高行健作品集-第64部分

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　　〃What’s　there？　Scenery？　Temples？　Historic　sites？〃　you　ask；　trying　to　be　casual。　
　　〃It’s　all　virgin　wilderness。〃　
　　〃Ancient　forests？〃　
　　〃Of　course；　but　not　just　ancient　forests。〃　
　　〃What　about　Wild　Men？〃　you　say；　joking。　
　　He　laughs　but　without　any　sarcasm；　and　he　doesn’t　seem　to　be　making　fun　of　himself　which　intrigues　you　even　more。　You　have　to　find　out　more　about　him。　
　　〃Are　you　an　ecologist？　A　biologist？　An　anthropologist？　An　archaeologist？〃　
　　He　shakes　his　head　each　time　then　says；　〃I’m　more　interested　in　living　people。〃　
　　〃So　you’re　doing　research　on　folk　customs？　You’re　a　sociologist？　An　ethnographer？　An　ethnologist？　A　journalist；　perhaps？　An　adventurer？〃　
　　〃I’m　an　amateur　in　all　of　these。〃　
　　The　two　of　you　start　laughing。　
　　〃I’m　an　expert　amateur　in　all　of　these！〃　
　　The　laughing　makes　you　and　him　cheerful。　He　lights　a　cigarette　and　can’t　stop　as　he　tells　you　about　the　wonders　of　Lingshan。　Afterwards；　at　your　request；　he　tears　up　his　empty　cigarette　box　and　draws　a　map　of　the　route　up　Lingshan。　
　　In　the　North；　it　is　already　late　autumn。　Here；　however；　the　summer　heat　hasn’t　completely　subsided。　Before　sunset；　it　is　still　quite　hot　in　the　sun　and　sweat　starts　running　down　your　back。　You　leave　the　station　to　look　around。　There’s　nothing　nearby　except　for　the　little　inn　across　the　road。　It’s　an　old　style　building　with　a　wooden　shopfront　and　an　upstairs。　Upstairs　the　floorboards　creak　badly　but　worse　still　is　the　grime　on　the　pillow　and　sleeping　mat。　To　wash；　you’d　have　to　wait　till　it　was　dark　to　strip　off　and　pour　water　over　yourself　in　the　damp　narrow　courtyard。　This　is　a　stopover　for　the　village　peddlers　and　craftsmen。　
　　It’s　well　before　dark；　so　there’s　plenty　of　time　to　find　somewhere　clean。　You　walk　down　the　road　with　your　backpack　to　look　over　the　little　town；　hoping　to　find　some　indication；　a　billboard　or　a　poster；　or　just　the　name　〃Lingshan〃　to　tell　you　you’re　on　the　right　track　and　haven’t　been　tricked　into　making　this　long　excursion。　You　look　everywhere　but　don’t　find　anything。　There　were　no　tourists　like　you　amongst　the　other　passengers　who　got　off　the　bus。　Of　course　you’re　not　that　sort　of　tourist；　it’s　just　what　you’re　wearing：　strong　sensible　sports　shoes　and　a　backpack　with　shoulder　straps；　no…one　else　is　dressed　like　you。　Of　course；　this　isn’t　one　of　the　tourist　spots　frequented　by　newlyweds　and　retirees。　Those　places　have　been　transformed　by　tourism；　coaches　are　parked　everywhere　and　tourist　maps　are　on　sale。　Tourist　hats；　tourist　T…shirts；　tourist　singlets　and　tourist　handkerchiefs　bearing　the　name　of　the　place　are　in　all　the　little　shops　and　stalls；　and　the　name　of　the　place　is　used　in　the　trade　names　of　all　the　〃foreign　exchange　currency　only〃　hotels　for　foreigners；　the　〃locals　with　references　only〃　hostels　and　sanatoriums；　and　of　course　the　small　private　hotels　competing　for　customers。　You　haven’t　come　to　enjoy　yourself　in　one　of　those　places　on　the　sunny　side　of　a　mountain　where　people　congregate　just　to　look　at　and　jostle　one　another；　and　to　add　to　the　litter　of　melon　rind；　fruit　peel；　soft　drink　bottles；　cans；　cartons；　sandwich　wrappings　and　cigarette　butts。　Sooner　or　later　this　place　will　also　boom　but　you’re　here　before　they　put　up　the　gaudy　pavilions　and　terraces；　before　the　reporters　come　with　their　cameras；　and　before　the　celebrities　come　to　put　up　plaques　with　their　calligraphy。　You　can’t　help　feeling　rather　pleased　with　yourself　yet　you’re　anxious。　There’s　no　sign　of　anything　here　for　tourists；　have　you　made　a　blunder？　You’re　only　going　by　the　map　on　the　cigarette　box　in　your　shirt　pocket；　what　if　the　expert　amateur　you　met　on　the　train　had　only　heard　about　the　place　on　his　travels？　How　do　you　know　he　wasn’t　just　making　it　all　up？　You　haven’t　ever　seen　the　place　mentioned　in　travel　acomounts　and　it’s　not　listed　in　the　most　up　to　date　travel　manuals。　Of　course；　it　isn’t　hard　to　find　places　like　Lingtai；　Lingqiu；　Lingyan　and　even　Lingshan　on　provincial　maps　and　you　know　very　well　that　in　the　histories　and　classics；　Lingshan　appears　in　works　dating　back　to　the　ancient　shamanistic　work　Classic　of　the　Mountains　and　Seas；　and　the　old　geographical　gazetteer　Annotated　Water　Classic。　It　was　also　at　Lingshan　that　Buddha　enlightened　the　Venerable　Mahakashyapa。　You’re　not　stupid；　so　just　use　your　brains；　first　find　this　place　Wuyizhen　on　the　cigarette　box；　for　this　is　how　you’ll　get　to　Lingshan。　
　　You　return　to　the　bus　station　and　go　into　the　waiting　room。　The　busiest　place　in　this　small　town　is　now　deserted。　The　ticket　window　and　the　parcel　window　are　boarded　up　from　the　inside　so　knocking　is　useless。　There’s　nowhere　to　ask　so　you　can　only　go　through　the　lists　of　stops　above　the　ticket　window：　Zhang　Village；　Sandy　Flat；　Cement　Factory；　Old　Hut；　Golden　Horse；　Good　Harvest；　Flood　Waters；　Dragon　Bay；　Peach　Blossom　Hollow　…　the　names　keep　getting　better；　but　the　place　you　want　isn’t　there。　This　is　just　a　small　town　but　there　are　several　routes　and　quite　a　few　buses　go　through。　The　busiest　route；　with　five　or　six　buses　a　day；　is　to　Cement　Factory　but　that’s　definitely　not　a　tourist　route。　The　route　with　the　fewest　buses；　one　a　day；　is　sure　to　go　to　the　furthest　destination：　it　turns　out　that　Wuyizhen　is　the　last　stop。　There’s　nothing　special　about　the　name；　it’s　just　like　any　other　place　name　and　there’s　nothing　magical　about　it。　Still；　you　seem　to　have　found　one　end　of　a　hopeless　tangle；　you　may　not　be　ecstatic　but　you’re　certainly　relieved。　You’ll　need　to　buy　a　ticket　in　the　morning　an　hour　before　departure　and　you　know　from　experience　that　with　mountain　buses　like　this；　which　run　once　a　day；　just　to　get　on　will　be　a　fight。　Unless　you’re　prepared　to　do　battle；　you’ll　just　have　to　get　into　the　queue　early。　
　　But；　right　now；　you’ve　got　lots　of　time；　although　your　backpack’s　a　nuisance。　As　you　amble　along　the　road　timber　trucks　go　by　noisily　sounding　their　horns。　In　the　town　the　noise　is　worse　still　as　trucks；　some　with　trailers；　blast　on　their　horns　and　conductors　hang　out　of　windows　loudly　banging　the　sides　of　the　buses　to　get　pedestrians　off　the　road。　
　　The　old　buildings　on　both　sides　stand　flush　with　the　road　and　all　have　wooden　shopfronts。　The　downstairs　is　for　business　and　upstairs；　washing　hung　out　to　dry—nappies；　bras；　underpants　with　patched　crotches；　floral…print　bedspreads—like　flags　of　all　the　nations；　flap　in　the　noise　and　dust　of　the　traffic。　The　concrete　telegraph　poles　along　the　street　are　pasted　at　eye　level　with　all　sorts　of　posters。　One　for　curing　body　odour　catches　your　attention。　This　is　not　because　you’ve　got　body　odour　but　because　of　the　fancy　language　and　the　words　in　brackets　after　〃body　odour〃。　
　　Body　odour　（known　also　as　scent　of　the　immortals）　is　a　disgusting　condition　with　an　awful；　nauseating　smell。　It　often　affects　social　relationships　and　can　delay　life’s　major　event：　marriage。　It　disadvantages　young　men　and　women　at　job　interviews　or　when　they　try　to　enlist；　therefore　inflicting　much　suffering　and　anguish。　By　using　a　new　total　treatment；　we　can　instantly　eradicate　the　odour　with　a　rate　of　up　to　97。53％　sucomess。　For　joy　in　life　and　future　happiness；　we　welcome　you　to　come　and　rid　yourself　of　it　…　
　　After　that　you　come　to　a　stone　bridge：　no　body　odour　here　and　there’s　a　cool；　refreshing　breeze。　The　bridge　spanning　the　broad　river　has　a　bitumen　surface　but　the　carved　monkeys　on　the　worn　stone　posts　testify　to　its　long　history。　You　lean　on　the　concrete　railing　and　survey　the　township　alongside　the　bridge。　On　both　banks；　black　roof…tops　overlapping　like　fish…scales　stretch　endlessly　into　the　distance。　The　valley　opens　out　between　two　mountains　where　the　upper　areas　of　gold　paddy　fields　are　inlaid　with　clusters　of　green　bamboos。　The　river　is　blue　and　clear　as　it　leisurely　trickles　over　the　sandy　shores　but　close　to　the　granite　pylons　dividing　the　current　it　becomes　inky　green　and　deep。　Just　past　the　hump　of　the　bridge　the　rushing　water　churns　loudly　and　white　foam　surfaces　from　whirlpools。　The　ten…metre　high　stone　embankment　is　stained　with　water　levels：　the　new　greyish…yellow　lines　were　probably　left　by　the　recent　summer　floods。　Can　this　be　the　You　River？　And