Iron Ox Reappears

Chapter 4

After hanging up the phone, I fell into deep thought. Although I had begun to believe Lin Cui's letter when I saw it, I was still incredibly surprised when it was actually confirmed. I thought of the dream I had on the ship. If it hadn't been Lin Cui who fell into the water and was pulled out, but a stranger calling himself Xiang Shaolong who recited so much research data about Tie Niu, wouldn't everyone have thought he was crazy? What would they have thought of him? At least they would have thought he was someone from another world, locked up for research, listening to him recount how things in his world differed from ours, just like Ji Yanran finding it unbelievable when she heard Xiang Shaolong recite Li Bai's poems.

However, this is merely a hypothesis. We're not suddenly faced with a new person; it's Lin Cui, whom everyone knows. Because of this familiarity, no one would assume Lin Cui comes from another world. Therefore, everyone focuses on the memory discrepancy, concluding that Lin Cui's memory is flawed—that her memories suddenly contradict everyone else's, including their memories of Lin Cui herself, with no discrepancy whatsoever. Statistically speaking, it's unlikely that the memories of all the hundreds or thousands of people besides Lin Cui are faulty; it's only possible that Lin Cui's memory is malfunctioning—of course, this has no logical basis, relying solely on the seemingly despicable principle of "conformity." In a country of madmen, if someone isn't mad, they become the sole "madman."

However, Lin Cui's memories do overlap with others' memories, and they even seem to possess a more prescient quality than others'. If Lin Cui's memories are flawed, how can we explain the "predicting the future" within these flawed memories? I can't doubt that Lin Cui comes from another world, but I feel there's a gap between her cognitive world and others', yet there are still points of convergence, and these points of convergence are experientially ahead of others' worlds—of course, all of this is just my hypothesis. This hypothesis allows me to feel that my thinking is somewhat organized, but it could also be because I harbor feelings for Lin Cui and have been thinking about her these past few days to the point of obsession. Do we have any evidence to prove my hypothesis? My hypothesis is merely a form of self-deception for now.

I made up my mind to contact Lin Cui. I called Lin Cui's home, and it was still Lin Cui's mother who answered the phone: "Hello, this is Na Duo, a reporter from the Morning Star Daily. I came to Dujiangyan two weeks ago to do an interview and saw your daughter fall into the water..."

Before I could finish speaking, Lin Cui's mother interrupted, saying, "Oh, it's you! I've heard Yu Jianguo mention you. You're the one who took my daughter to the hospital. These past few days, Xiao Cui has been saying she wants to call you, but the hospital says she needs to rest and that the more people she interacts with, the worse it will be for her recovery, so they won't let her make phone calls... Sigh, she developed some mental problems after falling into the water, but thankfully she still remembers you."

It turns out Yu Jianguo had already flirted with Lin Cui's mother about me. Even experts gossip! But I seized the opportunity to say to Lin Cui's mother, "I miss Xiao Cui too. The hospital said she can't make phone calls to others, but communication shouldn't be a problem, right?"

Lin Cui's mother thought for a moment and said, "Well, there shouldn't be any problem."

I said, "Then give me the address of her hospital."

Lin Cui's mother said, "Okay, write it down..."

Logically, the follow-up report should have been published tomorrow, but I had no heart to write. That night, I began to prepare a letter to Lin Cui. I pondered for a long time before writing, and finally spent the entire night writing down everything I wanted to say—first, I told her that I believed from the beginning that she was definitely not crazy, and that I was willing to be the last person in "this world" to believe in her. Then, I told her my hypothesis that some force caused a discrepancy between her worldview and others' worldviews. I also told her that there were many points of convergence between our worldview and hers. Finally, I said I wanted to talk to her more and communicate more, to openly share everything we knew, and see where the problem lay. I believe that I must be honest with Lin Cui about her current situation, because she is in a state of doubting everything around her and being doubted by everything around her. But I firmly believe that her predicament is not due to any pathological cause; there must be a more mysterious reason behind it.

By the time I finished writing the letter, dawn was breaking. I breathed a long sigh of relief. In the days I had been waiting for her reply, I could finally put her matter aside and deal with everything after further communication.

The following weekend, I received an interview assignment—F University's student loan program was so successful that the editor-in-chief wanted me to write a report on it as a new student hot topic.

The trip went smoothly, as is customary. All I had to do was get a briefing from the relevant school department and take a few photos at the bank near the school gate, and that was it. Whether the students immediately exchanged their "student loans" for GEFORC graphics cards or "Garnett 5" phones at the computer mall or sports store near the school was none of my concern.

At F University, there must be quite a few young teachers like Liang Yingwu who treat the campus like home. It just so happens to be his day off, and he doesn't have to teach, so I figured I should at least ask him for a cup of tea and catch up—that's how I explained my decision to call and ask him out. But deep down, I actually had some things I wanted to ask him.

For a workaholic like Liang Yingwu, it's impossible to schedule an appointment without having to wait. He's always busy, and there's no such thing as being "on call." This time, he clearly told me, "I still have some things to finish. Come to my office and wait." I very sensibly followed his instructions on my phone and went to his office. You see, the fact that he didn't turn me away when he said "I still have some things to do" was probably because I have a file with X organization, and it certainly didn't have anything to do with any classmate relationship.

Liang Yingwu studies bioengineering, and to be honest, I was surprised by the simplicity of his office when I entered it. "Your place is quite clean," I remarked.

"What? Does that mean my place should be a mess?" Liang Yingwu didn't even look up, his tone still aggressive.

"No, no... I mean, this doesn't really look like a biology teacher's classroom. I thought it would have something like... molecular models..."

“Molecular model?” Liang Yingwu’s tone slowed down this time, and he even dragged out the two words, but his pen, which was writing something, did not slow down at all. So after several tens of seconds, he stopped writing and looked at the large stack of A4 papers in his hand with satisfaction. Only then did I know that he had finally finished.

"Molecular model? Oh, you mean the kind we made with plastic sticks and balls in high school?" He composed himself while resuming his normal reaction.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and waited for him to leave with me. I casually replied, "Yeah, there's also the atomic model, a little ball with an orbit around it, and another ball orbiting around it."

"Oh, that kind of thing is just made to make it easier for middle school students to understand. It doesn't actually conform to scientific facts. For example, the atomic model you mentioned, electrons don't actually orbit neutrons like the Earth orbits the Sun, with a fixed trajectory. We also can't determine the exact position of an electron at every moment; we only know that it moves roughly within a certain range. The orbit actually only indicates the probability of its position."

Liang Yingwu always spoke with the air of an expert, a trait I've never liked. But this time, his use of the word "possibility" struck a chord with me. A question that had been lingering in my mind for some time suddenly resurfaced.

“Actually, it’s not just atoms,” Liang Yingwu said, getting even more excited as he saw me deep in thought. “As long as we are in this universe, every object is in motion every moment. We can’t know our exact location; we can only draw a trajectory based on a reference point…”

“No, I’m talking about something else,” I interrupted him. “I mean, have you ever thought about how there are always countless possibilities in our world? For example, I might be your classmate, or I might not; I might come to chat with you today, or I might not; you might have an atomic model in your room, or you might not; you might interrupt me as I’m saying these things, or you might not—in short, what happens in reality is just one of countless possibilities, and only this one becomes ‘reality,’ while all the other possibilities become ‘unrealistic.’”

“Einstein originally said, ‘God does not play dice,’ but he later retracted that statement.” Liang Yingwu’s expression became serious. “Indeed, our lives are full of chance. Trying to find out why, out of so many possibilities, this one became reality instead of another, is fruitless, at least not at this stage. We can only say that it all comes down to chance.”

"When you toss a coin, whether it lands heads, tails, or upright, no one knows why; it's simply a matter of chance. But some things seem like choices we can make ourselves. For example, if I stick my fingers out of my pocket and ask you to guess which one it is, it seems like I'm in complete control. However, from a causal perspective, which finger I stick out simply depends on whether a certain neuron in my brain is stimulated or not—the same as tossing a coin. All our other decisions are no different, no matter how complex they may be. In a sense, we all live in a game of chance, a game of numerical arrangement."

Sometimes, to motivate themselves, people tend to mythologize such chance occurrences, even portraying them as an inevitable, divinely ordained destiny. For example, a popular philosophy book called *The Secret of Assignment* states, "A person has one father and one mother, and each of those parents has one father and one mother. Going back ten generations, there are as many as 1024 people related to that person by blood; going back twenty generations, there are as many as one million. If something goes wrong with one of those million people, or if one of those 500,000 marriages fails, there won't be such a person after twenty generations. Therefore, every person is a precious existence, a miracle." This is like believing that because the probability of a coin landing on its edge is small, it's no longer accidental but a predetermined outcome. This kind of thinking is just self-consolation; there's no such thing as destiny. Chance is chance, a random occurrence among countless possibilities… Anyway, you're not trying to have a philosophical discussion with me, are you? That's not an interesting topic.

I listened patiently to Liang Yingwu's long-winded speech until this point when I smiled at him and tried to steer the conversation toward the topic I wanted to discuss: "You just said that there is no such thing as destiny. So let me ask you, do you believe in extraterrestrials? What are your reasons?"

"Of course I believe it exists. Because humans have no reason to be arrogant and think they are unique. It's absurd to say that God only allowed life to flourish on Earth. We just happened to meet certain conditions, and statistically speaking, this kind of coincidence would also occur on other planets... Why are you suddenly asking this?"

I was very satisfied with Liang Yingwu's answer, which gave me even more confidence in what I was about to say. "What I'm trying to say is, since you believe that our planet is not the only one with life, then can we doubt that our 'reality' is also not the only 'reality'?"

It was clear that this question had a significant impact on Liang Yingwu; he noticeably slowed his pace—and we had only just stepped out of the office building and onto the campus by then. Actually, at that moment, I wasn't entirely sure what kind of assumption I was making; I just had some things bottled up inside that I simply had to get off my chest. Telling Liang Yingwu about it today was also a way of hoping to use his insights to help me organize my thoughts.

After walking about ten steps, Liang Yingwu spoke: "Your analogy isn't quite right. But I understand what you mean. Since our 'reality' is just one of countless possibilities that qualify as reality, and there's no 'predestination' to explain why only this one 'reality' is legitimate, then we can wonder if other possibilities also constitute many kinds of 'reality', existing in places we don't know about. Is that right?"

“Absolutely right,” I was glad he understood my idea so quickly. “I once read a science fiction novel by a guy named Su. His idea was that there are countless parallel worlds, each with facts that are completely different from the others. These differences, whether big or small, are all due to a different choice. For example, in world A, my cat ate a fish in the morning and got a fishbone stuck in its tooth. In world B, my cat ate a fish in the morning but didn’t get a fishbone stuck in its tooth. It’s just that small difference, but it makes up two different worlds.”

“It’s quite interesting,” Liang Yingwu shrugged, “but that’s just science fiction.”

"Do you think there's any possibility that this kind of science fiction could become reality?" I pressed on.

Liang Yingwu frowned. "Theoretically speaking... without the ability to falsify it, I don't rule out any hypothesis, but without the ability to prove it, I can't establish any hypothesis as fact. That is to say, it's possible that every possibility in this world can be arranged and combined into countless possible 'reality's'—that's a really awkward way of putting it—the parallel 'possible worlds' you mentioned might exist." Perhaps noticing my unease, Liang Yingwu added, "Right now, I can only say 'possible,' unless I see people from another world composed of possibilities, I can't be sure."

When he said that, I'm sure I was looking at him with a very strange expression. Because what I said was, "If there were someone... no, if I were to guess, someone, as you said, from another world made up of possibilities, what do you think?"

If his expression wasn't strange enough, then Liang Yingwu's expression towards me could only be described as "seeing an alien." No, for the people of the X organization, "seeing an alien" might not be anything to be surprised about at all. What I said at that moment was truly astonishing!

Naturally, what I told Liang Yingwu next was how Ms. Lin Cui, a water conservancy researcher, had a completely different memory of what happened after falling into the water compared to the memories of everyone around her. How could she mistake the iron ox that had just been pulled out for something that had been pulled out ten years ago? How could she so easily recite the iron ox's specific dimensions? And how could she tell that the photos in her family album were completely different? These events actually outlined a vague suspicion that had always lingered in my mind—Lin Cui didn't have a memory problem; she came from another world! That world was parallel to ours, with Lin Cui, Dujiangyan, and Na Duo. The only difference was that in that world, the iron ox had been pulled out ten years ago!

This suspicion was so bold and outlandish that it only truly took shape in my mind today, when I spoke it to Liang Yingwu. I can't deny that I spoke this conjecture with a sense of trepidation. At the time, I felt it could be called "Na Duo's Conjecture," a jewel in the crown of physics—no, philosophy, no, whatever the discipline!

But then Liang Yingwu's answer completely extinguished my fear and excitement.

He didn't immediately refute me, but listened calmly and then asked me a question: "So, if your friend really came from another 'reality,' where did the 'she' in this reality go?"

I was stunned. I thought to myself, how could I have forgotten such an important question?! This shows how dangerous it is to share ideas you haven't fully grasped or even just formed with others. You might end up being laughed at!

That day, I didn't even offer Liang Yingwu tea before leaving dejectedly. As a journalist, I rarely act so rudely, but to be so easily dismissed after proposing such a grand conjecture was far more disheartening than I had imagined. Liang Yingwu, on the other hand, seemed quite satisfied with having thwarted my "scientific layman's" wild ideas, and didn't seem to care much about whether or not we had tea.

At the time, I was overwhelmed by frustration and, of course, had no idea what the real situation was. The future of "reality" was still unknown to me.

After spending half a month in silence, I received a reply from Lin Cui. The letter seemed long, seven pages of A4 paper, but the actual content was only two or three pages long. Many parts were written, crossed out, and rewritten repeatedly. The letter was covered in ink blots, a testament to the extreme complexity of Lin Cui's feelings when she wrote it. Here is a rough excerpt: Na Duo: Greetings. I've been in the hospital for almost a month. I haven't found anything particularly difficult, except for the extreme loneliness. Apart from my mother, very few people visit me. I spend my days gazing at the sky I can see from the window, or taking walks in the garden. Even though everyone says I'm mentally unstable, I know I'm exceptionally lucid, logical, and clear-headed. I've experienced life in a mental hospital before—everyone here is independent. Doctors are focused on patients, patients can't focus, and I'm probably the only one in the entire hospital who can concentrate on the scenery outside the window. Away from the water conservancy engineering team, I live a utopian life in this hospital.

I was confident when I wrote the last paragraph; I've always thought of myself as a very confident person. However, this loneliness now often plunges me into deep thought, and this excessive thinking has shaken my confidence. Thinking carefully, my memory seems to be clearly split in two—one before the fall into the water, and one after. The two memories are distinct yet crystal clear, each with its own tightly woven logic, yet completely unrelated. This kind of memory causes me unbearable pain. I'm both confident and tormented, and this torment is inescapable. You, between these two memories, seem to have changed; part of you has become familiar, and part has become unfamiliar. I don't know if there's anything wrong with my memory of you. Since waking up, I've lost the trust of everyone, yet I still trust you. Perhaps you were the first person I saw after waking from my coma. I haven't known you for very long… yet you feel so familiar, which comforts me. Then I read your letter… I want to see you, just once. The daily loneliness forces me to think, and the daily thinking forces me to recall—recalling clearly yet chaotically. This kind of recall is driving me crazy. So I want to see you. I hope someone can talk to me and sort out the whole thing with me... If you still have even a tiny bit of trust in me, and even a tiny bit of doubt about this matter, then I can only rely on you...

...

The letter is very messy, full of corrections and scribbles, please forgive me. Actually, the paper you see here is already relatively clean; I crumpled up far more paper than this. This short letter took me two whole days to write. In any case, I want to see you, I'm hoping you'll come, I really am.

Wishing you well

Lin Cui, [Date]

I read the letter twice, and then immediately made a decision. Rather than calling it a decision, it was more like some kind of force was pulling me to search for something. Or, to use a later summary, in this world composed of countless possible events, some choices are accidental, while others have a very strong inevitability. This decision seemed to be entirely inevitable, because when I made it, I seemed to be unconsciously involved; the decision simply became a decision naturally.

I picked up the phone and made two calls. The first was to the newspaper, telling them that Tie Niu had made a major discovery, and they agreed to give me exclusive reporting rights. They didn't specify what the discovery was because they required me to go there in person again. The boss was surprisingly easy to talk to; perhaps something else was occupying his mind, or perhaps it was just a coincidence.

The second call was naturally to book a train ticket.

And so, I used my official position for personal gain and embarked on my second journey to Sichuan.

The scenery along the way was still the same, and Dujiangyan was still the same Dujiangyan. After arriving in Dujiangyan City, I made a special trip to the riverbank. The Minjiang River was still as majestic as ever, and the iron ox was placed on the riverbank, its horns pointing to the sky, looking very imposing. A bird flew by, perched on the ox's horns, and then soared into the sky a moment later. I sighed inwardly at these shortcomings and set off to visit Lin Cui at the Dujiangyan City Mental Health Center.

Just as she described in her letter, Lin Cui exuded an aura of loneliness. Unlike the other patients in the hospital, Lin Cui suffered from a rare and difficult-to-diagnose illness, and she was the only one in the ward. She was neither noisy nor troublesome, and after a while, the doctors became too lazy to care for her, letting her recuperate alone. When Lin Cui saw me, her eyes, which had been haggard and distressed just moments before, suddenly lit up. She asked me, "Do you really believe me?"

I said, "I believe you."

Lin Cui said, "Then you have to find a way to get me out of here. Then come with me to see something."

I asked, "What is it?"

Lin Cui said, "Tie Niu. I've thought about it carefully. At the points where my two memories break apart, the very beginning and the very end both involve Tie Niu. When my first memory disappeared, I first grabbed Tie Niu because I fell into the water. Then when I woke up, the first thing I heard was you saying, 'Tie Niu has been found.' So, intuitively, Tie Niu is definitely the key. Would you be willing to help me figure out the whole thing?"

I said, "Okay, I'll definitely find a way to get you out of here."

Lin Cui said in a low voice, "I'm counting on you."

When I went to the hospital to request Lin Cui's discharge, the hospital office director said, "Oh, that's great. Lin Cui has requested discharge several times already, and based on our observation, she is indeed ready to be discharged. You are her husband, right? You can submit an application and complete the formalities, and she can be discharged."

I was slightly surprised and said, "No, I'm not."

The office manager asked, "So, what's your relationship to her?"

I said, "...I am her colleague."

The office director said, "I see. Actually, we've checked, and Lin Cui's logical thinking is completely normal. Her emotions have been very stable these days, and she hasn't mentioned her unusual memories for the past week. Logically, she could be discharged. However, according to regulations, Lin Cui is considered to be in a condition where she hasn't been diagnosed yet, and her family needs to submit an application for discharge first. So, she still needs to contact her family before she can be discharged."

I was stunned for a moment, then realized that this was a perfectly reasonable request. The only solution now... sigh, I'd already made a promise to Lin Cui, I couldn't just abandon her.

The next day, I took a taxi to Lin Cuijia again, carrying a pack of Brain Gold supplements with the slogan "No gifts this holiday season, but if you must give a gift, give one." Lin Cuijia's mother had a very good impression of me because of the director's gossip. Although I knew that Lin Cuijia had mentioned being discharged from the hospital to her mother and her mother had refused, I still wanted to talk to her mother about it.

When I entered Lin Cui's house, I noticed a poster of F4 on her door. I asked in surprise, "Xiao Cui is back already?"

Lin Cui's mother said, "Oh, no, there's a hole in this door. It was punched by Xiao Cui's father when he was drunk a long time ago when they lived together. I saw that the hole was still there when I came to check. Xiao Cui didn't even bother to get a carpenter to fix it, so I just put up an F4 poster to cover it up. It looks nicer that way."

I sighed inwardly. Sigh, F4 really does appeal to all ages. I could make a story about them as a superstar when I get back. I told Lin Cui's mother about my purpose, basically saying that I had already visited Lin Cui and found that she was fine after talking with her. She also wanted to be discharged from the hospital, so why not take her out to live with us? Home is worse than the hospital, and so on.

Lin Cui's mother smiled at me and said, "It's better to let her stay a few more days. I know you're on her side, and you came to talk to me on her behalf when she wanted to come out. I used to be a nurse, and I know that this kind of disease is best cured in one go. I brought her food again today, and when I was chatting with her, I noticed that she still couldn't remember some things. Plus, the hospital environment is so good, so let her stay in the hospital for another month or so to consolidate her recovery."

It seems that Lin Cui's mother from Fan F4 is indeed no ordinary person. I knew I couldn't persuade her, so I figured I'd find a way to get Lin Cui out of the hospital myself.

To be honest, there wasn't really a good solution. I'd watched twenty "007" movies, but the escape methods in the movies seemed so ineffective in real life. I went to the hospital to discuss it with Lin Cui again, and she nodded, seemingly having anticipated her mother's attitude.

Just after 10:00, after the nurses finished their rounds distributing medication, Lin Cui carefully got up, looking quite weak. To be honest, I was a little surprised. She was perfectly healthy to begin with; could hospitalization really weaken a person's constitution? I quickly went to help her. Lin Cui seemed to be expecting this, so ostensibly I was supporting her, but actually she was dragging me along as we walked in the hospital courtyard.

As I wandered, I came to the back of an artificial hill, where many stone piles were stacked along the wall, obscuring my view.

Lin Cui said, "Actually, I've already figured out a way to get out of the hospital, and I've been waiting for you to come. I don't want you to help me get out of this hospital, but I want you to come with me and help me figure out what happened. I've never believed that this is as simple as just amnesia, especially after receiving your letter. But these assumptions are too absurd, and I don't dare to verify them alone, so I need you to come with me." Lin Cui held my hand tightly as she spoke, her eyes filled with infinite sincerity.

What else can I say? For this sincerity, I could only willingly become Lin Cui's cushion when she climbed over the wall.

Feeling guilty, I looked around furtively and slipped through the courtyard along a shortcut to the hospital gate. All the way out, I felt like a complete thief: I'd never stolen anything in my life, let alone from the government, and yet my first attempt turned out to be stealing from a living person… I wonder how that person is doing, whether they were hurt after they got out…

As I walked out of the hospital, I headed towards the direction Lin Cui was supposed to jump over the wall. A taxi was already parked there, and Lin Cui, who was in the back seat, saw me through the rearview mirror and immediately waved for me to come over. As soon as I got into the car, Lin Cui urged the driver to go faster while also telling me to roll up the tinted windows—it was best if no one could see her in her hospital gown.

On the bus, Lin Cui used my phone to send a text message to her mother, saying that she had been discharged from the hospital but wouldn't be going home for the time being because she had some things to do. She told her mother not to worry and then ignored her mother's replies. I asked her where she was going, and she pointed ahead. It turned out to be a commercial street that resembled Qipu Road in Shanghai.

Shops everywhere don't turn away customers, even those dressed in hospital gowns. I patiently waited in the car for 25 minutes, and finally, Lin Cui stood before me, looking radiant. The driver, who was whistling while the meter was running, was in a good mood and immediately cheered when he saw her. I naturally complimented her in return. Women usually take forever to pick out clothes, so 25 minutes was already a testament to her knowing the situation was urgent and having to make do.

After Lin Cui got back on the bus, she gave him a list of routes. It seemed she was convinced the driver wouldn't recognize the destination anyway.

About 15 minutes later, the car stopped in front of a library.

The library sign read "XXXXXX Library." It was a very small library; upon entering, only an elderly man who looked like a librarian was visible, and there were no other borrowers. Lin Cui asked the old man to borrow a few local gazetteers from several places along the Minjiang River. The old man was quite surprised and said, "It's been over thirty or forty years since anyone has come here to look at these local gazetteers. How did you know we had such books here? Hehe, I originally thought that no one but me knew we had these books. Even during the Cultural Revolution when they were destroying the Four Olds, nobody knew we had these 'Four Olds' here."

Lin Cui didn't seem to care. She took the books, and before opening each one, she would tell me a passage about Tie Niu—information not included in the expert report. Then, she would casually flip through the yellowed pages, her finger like a fairy's finger, magically displaying what she said on the page. She became increasingly confident, her eyes shining with hope. Eventually, she even knew the library's origins: it was originally the collection of a deceased person who was very interested in Dujiangyan during the Republic of China era. After liberation, it was almost forgotten, but it contained many ancient books, even rare and unique editions.

Lin Cui told me that during her time in the hospital, through conversations with her mother, she discovered that her memories weren't significantly different from others' so-called memories. 90% of the details of her life even matched perfectly. However, the discrepancies—like those concerning Tie Niu—were now being confirmed here. "I brought you here today for two reasons: first, to confirm my memories, and second, to review the books here again. Remember when I told you that Tie Niu was definitely a key figure? I've only flipped through about half of the books here; we'll thoroughly review the other half today."

This search indeed uncovered numerous events related to the Iron Ox. One unofficial history roughly explains the reason for casting the Iron Ox: Since the construction of the Dujiangyan Irrigation System, fishermen on the Minjiang River have sometimes encountered strange events, such as fishing gear, fishing boats, and even fishermen disappearing intermittently. This has happened frequently for over a thousand years, and the Iron Ox was cast to ward off evil spirits. After its completion, it proved quite "effective"—first, Wang Yuantai, who cast the Iron Ox, disappeared without a trace, and then several months later, "purple clouds descended from the sky, and the Minjiang River rose three zhang (approximately 10 meters) daily, submerging the Iron Ox. The next day, the water receded, and the Iron Ox was nowhere to be found." It also says that this matter alarmed the court and the public, and Emperor Yuan Shizu sent several groups of skilled swimmers to search for the Iron Ox, all to no avail. "After the Iron Ox was lost, the various strange occurrences of the past reappeared, repeatedly and without fail." Official histories do not mention the disappearance of fishing gear and fishermen, but the disappearance of Wang Yuantai is indeed recorded. As for the whereabouts of the Iron Ox, it is said that it was washed away by silt carried by a flood. "After several days of torrential rain, the rain stopped and the floodwaters rose. Sand and gravel were swept into the river, and the iron ox was never found again."

It wasn't until the library closed and the old man wanted to go home for dinner that he finally kicked us out. It was already dark, and I suggested Lin Cui go eat with me, but she said, "My mind is a mess. I have so much to tell you, but I can't express it well. I need to think it over. You go back to the hotel first, and I'll come find you tonight."

Lin Cui took a taxi and left. I strolled along the riverbank and saw a fisherman mooring his boat, apparently with a full catch and ready to go home. I greeted the fisherman and asked, "Uncle, how many years have you been fishing here?"

The fisherman, speaking in a thick Sichuan accent, said, "It's probably been thirty years."

I asked, "Some people say that when fishing near Dujiangyan, things always go missing. Is that true or false?"

The fisherman said, “Missing things? Of course not. Last year I lost two baskets and a net. I’ve never heard of anyone losing things while fishing near Dujiangyan before. Whenever I lose something, my wife always blames me, saying I’m old, useless, and forgetful, that I can’t even make a living. Sigh, but last year there really was a strange thing. Zhang’s youngest daughter across the river caught a bunch of fish in her net and was happily hauling it in when suddenly her hand felt light. She looked down and, to her surprise, the net wasn’t torn but all the fish were gone.”

I thanked the old fisherman and bought two pounds of fresh fish from him. I took it back to the hotel, intending to eat the fish while waiting for Lin Cui to arrive. But as I carried the fish, I remembered the story of Wang Erqing and Chen Qingyang eating fish.

Chapter Four: Forks in the Road