Soul Mountain (46 page)

In the quiet of night, listening to the faint lapping of the waves of the Yangtze, I ponder what I might do in the remaining years of my life. Should I continue along the banks of the Yangtze collecting stone fishing net weights used by the Daqi people? I’ve already got one of these rocks with the middle chipped out by a stone hammer – it was given to me the day before yesterday by a friend upstream in Wanxian. He told me you can pick these up all along the riverbed when the river dries up. The silt accumulates and the riverbed gets higher each year and this is why they want to build a dam at the end of the Three Gorges. When this ridiculous dam is built, even this ancient Han Dynasty wall will be submerged so what meaning would there be in collecting the memories of people of remote antiquity?

I am perpetually searching for meaning, but what in fact
is
meaning? Can I stop people from constructing this big dam as an epitaph for the annihilation of their selves? I can only search for the self of the I who is small and insignificant like a grain of sand. I may as well write a book on the human self without worrying whether it will be published. But then of what consequence is it whether one book more, or one book less, is written? Hasn’t enough culture been destroyed? Does humankind need so much culture? And moreover, what
is
culture?

I get up early to catch a small steamboat. This sort of boat, with the waterline reaching almost to the top of the sides, is swift in the water. At noon I reach Wu Mountain where King Huai of the state of Chu one night dreamt he and a goddess made love. The Wu women filling the streets of the county town however, are not at all attractive. On the boat are seven or eight jean-clad young women and men with Beijing accents. Carefree and uninhibited, they talk, laugh, romance and squabble over money. It is they, with their kettle drum and electric guitar and a few pop songs and disco (rock’n’roll is banned), who in their own words win hearts on both sides of the Yangtze.

A volume of the county gazette, with the tattered pages mounted onto brown paper, contains the following entries:

During the time of Emperor Yao of the Tang Dynasty, Wu Mountain was so named after Wu Xian who through his knowledge of the occult became physician to Emperor Yao. In life he was an aristocrat and after death a noble spirit. This mountain was his fief, hence its name (See Guo Pu, “Wu Xian Mountain, a
Fu
Poem”).
Yu Dynasty. The
Shundian
says: “Wu Mountain is a part of Jingliang.”
Xia Dynasty. The
Yugong
says: “Nine prefectures were established. Wu Mountain remains within the boundaries of the three prefectures of Jingliang.”
Shang Dynasty. In “Jiu you jiu wei” of the
Shang Songs
is the annotation: “Wu Mountain continued to be administered as during the Xia Dynasty.”
Zhou Dynasty. Wu was Yong Kingdom, then in the Spring and Autumn period became the territory of Kuizi Kingdom. In autumn of the thirty-sixth year of Duke Xi, the Chu people subjugated Kui and absorbed it into Chu. Wu thereupon belonged to Chu.
Warring States period. There was a Wu Commandery in Chu. The
Zhanguo ce
says: “Su Qin told King Wei of Chu: ‘In the south there is Wu Commandery.’” The
Kuodi zhi
says: “The commandery lies one hundred
li
east of Kui, later it became Southern Commandery.”
Qin Dynasty. The “Record of Qin” in the
Shiji
says: “In the thirtieth year of King Zhaorang, Wu Commandery of Chu Kingdom was changed to Wu County under the administration of Southern Commandery.”
Han Dynasty. As in the Qin Dynasty, it continued to be called Wu County and was administered by Southern Commandery.
Later Han Dynasty. During the Jian’an period, the early rulers placed it under the administration of Yidu Commandery. In the twenty-fifth year, Sun Quan placed it under Guling Commandery, then Wu Sunxiu placed it under Jianping Commandery.
Jin Dynasty. First, as Wu County lay at the border of Wu and Shu it was administered by the Jianping Commandery Military Command, and established as Beijing County. In the fourth year of Xianhe, the military command changed to Jianping Commandery, and it was established as Nanling County.
The dynasties of Sung, Qi and Liang continued this.
Later Zhou. In the first year of Tianhe, Wu County was administered by Jianping Commandery, and established as Jiangyin County.
Sui Dynasty. At the beginning of the Kaihuang period, Jianping Commandery was abolished, renamed Wu Mountain County, and administered by Badong Commandery.
Tang and Five Dynasties. Administered by Kuizhou Prefecture.
Song Dynasty. Administered by Kuizhou Prefecture.
Yuan Dynasty. As before.
Ming Dynasty. Administered by Kuizhou Prefecture.
Qing Dynasty. In the ninth year of Kangxi, Dachang was incorporated into Wu Mountain County . . .
The ruins are located 50
li
to the south.
The Wheat Bran Monk’s name was Wenkong and his style name Yuanyuan. A native of Ji’an Prefecture in Jiangxi Province, he built a temple on the northern cliff of Jidong Mountain where he sat in meditation. After forty years he attained enlightenment. He ate only bran and hence his name. Many years later when the monk died and there was no-one in the temple, for three years people living on the opposite mountain saw lamps burning there at night.
Legend says that the Red Emperor’s daughter Yaoji drowned when travelling on the river. She was buried on the south side of this mountain and a temple erected. Shamans dance to summon her spirit.
Anping town is ninety
li
southeast of the county . . . . . .  (text missing) the above towns are now wasteland. After the ravages of troops in the late-Ming period, the villages and towns became deserted. Most of the people have settled here from other provinces and the name is constantly changing . . .

Do these villages and towns still exist?

You know that I am just talking to myself to alleviate my loneliness. You know that this loneliness of mine is incurable, that no-one can save me and that I can only talk with myself as the partner of my conversation.

In this lengthy soliloquy you are the object of what I relate, a myself who listens intently to me – you are simply my shadow.

As I listen to myself and you, I let you create a she, because you are like me and also cannot bear the loneliness and have to find a partner for your conversation.

So you talk with her, just like I talk with you.

She was born of you, yet is an affirmation of myself.

You who are the partner of my conversation transform my experiences and imagination into your relationship with her, and it is impossible to disentangle imagination from experience.

Even I can’t distinguish how much is experience and how much is dream within my memories and impressions, so how can you distinguish between what I have experienced and what are figments of my imagination? And in the end is it necessary to make such distinctions? In any case, they aren’t of any significance whatsoever.

She who is the creation of experience and imagination transforms into various images which beckon and seduce you, because you who are my creation also want to seduce her. Neither of you want the loneliness of your selves.

I am on a journey – life. Life, good or bad, is a journey and wallowing in my imagination I travel into my inner mind with you who are my reflection. The perennial and perplexing question of what is most important can be changed to a discussion of what is most authentic and at times can constitute what is known as debate. But let others discuss or debate such matters, they are of no consequence for I who am engrossed in my journey or you who are on your spiritual journey.

Like me, you wander wherever you like. As the distance increases there is a converging of the two until unavoidably you and I merge and are inseparable. At this point there is a need to step back and to create space. That space is he. He is the back of you after you have turned around and left me.

Neither I nor my image can see his face, it is enough to know that he is someone’s back.

You who are my creation, created her and her face naturally would have to be imagined, but why must one insist on describing the face? She is a hazy image of associations induced by memories and is therefore indefinite, so let her remain indistinct. Moreover, her image is forever changing.

For you and me, the women who constitute they are simply a composite image of her.

And the men who constitute they are also a composite image of him. In the boundless world, there are all sorts of mysteries external to you and me. In other words, they are all projections of my back which I can’t get rid of. If I can’t get rid of them, why try?

I don’t know whether or not you’ve noticed but when I speak of me and you, and she, him, feminine they and masculine they, I never speak of we or us. I believe that this is much more concrete than the sham we which is totally meaningless.

Even if you and she and he and masculine they and feminine they are images of the imagination, for me they are all more substantial than what is known as we. As soon as I refer to we I am immediately uncertain, how many of me are in fact implicated? Or how many of you who are the image of me, or he who is the back of you and me, or the illusion of she who was borne of you and me, or the composite image they of she or he? There is nothing more false than this we.

However I can use a plural you when I confront many people. Whether I am trying to please or criticize, am angry with, happy with, or scornful of, I am occupying a definite position and I am more substantial at such times than at any other time. What does we imply except for that incurable affectation? So I always avoid this bloated sham affectation of we. Should at any time I use the word we it is when I am being extremely hypocritical and cowardly.

I have established for myself this way of sequencing which can be thought of as a sort of logic or karma. Ways of sequencing, logic or karma, have been established by people in this vast unordered world in order to affirm oneself, so why shouldn’t I invent my own sequencing, logic or karma? I can then take refuge in this way of sequencing, logic or karma, and be secure in my own actions and have peace of mind.

However the totality of my misfortunes also exist within you, the unlucky demon I have invoked. Actually, you are not unlucky for all your misfortunes have been conferred upon you by me, they are all derived from my self love – this damned I loves only himself!

I don’t know if God and the Devil in fact exist but both were invoked by you who are the embodiment of both my good fortune and my misfortune. When you vanish, God and the Devil will in the same instant disappear.

It is only by getting rid of you that I can get rid of myself. However having invoked you, it is impossible to get rid of you. I’ve thought of an idea. What would happen if you and I were to change places? In other words I would be your image and you instead would be the concrete form of me – this would be an interesting game. If you listen carefully to me from my position I would then become the concrete expression of your desires, it would be a lot of fun. It would also be yet another school of philosophy and the writing would have to start from the beginning again.

Philosophy in the end is an intellectual game. At limits unattainable by mathematics and the empirical sciences, it constructs all sorts of intricate structures. And as a structure is completed, the game ends.

Fiction is different from philosophy because it is the product of sensory perceptions. If a futile self-made signifier is saturated in a solution of lust and at a particular time transforms into a living cell capable of multiplying and growing, it is much more interesting than games of the intellect. Furthermore, it is the same as life and does not have an ultimate goal.