Mountains and Rivers Bear Witness, Memories Amidst the Smoke and Fire Chapter 22: A World Within the Painting, Rivers and Streams Enter Dreams

Among the painted realms, rivers and dreams entwined.

The young man gazed at the half-hung moon in the night sky, lost in thought. The evening breeze scattered his drowsiness; glancing inside the house, he took up a lantern and stepped out through the courtyard gate. Before leaving, he took a paintbrush and a sheet of drawing paper. Following the path upwards, he reached the rear mountain, where, nestled among the peaks, there lay a lake. Its surface was vast, and he seldom visited, but tonight he was drawn by the moonlight. He walked through the woods, along winding trails, until he stood at the lake's edge. Time ticked by; when he arrived, the moon had already climbed atop the mountain. The lake was alive with fireflies, their sparkling lights ornamenting the darkness, as if the Milky Way spilled ink across the heavens. Hanging his lantern nearby, he spread the paper on a stone slab, and, guided by his sight and heart, began to paint.

Within the painting, the crystal-clear water mirrored the moonlit window, firefly light and candle glow unchanged.

He leaned under a tree, back against the trunk, sharp-featured and clear-eyed in the lantern's glow.

"So this is how beautiful the night scenery is here. How did I never notice before? If those two little girls knew of this place, they'd surely clamor to come."

He looked out over the lake, tossed a pebble, sending ripples across the water. As he lowered his hand, he felt the fan tucked at his waist. His heart stirred, recalling a white-robed figure and an old fan. He murmured,

"The box of gold is safe where I left it. When I get the chance, I’ll bring you back. You said you liked Lingwu; one day I'll build a grand mausoleum for you there. Strange, really. Uncle said you weren't from Lingwu, yet you guarded it for eight or nine years. I don't know what you were guarding, but since you're willing, so am I. Someday, I'll help you retrieve that token. Uncle said, since it's given to you, you needn't return it. But the token is yours now, and something ought to stay here in your stead."

He tightened his clothes, rose unsteadily, picked up his lantern, and turned to leave. As he turned, he suddenly sensed something behind him. Looking back, he saw the lake ablaze with fireflies, dancing like butterflies in the air. In his heart, he wished, and luminous butterflies truly appeared above the lake, lining the shore. At the far end, white mist billowed, and a small boat drifted gracefully from the opposite bank. Onboard stood a woman in flowing white, beautiful as a fairy, her eyes covered with white cloth. In the moonlight, her silhouette grew clearer, as if she had stepped out from a painting.

The boy stood frozen, hardly daring to breathe, fearful of disturbing the woman, afraid his voice might startle the moon.

The boat floated steadily to the shore, stopping before him. The woman moved her jade-like feet, descending from the boat as lightly as a feather, coming to stand before him.

"Youth! Do you wish to cross the lake? May I carry you across?"

She smiled, though her eyes were veiled, her smile dazzled the innocent boy before her.

He was stunned, unable to speak.

Seeing his silence, she asked again, "Young man, do you wish to cross the lake? May I carry you across?"

He collected himself, confused, "But I don’t know if I should go."

Her voice was gentle, pointing to the far shore, "Precisely because you don’t know, you must seek to know, mustn't you?"

He asked, "Is there danger on the other side?"

She smiled, leaned closer, "Are you afraid of danger?"

Her closeness made him blush; he turned away and stepped back, "I’m not afraid."

"If you’re not afraid, why won’t you look at me?"

Hearing her voice recede, he stubbornly turned back, "I’m not afraid... only—" Before he could finish, he realized she had already returned to the boat.

"Only what?" She teased, finding amusement in his fluster.

"Only..." He stammered, unable to explain.

Seeing his embarrassment, she ceased her playful banter, gazed at him, and extended her hand, "Young man, do you wish to cross the lake? May I carry you across?"

For reasons unknown, he smiled, walked slowly to the boat, "Thank you."

Onboard, he sat by the edge. Suddenly, the boat rocked, then drifted gently.

Noticing the boat move without oars, he was surprised. He looked around, watching as it floated towards the white mist on the far shore. Entering the mist, he felt his surroundings grow hazy, indistinct. After a while, the fog thinned, and before him stretched not the expected lakeshore, but a boundless river and sea.

He looked in confusion to the woman at the stern, but she was gone. Instead, a small girl sat at the bow, her eyes obscured by white cloth, humming a tune.

He approached, and before he could speak, the girl sensed his presence and asked,

"Are you a guest from afar?"

"Guest?" The boy frowned, reassessing her. She, too, wore a white cloth over her eyes. Perhaps she was connected to the earlier woman. But wasn't he just on the rear mountain?

"Little one, what is this place? And who are you?"

He asked cautiously.

"This place? I don’t really know. It’s very big, though. I’ve been here a long time. My name is Xiyan. And you?"

He sat beside her and replied softly,

"My name...? I... I can’t remember." He could not recall his name.

"You don’t remember? Surely you know where you came from?"

Xiyan reached up, as if to touch something, but after a moment, lowered her hand.

"Where I came from? I... I can’t remember." The more he tried, the less he knew. He shook his head.

Xiyan tilted her head, smiled at him, "It’s alright. Take your time. You’ll remember."

He stayed silent, sitting quietly.

"I think I’m waiting for several older brothers. They stayed in different places. I can’t remember clearly. If things keep on like this, I’ll forget entirely one day. So, can you help me remember? Remember that I’m waiting for someone. I believe you’ll recall who you are, and I believe you’ll leave here someday. So, will you help me?"

He looked up.

"But I’ve forgotten who I am. Even if you tell me, I’ll eventually forget. I don’t know where I’m from, so there’s no real leaving here, because right now, all I know is this place."

Xiyan smiled gently, "It’s alright. You’ll remember."

She traced her little hand across the river, murmuring that she was still waiting for someone.

Seeing her muttering, he asked,

"Xiyan, you said you’re waiting for several people. Do you know their names, or where they are?"

She shook her head.

"I can’t recall. Only that I’m waiting for some brothers. But... I can't see how things change around me, nor do I know how much time has passed. Why haven’t they come to find me?"

She looked up, her voice forlorn. When she looked at him again, she smiled.

"But it doesn’t matter. If they don’t come for me, I’ll go find them. However..."

She stretched out her hand again.

He watched her strange gesture, puzzled,

"Xiyan, why do you keep reaching out your hand?"

She shook her head, as if she didn’t know either, only feeling she was always expecting something deep inside.

All around was silent, broken only by the occasional sound of waves.

"Do you have any wishes?"

He asked suddenly.

"Wishes? Yes."

She pressed her hands together.

"I want to find them. I want to know your name. And..."

She touched the white cloth over her eyes, whispering softly, "I want to see the scenery when you arrived."

Time passed. Xiyan gradually forgot her own name, forgot the boy before her, remembering only that she was waiting for someone. This happened countless times.

Then the girl remembered her name again. She recalled a place in the middle of the endless river and sea—a sea island, whose waters were called the Sea of Yearning. On the island stood a giant tree, laden with fruit; each fruit was a person's memory, a story.

"If you forget, come here. Take a fruit, and set sail."

She whispered softly.

The boy looked at her, excitedly asked, "Do you remember where the Sea of Yearning is?"

He was going mad from drifting endlessly across this river and sea. Though he felt no hunger, boredom gnawed at him, and the girl would forget her name and repeat conversations over and over. He couldn’t bear it. If remembering his name was the way out, then the Sea of Yearning must be the solution.

The girl paused, thought for a moment, then said, "It’s simple to go there. You trade memories for passage."

She pressed her hands together, sincerely praying, wishing the boy could reach his desired place, willing to give anything.

After speaking, she stretched out her hand. The boy tried to reach out as well. When their hands touched, a faint light glowed. When the brightness faded, the surroundings returned.

He looked around and found himself on a small island, puzzled, as if he had forgotten something. But instinct told him to walk forward, not to stop or dwell. So he walked on, toward the island’s center. After a while, he saw a giant tree at the heart of the island, loaded with fruit. Standing before it, he reached for a fruit. Suddenly, memories flooded in: a little girl fleeing to the lake edge, protected by a group, then slashing her own eyes with a knife, seeing a small boat and an old man with a goatee. He shook his head and reached for another fruit.

"My name is Chen Zhiming. My name is Chen Zhiming. It means: only knowing Heaven’s will, not following fate."

...

A gentle breeze brushed the boy’s handsome face. Blinding rays streamed through doors and windows, bathing him in golden light. He rubbed his eyes, looked around, "How did I fall asleep here?"

He rose and pushed open the door. The first sunlight carried the unique freshness of morning—the gift of stones, grass, and trees after a night.

As he turned, he felt he had forgotten something, yet no memory surfaced.

Back inside, as always, he glanced at the painting hanging on the wall. As he moved his gaze away, he paused, looked again. There was now a vast river and sea in the painting, a lone boat atop the waves, and on the boat sat a girl with her eyes covered in white cloth.

"Huh? I remember there wasn’t any of this before."

The girl in the painting reached out her hand. For reasons unknown, Chen Zhiming was compelled to do the same, murmuring, "My name is Chen Zhiming."

As his hand touched the girl’s outstretched hand in the painting, a faint light glowed from the boat. The boat scattered like willow catkins in the wind. Within the drifting catkins appeared a girl’s silhouette; they floated past the rafters, out the door, riding the wind toward the distance. As the sun rose, the catkins scattered like light.

Chen Zhiming stepped outside, his body glimmering with faint light.

That glow was as bright as the drifting catkins in the sky.

He closed his eyes, and the sound of waves filled his ears. He gently raised his hand; dew from a hundred miles around rose, forming droplets that flew to him and gathered before him. He pointed at the apricot tree ahead, and the droplets shot toward it like swords, piercing the tree full of holes.

Chen Zhiming opened his eyes, gazed calmly at everything before him, extended his hand to the rising sun, and smiled.

"Thank you."

The morning sun was gentle, and so was the youth.