Chapter 46 - Po Ximi's Final Reply
Dear Junzi,
Hello.
First, I want to thank you for your tireless letters. Since the content of every single one is identical, I find myself forced to reply. It’s not that I didn’t want to write back, but rather that I couldn’t answer any of the three questions you posed.
Humans naturally seek to escape questions they cannot answer, and I am no exception. I tried to ignore these letters, but I failed. After much deliberation, it seems only the final question is answerable. Let’s make a deal: now that I’ve answered this one, please stop. Do not write to me again. While I am not usually busy, the moment someone asks me a question, I become instantly occupied—too busy to pay you any mind.
As you wished, here is the extra story for *Shichahai*. I have always found writing extras to be a headache, and one cannot write well with a headache. I hope you aren't disappointed.
***
Beijing is thick with poplar trees. Every year, at the turn of spring and summer, the sky fills with willow catkins that drift like snow. Cyclists often find themselves with a mouthful of fluff if they aren't careful.
As Zhou Chao was moving her belongings out, Old Man Luo from the courtyard was crouching by a tree pit with a lighter, burning the catkins. It was a common local tactic: sweep the fluff into a pile and touch a flame to it. Watching catkins burn was strangely satisfying; the moment they met the fire, they vanished like cotton candy in water, disappearing in an instant.
Last year, in that very same tree pit, Zhou Chao had burned spirit money for her grandmother.
Shortly after graduation, she and Kang Yuan had registered their marriage. Shortly after that, her grandmother passed away. Joy and sorrow had collided in a single season.
That night, the old lady had been lying in her rocking chair watching television. The chair creaked back and forth, slower and slower, until it stopped. When Zhou Chao went to take the remote to turn off the TV, she gave her grandmother a gentle nudge, and the old woman’s head simply slumped to the side. The ending credits were rolling on the screen.
Zhou Chao had always believed that a good life deserved a "good end." To finish a whole episode of a show and then depart quietly—that was a good end. Her grandmother was a good person who had lived a good life. She wasn't sad for her.
At the time, getting married right after graduation felt like the natural course of things. Kang Yuan’s family was well-off. They had lived in an old commercial apartment within the Second Ring Road—bought early, prime location, four bedrooms. They also owned a one-bedroom unit within the Third Ring, an old, dilapidated "husband-and-wife" flat they had rented out for years. Eventually, Kang Yuan’s parents sold that unit and used the cash to buy the young couple a new home near Shuangqiao. It was a lovely three-bedroom place on the first floor with a small private yard.
Before they registered the marriage, her grandmother had been smoking a cigarette by the door. Zhou Chao was wearing a crisp white shirt, ready to head to the photo studio for their marriage certificate portrait. The old lady smiled at the white shirt and beckoned her over. "Don't rush out yet. Come inside with Grandma; I have something for you."
Zhou Chao followed her in. Her grandmother rummaged through the bottom drawer of a five-tier chest and pulled out a passbook tucked inside a tattered sock. "I know you and Kang Yuan don't keep secrets from each other, but when a girl from our family gets married, her grandmother can't send her off empty-handed. This is your dowry. Take it."
Zhou Chao opened it and counted the zeros. Sixteen thousand yuan. She closed it, stunned, and handed it back with a playful grin. "You’re quite the saver, little old lady."
Her grandmother huffed and pushed it back. "I know what I'm doing. Take it and stop pretending to be polite. I still have money."
Zhou Chao clutched the passbook and leaned in to hug her, resting her head on her grandmother’s thick, warm shoulder. "Grandma, you have to stay healthy. You have to live to be a hundred and twenty."
Her grandmother’s hand rested on Zhou Chao’s back, patting her rhythmically, like one would soothe a small animal. After a long silence, she whispered, "You’d better go to the bank and check it. It’s been so long, the magnetic strip might not work anymore."
***
Because of the mourning period, they waited a year to hold the wedding. During that year, Zhou Chao stayed in the traditional courtyard house; she wanted to keep her grandmother company for one last year.
Now that the year was up and there was still no news of demolition, Zhou Chao wasn't in a hurry to sell. She simply rented the place out to a family of three from the same courtyard.
Zhou Chao didn't have many belongings. Kang Yuan parked the car at the entrance of the hutong. As he entered the courtyard, he winced at the smell of smoke. Old Man Luo glanced at the Audi keys in Kang Yuan’s hand and said, "An Audi, eh? My second daughter drives one of those."
Kang Yuan smiled and offered a hand to help the old man up. "Careful now, sir."
They spent the weekend moving. After finishing at Zhou Chao’s, they went to Kang Yuan’s place to pick up the rest of his things.
"I ran into Old Man Zhang just now," Kang Yuan said. "Did you know his myna bird was sent away?"
"Oh? Really? I was wondering why I hadn't heard the 'phone ringing' lately. That bird couldn't do anything else, but it was a master at mimicking a telephone." Zhou Chao had been staring out the window, but she turned back, curious. "Why'd they send it away?"
"He said it was sent to a 'Bird Profanity Correction Center' for rehabilitation." Kang Yuan checked his rearview mirror and changed lanes, chuckling. "Old Man Zhang told me the bird’s mouth had turned 'filthy.' It learned how to swear."
"'It’s all the fault of those little brats, always hanging around the cage teaching it nonsense,'" Kang Yuan mimicked the old man’s gruff voice.
"It was definitely the kids in the hutong," Zhou Chao concluded.
Kang Yuan raised an eyebrow. "I’m not so sure. I asked him what the bird was saying, and he said it spent all day screaming 'Little brat!' at everyone."
Zhou Chao processed this for a second before bursting into a fit of giggles. Kang Yuan glanced at her, seeing her genuine joy. He couldn't help but smile himself as he rolled down the window. "Come on, let the people of the Four Districts hear my wife’s hearty laugh."
Zhou Chao leaned toward the window. "Hahahaha!"
***
Kang Yuan had far more junk, including ancient basketball posters he insisted on keeping.
Zhou Chao helped by carrying a small cardboard box. It had no lid, and as she looked down, she saw a "Deep-water Qualification Certificate." In Beijing, you needed one of these to swim in the deep end of public pools. You had to tread water for a minute and swim 400 meters in one go to earn it.
She remembered middle school. Every summer, they would meet up to swim at Prince Gong’s Mansion. They used to go to the Dongdan pool, but once they saw an old man urinating in the water, they were so disgusted they relocated to the mansion.
Their favorite game was sinking to the bottom of the pool to play Rock-Paper-Scissors. Whoever lost had to exhale a puff of air. They would keep going until someone ran out of breath and had to surface.
It was a mindless game, but they never tired of it. What Zhou Chao didn't know was that Kang Yuan, who invented the game, had a hidden motive. During those countless rounds of Rock-Paper-Scissors, every time they played a hand, he had to fight the urge to kiss her.
With the water between them, her fine hair drifting, and the sunlight piercing the bottom of the pool, he could see the tiny, translucent peach fuzz on her lip, shimmering with trapped bubbles.
Seeing Zhou Chao staring at his certificate, Kang Yuan glanced over and froze. The name on the certificate was: Teng Xiu.
He remembered now. Once, he had lost his own certificate and was in a rush to go out. His mother had dug out his uncle’s old certificate and shoved it into his hand. They looked identical, after all. No one would know he wasn't Teng Xiu.
Kang Yuan covered the certificate and flipped it over. "That’s my uncle’s. I used it a few times."
Zhou Chao blinked. "I thought it looked weird back then. It was all yellowed, but I didn't look at the name."
Kang Yuan watched her. "I really only used it two or three times. I went and retook the test later."
"Oh." Zhou Chao nodded.
Once they reached the new house, Kang Yuan began unpacking. Zhou Chao continued rummaging through the box. She found a harmonica and an old notebook. The first half of the notebook was a diary; the second half was filled with mathematical formulas. The handwriting in both sections was similar, but the ink was different shades. She closed the notebook and looked at the rest—bits and pieces of a life, including a glass wind chime covered in dust.
While Kang Yuan busied himself, Zhou Chao slowly washed the wind chime. She hung it on the balcony. Even after washing, it looked a bit dull. Kang Yuan really was a hoarder of junk.
The young couple’s life began to roll forward, steady and rhythmic like a donkey pulling a cart.
Zhou Chao’s company was near Guomao, a straight twenty-minute shot on the Batong Line. Kang Yuan’s office was near the North Fifth Ring Road, requiring him to wake up early. Every morning, he had to gently peel Zhou Chao off him. He hadn't realized she was so clingy. It was almost over-the-top.
Sometimes, while he was washing dishes, Zhou Chao would shuffle over in her slippers and hug him from behind, resting her head on his back. As he scrubbed, her head would bob up and down with his movements.
When Kang Yuan leaned over, Zhou Chao would take the opportunity to mimic a "man pushing a cart," bumping her hip against him playfully. Kang Yuan didn't know whether to laugh or cry. If she got too rowdy, he would drop the dish into the sink, wipe his hands on his clothes, and spin around to scoop her up and carry her to the bed to "exchange feelings."
On their days off, Kang Yuan would watch her, feeling like he could never tire of the sight. If he weren't so busy with work, he could stare at her all day. When he did, Zhou Chao would cover his eyes. "Don't look!" Kang Yuan would slowly pry her hands away and pin them above her head. "This is legal viewing." After a brief struggle of strength, they would inevitably end up back in bed.
***
Kang Yuan’s job required travel. Near the end of the year, he had to go to Hangzhou, not returning until the twenty-ninth day of the lunar month.
Before he left, they shared a long goodbye by the door, kissing over the suitcase. As Kang Yuan put on his shoes, he reached for one last kiss and nearly knocked them both into the shoe cabinet.
Usually, when he traveled, Zhou Chao didn't mind much. But with the New Year approaching, everyone at work was restless. When she got home, she stood in the entryway for a long time. Her hand rested on the light switch, but she didn't press it. Instead, she grabbed her keys and went back out.
For several days, she went to visit her grandmother after work. She bought flowers, wine, and a few packs of cigarettes. At night, she suffered from insomnia.
She counted the days until Kang Yuan’s return. He would be back tomorrow. After work, she emerged from the subway and bought a grilled cold noodle wrap from a street corner. Carrying the plastic bag, she walked to her building and reached out to punch in the security code.
A single snowflake landed softly on the back of her hand. It was a perfect hexagon, every branch clearly visible.
She looked up. The sky was a pale purple. It was snowing.
Just after midnight, Zhou Chao showered and went to bed. She turned on a radio app and set a one-hour sleep timer.
With the lights off, she lay in the middle of the large bed. The radio was telling the legendary story of Sanmao and Jose. Zhou Chao turned on her side and looked out the window. Because of the snow, the night sky was bright. Northern snow falls in large flakes—bold, dry, and silent. The world felt hushed, the city’s noise muffled by the white blanket.
In the years after Jose’s death, the media reported that Sanmao’s mental state was fragile. Zhou Chao loved Sanmao’s works from her time in the Sahara, but the pieces written after Jose’s passing always made her sad. The prose felt desperate, hysterical, and heartbreakingly lonely.
There was one essay Zhou Chao remembered vividly. Sanmao wrote that one night, the wind chime in her house rang as a breeze swept through the halls. She knew then that Jose had returned.
The radio was recounting this very scene. They played a recording of Sanmao’s voice—she sounded like a little girl, weeping as she recalled Jose, her words slightly disjointed.
Zhou Chao felt a sudden chill. She reached out to turn on the lamp, but at that moment—*ting-a-ling*—she heard the wind chime on the balcony.
She sat bolt upright. Her hand pressed the lamp switch, but the light didn't come on. Zhou Chao slowly slid her legs out from under the covers. Her bare feet touched the floor as she listened intently. *Ting-a-ling...*
The balcony door was closed, yet the sound was crisp, as if it were passing right through the glass.
Her heart hammered against her ribs. She felt her way along the wall into the living room. She looked toward the balcony and froze.
A tall silhouette was standing under the wind chime.
Before Zhou Chao could scream, the figure spoke. "Don't be afraid. It’s me." The voice was deep, but it held no coldness.
Teng Xiu.
Zhou Chao instinctively rushed forward to open the door, but Teng Xiu pressed his palm against the other side of the glass. "Don't come out."
"I look a bit frightening right now. You’ll be scared. Don't come out." He repeated the warning, keeping his face lowered. Because he was backlit, Zhou Chao could only see his outline.
"Are you cold? I’m not afraid, please come in." Zhou Chao didn't hesitate; she kept moving forward.
Teng Xiu turned his back to her. "No need. I’m not cold. I... I can't go in."
Zhou Chao stopped. "Why?"
Teng Xiu covered his face with his hand, then turned back slightly. "Because the wind chime is outside."
"It’s alright. I’ll just stay with you for a bit. I’ll leave after we talk." Teng Xiu smiled and crouched down, tapping gently on the glass door with his finger. "What a coincidence, meeting again. Let me think... why am I here this time?"
"Kang Yuan is missing you again," he answered himself.
Zhou Chao sat down on the floor by the balcony door, hugging her knees to look him in the eye.
Teng Xiu lowered his hand. Zhou Chao saw clearly now—he was a shadow, indistinct and hazy, a blur of darkness. Only his voice was solid. Yet, somehow, she felt she could see her uncle’s smile. It wasn't scary at all.
"That box of things you brought home... it’s actually mine. Kang Yuan played with them when he was little. He used the harmonica, and he used the diary as a scratchpad." Teng Xiu laughed softly. "Just a bunch of worthless junk, yet he kept it all."
Zhou Chao’s throat tightened. she opened her mouth, but no full sentence came out. She only managed to whisper, "Uncle..."
Teng Xiu turned to look at the falling snow. "Since there’s a harmonica, let me play a song for you."
The harmonica appeared in his hand. He gripped both ends and brought it to his lips. "What do you want to hear?"
Thinking of the radio program, Zhou Chao said, "*Red Dust*? Is that okay?"
Teng Xiu paused, then hummed the melody. "This one?"
Zhou Chao nodded. "Yes."
Teng Xiu thought for a moment, then pressed his lips to the comb and began to play.
*Coming is easy, leaving is hard,*
*Decades of wandering in the world of men.*
*Parting is easy, meeting is hard,*
*Eternal sorrows of love and hate...*
Zhou Chao sang along silently in her heart.
The reeds vibrated, and the sound of the harmonica drifted far into the snowy night, like a blue flag fluttering in the north wind, catching the snow and holding the breeze.
When the song ended, Teng Xiu slowly stood up. He gazed into the distance, leaning against the railing. "A thousand lights in a thousand homes, and the snow falling... the city is still the same city. It’s beautiful, isn't it?"
"Uncle, thank you." Zhou Chao stood up with him, speaking to his back.
That "thank you" covered many things.
Teng Xiu turned to look at her. "We’re family. No need for thanks." He placed his hand against the glass. Zhou Chao summoned her courage and pressed her hand against his from the other side. "Uncle, will you come back?"
Teng Xiu looked at the sky and didn't answer. He watched the snow for a while as it began to thin.
He sighed softly and withdrew his hand. "It’s late. There are a few more things I wanted to say. They’re on the title page of the diary. Go take a look."
The wind chime swayed—*ting-a-ling*—and Teng Xiu’s figure vanished.
***
Kang Yuan was supposed to fly back the next day, but he had changed his ticket to the last flight of the night. He couldn't stop thinking about Zhou Chao. His girl was alone in Beijing, and it was the anniversary of her grandmother’s death. He was desperate to get home.
On the plane, he fell into a deep sleep. His dreams were a blur, filled only with the melodious sound of a harmonica.
When he finally entered the house, travel-worn and exhausted, the entryway light was off. In the darkness of the living room, he saw Zhou Chao asleep on the floor by the balcony, clutching a harmonica.
Kang Yuan rushed over and shook her awake. "Chao'er, why are you sleeping here?"
Zhou Chao’s voice was thick with sleep. Seeing him, she leaned in to kiss him once, then closed her eyes again. "You missed me." It was a statement of fact.
"..." Kang Yuan picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. "Are you talking in your sleep?"
After Kang Yuan showered and climbed into bed, the motionless Zhou Chao suddenly burrowed into his arms. "I wasn't talking in my sleep."
Her eyes were bright in the dark, looking at him with an expression he couldn't quite place. After a moment, Kang Yuan reached out. "Since you're awake, why don't we do something?"
***
The next morning, Zhou Chao went to find the diary. The paper was brittle and thin. She carefully turned to the title page.
There, in a bold, powerful hand, was written:
"To those who love me, I offer my heartfelt blessings:
May your broken pieces be mended.
May your gaps be filled.
May your hopes never fall through.
May your love always be answered.
I hope you are like the clouds, like the gentle wind, like the lightning—free and brave, kind and steadfast.
Take good care. Goodbye.
— Teng Xiu"
***
