Chapter 3: I’ll Take the Lead, You Ambush
They crossed a snake-like, winding rice paddy path overgrown with foxtail grass, waded through a shallow river, and Zhang Chulan finally led Chi Wu onto a small trail of uranium ore.
They climbed the slope for half an hour, passing orange trees, banana trees, and detouring around a sugarcane grove… finally ducking under a cluster of chestnut trees.
“I’m dead.” Zhang Chulan fished a bottle of green plum tea from his bag, opened it, and took a swig. He then handed it to Chi Wu.
“Wubao, drink up.”
Chi Wu glanced at the bottle’s opening where the other had just drunk. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting away.
“I have my own in my bag.”
“Huh?” Zhang Chulan followed Chi Wu’s gaze and, as if he’d been slapped, his tone turned unreadable.
“Are you… disgusted by me?”
“No.” Chi Wu unzipped his own bag, pulled out his water, and opened it.
Zhang Chulan immediately started in on him, listing his grievances: “Wubao, you’re cruelly heartless. Who finishes all the leftovers you can’t eat? Who takes care of the dishes you don’t like?”
“…”
He let out a fake “Waaah!” and accused, “Chi Wu, you heartless man!”
Chi Wu ignored him, opening his own water and taking a sip, as if he hadn’t seen the ridiculous, over-the-top display at all.
Getting no response, Zhang Chulan doubled down: “Scum bag!”
“So energetic,” Chi Wu remarked with a sigh, pulling off an orange leaf and idly tearing it. “You hungry?”
“Tsk, you’re the one who’s hungry, right?” Zhang Chulan reached up to wipe away non-existent tears, grumbling like a scorned wife. “Wubao, this isn’t right of you. How can you let a beauty like me perform this monologue all alone?”
Chi Wu gave him an extremely baffled look. “Then… how should a ‘scum bag’ like me cooperate with you?”
“…” Zhang Chulan choked. He was often stumped by Chi Wu; the guy simply refused to play by the rules. “That… is too profound a question. Let me think on it.”
Chi Wu stared at the mountains in the distance, falling silent.
Zhang Chulan pulled out a tarnished-brown key and opened the door. The dry, warm scent of firewood wafted out from inside. The mud walls, covered in cracks, let in tiny beams of light that hit the floor.
“Wubao, wait outside for a sec. I need to clean up.”
Zhang Chulan handed Chi Wu a small stool, then tossed his backpack into his lap.
“There’s bread and sausage in the bag. If you’re hungry, just snack on that to tide you over.”
“Ao.”
Every time Chi Wu said “Ao,” Zhang Chulan thought he sounded like a little puppy—a soft one that made you want to reach out and ruffle its fur.
But Chi Wu’s personality was actually more like a cat. The guy detested physical contact from anyone he wasn’t familiar with. It had taken Zhang Chulan a great deal of effort at the beginning to get Chi Wu used to his proximity. Never mind this kind of
inseparable, constant clinginess—that had taken ages.
Thinking of this, Zhang Chulan couldn’t help but sigh. “There really is no such thing as a free lunch.”
He first splashed a basin of water on the floor to keep the dust down, then grabbed a broom and swept out every nook and cranny, even sweeping up a few small, dead mice.
“A-ei,” Zhang Chulan said, putting on a show of “mourning a fellow creature.” He walked over to Chi Wu and let out a long sigh, as if seeking comfort.
“Wubao, the mice starved to death.”
“Ah…” Chi Wu responded, turning his head to glance at them. His voice was light. “Perform their last rites, then.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Me neither.”
Zhang Chulan felt that Chi Wu was getting better and better at comebacks. He was, if not 100%, at least 99% responsible for that. The thought made him feel rather proud.
“Instant noodles for dinner tonight, ‘kay?”
“‘Kay,” Chi Wu agreed. He watched Zhang Chulan’s long legs stride over to dump a shovelful of trash on the dirt pile by the door, then suddenly asked, “You’re going up the mountain tonight, aren’t you?”
“How’s that possible?” Zhang Chulan chuckled. “It’s pitch black. How could I see anything?”
“Take me. Or I’ll tell everyone your buddy’s secret.” Chi Wu lifted his eyelids to shoot him a look, then held out a sausage.
Zhang Chulan took it, opened it, and handed it back. Their interaction was as practiced as an old married couple, yet neither of them found it strange.
“That’s just ruthless.”
Chi Wu didn’t respond. Zhang Chulan seemed to have caved to the blackmail. He didn’t speak again until the kettle of clean water had boiled. He prepped two instant noodle cups and tossed the empty seasoning packets into the stove’s fire hole.
“No room for negotiation?” he asked, still on the same topic.
“You said it yourself, it’s pitch black,” Chi Wu added impatiently. “I’m going so I can light the way for you.”
As if I need you to light the way, Zhang Chulan thought. But he knew Chi Wu was just worried about him. He softened his tone, crouching down next to Chi Wu, a rare, genuine helplessness showing.
“If you come with me, I’ll be worried.”
“And you think I’m fine with you going alone?”
Zhang Chulan let out an “ao,” then reached out to rest a hand on Chi Wu’s thigh, as if making one last attempt.
“You really have to go?”
“You’re being so long-winded.”
“A-ei, fine, fine.” Zhang Chulan was utterly helpless against him.
He went inside, pulled the lids off the instant noodles, and stirred them before calling to Chi Wu, who was still staring at the distant mountain.
“Come in and eat, Wubao.”
They ate their noodles in silence. This time, Chi Wu actually did the cleanup, throwing the noodle cups away.
He stared at the distant mountain peak, his brow furrowed. “What mountain is that?”
“The New Grave Mountain.” Zhang Chulan knew instantly what he was asking. “The village has a few places specifically for burying the dead. The Old Grave Mountain filled up, so they developed this new one. There’s a ditch connecting them, called the Grave Mountain Ditch.”
“I see.” Chi Wu frowned. “But we didn’t see many people on the way here.”
Zhang Chulan reached out and flicked Chi Wu’s forehead, beginning to doubt his “top student” status.
“The permanent population isn’t that big right now, but think of all the generations that have come and gone. Besides, the custom here is earth burial. Land is finite, but people keep being born. No amount of land is ever enough to bury everyone.”
“I noticed those graves are very small.”
Zhang Chulan finally understood what Chi Wu was really asking. “Those… those are children’s graves. I heard they were from the hard times, kids who starved to death. It’s a very ‘yin’ place. People don’t go there unless they absolutely have to.”
Chi Wu said “Oh” in understanding. Zhang Chulan took a flashlight out of his bag.
They followed the mud path forward, rounded a dense fir forest, and began to climb. Thankfully, the ground under the fir trees was clear of heavy underbrush, so the walk wasn’t too difficult. But just as they passed the ditch, a ball of fire suddenly appeared ahead of them.
Zhang Chulan nearly bit his tongue. He snapped on the flashlight and shined it over, only to find it was the grave of the town drunk.
“Phosphorus fire,” Chi Wu said at his side. The moment he spoke, the sound of an iron shovel digging into dirt came from the woods to their front right. He immediately started walking toward it.
Zhang Chulan froze, realizing in that instant that Chi Wu was far from timid. He even sensed a strange, out-of-place urgency from him. He quickly grabbed Chi Wu’s wrist.
“Wubao…”
Chi Wu stopped, confused. “What?”
Zhang Chulan thought for two seconds, then began to strategize: “I’ll take the lead, you ambush. We’ll catch them off guard.”
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