朵伏在泥里。我听见浓零正簌簌落下，听见大地内部的声育，朝着远处波动，缓缓推进，又折射回来，仿佛装置着无数轨道，巨石在上面行进，相互碰撞后静止，堆砌成不规则的环形，也像一道垣墙，或者一座墓，将我环绕禁锢，因在此处，无人在外凿击，大地持续波动，天空如镜，浮云是它的倒影。年长者将我推醒，便走出门去，一句话也没说。我靠着灰墙坐起身来，汗水几乎将被子浸透，我低声对自己说几个词，以确定自己的音调正常，还能顺利发声：语言，建设，暴力，语言，峽谷道路，语言，斗争，忘却，语言，煤炭，原谅，妈妈，语言，妈妈，妈妈。

 

汗液消散，我从床上下来，整理好衣裤，伸展臂膀，双手推开房门，向左转身，经过一道走廊，此时已是傍晚，天空隐隐透出暗橘色，地面泛出白光，两者的交界处，是一道起伏平缓的亮线，正在静静燃烧。院子里有几株枯苗，分別朝着不同方向倾斜，我想象一下，它们的延长线相互交叉，将院内切割成一道规则的多边形，在中心位置，则是一座石头砌成的塔楼，呈暗灰色，构造结实紧密，毫无缝隙，其锥顶略高于其他房屋，侧门低矮，需躬身进入，稻草铺在周围。我到达走廊的尽头，推开右侧屋门，来到另一间开阔的房间里，共有三人，国在餐桌上吃饭，我走过去，坐在最后一把空椅子上，拎起白色塑料桶，给自己倒上半杯酒，仿佛对这里的一切了若指拿。

 

年长者进行自我介绍，名叫杨树，专做此类事情他向我介绍道，这里条件虽然一般，但是绝对安全，附近居民不多，相互往来更少，整个区域几乎要被人遗忘了，他与每位朋友也是单线联系更准确一点说，他只是等待命令，何时接来，何时送走，更多外面的情况，他并不知情，也没兴趣对我只提一个要求，未经允许，不要擅自离开。疤面人说，自己叫李德武，当过兵，十五岁去的部队，三年叉三年，除杨树之外，他在这里待得时间最长，大概已经有两年，也许是三年，三年又三年，记不清了，反正过了挺长时间，很适应此处，安静，没人打扰，出去也行，不出去也行，没有本质区别，他说话时语序混乱，总爱重复前一句话，给人感觉思维有些问题，或者是长久疏于交谈。坐在右侧的是一位男孩，看起来年龄比我还小，应该不到二十岁，个子不高，皮肤白皙，眉毛粗重，眼神发亮，应该是在城里长大，没怎么吃过苦，性格比较内向，扭着头讲话，北方口育，经常夹着尴尬的笑声，他说，自己叫孙程，也刚来不久，待不了几天，可能明天就走，平时喜欢读书，可惜在这里读不到，问我有没有带书过来什么都行，带宇儿的就可以。我接摇头。孙程说，也没关系，没关系的，那你有没有用到一股腐败的味道呢。我又摇头。孙程说，我每天都能用到，有时还会被呛醒，荒郊野岭，也是奇怪，那种气味好像是从地底传上来的，挥之不散。杨树咳嗽两声，又用筷子敲敲碗沿，孙程不再讲话，僵硬的笑容也收回去，规矩坐好，像一位在课堂上刚被训斥过的学生。

 

杨树让我也讲几句，刚才听他们说话时，我就一直在想，在这种地方，为避免床烦，不会用自己的真实姓名，也就是说，这里的人们没有历史，完全可以按照意愿进行重塑。我想起以前我的一位朋友，决定在此借用他的身份，我一口将杯中的酒饮尽，开口说道，我叫潘宇，沈阳人，郊区长大，二十三岁，没什么学历，在锅炉房上班，千管道工，我不知道你们是哪年到这里来的，待了多久，但今年沈阳有几件事情，有点意思，我给大家讲讲，权当下酒，一件与我毫无关联，另一件跟我稍微有点关系，诸位自行分辦。第一件事，发生在上个月，两个年轻人害了一个小姑娘，也不能算害，平时三人关系还不错，十六七岁，从小就认识，当时刚入冬，小姑娘想买件蓝色滑雪棉衭，今年流行这个，但家里没给钱，条件差一些，也是没办法，小姑娘情绪不好，去跟这两个朋友喝酒，直至半夜，醉得不省人事，两个年轻人也不敢送回家，小姑娘的父亲比较凶，脾气很差，看见他们带着女儿喝这么多酒，肯定要发火，打骂在所难免，又没钱出去住，想了半天，记起他们有一位在锅炉房工作的朋友，常年上夜班，便直接奔过去，想要拜托朋友来照应，在那里对付一宿，第二天醒酒，她自然也就回去了，至于怎么解释，那是她自己的事情，送过去后两人就回家了，一觉睡到早上，忍着头疼，起床上班，一切正常，奇怪的是，两人在下午各自呕吐一次，没有征兆。又过了几天，他们听说，小姑娘失踪了，家属已经报案，他们听后很慌张连忙去找那位朋友询问情况，但他却不在单位有人说早已办理停薪留职，好几个月没来上班，一直在家里照顾生病的母亲，他们提着水果，去朋友家里拜访，问起当天的事情，那位朋友一脸因惑，说母亲卧床近半年，他平时连门都很少出更别提上夜班了。这两个年轻人就更加不解，完全不明白是怎么一回事，那天的事情，在他们的记忆里，也逐渐发生变化，其中一位认为，另外一位当夜并未回家，而是又折返到锅炉房，与那位朋友联合起来，图谋不轨，但具体做了些什么他也想象不出来。另外一位则不这么想，在他的记忆里，因为没有证件，他们搀着小姑娘从侧门走入锅炉房，要到达工作区域，需越过一座低矮的煤山。煤山上接着一串灯泡，间隔数十米，瓦数很高，在风里摇摆，晃得他们睁不开眼，走到一半时，听见一阵悉索的声音，应该有人在低处铲煤，但好像碰到一块硬物，只能从四周仔细点点敲碎，如同一只老鼠在噬咬门板，他踮脚望下去，却什么也没发现，再往前走，被绊了一跤他隐约看见，一截白骨从煤渣里升出来，他想起几天前听到的一则新闻，也是在这个锅炉房里，发现一具女尸，右颈部有一切割创，较为表浅：左胸部有一刺创，贯穿心脏，导致失血死亡，致死工具为单面刃刺器，凶手至今还未抓到，他打了个激灵，身体一阵哆嗦，想要撒尿，于是扔下同件，跑去角落里方便，回来之后，另外两人却不在原地，他继续往前走，迎头遇上同伴，说切已经安排妥当，两人并肩出门，就此告別，各回各家。这是第一件事。第二件呢，主角是这位曾在锅炉房上班的朋友，当天晚上，他正在家里照顾母亲，看了会儿电视，睡得比较晚，大概十点多，他刚洗漱完华，听见一阵很轻的敲门声他将门打开，披了件衣服，站在外面与来者说了几句话，然后转身回到屋子里，取了一些东西穿妤衣服，跟着来者一起出门，过了两个小时他才回来，但并不是一个人，背上还有一位熟睡的小姑娘，十六七岁，穿着一件蓝色滑雪棉袄，他把小姑娘放在自己的床上，将其外衣外裤脱掉又盖好被子，累得满头是汗，小姑娘翻了个身，响起轻微的鼾声，他的情绪很焦躁，最终没忍住，掀开被子，褪掉小姑娘的内裤，千了一次，很快就射了。他瘫在地上，抱着脑袋，十分懊悔。后来到卫生间，拧开一点水龙头，仔细擦洗身体又将小姑娘的衣物打成一个包裹，放在阳台上。做完这一切，已近凌晨，他想叫醒母亲，准备喂药刚推开房门，便闸到一股腐败的味道，跟平时略有不同，似乎带着几分腥气，他走到床边，发现母亲已被人杀死，右颈部划有一道浅浅的伤口，流出来的血已经凝固，如同一条黑色的项圈，致命伤也许是在左胸部，其心脏被利器刺穿，露出一部分白骨，像是被打了个洞，他拉开半扇窗帘，暗光映入，伤口还在不断地冒出黑血，他哭嚎着，极力将其捂住，却有异感，于是迅速将双手缩回来，举至眼前，发现上面满是细密的煤渣。有人在刺死她后，又将一块燃尽的煤核放在胸口上，轻轻敲碎。

 

院里只有三间房，他们各住一间，杨树让我暂时睡在石楼，我举着蜡烛低头进入，发现这里跟卡车货箱区别不大，空间狭窄，满是枯枝与落叶室内只有一张草垫，一把梯子，一张缺角的方桌，角落里堆放一些杂物，没有窗户，我睡觉之前，將门嵌开一道缝陳，冷风吹入，像一把冻过的匕首，要将我的皮肤割开。我抱紧双臂，眯起眼睛，回忆着刚才讲说话故事时每个人的状态。李德武假装没听，但身体轻微抽搐数次，极为隐蔽，压抑着内在的兴奋情绪，孙程听得很认真，呼吸急促，张着大嘴，一副难以置信的表情；杨树则始终保持着静默，看不出任何变化，他坐在那里，如同一个黑洞，能将全部的光芒与声音都吸附进去。

 

深夜里，雪花飘入石楼，落在身上，许久不化。门外有脚步声，我竖起耳朵，应该是住在东屋的孙程，起夜去厕所，他的步伐急促，穿着棉鞋，一路小跑，返回时走得很慢，在石楼附近稍作停顿，便又走远。第二天，我起得很早，在院里散步发现雪地上有四行浅淡的印迹，两行是孙程所留，另外两行通向杨树所住的南屋，我自认为足够警惕，但却没有丝毫察觉。

 

李德武劈柴烧火，杨树煮一锅挂面，我找了根树枝，在雪地上胡乱写画，孙程在旁边看了半天然后问我，潘宇，这是哪里的地图。我说，不是地图，随便画几笔。孙程皱着眉头，继续说，我能看出来一些，像是菜座城市，横平竖直的街道，两侧是建筑物，梦体构成环形结构，有,点像迷宫，其中又有许多障碍点，雪花堆得稍高的那些地方就是，以及，这些图形看似混乱，其实是两个区域叠在一起，也可能是三个，中间一个需要倒转再拼接一起，这样就清晰很多，我不太确定，不过你像是正在找一条路，想从这里逃出去。我说想象力很丰富。孙程说，瞎说的，不要当真。我想了想，问他说，你有办法么。孙程说，办法不是没有，不过你要告诉我一个事情。我说，你讲讲看。孙程说，你的真名就叫潘宇吗？我也是沈阳的，听说过一个人，有不少事迹，跟你同名。我说，这名宇又不稀奇，你难道真叫孙程？他恩考几秒钟，对我说道，想从这里走出去，并不困难，从原始位置出发，顺着某一条路探索，若能走通，则继续行进，否则沿原路返回，换一个方向再试，直到穷尽所有可能，所以你的问题其实是，如何在合适的时间内，顺利避开全部障碍点，那么我们进行倒推，既然出口位置是确定的，那么事实上，这里才是真正的起点，不妨从此开始，先把所有的障碍点连成一条线，再将区域路径也覆盖在上面，两张图重叠，只保留线段相交的部分再除去与障碍点重合的情况，将剩余交点连缀起来，可以得到一个内部路径的图形，抵达最近的交点后，绕此图形沿路行进，便都是安全地区，所以它不是一个迷宫，准确一点讲，或许也不是城市，它没这么精密，而是煤厂，当然，我也不叫孙程，我的名字是李德武。

 

晚饭过后，杨树邀我去他的屋内休息。他掏出一副扑克，自顾自在桌上摆开，三分之二是明牌，三分之一是暗牌，他盯着这些牌，往往会恩考很长时间，逐一移动位置，我读不懂他的玩法，自觉无趣，就打了个招呼，说想要回屋，准备睡觉。杨树并不抬头，低声对我说，李德武明天就走。我说，孙程今天告诉我，他的名字叫李德武，那走的到底是谁。杨树说，李德武。我不再追问，准备返回石屋，推门出去时，看见李德武站在西侧抽烟，孙程在他旁边，两人交替呼出白气，我走上前去，冲着他们,点点头。孙程抬手指了指李德武，问我，听说没有，他要走了。我说，刚听说。孙程继续问，你想不想知道，他为什么来到这里我聊了半天，也没问出来。我转头看看李德武，那道疤痕在月光里变成银白色，像一种柔软的金属，被镶嵌在脸上。李德武递我一支卷好的旱烟又划根火柴，帮我点燃，我抽了一口，味道极呛，忍不住咳嗷起来。李德武说，这里原本是个庙，几十年前。我说，你怎么知道的。李德武说，当兵之前，我一直住在这里，住在这里，有一段时间，香火很旺，很多人过来朝拜，庙的后面是一条河水从山上流下来，水从山上流下来，我走的那年春天，水流越来越细，只有几米宽，两岸都是湿泥，人一迈进去，越陷越深，很难再伸出腿来，一年多后，我休探亲假，再次回到这里，山地贫瘠，河水干枯，附近的人也都搬走了，这座庙也随之荒度，杨树住在这里，住在这里，没人知道他是从哪里来的，带着一杆枪，就斜在佛像边上斜在佛像边上，也不跟人说话，他住下之后，将梁木拆去，自山顶背下石头，自山顶背下石头，二点一点重砌起来，我以前在部队于得不错，成统优界，还是神抢手，但有一次走火，犯了点错误，不大不小，心里始终过不去，导致后来一见到枪就怕，见到枪就怕，却还想去摸，控制不住我年天在这座庙的附近转悠，没过几天，跟看父母一起搬到镇上，也没回过部队，但我还总记着这杆枪，每天睡不好，做梦都是抢声，都是枪声那种声音，你听过一次，就想听第二次，于是又跑回来，跟着杨树在这里佳下来，三年叉三年，三年叉三年。孙程说，来接你的是谁呢。李德武说，我不知道。孙程冲我使了个眼色，我跟李德武说先回去休息，希望一切顺利，叉跟他要了一根烟，不知怎么，这烟的味道虽然普通，抽着却很上癮我在石屋将最后的半支抽完，头脑一阵香沉，然后就睡着了

 

睡至半夜，大面积的冷风忽然灌进屋内，我翻身坐在地上，发现孙程偷偷来到我的屋内，举着蜡烛，示意我不要讲话，然后指着外面，我屏息凝神，在心里数数，查到三百的时候，我听到了一声枪响，来自西侧，回音短促，十分清脆，像是低飞的鹰，羽翅拍击水面，只一瞬问，又迅速离去。孙程拾起头来，看着我的双眼，仿佛在寻求一个答案。我提了提衣领，将手伸入里怀，摩挲着那柄弹簧刀，那是父亲从前送给我的，我一直带在身上，销子钩住钢刃，时刻准备弹出来，不算长，但足够锋利，我用过几次，相当趁手。过了两分钟，孙程站起身来，跟我说，出去看看，刚才我上厕所，瞥见一个人影，翻墙进来，直奔西屋。我点点头，将刀收进袖口，以防不测，跟在孙程身后，来到院子里。杨树屋内的灯也亮了起来，他推开门，敞着衣服，手里拎着一杆猜枪，像一位刚睡醒的屠夫。我们三人相对无言，走向李德武的住处。门在里面锁着，杨树用枪柄砸开，屋内无人，也没有血迹，满地烟灰，一尊破败的佛像摆在床上，周身被绳索缠鄉，而李德武不知所踪。杨树面无表情，来回巡视几香，喘着粗气，额头渗出汗珠孙程死盯着佛像，像在探究其中的奥秘。我开始怀疑，刚才听到的那一声，到底是不是枪响。

 

按照我的预想，如果第二天的车没有接到李德武那么杨树势必会遭到质疑，我与孙程也无法在此长久待下去，无论对谁来说，都是转变的契机。但事实并非如此，一整天里，没有任何车辆经过此处，杨树也恢复常态，砍柴烧水，看不出任何情绪，甚至将那杆枪从头到尾擦了一遍，抹上煤油，仿佛李德武根本没有消失或者存在过。夜里，他进入西屋，取出佛像，放在院子中夫，放了一把火，将其烧掉，口中念念有词，烟气冲天，火舌在皑皑的白雪上四处审动，散发出一股浓重的腐败气息，那是死人的味道，对我来说，这也并不陌生。杨树握着那套扑克牌，逐张抽出来，看一眼牌面，再倩着佛像身上的火引燃，单手一种飞至远处，火均高粉，落在雪里，也不媳灭，就浮在上面，漂着烧完，最后还能残留一些火星，在无尽的银光里闪动。

 

每过一日，我便折一截枯草，放进口袋里，入睡之前，我会将其捻开，细数一次，看看在这里一共待了多少天，在第九十天的时候，我陷入混沌之中。一方面是，这些枯草放得时间久了，变得极易碎，一分为二，二分为四，也有部分枯草碎成粉末，被风吹走，我己经数不清到底在这里待了多少天，前一天是八十八根，后一天就变成一百零四根，然后又是一百根。再有，我在这里这么长时间，按理说来，应该换过一个季节，但周围景色并无变化，依日荒凉萧索，罕有人迹，也就是说，我失却了时间概念。孙程的感受也许比我更为强烈，跟我来时相比，判若两人，极瘦，面无血色，不跟任何人讲话，每天将自己关在房间里，我偶尔透过门缝看几眼，发现他在床上蜷成一因，一动不动，不知道是死是活。

 

这里的白昼越来越长，我睡得晨昏颠倒，总会梦见李德武，他告诉我一些事情，但我只相信其中一部分。在第一百七十三天，或者一百五十四天时，杨树炖了一条河鱼，有三四斤重，分不清品种，细鳞未刮，土腥味很重。饭后，孙程掐着自已的脖子，走来走去，不停地咳嗽，呼吸艰难，很快便现出一道淤青，像是要将鱼刺从皮肤里拔出来。我坐在一旁，耍玩手里的弹簧刀，对此，我早已不再避讳，如果孙程此时想要借用一下，我很愿意帮他割开喉咙，看看到底是什么令他如此难过。杨树视若无物，喝掉杯中的白酒，站起身来，步履蹒跚地走过我身边，留下一句，明天会有人来接你。

 

我很难确切回忆起那一夜是如何度过的，换句话说，虽然内心有所希冀，但更多的是紧张与忧虑，在此之前，我找到了一种与自己相处的合理方式，即也如枯草一般，一分为二，平行存在。一部分在外部更大的迷宫里，不断游荡，躲避障碍，孤零零的身影，随着地势起伏若隐若现，我成为自己的旁观者；另一部分待在石屋内，从未离开，无声静坐，或者用刀在墙上写宇，一个词语覆盖在另一个词语上面。语言，建设，暴力，语言，峡谷，道路，语言，斗争，忘却，语言，煤炭，原谅，妈妈，语言，妈妈，妈妈。但当我听到那声枪响时，仍不免浑身颤科，刀刀卷曲，那扇门己被锁住，我与外面的人共同等待未知的到来。我想到了那尊佛像，李德武的面容从佛像的脸上缓缓移去，替换成为杨树，然后又是一场烈火，将其化为交烬。我极力控制着自己，但听到引擎声时，还是高声叫喊起来，带着哭腔，声嘶力竭，可没人听得见，直至车声远去。

 

屋内黑暗，窄门紧闭，透不出一丝光亮，外面叉下起了大雪。那些雪片不知从何处飘入，纷纷扬扬，落在我的脸上，寒意侵袭，我倒卧在地，不停地发抖，而大地波动的声音，由远及近，再次滚滚而来，仿佛一列火车正钻出地壳，驶入交暗的天光之中。我想，孙程会用尽一切办法，在不知不觉之间，消灭父亲在世上的痕迹，名正言顺地成为潘宇，但我并不是潘宇，所以他还会遇到一些小麻烦，但那也不是什么问题。而我现在，将要顶着孙程的名宇，等待来接他的那辆年，时间或许相当漫长，也不要紧，我有着足够的耐心。再过不久，大阳就又要升起来，那扇门会被焚烧过的风吹开，我抚摸着石墙，涂满词语的石墙，渐渐明白父亲的用意，这样一来，我终于可以轻松地活下去。

 

 

 

 

 

Stone Prison

Ban Yu

 

In 1992, my father arranged for me to go into hiding for a while. Let's not get into the specifics of why. At the time, my father lived on his own in a village on the border. Since it was his job to allocate supplies there, he had a certain amount of clout. So, when he heard about my situation, he sent a vehicle to Shenyang that very night under the cover of darkness to pick me up hoping to seize the initiative. I only had time to grab a few items before I lifted the truck's tarpaulin and clambered into the back. Guided by the beam of a flashlight, I found a place to lie down against the steel axle arch. There was no telling night from day in there. I drifted off to sleep, accompanied by the drone of the engine, but the cold woke me up again soon enough. I could tell that we were heading north. The temperature was dropping, and the wind made a fearsome sound, rocking the truck as if we were struggling to stay balanced on a steel wire. I was starting to feel like an acrobat as I constantly shifted position within the cramped space. Even after covering myself with all the clothes I had brought with me, it was still unimaginably cold. The truck stopped only twice during the entire journey. The first time seemed to be at a gas station where I heard several loud voices outside, but I couldn't make out what exactly they were saying. Less than fifteen minutes later, we were on the move again. The second time we stopped seemed to be on a bridge. I could hear rapidly flowing water pouring down off the side of a mountain. Through the bars of the truck, someone threw me some bread and an army canteen. By this point I was running a fever, and it took all my effort just to get the food into my mouth. Then I promptly vomited it back up all over myself. I was in a wretched state, passing in and out of consciousness. I felt like the truck would never arrive at its destination, or perhaps there was no destination - its mission was simply to keep on driving forever. I could not imagine a worse punishment.

 

It all felt very unreal when I was lifted out and dropped on the ground. I lay there for a long time under the burning sunlight. Slowly I opened my eyes and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of a line of hills. There were two men standing high up, whispering to one another while they smoked, occasionally sniggering. I tried to haul myself to my feet, but kept crumpling to the ground. My limbs wouldn't listen to me, I was stiff all over and my breath was foul. In despair, I screamed at the sky - beastly, ragged screams, as if a wild animal had hold of my throat. The two men calmly put out their cigarettes and walked over to me. They treaded lightly but quickly, making almost no noise at all. They were squatting down at my side before I could react. They took off my filthy coat, picked me up and carried me deftly into a room. I didn't have the strength to resist. Inside, they put me on a mottled wooden bed and brought me a glass of water. A whiff of warm water was enough to restore some of my energy. Now I was finally able to carefully size up the two men. One looked to be around 50 years old. He was wearing a dog fur hat, had broad shoulders and heavy eyelids, and gave off a strong smell of tobacco. The other guy was younger, with longish hair and a hunched back. He had a dark look in his eyes, a long scar on the right side of his face and a piece of straw hanging from his mouth. After drinking the water, I still felt extremely hot. Remembering that I'd put some tablets in my pocket right before I left, I gulped them down. Before I fell asleep, I heard the guy with the scar ask the older one what the date was. The older one said it was December 7th. I pulled the quilt up to my chin and carefully tucked myself in. With my eyes half-closed, I thought to myself that I'd left Shenyang on December 10th….. But it wasn't important.

 

Despite my exhaustion, I slept poorly. Having grown used to getting jolted around, it felt strange lying on an unmoving bed. When I did fall asleep, I had several strange, Neeting dreams. In one, I was walking behind my father On a narrow mountain path, the air thick with fog. I quietly followed behind, struggling to keep up. I called out, but he kept on walking and didn't respond. As I reached to grab his clothes, I tripped and fell. The damp ground was covered in moss and I felt anxious. No matter how I tried, I couldn't get up. My legs trembled and I shouted to my father who stopped not far away, turning his head to look at me. His face was even more gaunt than before and his eyes were filled with hatred. I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze and lowered my head, pressing my ear to the ground. I could hear the thick tog descending and the sound of the earth rolling away into the distance, slowly advancing and then making its way back as if along countless tracks. Huge boulders were moving above me, colliding and then coming to a halt, forming an irregular ring. It was like a wall, or maybe a tomb which imprisoned me. Trapped and with no one to break me out, the earth continued to pulsate - the sky motionless and the clouds reflecting the ground like a mirror.

 

The older guy shook me awake and then left without a word. I sat up against the plaster wall, the quilt soaked through with my sweat. I whispered a few words under my breath to check whether my voice was normal and I could still speak: Language, building, violence, language, canyon, path, language, struggle, forget, language, coal, forgive, mother, language, mother, mother.

 

When the sweat had dissipated, I got out of bed, straightened my clothes, and stretched out my arms. I pushed open the door with both hands, turned left and walked down the passageway. It was evening and the sky was a faint dark orange, the ground suffused with a white light - a smooth undulating bright line, quietly burning where the two met. There were several withered plants in the courtyard, each slanting in different directions. If they were extended, I thought to myself, they would cross one another and divide the yard into a regular polygon. In the center of the yard was a dark gray stone tower, solidly built with not a crack in it. Its spire rose up slightly higher than the other buildings, with a low side door that you'd need to bow down to enter, and straw on the ground around it. I reached the end of the passageway, pushed open the door to my right, and entered another large room where three people were eating at a table. I walked over and sat in the last empty chair, picked up a large white plastic container and poured myself half a glass of liquor, as if I was completely at home.

 

The older guy introduced himself. He said his name was Yang Shu and that this kind of thing was his job. He explained that although it wasn't great here, it was absolutely safe. Not many people lived nearby, and even fewer visited. In fact, the entire area had been pretty much forgotten. He operated via "one-way communication" with others. More accurately, he just awaited orders: when to pick someone up, and when to send them away. He had no idea what was going on outside, nor was he interested. He only made one request of me not to leave without permission.

 

The guy with the scar said his name was Li Dewu. He joined the army at 15 and had served for three years, and then another three. Apart from Yang Shu, he'd been here the longest. It was probably already two years by now, or maybe three - three years and another three - he couldn't remember. Anyway, it'd been quite a long time. He was used to the place now since it was quiet and no one bothered him. There wasn't much difference between staying or leaving. His word order was muddled and he often repeated himself, giving the impression that he wasn't quite right in the head, or that he hadn't spoken to anyone for a long time.

 

Sitting to my right was a young guy. He looked younger than me, probably under 20. He was somewhat short, had fair skin, bushy eyebrows and bright eyes. A city boy who'd had an easy life. He was pretty introverted, turning his head to one side as he spoke with a northern accent and often laughing awkwardly between sentences. He said his name was Sun Cheng and that he'd also just arrived. He'd probably just stay a few days and might be off tomorrow. Usually he liked to read, but unfortunately there was nothing to read here. He asked me if I'd brought any books - absolutely anything would do. I shook my head. Sun Cheng said it didn't matter, it didn't matter. Then he asked if I'd noticed a rotting smell. I shook my head again. Sun Cheng said that he smelled it every day, and it would sometimes wake him up. It was strange, here in these desolate mountains, how the stench seemed to come up from beneath the ground, and lingered in the air. Yang Shu coughed twice and tapped the side of his bowl with his chopsticks. Sun Cheng stopped talking, wiped the stiff smile off his face and sat up straight like a student who'd just been told off in class.

 

Yang Shu asked me to say a few words too. As I was listening to the others talk, I thought to myself that no one would use their real name in a place like this. That meant that no one here had a backstory - it was possible to completely reconstruct yourself however you wished. I remembered an old friend and decided to adopt his identity. I downed the glass of liquor, and introduced myself as Pan Yu. I'm 23 years old and grew up in the suburbs of Shenyang, I said. I haven't been to school much and work as a plumber in a boiler room. I don't know how old you all are or how long you've been here, but a couple of interesting things happened in Shenyang this year. I'll tell you about them; you can enjoy them with your drinks. One of them had nothing to do with me, but I was partially involved in the other - I'll let you decide which is which. The first incident happened last month. Two young guys hurt a girl. Well, not really hurt. The three of them normally got along well, they were 16 or 17 years old, and had known each other since they were kids. Winter had just arrived, and the girl wanted to buy a blue ski jacket, the kind that's in fashion this year. The problem was, her family couldn't afford to buy her one. The girl was in a bad mood, so she went to drink with these two friends. They drank late into the night until, in the end, she passed out. The two guys knew her father had a temper and didn't dare take her back home. If he'd seen how much they'd let his daughter drink, he'd definitely knock them around. But they didn't have enough money to get a hotel room. They finally remembered a friend who worked nights in a boiler room and hurried over to where he worked in the hope that he'd look after her for the night. The next day, she could go back home atter sobering up and explain for herself what had happened. After dropping her off, the two guys went home. They slept until the morning, got up with headaches and went to work. Everything was normal except, weirdly, both of them vomited that atternoon with no warning. A few days later, they heard that the girl was missing and that her tamily had reported it to the police. Alarmed by this news, they rushed to ask their friend what had happened. The thing is, he wasn't at work. They were told that he hadn't been to work for months - not since he d asked tor leave to look after his sick mother at home. They took some truit and went to visit their friend's home. When they asked him what happened that night, the triend looked confused. He explained he had barely stepped outside in the six months his mother had been bedbound, and certainly hadn't worked any night shits. The two guys were baffled - they had no idea what was going on. The events of that tateful night gradually began to change in their memories. The thought occurred to one of them that the other hadn't gone straight home. Instead he must have gone back to the boiler room and conspired with their friend to do something bad. What exactly though, he couldn't imagine. The other guy recalled things differently. He remembered them carrying the girl into the work area via a side door since they didn't have ID for the boiler room. They had crossed a low heap of coal, beneath a string of lightbulbs a few dozen meters long, swaying in the wind, so bright they had to squint. Halfway across, they heard something. Someone was shoveling coal down below, but seemed to hit something hard and so just tapped around, like a rat gnawing on the bottom of a wooden door. Standing on his tiptoes, he looked down but couldn't see anything. He took another step forward, then tripped over and caught sight of a length of white bone rising up out of the coal. A few days ago, he remembered, the news said that the corpse of a woman had been found in this very boiler room. In addition to a superficial gash on the right side of her neck, the woman had been stabbed through the heart, which had killed her through loss of blood. The murder weapon was a single-edged blade and the murderer was still at large. Shivering and trembling all over, he felt the need to take a piss. He left the others and ran to a corner to relieve himself. When he returned, the other two were gone and so he walked on, eventually running into his friend who told him everything was sorted. The two of them walked outside together, said goodbye, and returned to their respective homes.

 

That was the first incident. The protagonist of the second incident was the friend who used to work in the boiler room. One evening, he was taking care of his mother at home. He'd been watching TV and so was late going to bed. Some time after 10 o'clock, he'd just finished brushing his teeth and washing when he heard a quiet knock at the door. He opened the door, draped his coat over his shoulders and stepped outside to exchange a few words with the visitor. Then he turned and went inside to fetch a few things, got dressed, and left with the visitor. It was a couple of hours before he returned, but he wasn't alone. He was carrying a 16- or 17-year- old girl who was fast asleep and wearing a blue ski jacket. He put the girl in his own bed, took off her coat and trousers, and pulled the quilt over her. He was tired and his forehead was drenched in sweat. The girl turned over and began lightly snoring. He was feeling restless and finally couldn't control himself any longer. He pulled off the quilt, removed the girl's panties, fucked her and came quickly. Then he sank to the ground paralyzed and buried his head in his hands, filled with deep remorse. Afterwards, he Went to the bathroom, turned on the faucet and carefully cleaned his body. He wrapped up the sir's clothes and belongings and put them on the balcony. It was almost morning by the time he'd finished, so he thought about waking up his mother to give her her medicine. As he opened her bedroom door, he was hit by a rotting smell There was something unusual in the odor, something putrid. He walked over to the bed and discovered that his mother had been killed. There was a shallow cut across the right side of her neck. The blood had already congealed, forming what looked like a black necklace. She was probably killed by the wound in the left side of her chest, where a sharp implement had pierced her heart. The bones were visible, as if a hole had been gouged right into the flesh. He opened one of the curtains and saw black blood still flowing out from the wound in the dim light. He cried out, then covered his mouth as best he could, but something made him quickly pull back his hands. He raised them to his eyes and tound that they were covered in fine coal dust. Someone had stabbed her to death and then crumbled a piece of coal on her chest.

 

There were only three buildings in the courtyard, one tor each of them. Yang Shu let me sleep in the stone tower for now. I raised the candle and lowered my head as I entered. Inside, it wasn't so dissimilar from the back of the truck. The room was narrow, and filled with dead branches and dry leaves. There was a straw mattress, a ladder, a square table with a chunk missing and some junk piled up in the corner. There were no windows, and I propped open the door a little before I went to bed. A cold draught blew in, like a frozen dagger that would cut open my skin. I folded my arms tightly, narrowed my eyes, and thought about how everyone had reacted to my story. Li Dewu had pretended not to listen, but he twitched a few times as he tried to hide his inner excitement. Sun Cheng had listened attentively, his breathing quickened and his mouth wide open, with a look of disbelief on his face. Yang Shu remained silent throughout and didn't show any change. He just sat there like a black hole, capable of absorbing all light and sound.

 

In the middle of the night, snowflakes floated into the stone tower. They landed on my body and took a long time to melt. Outside there were footsteps. I listened carefully and thought it must be Sun Cheng, who lived in the east building, going to the toilet. He walked hurriedly in his cotton-padded shoes. As he ambled back, he paused near the stone tower for a while before carrying on. The next day, I got up early and went for a walk in the courtyard. There were four lines of light footprints in the snow. Two had been left by Sun Cheng, while the others led to the south building where Yang Shu lived. I thought I had been very vigilant, but I hadn't heard anyone else's footsteps.

 

Li Dewu was chopping firewood, while Yang Shu cooked noodles in a pot. I found a branch and started scribbling in the snow with it. Sun Cheng watched for a while from one side and then asked me: Pan Wu, what's that a map of? I told him it wasn't a map - I was just ran- domly drawing lines. Sun Cheng furrowed his brows and said: I can make it out a little, it looks like a city. The horizontal and vertical lines are the roads, with buildings on either side. The whole thing is ring-shaped, a bit like a maze. Inside are lots of obstacles - that's the areas where the snow is piled a little higher. And, the shapes in it look a little disorderly, but it's actually two areas stacked one on top of each other, or maybe there's three areas. The one in the middle needs to be turned around and then reattached; that would make it much clearer. It seems to me like you're looking for a way out. Like you want to escape from here. I told him he had a rich imagination. Sun Cheng said he was just talking shit, that there was no need to take it seriously. I thought about it and then asked if he had any ideas. He did, he said, but first I needed to tell him something. Go on, I said. He asked: Is your real name Pan Yu? I'm from Shenyang too. I heard of someone who's pretty well-known and has the same name as you. I said that the name wasn't very rare and asked if he was saying that his name was really Sun Cheng. He thought for a few seconds and said: If you want to get out, it's not that hard - starting from here, make your way down a road. If you can make it through then keep on going, otherwise go back along the road you came, change direction and try again until you've exhausted all possibilities. So, your real question is, what's the right way to avoid all the obstacles in a timely manner. Well, let's use reverse deduction. Since the location of the exit is fixed, then the real starting point is here. You might as well start now, first put all the obstacles in a single line, then superimpose all the routes on top. Only keep the parts where the line segments intersect and remove those that have obstacles. Join up the remaining nodes and you'll have an internal route diagram. After arriving at an intersection, rotate the diagram and take that road - the safe area. So, it's not a maze, strictly speaking, and it's not a city either as it's not accurate enough, it's a coal works. Of course, I'm not called Sun Cheng. My name is Li Dewu.

 

After dinner, Yang Shu invited me to take a rest in his room. He took out a pack of cards and arranged them on the table; two thirds face up and one third face down. He stared at them for a long time, thinking hard before moving one card at a time. I couldn't under-stand what he was doing. Feeling bored, I said that I wanted to go back to my room and sleep. Without looking up, Yang Shu quietly said that Li Dewu would be leaving tomorrow. Sun Cheng told me his name was Li Dewu, I said, so which one of them is leaving? Yang Shu replied, Li Dewu. I left without inquiring further. When I opened the door, I saw Li Dewu stood smoking on the west side of the yard, with Sun Cheng next to him. The two of them took it in turns to exhale white smoke. I walked over and nodded in their direction. Sun Cheng pointed at Li Dewu and asked if I'd heard that he was leaving. I told him I'd just heard the news. Sun Cheng asked: Do you want to know why he came here? I've talked with him for ages, but never got an answer. I looked at Li Dewu - his scar had turned silvery white in the moonlight, like a piece of soft metal was embedded in his face. Li Dewu gave me a hand-rolled cigarette and struck a match to light it for me. I took one puff, but the taste made me start to cough. Li Dewu said that this place had once been a temple, decades ago. I asked him how he knew that. He said: Before I joined the army, I used to live here.. live here. For a while, lots of people came here to worship, and there was always incense burning. Behind the temple there was a river, the water flowing down off the mountain.. off the mountain. When I left that spring, the stream was drying up and it was just a few meters wide. Squishy mud on either side. If you stepped into it, you'd sink deeper and deeper and struggle to get your legs out. After more than a year, I took leave and came back. The mountains were barren and the stream had dried up completely. The people living nearby had also moved away, so the temple had fallen into ruin. Yang Shu was living here… living here. No one knows where he came from. He had a rifle, resting against the statue of the Buddha. resting against the statue of the Buddha. He didn't talk to anyone. After he moved in, he tore down the beams and carried down stones from the mountaintop.… from the mountaintop. Little by little he started piling up the stones. was a good soldier when I was in the army, got high scores and was an expert marksman. But one time there was an accidental discharge. I made a mistake - nothing too big, but not small either. I couldn't get over it though and every time I saw a gun I'd feel scared….. I'd feel scared. But I'd still want to touch it - I couldn't control myself. Every day I'd wander around near the temple. After a few days, I moved into town with my parents. I didn't return to the army, but I kept thinking about that gun. I couldn't sleep properly and would even dream I heard gunshots... heard gunshots. That kind of sound - when you've heard it once, you want to hear it a second time. That's why I came back and lived here with Yang Shu for three years, then another three years… three years, then another three years. Sun Cheng asked, who's coming to pick you up? Li Dewu replied, I don't know. Sun Cheng gave me a knowing look. I told Li Dewu to go back and rest - and that I hoped everything worked out. I asked him for another cigarette. Though the taste was pretty ordinary, for some reason they were really addictive. I smoked the last half in the stone tower and then fell asleep in a daze.

 

I slept until the middle of a night, when a cold breeze suddenly poured into the room. I rolled over and sat on the ground, and then I saw that Sun Cheng had sneaked into my room. Holding a candle, he signaled to me not to talk and pointed outside. I held my breath and started to count in my head. When I reached three hundred, I heard a gunshot coming from the west with a short, sharp echo, like a low-flying eagle - its wings slapping the water's surface, just for a moment before it left quickly, Sun Cheng raised his head and looked into my eyes as if searching for an answer. I turned my shirt collar up, put my hand inside my jacket and stroked the switchblade which my father had given me, and which I always carried. The pin was hooked onto the steel blade edge, always ready to spring out. It wasn't very long, but it was sharp enough - I'd used it a few times and it was pretty handy. After a couple of minutes, Sun Cheng stood up and told me to go take a look. He said: Just now when I went to the bathroom, I caught sight of a figure climbing over the wall and heading straight to the west building. I nodded and pulled the knite into my sleeve in case something happened as I followed Sun Cheng into the yard. The light was on in Yang Shu's room. He opened the door, shirt unbuttoned and a rifle in his hand, looking like a killer who'd just been woken up. The three of us walked toward Li Dew's room in silence. The door was locked from the inside, so Yang Shu broke it open with the rifle butt. There was no one in the room, nor was there any blood. The floor was covered in cigarette ash and there was a damaged statue of the Buddha tied to the bed with ropes, but no trace of Li Dewu. Yang Shu's face was expressionless as he walked up and down, looking around, breathing heavily, with beads of sweat on his forehead. Sun Cheng stared hard at the statue as if attempting to solve its mysteries, and I began to wonder if the noise I'd heard just now really was a gunshot.

 

I figured that if the car didn't pick up Li Dewu tomorrow, then Yang Shu would be questioned, and neither Sun Cheng nor I would be able to stay here for long. This was going to be a turning point for all of us. But apparently not. No vehicle showed up the entire day and Yang Shu returned to his old self, chopping firewood and boiling water, showing no emotion. He even cleaned the rifle from top to bottom and wiped it with kerosene. It was as if Li Dewu had never disappeared, or even existed. That night, he went into the west room, took out the Buddha statue, placed it in the middle of the courtyard, and set fire to it with a torch. He mumbled something to himself, the smoke rising to the sky and the flames scuttling across the white snow. There was a strong smell of something rotting - the odor of death, an odor that wasn't unfamiliar to me. Yang Shu grasped the deck of cards. Pulling them out one by one, he glanced at each card, before setting it alight using the fire from the Buddha statue. With a flick of the wrist, he would then send each card flying. The flames rose up and fell on the snow, but didn't go out. They just floated up until they burned out. Finally, all that was left were a few sparks llickering in the endless silver light.

 

Every morning I had been folding a piece of straw and then placing it in my pocket. Before going to sleep, I'd unravel them all and count how many days I'd spent here. On the 90th day, I was dumbstruck. The dry straw had become so brittle that many had split in two, if not multiple pieces, and some had even turned to dust and been blown away by the wind. I no longer knew how many days I'd been here. The day before yesterday there had been 88 pieces, but the next day there were 104, and then it was back to 100. And another thing: I'd been here long enough that the seasons should have changed - but the landscape was just the same as ever. Still desolate and deserted, with barely a trace of human presence. In other words, I'd lost all notion of time. Sun Cheng probably felt it even more strongly than I did; he was a different person compared to when I first met him. He'd become extremely thin and had no color in his face, didn't talk to anyone and just stayed in his room all day. When 1 occasionally peeked through the crack of the door and saw him curled up on the bed, motionless, I couldn't tell if he was dead or alive.

 

The days were getting longer and longer. Night and day lost their meaning as I slept and often dreamt of Li Dewu, He told me something, but I only believed part of it. On the 173rd or maybe 154th day, Yang Shu stewed a fish from the river weighing a couple of kilos. It was hard to tell what type of fish it was though. Its fine scales hadn't been scraped off and it had a strong earthy-fishy smell. After dinner, Sun Cheng started pinching his neck and pacing up and down, coughing and breathing heavily. Soon enough, his neck was bruised. It looked like he was trying to pull something like a fish bone out through his skin. I sat to one side, playing with the switchblade in my hand, which I'd long. since stopped bothering to hide. If Sun Cheng had wanted to borrow it at this point, I'd have happily helped him slit his throat to see what was upsetting him. Yang Shu looked on as if it was nothing, finished his drink, stood up and staggered past me. He left me with the words: Tomorrow someone's coming to pick you up. 

 

It's hard for me to remember exactly how I spent that night. I was hopeful, yes, but above all I felt anxious and nervous. Like the dry straw, I was split into two parallel beings, and up until that point I had been managing to get along with myself. One part of me was in the larger maze outside, constantly wandering and avoiding obstacles. A solitary figure, barely discernible with the rise and fall of the terrain - I had become my own spectator. The other part of me stayed inside the stone tower, never leaving. I sat silently or carved words into the wall with my knife, one word on top of another: Language, building, violence, language, canyon, path, language, struggle, forget, language, coal, forgive, mother, language, mother, mother.

 

When I heard the gunshot, I started shaking uncontrollably again from head to toe. With the curved blade and the locked door, I waited just like the others outside for the arrival of the unknown. I thought of the Buddha statue. Its face slowly morphed from Li Dewu into Yang Shu, and then another raging fire reduced it to ashes. I tried hard to control myself, but when I heard the sound of an engine, I started shouting. I sobbed and screamed until my voice was so hoarse that no one could hear me and I listened as the vehicle disappeared into the distance.

 

The room was dark. The narrow door was shut tight, and no hint of light could get in. It started to snow heavily outside again. I don't know how the snowflakes dritted inside, but they fluttered in the air before landing on my face. A chill came over me, and I dropped to the ground, trembling. There was an undulating sound in the earth that was growing louder, rolling in again as if a train was breaking through the earth's crust into the murky light of the sky. Sun Cheng would do everything he could to destroy all traces of my father from the world and adopt Pan Yu's identity. But I'm not Pan Yu, so he was bound to have some problems. But that's no big deal either. And now, I'd take on the name of Sun Cheng and wait for the vehicle sent to take him away. Perhaps it'd be quite some time, but it didn't matter. I'm a patient person. Soon the sun would rise again, and the door would be blown open by the burning wind. As I stroked the stone wall - the wall covered in scribbled words -I began to understand my father's intentions. At long last, I could let go and keep on living.