Soul Mountain Read Free

it’s tied, dates back many generations but is seldom seen these days. You find yourself walking towards them. The scarf is knotted under her chin and the two ends point up. She has a beautiful face. Her features are delicate, so is her slim body. You pass close by them. They have been holding hands all this time, both have red coarse hands and strong fingers. Both are probably recent brides back seeing relatives and friends, or visiting parents. Here, the word xifu means one’s own daughter-in-law and using it like rustic Northerners to refer to any young married woman will immediately incur angry abuse. On the other hand, a married woman calls her own husband laogong , yet your laogong and my laogong are both used. People here speak with a unique intonation even though they are descendants of the same legendary emperor and are of the same culture and race.
    You can’t explain why you’re here. It happened that you were on a train and this person mentioned a place called Lingshan. He was sitting opposite and your cup was next to his. As the train moved, the lids on the cups clattered against one another. If the lids kept on clattering or clattered and then stopped, that would have been the end of it. However, whenever you and he were about to separate the cups, the clattering would stop, and as soon as you and he looked away the clattering would start again. He and you reached out, but again the clattering stopped. The two of you laughed at the same instant, put the cups well apart, and started a conversation. You asked him where he was going.
    “Lingshan.”
    “What?”
    “Lingshan, ling meaning spirit or soul, and shan meaning mountain.”
    You’d been to lots of places, visited lots of famous mountains, but had never heard of this place.
    Your friend opposite had closed his eyes and was dozing. Like anyone else, you couldn’t help being curious and naturally wanted to know which famous places you’d missed on your travels. Also, you liked doing things properly and it was annoying that there was a place you’ve never even heard of. You asked him about the location of Lingshan.
    “At the source of the You River,” he said, opening his eyes.
    You didn’t know this You River either, but was embarrassed about asking and gave an ambiguous nod which could have meant either “I see, thanks” or “Oh, I know the place”. This satisfied your desire for superiority, but not your curiosity. After a while you asked how to get there and the route up the mountain.
    “Take the train to Wuyizhen, then go upstream by boat on the You River.”
    “What’s there? Scenery? Temples? Historic sites?” you asked, trying to be casual.
    “It’s all virgin wilderness.”
    “Ancient forests?”
    “Of course, but not just ancient forests.”
    “What about Wild Men?” you said, joking.
    He laughed without any sarcasm, and didn’t seem to be making fun of himself which intrigued you even more. You had to find out more about him.
    “Are you an ecologist? A biologist? An anthropologist? An archaeologist?”
    He shook his head each time then said, “I’m more interested in living people.”
    “So you’re doing research on folk customs? You’re a sociologist? An ethnographer? An ethnologist? A journalist, perhaps? An adventurer?”
    “I’m an amateur in all of these.”
    The two of you started laughing.
    “I’m an expert amateur in all of these!”
    The laughing made you and him cheerful. He lit a cigarette and couldn’t stop talking as he told you about the wonders of Lingshan. Afterwards, at your request, he tore up his empty cigarette box and drew a map of the route up Lingshan.
     
    In the North it is already late autumn but the summer heat hasn’t completely subsided. Before sunset, it is still quite hot in the sun and sweat starts running down your back. You leave the station to have a look around. There’s nothing nearby except for the little inn across the road. It’s an old-style two-storey building with a