Read Old Land, New Tales: Twenty Short Stories by Writers of the Shaanxi Region in China for Free Online Page A

smelled of mint.
    They crossed over a ditch. The flowing stream and the white poplars on either side had once been a source of inspiration for Li Shisan; he would stop to wash his face in the limpid water and absorbthe poetic beauty of the scene. Now, neither man found poetry in the trees or water; nothing was left but panic, terror, and desperation. When Li Shisan gathered his strength and jumped over the ditch, he suddenly felt faint; his vision blurred. As he steadied his feet on the other side of the ditch, blood again spewed from his mouth.
    After a short rest, the men resumed their escape. The path was still lined with stretches of thick emerald crops like a dense green fog, hot and suffocating. A ridge divided the end of the path into another fork. There, Li Shisan stopped and said, “It is time to say good-bye now.”
    Tian Shewa shook his head, startled. “Good-bye? To whom? To me? But I’ll never part with you, even to death!”
    Li Shisan replied, “We should not be so stupid to be caught together and killed! You, who can sing and act and bring shadow puppets to life—you should have a chance to live!”
    “No, no, no!” Tian Shewa shook his head more quickly. “Anybody can play with puppets. A troupe of my fellow actors would take my place if I died. But nobody but you, Brother Shisan, can compose such brilliant plays. You must not be the one to die.”
    “Neither of us should die,” said Li Shisan. “Of course it is good for both of us to be alive. But now we have a slim chance of escape. We have to run in different directions if either of us is to live. Perhaps we will both get out. But we must not be caught together and killed.”
    Tian Shewa was not convinced. “You are ill. If I left you alone, I would be the same as the ungrateful wretches in your plays.”
    Li Shisan thought for a moment before speaking. “You have all my original play manuscripts in your box. I have no regrets, because I composed all those plays. But if you were killed, your house would be confiscated and the plays would be burnt into ashes. They would be lost. So you should get the chance to live.”
    This moved Tian Shewa into silence.
    “In fact,” said Li Shisan, “that you live means I’m still alive.”
    Tian Shewa gasped. Tears fell from his eyes.
    “Your life is now more valuable than mine,” Li Shisan continued. “Hurry, hurry up; all my scripts depend on you.”
    Li turned and walked away.
    Tian Shewa quickened his step to catch up. He fell to his knees, kowtowed to Li Shisan three times, got up, folded his hands, and made deep bows, swearing, “My dear elder brother, set your mind at ease: as long as I’m alive, not one of your scripts will be lost!”
    Li turned and spoke over his shoulder. “Even if you do lose your life, the scripts can be protected,” he said resolutely. “Hide them before you flee.”
    “I will,” replied Tian Shewa. He ran into a field of corn and then cursed aloud to the sloping land: “You’re no longer my emperor, Jiaqing!”
    All was silent.
    Li Shisan walked along the gently inclined path. It occurred to him that he should turn and walk in a different direction, since nobody was stupid enough to flee along the official thoroughfare on the Weibei Plateau. But he didn’t feel like running away. On one hand, he was quite sure that his life would come to an end in a few hours. On the other hand, he did not like the idea of getting caught by the running dogs of Jiaqing, nor that of dying in Beijing. Still, now he wouldn’t die by the millstone or on the kang bed at home, which would have caused his wife terrible pain. Though he hadn’t given her a comfortable life while he was alive, he could die knowing he had not driven her into misery. And, of course, he didn’t want to die in front of Tian Shewa. The closer the two had become, the farther they wanted to keep from each other when death beckoned.
    The vast Weibei Plateau, then, was the best possible final resting place for