Cypress Boat

 

The morning fog was receding, and the water vapor on the leaves of the plants was turning into delicate dewdrops that rolled gently off them.
The sunlight was gradually getting brighter, the sky clearer, and the air fresher. It looked like it was going to be good weather today.
Bo Zhou sat leaning against the grave fence and looked at the picture on the tombstone. Wan Dou, who had been running all the way over here, was apparently tired, and walked over, too, snuggling up to Bo Zhou.
«I wanted him to keep you company when I wasn't around.»
In those three years, only Wan Dou had been with her. It seemed that the words spoken by Sang Yang the night they decided to take the puppy were prophetic.
Bo Zhou stroked to Goroch, and he barked softly, looking up at her from below. Bo Zhou smiled and let him lean against her leg.
At twenty-six, Bo Zhou had become something that Sang Yang had never seen her before. She had become withdrawn and sullen, the life in her seemed to have dried up, and nothing pleased her.
But her eyes remained pure and clear, the look that Sang Yang loved so much remained the same.
«So time flies. Next month, Wan Dou will be four years old, he's already an adult dog,» Bo Zhou said as if she was having an everyday conversation, easy and relaxed.
Immediately after Sang Yang left, Bo Zhou could not adjust in any way. No sooner had she realized the tragic news than a multitude of trifles came over her and entangled her like seaweed.
She had to take care of Sang Yang's funeral, comfort her grieving parents, accept the condolences of her relatives, take care of Wan Dou, and deal with her many sketches that were still pending.
Time passed, just as it had when Sang Yang was still around, and Bo Zhou continued to exist, mechanically and ossified, performing one action after another without even time to cry.
Only after three months did the grief seem to subside. Except for the house where they lived together, there was less and less trace of Sang Yang, fewer and fewer people spoke of her, fewer and fewer events related to her.
It was as if her existence was not important at all, and her passing had no effect on anything.
Only Bo Zhou, waking up on a clear morning, saw the empty place next to her that belonged to Sang Yang, cold as ice.
Suddenly, a thought flashed through her mind: Sang Yang is gone and will never return.
At that moment, tears streamed down her cheeks and her face felt like glass that had been broken and cracked. She curled up, pressed herself against Sang Yang's pillow, and sobbed heartbreakingly.
After that day, she began to have insomnia, and she became anxious and cried for no reason. It was as if her heart had stopped, unable to feel joy, anger, sadness or happiness.
Jiang Yuan and a few others were very worried about her and made an appointment for her to see a psychologist.
The doctor advised her to move out of the house where she lived with Sang Yang and return there when her grief subsided.
But Bo Zhou couldn't do that.
This was the house they had set up together, and Sang Yang's presence was felt in it. It was the only thing Bo Zhou had left that allowed her to feel connected to her.
At first she pretended that she intended to follow the doctor's advice, but soon his insistent exhortation bore her and she stopped going to the sessions.
She wondered what her life would be like without Sang Yang.
It was not until one autumn morning last year, when she went for a walk with Gorokh, that things began to change.
They walked along the road along the forest, not knowing how much they had walked, until they were near the cemetery.
Bo Zhou stood there for a long time, frozen. She did not usually dare to visit the place, and only on the anniversary of Sang Yang's death and on Qingming's holiday did she come with her parents.
(TN: Qingming is a Traditional Chinese holiday celebrated for centuries. On April 5th, Chinese families commemorate and pay respects to their ancestors.)
She always felt that she could not control her emotions here, where San Yang rests.
But that day, for some reason-maybe because the weather was nice and reminded her of the fall when she and Sang Yang had first met, or maybe because she really missed her-she didn't care if she lost control. She wanted to see Sang Yang no matter what.
Bo Zhou led Wan Dou inside.
Sang Yang's tomb was in a quiet corner because she liked the quiet. Bo Zhou had only been here a few times, but everything seemed familiar to her. Finally, she found the tombstone and saw San Yang's smiling face on the cold and silent tombstone.
Strangely enough, a long-lost calm reigned in her heart, as if she had found a place to go back to.
She sat down in front of the grave and talked with Sang Yang for a long time before she left.
After a few days, she couldn't help herself and came back again, then a third, fourth, fifth time…
Gradually she began to feel freer and on her way she brought Sang Yang a bouquet of flowers, because she loved them so much.
She was able to work again, laugh, keep up a conversation, no longer hysterical and even substituted for Sang Yang at reunions. She took care of Sang Yang's parents and lived as if she was still with her.
Her friends were happy for her, but Bo Zhou never told anyone that she went to Sang Yang's cemetery almost every day. She knew she was quenching her thirst with poisoned wine*, and she was afraid that others would disapprove of her venting if they found out.
(TN: The idiom 饮鸩止渴 means to use incorrect methods to resolve problems without consideration of the consequences)
But she couldn't have found a better way.
«This Saturday they're going out again. I'm worried that if it closes, there will be no place for them to meet,» – Bo Zhou joked unfunny and laughed herself. – «A new art gallery opened, and they sent me an invitation to the opening ceremony. They approached me as an artist,» Bo Zhou said, smiling. As a child, she dreamed of being an artist. It was the first time she had ever been formally addressed like this.
Her gaze fell on the picture on the tombstone, as if she were really having a dialogue with Sang Yang.
«Jiejie, would you be proud of me?» – she asked in a whisper.
The cemetery was quiet, and the only answer was the sound of the wind.
A light breeze blew around Bo Zhou's face, not at all like the fall wind. It seemed as if San Yang was gently stroking her face, smiling affectionately at her as she had done so many times before.
Bo Zhou was silent for a long time, immersed in memories.
She sat like that for another half hour before she got up.
«I'm going back. I'll come tomorrow with my uncle and auntie,» she then added: «they're doing well. I visit them every week, so you don't have to worry.»
Sang Yang, of course, didn't answer anything. The whole time Bo Zhou was just talking to herself.
Bo Zhou turned and walked away, took a few steps, then stopped and turned around, looking at the picture on the tombstone.
Her lips curved slightly in a smile, but her expression was full of sadness. Her voice was gentle, like the wind walking across the desert.
«It had been three years. There used to be seven years difference between us, but now there are only four. Soon I will catch up with you. Jiejie, I will catch up with you.
She came home around ten o'clock and fed Wan Dou, then left him to play by himself.
She worked in her workshop until one o'clock in the afternoon. When she came out, she saw Wan Dou at the entrance to the pantry pulling something out.
«Wan Dou,» Bo Zhou called out.
As soon as the dog heard her voice, he flinched and turned his head, looking at her with his dark eyes in confusion.
«What have you done again?» – Bo Zhou walked over and spoke, looking at the pet.
Wan Dou whimpered guiltily. When Bo Zhou approached, he ran away, leaving a picture frame on the floor.
Paintings were the one thing the house had in abundance. There were many quite good ones among them, and sometimes Bo Zhou even framed them.
She decided that this painting was one of her recent works and went over to pick it up.
But when she turned the canvas over, she was stunned.
It was an oil painting depicting space, but not at all what she had painted recently. She had painted it when she was just learning to oil paint as a child.
The themes of space, the universe and science fiction were popular at the time, and Bo Zhou became interested in them. After watching several films of the genre, she painted this painting based on her vision of the universe.
This work was quite colorful, with celestial bodies shimmering, nebulae swirling, and colors that were beautiful. In the center was a flat, round black hole. It appeared black, but Bo Zhou remembered that she had added other colors when she mixed the colors, which made the black hole look like a patch of very deep, dark blue ink.
Since she believed that the black hole represented not only absorption but also hope and mystery, the dark blue color of the vast and boundless night sky seemed most appropriate.
Bo Zhou stared at the painting for a while and then walked out, placing it on the coffee table as she passed by. She called out to Wan Dou:
«Come here, I'll take you to your uncle and auntie's house.»
Wan Dou jumped out from around the corner and ran toward Bo Zhou, wagging his tail excitedly, forgetting his previous misdeeds. He just wanted to go and play at his uncle and auntie's house.
Bo Zhou didn't have the heart to scold him. She smiled, stroked the dog on the head, put a leash on him, opened the door, and led him out after him.
Sang Yang's parents' house was not far away, and Bo Zhou had been going there regularly for the past three years, even more often than when Sang Yang was alive.
They had both retired in the past two years, and there was nothing for them to do at home. The highlight of each week was the arrival of Bo Zhou and Goroh.
They knew Bo Zhou was coming today, so they washed the fruit and bought the ingredients, waiting for her at home.
Bo Zhou came around two or three in the afternoon, which was the time she usually came. Sometimes she even stayed the night in Sang Yang's old bedroom. At other times, if she was busy working, she would go home after dinner.
Sang Yang's parents always hoped she would stay longer. But today Bo Zhou had another painting to finish, so she would have to come home tonight.
«Oh, Dou Dou came to see us too!» – Mother San was very fond of Wan Dou and even gave him a nickname.
Peas, happily sticking out his tongue and wagging his tail as if he was running, was sitting next to Bo Zhou, looking at San Yang's parents with clear eyes, and generally behaved quite culturally.
Bo Zhou changed her shoes and wiped Wan Dou's paws before entering the house.
«Come in quickly, I just made tea,» Mother San said warmly.
Father was already sitting at the table and filling mugs. He had been a high school Chinese teacher before he retired, and professional habits had become a part of his life. When he spoke, his voice sounded serious and stern:
«The weather is dry today. Bo Zhou, have some tea to moisten your throat. When you come back, Auntie will put together a bag for you so that you can brew and drink it at home.»
Bo Zhou came over, took a cup of tea, and handed the bags into Mother San's hands.
«I bought you some winter clothes. Take a look, I hope you like them.»
Mother San answered hurriedly:
«We already have enough clothes. You're already full of worries, don't worry about such little things.»
«All right, next time I won't buy. But since I've already spent, you can take it,» Bo Zhou replied easily.»
«You say that every time,» Mother San muttered with a sigh, casting a leer at her. But when she opened the bag, she was clearly happy and even went into the room to try it on.
The clothes fit well, and the style was to Mother San's liking. In the past, when San Yang bought clothes for her parents, Bo Zhou always helped with ideas. She had memorized their sizes and preferences, and having bought clothes for them so many times over the years, she had never made a mistake.
«It looks good,» Mother San said with a smile, nudging her husband, «Our little girl bought clothes. You should try them on too.»
Father San wasn't very interested in clothes. He was already setting up the chessboard and talking impatiently:
«Little Zhou never makes the wrong choice. Put the clothes somewhere, and I'll put them on when it gets colder.» – Then he invited Bo Zhou to play chess with him: «Go and play with Uncle.»
«Okay,» Bo Zhou smiled and sat down in front of the chessboard.
It would take at least a few dozen minutes to finish a game of chess. Mother put the new clothes in the closet and then brought a stool to sit beside them.
Father San was a chess fanatic, and he was also an excellent player of go. Bo Zhou had never played chess before Sang Yang brought her to meet her parents. She was so nervous and afraid of not being liked that she asked about their hobbies and tried to match their interests.
Then Sang Yang comforted her by telling her that everything would be fine and that they would like her.
«My dad is a teacher and my mom is the editor-in-chief of a children's publishing house. They will surely be charmed by a well-mannered little girl like you,» Sang Yang reassured her with a smile.
But how could Bo Zhou not be worried? She was going to spend her life with Sang Yang, and sooner or later she would inevitably have to face her parents. First impressions were crucial.
She pestered Sang Yang for a long time until she finally learned that her father loved chess.
She didn't know how to play, so she went to learn. After a month, after struggling to master Chinese chess, Xiangqi, she also mastered Go.
Even after hard practice, however, she crashed to defeat in the first game against San's father. After all, he had been playing chess for decades, how could she, a newcomer who had only come into contact with chess a month ago, beat him?
That day, she was mortified. When she and Sang Yang went to sleep in her room, she didn't even bother to look around properly and asked with a sad expression on her face:
«Do you think your dad thought I was stupid?»
Sang Yang's eyes read, «why is this child so clueless?» but when she hugged her, she gently consoled her by saying:
««My parents really like you, so don't worry.»
It was their fourth year together. She was in her twenties, and they had begun planning their future life together. They also had to go through some hardships, but they never let go of each other's hands.
At the time, she was sure that she would never leave Sang Yang, and she would never leave her either.
Bo Zhou immersed herself in her thoughts for a while.
«Checkmate!» – Shouted Sang Yang's father.
The king was killed and the game was lost.
«You're out of shape today,» Father San was sorting through the chess pieces and couldn't help but give a lesson in his professional habit. – «When you play chess, you have to concentrate and keep your mind off extraneous thoughts.»
Bo Zhou smiled and said:
«Let's play another game.»
«Okay,» Father San happily agreed.
The two of them prepared the chessboard again.
Bo Zhou couldn't help but miss San Yang, but over the years she had learned to hide her longing deep in her heart. Even if she was in unbearable pain, she could talk and laugh with people as carefree as before.
After more than half an hour of fighting, Bo Zhou won with a slight advantage of one move.
Dinner was ready, and Mother San called them to dinner. Father still wanted to play, but had to reluctantly leave the table.
Mother constantly urged Bo Zhou to eat more, persuading him to take an extra portion of rice.
After dinner, Bo Zhou helped clean up. When she was done, Mother San was still fussing about picking up food for her to eat.
«You like crabs. I packed some live crabs for you, take them and steam them for yourself tomorrow and the day after. And also this tea, it takes a long time to brew. Here's another little jar of pickled vegetables. Don't you like steamed rice in the morning? This goes very well with it.»
Bo Zhou followed her and didn't refuse anything, only thanked her.
Mama San finished packing and stopped, looking at Bo Zhou with a slight smile.
«Bo Zhou, I've prepared everything for the memorial ceremony for tomorrow's third anniversary. You don't have to worry.»