Die Landschaft ist wie ein Gemälde

Kapitel 3

Section 7: The Bleeding Jujube Tree (1)

Bleeding Jujube Tree

Small Buddhist shrine.

The place Grandma frequents most.

I walked over, and the short stone path was already covered with moss. There were a few jujube trees beside the Buddhist hall, with some orange-red fruits hanging on them, not yet deep red. It seemed that no one had been here for a long time, otherwise the mischievous children would have picked all the unripe fruits to fill their bellies. I stood in front of the two wooden doors of the Buddhist hall, somewhat disappointed—they were locked.

When my grandmother was alive, this place was never locked.

Shebupo is a place that reveres the gods. The villagers are devout and never do anything against the will of the Bodhisattva.

I stood with my back to the wooden door, gazing at the starry sky. The night was cool and still, the chill bringing a refreshing clarity to my mind. Suddenly, I felt a cold, hard hand reach out from behind me, pressing against my back…

"Huh?" I turned around in surprise, but there was no hand behind me. Instead, I saw a long branch tickling my back. Looking down the branch, I saw an apple. She was crouching in the shadows, covering her mouth and laughing.

"Are you trying to scare me to death?" I pressed my hand to my chest, my heart pounding like a drum.

"Who told you to be so engrossed in studying the celestial phenomena! You didn't even notice me coming in from behind." She dropped what she was holding and stood next to me, looking up with me. "What are you looking at?"

"I'm looking at the sky to see which star is my grandma and which star is my brother the sea."

"Yes. They must be watching you from heaven!"

How did you know?

"Some things can't be forced. What's destined to be yours will be yours, and what's not, you can't force." I was stunned for a long time after hearing that voice. That wasn't Apple's voice; it was the voice of a middle-aged woman with a weathered air.

I stared at her face in surprise, but after a long time I couldn't figure out what was going on.

"Do I have words on my face?" She turned to look at me, her face playful, just like usual.

I felt bewildered again.

We didn't go to the rice threshing ground that night, but slept in my uncle's room. Apple and I slept on the kang (a heated brick bed), while Da Jipu (the jeep) lay down with two tall, four-cornered tables used for offerings to the gods pushed together. I asked him if it was okay, since his feet were still sticking out of the tables. He said it was fine, as long as his head wasn't drooping out.

After nightfall.

"Apple..." I called her softly. She was fast asleep, her eyes closed.

I jumped off the kang (a heated brick bed) and glanced at Da Jipu as I passed him; he was already snoring softly. I grabbed a flashlight from the windowsill, quietly opened the door, closed it behind me, and took a deep breath before heading to Grandma's bedroom. Reaching up to the eaves, I found a key with a red string on it. Heh, that's my uncle's old habit; he hasn't changed. I hadn't told Da Jipu where the key was during the day to curb his curiosity. Now, in the quiet of the night, I wanted to see if anything had changed in Grandma's room…

The door creaked open, and I smelled the familiar scent of camphor trees—the scent of the old wooden stump that Grandma cherished most. The owner was gone, but the old things still carried a sense of nostalgia. A strange feeling welled up inside me, and my nose stung with tears.

The room was eerily quiet. A hissing sound drifted in through the cracks in the windows, somewhat unsettling. The wooden slats of the window frame swayed slightly, and there were faint, rustling noises in the room; listening closely, it seemed to be the wind. The room was very cool, and the night air made it even colder. The flashlight beam was weak; I figured the battery was low. I shone it around before leaving. It seemed unchanged; the layout was exactly as it had been when my grandmother was alive.

Turning around, I was suddenly struck by what I saw: a long, dark object lying across the back of the door. What was it? I approached it step by step…

"Ah!" I was so startled I almost fell to the ground.

A coffin. The dark coffin lid still had traces of wet paint, emitting a kind of eerie smell.

Two benches supported the heavy coffin. The ground beneath the coffin lid was still wet, with liquid seeping out. Based on my common sense, it certainly wasn't an empty coffin. A cool breeze emanated from the planks, indicating large blocks of ice must have been placed in the coffin's lining and around the edges. It was summer, a measure to prevent decomposition. The hard ice was slowly melting, and someone would drain the melted water. In the mountains, there was no advanced formalin solution, so medical preservation was impossible; this was the most primitive method. Besides, the coffin wasn't of high quality either. Although mountain people were poor, they were very particular about their funerals, even if it meant sacrificing food and clothing, they would prepare a good coffin. This poorly painted coffin certainly wasn't something the old woman had kept for herself.

Furthermore... the village's old calendar also has a rule that after a person dies, the coffin should be kept in the house where the deceased lived for seven days.

Could it be that the person lying in this coffin lived in Grandma's house before he died?

I pressed my two thumbs firmly against my temples, silently repeating what Mingyang had told me: Fear comes from your heart. As long as you conquer yourself, nothing is scary...

I kept reciting it, over and over again, and the small voices gathered into a huge torrent that resounded on the roof, swirling and lingering. It was as if the roof had gained an extra layer, and someone was pacing on this layer, their steps filled with anxiety and worry, followed by sighs that never ceased.

My scalp tingled, and the back of my neck felt as cold as if it had been filled with snow. I wanted to rush out the door, but my feet unconsciously moved closer to the dark coffin, as if some force was pulling me.

I stood before the coffin, drenched in sweat. I tried to leave, but my feet were glued to the ground and I couldn't lift them. Suddenly, the coffin lid moved, making a hissing sound as it closed, as if someone was pushing it. I looked down at my hands, which hung limply at my sides; even my flashlight was nowhere to be found.

Section 8: The Bleeding Jujube Tree (2)

With a creaking sound, the coffin lid moved inch by inch. The veins on my forehead bulged and throbbed. A powerful fear washed over me. I wanted to turn my head away, but… my neck… wouldn’t move. It was as if a pair of large, cold hands were pressing down on my head, forcing me to look at the slowly opening coffin lid…

Who... is here?

My legs were so weak I had no strength left, and my knees were too stiff to bend. I felt a strange sadness, wondering if I was being controlled by some force. I stretched my neck and tried to shout, but the voice that came out of my throat was so hoarse that I didn't even recognize it myself.

Am I mute? I can't make a sound, and I'm so anxious I want to cry.

But before the tears could fall, the coffin lid was completely opened. I saw a middle-aged woman lying peacefully inside, her face pale, looking as natural as if she were asleep. I breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that the person I had encountered was not an evil person. But suddenly a question arose: the weather was hot and humid, and the coffin was not airtight, so why did she not smell of decay at all, but instead had a pleasant fragrance? Was this fragrance coming from her? I mustered my courage and leaned down to sniff...

As I approached the coffin owner's face, she suddenly glared at me, one arm gripping my neck: "Give it back! Give it back..."

Like a thunderbolt from the blue, I was so startled that I quickly pulled away, only to find myself being held tightly in her arms, about to be dragged into the coffin...

With a deafening crash, the coffin lid slammed shut, extinguishing all light. I felt as if I had fallen into a bottomless ice cave. The corpse that had been tightly binding me suddenly began to glow, undergoing a transformation in a blinding white light, as if its entire body was being rotten, rapidly revealing a withered skeleton...

"ah--"

Let me out!

I cried out in a hoarse voice, kicking the coffin lid with all my might, tears burning my cheeks, but I still couldn't make a sound...

"Let me out—"

I struggled to my feet, only to realize it was a dream, which startled me into a cold sweat. My legs were numb; Apple had one leg on top of me—no wonder…

I gently pushed her away; she was fast asleep.

Was this just a nightmare?

I'd rather believe it's a nightmare.

Look at Apple, then look at Jeep; their sleeping postures are practically identical. Jeep, like a giant star, occupies the entire table, its head drooping off the edge like a gourd vine.

The sky was bright.

I made breakfast and came back to call them. I bumped into Apple, who hopped out giggling and put her index finger to her lips in a shh gesture. What mischief are they up to? I stepped into the house and laughed. Big Jeep's shoulder-length hair was dripping over the edge of the table, and a tuft of hair on top of his head was tied up in a bun like a peacock's tail.

At the dinner table, the jeep glanced at me with its left eye and then at Apple with its right, as if I were a spy. We pretended to be nonchalant, continuing to eat our rice without looking up. He was at a loss.

As I picked up the broom to sweep the yard, Apple was already clamoring for Jeep to come with him to pick dates in the backyard. In my spare time, my chin rested on the broom handle, and I unconsciously turned to look at Grandma's bedroom. Thinking about the nightmare from the night before, I felt uneasy. But I really wanted to… get to the bottom of it, to find out what happened.

"Ruoxi, come and see!" Apple poked her head out from the backyard gate.

"What?" I walked over.

She had shown me the words written on the wall of the small Buddhist shrine, but I hadn't seen anything because it was too dark last night. On the wall, blackened by soot, were several whimsical Chinese characters written crookedly: Mei Xue, Dongzi, Liangdi, Dad, Mom… These ten characters were enclosed in a circle that looked like a red heart, next to five figures of varying heights, resembling an abstract Miró painting. It was probably actually the work of a child.

"What do these pictures mean?" Apple asked.

"This painting depicts two adults, presumably a husband and wife, walking through the village with three children, along with glimpses of their daily lives."

Apple said, "He's quite talented; his paintings look like abstract art."

“Exactly,” the Jeep said admiringly, “it reminds me of the Pompeii frescoes in ancient Rome. It seems the painter was quite accomplished.”

But... Mei Xue? Dong Zi? Liang Di?

These names look so familiar!

Could it be them, those kids running around in the kitchen? There was even a three-year-old boy who snatched the egg from my hand; his name was Liangdi.

What? They lived in this house?

I became confused again.

Apple waved her finger in front of my eyes, and I snapped out of my daze. She handed me a big date: "Eat it! It's so sweet!"

Section 9: The Bleeding Jujube Tree (3)

"Hmm." I took it and put it in my mouth, continuing to stare blankly. It tasted bland and not sweet at all. Instead, I noticed a string of small words in a very hidden place in the lower corner of the wall, faintly visible.

What is that text?

I curiously leaned over to take a look, and Apple and Jeep followed suit, reading along as well.

"My name is Mei Xue, and I'm ten years old. My two younger brothers are my darlings, and even more so, my parents' darlings. Unfortunately, my mother has a very serious illness and doesn't have long to live. My father is very sad and spends all his time seeking medical treatment. The house is filled with the strong smell of herbs..."

The string of words was interrupted, and three protruding bags appeared.

"What is this?" the jeep asked.

“It looks like a mountain.” Based on my experience drawing when I was young, I analyzed it and said, “It seems to be saying that they crossed mountains and valleys to reach a certain place… Dad went to a very far place to continue treating Mom’s illness…” I continued reading, “I heard that there is a Grandma Lan in Shebupo, a divine person who can easily solve any problem. So Dad brought the only remaining family heirloom to seek medical help. Dad said that as long as Mom’s illness can be cured, he will give the treasure passed down from his ancestors to this Grandma Lan.”

That's all.

What is this, a little girl's diary? So they really did live here, and this backyard of the Buddhist temple might have been a place where the three children often played.

But...Grandma knows the future and can understand mysteries, but she never knows how to cure diseases! Besides, Grandma had passed away long before I left the village. Wouldn't these people coming to find Grandma delay her treatment?

Looking down at the dates Apple handed me, I was immediately surprised: "Hey, the dates we saw last night were orange-red, how come these are so red? They're so beautiful, like plump and sparkling gems."

"I didn't notice it last night, look!" She pointed, and I finally saw that the jujubes on the jujube tree in the far corner of the yard were all so red and beautiful. Their vibrant color alone was enough to make one reluctant to eat them!

The sun was high in the sky, and the three of us sat in a row on the doorstep in front of the gate, waiting for my uncle and his family to return. Too many questions, too many worries, I just wanted to get some answers. Summer makes you sleepy, and it wasn't even lunchtime yet, but Apple was already asleep on my shoulder. Looking at Big Jeep, he was snoring, clinging to the doorframe. Sigh! And now I was left sitting there alone again.

I waited and waited, until the sun set. I watched helplessly as the sky outside the village entrance changed from blue to green, then to purple and finally to black, until it gradually darkened completely. Visibility was so low that even the old locust tree at the village entrance became blurry. Why haven't they come back yet? I wondered if I should wake Apple and the others; how could they sleep so long and still be able to sleep at night?

To my horror, I turned around and looked over my shoulder! A pair of unusually large eyes, clear and bright black pupils, were staring intently at me. They were so close that I couldn't even see his face clearly; it was terrifyingly close.

I cried out "Ah!" and tried to stand up, but my knees wouldn't straighten.

I leaned back, and he pressed forward aggressively. But this time I saw clearly that it was the three-year-old boy named Liangdi.

When did he sit down next to me? Where's Apple?

Suddenly, a fierce wind arose, whipping up sand and stones, which mercilessly retaliated against my eyes. The heavens and earth seemed to merge, trembling violently. In the blink of an eye, houses collapsed one after another like dominoes, and trees were uprooted and sprang up as if they had grown legs…

What a sight this is!

I was terrified but couldn't scream—where were they all? Why did the earth collapse and all I heard was a piercing vibration and a deafening roar, but no screams? Where were they all?

The three-year-old child suddenly went crazy, laughing so hard he was bent over backwards, not at all like a young child.

My mind went blank, and my breathing became rapid: "You... Liangdi, are you Liangdi?" This expression was nothing like that of a child; it was more like that of a ferocious messenger from hell, who could pull his blood-red lips to his ears at any moment, turning a child's face into an ugly and arrogant one.

He was still smiling, his red lips turning a deep purple, the kind of dark purple that comes from a corpse turned to dust deep beneath the yellow earth. A voice, neither childlike nor childlike, escaped from his moving lips: "You ate my blood...you ate my blood..."

He was about to pounce on me and grab my neck when I panicked and used all my strength to throw him away, sending this ghostly child flying quite a distance.

Suddenly, everything came to an abrupt stop.

The wind stopped.

The house rose again from the collapse, as if it had never collapsed at all.

Section 10: The Bleeding Jujube Tree (4)

The trees obediently replanted their roots in the soil and remained firmly planted.