哦，香雪 Page 2

  The train was soon out of sight. The girls surrounded Xiangxue. When they found out the reason for this train chasing, everybody laughed.

  "Silly girl!"

  "It's not worth it."

  They tapped her mockingly on the shoulder like the venerable elders would do.

  "It was my fault. I should have asked her earlier." Xiangxue would never think that this was not worthwhile; she only blamed herself for acting too slowly.

  "Bah, you might as well ask about something better," said Fengjiao carrying the basket for Xiangxue.

  "No wonder she asked that; our Xiangxue is a student," said someone else.

  Perhaps this explained everything. Xiangxue was the only one in Terrace Gully who had passed the entrance examination for middle school.

  Terrace Gully had no school. Xiangxue had to walk five miles every day to the commune school. Although she had a quiet disposition, with the Terrace Gully girls she always had things to talk about. However, at the commune middle school she did not have many friends. There were a lot of girls, but the way they acted, the expression in their eyes and their soft laughter made it seem they wanted Xiangxue to realize she was from a small village, a poor place. They asked her over and over: "How many meals do you eat every day at home?" She was ignorant of their intention, so she always answered innocently: "Two meals." Then she would ask, "What about in your village?"

  "Three meals," they would always answer proudly. Afterwards, they felt pity and anger that Xiangxue was so slow.

  "Why don't you bring your pencil box to school?" they asked again.

  "There it is." Xiangxue pointed to the corner of her desk.

  Actually, everybody knew that the little wooden box was Xiangxue's pencil box, but they all looked shocked. The girl sitting next to Xiangxue started fiddling with her big plastic pencil box, closing it up with a click. This was an "automatic" pencil box, and only long afterward did Xiangxue learn the secret of how it shut automatically. It was because there was a small magnet hidden inside. The little wooden box was a special present made by Xiangxue's father, who was a carpenter, to celebrate her success in the entrance examination. It was unmatched in Terrace Gully, but here in the school, it looked awkward and outmoded. The little box shrank back timidly in the corner of the desk.

  Xiangxue's mind was no longer at peace. The meaning of her classmates' repeated questions suddenly dawned on her. She realized how poor Terrace Gully was. Her eyes were fixed on her classmate's pencil box now. She guessed that it must be from a big city, and the price must be quite outrageous. Would thirty eggs buy it? Or forty? Fifty? Her heart sank.

  What am I thinking about? Did Mother collect eggs so I could go off on wild flights of fancy? Why is that inviting click always ringing in my ears?

  Late autumn came to the mountains. The wind grew colder and the days short, but Xiangxue and the other girls never missed the seven o'clock train. Now they could wear their colourful cotton-padded jackets. Fengjiao wore two pink barrettes, and some girls tied their plaits with braided elastics.

  They had traded eggs and walnuts for these things from the train. They carefully dressed up from head to toe, imitating the city girls in the train. Then they lined up by the railway tracks, as if they were waiting to be reviewed.

  The train stopped and heaved a deep sigh, as if it were complaining about the cold weather in Terrace Gully. Today the train showed an unusual indifference towards Terrace Gully; all of the windows were tightly closed, and passengers were sipping tea and reading newspapers in the dim light. Nobody glanced out of the windows. Even those familiar passengers seemed to have forgotten the Terrace Gully girls.

  As usual, Fengjiao ran to the third car to look for her "Beijingese". Xiangxue tightened her red scarf, switched her basket from her right hand to her left, and walked by the train. She stood on tiptoe so that passengers might see her face. Nobody noticed her, but on a table, something among the food caught her eyes. She put down her basket, held onto the window sill with a violently pounding heart, and assured herself that it was a pencil box with a magnet. It was so close she could have touched it if the window had been open.

  A middle-aged woman attendant dragged Xiangxue away, but Xiangxue kept watching the pencil box from a distance. When she had assured herself that it belonged to the girl by the window who looked like a student, she ran over and knocked on the window. The girl turned about and faced her. Seeing the basket on Xiangxue's arm, she waved her hand apologetically and showed no intention of opening the window.

  Xiangxue ran toward the door and when she reached it, grabbed the hand rail. If she had still been a little hesitant when she was running toward the door, the warm air from the car would have strengthened her resolve. She leaped onto the footboard. She intended to run into the carriage as fast as she could and in the shortest time trade the eggs for the pencil box. She had so many eggs — forty today.

  At last Xiangxue stood in the train. She held her basket tightly, and stepped cautiously into the car. Just then, the train gave a lurch, and the door closed. The train began to move. She threw herself at the door only to see Fengjiao's face flashing past the window. It did not seem like a dream; everything was real. She had left her friends, and was standing in this familiar yet strange train.

  The train gained speed, carrying Xiangxue with it, leaving Terrace Gully behind. The next stop was West Pass, ten miles away from Terrace Gully.

  Ten miles in a train or a car is nothing. Passengers chatted for a while and then came the West Pass stop. Many got on, but only one got off. It was Xiangxue. Someone in the train seemed to try to bar her way, but she jumped down resolutely, just as she had confidently leaped onto the train a little while ago.

  She had no basket in her arms, for she had quietly put it under the girl's seat. On the train, she had told the girl that she wanted to trade the eggs for the pencil box. The girl had insisted that she would give the pencil box to Xiangxue. She had also said that she didn't want the eggs because she lived in a dormitory and ate in a dining hall. She had pointed to the "Mining College" school badge on her coat to convince Xiangxue. Xiangxue had taken the pencil box but had left her eggs on the train after all. No matter how poor Terrace Gully was, Xiangxue never took anything without paying for it.

  Earlier, when the passengers had learned that Xiangxue was getting off at West Pass, what could they say to her? They had tried to persuade her to stay overnight at West Pass, and the warm-hearted "Beijingese" had even told her that his wife had a relative living at this train station. Xiangxue did not want to find his wife's relative. His suggestion made her a little sad, for Fengjiao, for Terrace Gully. Thinking of this sorrow, how could she stay on the train? Hurry away, hurry home, and hurry to school tomorrow. Then she could open her schoolbag proudly and put the pencil box on the desk. So she told those on the train who were still trying to talk her out of returning home: "Don't worry, I'm used to walking." Perhaps they believed her. They had no idea what mountain girls were like. They believed that mountain people were not afraid of walking at night.

  Now Xiangxue stood alone in West Pass gazing after the departing train. Finally, it was completely out of sight and a wild emptiness surrounded her. A chilly gust of wind blew on her and drained the warmth from her body. Her shawl had slipped down to her shoulders. She wrapped it closer about her head, then sat on the railway tracks curled up with cold. Xiangxue had experienced all kinds of fear. When she was a little girl she used to fear hair: if a hair stuck to her shoulder and she couldn't remove it, she would cry in terror. When she grew older she was afraid to go to the front yard alone at night; she feared caterpillars and being tickled. Now she feared this strange West Pass, feared the gloomy mountains, and the dead silence all around. When the wind blew in the nearby grove, she was afraid of the rustling sound. In ten miles, there were so many groves and thickets she would have to walk through.

&nbs
p; A full moon was rising. It bathed the silent valley and the palegrey trails; it bathed the withered autumn leaves and the rough tree trunks. It lit up the overgrown brambles and queer-looking stones as well as the troops of trees rolling over the mountain sides. It lit the glittering small box in Xiangxue's hand.

  Only then did she remember it and hold it up to take a closer look. She had not even looked at it on the train. Now, under bright moonlight, she found it to be light green with a pair of white lotuses. She opened it cautiously, then closed it the way her classmate had done. It closed tightly with a click. She opened it again, and felt that she should put something into it right away. She fished a little cold cream case out of her pocket and put it in. Then she closed it once more. Only now did she feel that this pencil box really belonged to her. She thought of tomorrow. How she hoped that they would question her over and over tomorrow at school.

  She stood up. All of a sudden her heart was full and the wind felt much milder. The moon was bright and clean, and the mountains, shrouded in the moonlight, reminded her of a mother's breast. The leaves of walnut trees had been blown by the autumn wind, and curled up into golden bells. For the first time, she heard clearly their nocturnal singing in the wind. Her fear was gone and she walked forward on the ties with vigorous strides. So this is how the mountains are. This is how the moon is. And the walnut trees. Xiangxue seemed to recognize for the first time the mountains and the valleys in which she had been reared. Was this how Terrace Gully had been? Not knowing why, she walked faster. She was eager to see it and she was curious about it as if she had never seen it before. Surely, someday the girls of Terrace Gully would no longer beg from anyone. All the handsome fellows in the train would come to the village to court, and the train would stop longer: maybe three or four minutes, maybe eight or ten minutes. It would open all its windows and doors, and anyone could get on or off easily.

  But it was still tonight, and the situation was still in progress: the train had carried Xiangxue away from Terrace Gully. Forty eggs were gone. What would Mother say? Father worked day and night, stripped to the waist, his back the colour of red copper, making chests, cupboards and trunks. This was how he earned enough money to pay for Xiangxue's tuition. This thought made Xiangxue stop. The moonlight seemed to dim, the ties became vague. What was she going to say to her mother and father? She looked around at the mountains; the mountains were silent. She looked around at the nearby poplar groves; the poplar groves rustled but refused to give an answer. Where was this sound of running water coming from? She saw a shallow brook some metres away. She went over and squatted by the brook. She remembered a story from when she was a little girl. One day when she and Fengjiao were washing clothes by a river, an old man selling sesame candy came over. Fengjiao advised her to trade an old shirt for some candies. Fengjiao had also suggested that she tell her mother that the shirt had been accidentally washed away by the running water. Xiangxue wanted the sesame candies very much, but she hadn't traded after all. She still remembered how the old man had waited patiently for her to make a decision. Why was she thinking of this tiny incident now? Perhaps she should fool Mother this time? The pencil box was far more important than sesame candy. She would tell her mother that it was a magical case and whoever used it would have luck in everything he did: go to college, take trains and travel everywhere, have whatever he wanted, and not be scorned. Mother would believe all this because Xiangxue had never lied.

  The singing of the brook shifted into an elated tone. It ran forward happily, dashed on the stones, and occasionally splashed up in small sprays. Xiangxue wanted to resume her trip now. She washed her face with the river water and smoothed her tangled hair with wet hands. The water was chilly but she felt refreshed. She left the brook and went back to the long railway track.

  What was that ahead? It was the tunnel. It stared blankly like an eye of the mountain. Xiangxue stopped but did not step back. She remembered the pencil box in her hand and imagined her classmates' amazed, envious gazes. Their eyes seemed to glimmer in the tunnel. She bent over to pull up a weathered weed, then stuck it in her braid. Her mother had told her that this way one could ward off evil spirits. Then she ran toward the tunnel.

  Xiangxue began to feel hot from walking. She untied her shawl and let it hang around her neck. How many miles had she walked? She did not know. She only heard small, unknown insects chirping in bushes, and she felt loose, soft weeds caressing her trouser legs. Her plaits had been blown loose by the wind, so she stopped to braid them neatly. Where was Terrace Gully? She looked ahead and saw many dark spots wriggling on the tracks. They became clearer as they moved closer. They were people. It was a crowd walking toward her. The first was Fengjiao. Behind her were the girls of Terrace Gully.

  Xiangxue guessed that they were waiting. She wanted to run to them but her legs became heavy. She stood on the ties and looked back to the straight tracks. The tracks were suffused with a dull glow under the moonlight, recording Xiangxue's journey. She suddenly felt her heart tighten, and began to cry. They were tears of joy, and of satisfaction. In front of that stern, good-natured mountain, a pride she had never felt before arose in her heart. She wiped off her tears, took the weed out of her plait, then, holding up the pencil box, ran toward the crowd ahead.

  On the opposite side, the motionless troop began to flow as well. At the same time the girls' joyful cheers burst in the silent valley. They cried out Xiangxue's name, their voices so warm and spontaneous. They were laughing that kind of bold, hearty laugh that had no restraints. Finally the ancient mountains were moved and trembled. They echoed in a sonorous, low, and deep voice, cheering together with the girls.

  Ah, Xiangxue! Xiangxue!

  [1] Xiangxue is the name of the heroine. In Chinese, Xiangxue has the meaning of fragrant snow.

  哦，香雪

  如果不是有人发明了火车，如果不是有人把铁轨铺进深山，你怎么也不会发现台儿沟这个小村。它和它的十几户乡亲，一心一意掩藏在大山那深深的皱褶里，从春到夏，从秋到冬，默默地接受着大山任意给予的温存和粗暴。

  然而，两根纤细、闪亮的铁轨延伸过来了。它勇敢地盘旋在山腰，又悄悄地试探着前进，弯弯曲曲，曲曲弯弯，终于绕到台儿沟脚下，然后钻进幽暗的隧道，冲向又一道山梁，朝着神秘的远方奔去。

  不久，这条线正式营运，人们挤在村口，看见那绿色的长龙一路呼啸，挟带着来自山外的陌生、新鲜的清风，擦着台儿沟贫弱的脊背匆匆而过。它走得那样急忙，连车轮辗轧钢轨时发出的声音好像都在说：不停不停，不停不停！是啊，它有什么理由在台儿沟站脚呢，台儿沟有人要出远门吗？山外有人来台儿沟探亲访友吗？ 还是这里有石油储存，有金矿埋藏？台儿沟，无论从哪方面讲，都不具备挽留火车在它身边留步的力量。

  可是，记不清从什么时候起，列车时刻表上，还是多了“台儿沟”这一站。也许乘车的旅客提出过要求，他们中有哪位说话算数的人和台儿沟沾亲；也许是那个快乐的男乘务员发现台儿沟有一群十七八岁的漂亮姑娘，每逢列车疾驶而过，她们就成帮搭伙地站在村口，翘起下巴，贪婪、专注地仰望着火车。有人朝车厢指点，不时能听见她们由于互相捶打而发出的一两声娇嗔的尖叫。也许什么都不为，就因为台儿沟太小了，小得叫人心疼，就是钢筋铁骨的巨龙在它面前也不能昂首阔步，也不能不停下来。总之，台儿沟上了列车时刻表，每晚七点钟，由首都方向开往山西的这列火车在这里停留一分钟。

  这短暂的一分钟，搅乱了台儿沟以往的宁静。从前，台儿沟人历来是吃过晚饭就钻被窝，他们仿佛是在同一时刻听到了大山无声的命令。于是，台儿沟那一小片石头房子在同一时刻忽然完全静止了，静得那样深沉、真切，好像在默默地向大山诉说着自己的虔诚�
�如今，台儿沟的姑娘们刚把晚饭端上桌就慌了神，她们心不在焉地胡乱吃几口，扔下碗就开始梳妆打扮。她们洗净蒙受了一天的黄土、风尘，露出粗糙、红润的面色，把头发梳得乌亮，然后就比赛着穿出最好的衣裳。有人换上过年时才穿的新鞋，有人还悄悄往脸上涂点胭脂。尽管火车到站时已经天黑，她们还是按照自己的心思，刻意斟酌着服饰和容貌。然后，她们就朝村口，朝火车经过的地方跑去。香雪总是第一个出门，隔壁的凤娇第二个就跟了出来。

  七点钟，火车喘息着向台儿沟滑过来，接着一阵空哐乱响，车身震颤一下，才停住不动了。姑娘们心跳着拥上前去，像看电影一样，挨着窗口观望。只有香雪躲在后边，双手紧紧捂着耳朵。看火车，她跑在最前边；火车来了，她却缩到最后去了。她有点害怕它那巨大的车头，车头那么雄壮地喷吐着白雾，仿佛一口气就能把台儿沟吸进肚里。它那撼天动地的轰鸣也叫她感到恐惧。在它跟前，她简直像一叶没根的小草。

  “香雪，过来呀！看！”凤娇拉过香雪，向一个妇女头上指，她指的是那个妇女头上别着的那一排排金圈圈。

  “怎么我看不见？”香雪微微眯着眼睛说。