Deaf-mute play (Be)
My name is Zhou Yin, and I am a disciple of the Nine Schools of Thought. This is my third year in Khitan. My roommate is a mute, but that's alright, since I'm deaf too.
However, one night when he got up in the middle of the night, he heard the mute man talking to a horse as he returned to his room from the latrine.
The mute man was named Amur, which means "peace" in the Khitan language, and it suited him quite well—at least that's what I used to think.
But that night, Amur was speaking in a somewhat familiar tone to a horse I had never seen in the yard before.
His accent was exactly the same as the God of Wealth figures wearing fur coats at the entrance of Chunshui Pavilion.
I suddenly realized—it was a case of a fake deaf person encountering a fake mute, an undercover agent from Kaifeng meeting an undercover agent from the snowy mountains of Northeast China.
Before this night, his name was Amur; after this night, his name was Chen Zhi.
Although we lived under the same roof for three years, we never truly communicated with each other.
The secret that was suddenly revealed pierced Zhou Yin and Chen Zhi's feigned silence like a dagger, and I began to pay attention to this roommate who seemed to have sprung up overnight.
Oh, so he does exist.
Two Han Chinese in the enemy camp, even though they belonged to different sects, began to open their hearts to each other a little because of their shared goal and similar circumstances.
Because we know that in the vast Khitan country, the only person we can see and recognize is this person next to us, and we are all waiting for the day we can go home.
A person pretending to be deaf and another pretending to be mute begin to communicate using their voices.
Chen Zhiren was very enthusiastic, but compared to the others in Tianquan, he was actually a bit more reserved.
My impression of the Tianquan Sect, besides their unique accent, is that they all have very loud voices.
However, in Khitan, the blowing sand blocked Chen Zhi's voice, and I could only listen to him softly tell me about the snow-capped mountains of his hometown in his dialect in the middle of the night, in a small room, under the dim candlelight.
I mimicked Chen Zhi's tone, speaking in broken Northeastern dialect, and asked him if he had ever been to Kaifeng. He said no, but a fellow student who had returned from Kaifeng had described its prosperity to him.
"Do you want to go?" I asked. He hesitated for a long time before saying he wanted to try Kaifeng cuisine.
It's a pity I can't cook.
After I finished asking my question, he asked me, "Do you want to see the snow? The snow where I live is huge, taller than a person. In winter, you have to knock a hole in the roof to climb out—because the doorway is blocked by snow."
He talks so much.
I lay on the edge of the bed listening to him ramble on and on.
We're all adults, why is he still so homesick?
Well, there's no rule in society that says adults can't miss home.
He was still talking, his voice gradually fading, like locust leaves falling to the ground—he wanted to eat locust leaf noodles.
You know, people are so strange. I used to pass by Mr. Zhang's noodle shop in Kaifeng and I couldn't be bothered to go in. Locust leaf noodles, you can get them anywhere!
Now, it's a mess; we want to eat it, but we can't.
Chen Zhi suddenly remembered something, interrupting my reverie.
"If you're pretending to be deaf, then you heard the sound of my footsteps hitting the wooden planks when I got up to get a drink of water in the middle of the night?"
I paused, completely taken aback that he would "bring up old grievances".
"I heard you."
"Then why didn't you react?"
"I thought you didn't want people to know you weren't asleep." I smiled. "Just like I didn't want to either."
For the first time, we laughed at the same time in front of each other.
It turns out that in this small room, we had already heard each other's most authentic voices—those sounds of life itself that cannot be faked.
Silence descended once more, but this time it was a gentle silence, like the snow in his hometown, softly covering the three-year distance between us.
＊
Chen Zhi and I are two almost completely opposite people.
I have a strong palate and love oily and spicy food, while he prefers milder flavors and can't handle spicy food at all.
I hate coriander, scallions, and ginger, but Chen Zhi really likes them.
But we also have things in common. For example, we both hate the writing style of a certain type of popular storybook, so much so that we'd pool our money to buy a copy, then spend the night huddled in bed complaining about it line by line, and we never tire of it.
Chen Zhi was also somewhat stubborn.
Sometimes I would tell him newly acquired storybooks, but he would interrupt me before I finished, saying, "Judging from what you've told me, I think the author of this story..."
He started scrutinizing what I said, pointing out how illogical it was, which annoyed me a bit—did you even consider my feelings?
So the two of them started arguing, both holding their anger in, but they didn't really have a big fight. If it happened at noon, they would still be holding their opinions until they lay down for their lunch break, each with their own pent-up anger, as if they would never speak to each other again.
However, this temper lasted until evening. I went out to work for someone, and before I left, Chen Zhi asked me if I wanted to eat persimmons.
"……eat."
When I returned exhausted from my employer's house, there were several round and pleasing persimmons on the table, like lanterns from Fanlou.
The two also bumped into each other at the market on several occasions.
Since we've met, let's go together. But then we started arguing when we were buying food.
As we all know, deaf and mute people cannot speak, so when we argued in the street, we just quickly made hand gestures, which became a highlight of the crowd.
There are countless examples like this, but if you ask me to tell you, all I can say is that Chen Zhi asked me if I wanted something to eat when I got home or when I woke up the next day.
It seems that the distance between people is gradually shortened through constant arguments, reconciliations, joys, and anger.
I am quite certain that I have found a kindred spirit, even though we have so many differences.
Strengths or weaknesses, these characteristics ultimately shaped Zhou Yin and Chen Zhi, leading to their meeting. For two "spies" to receive such treatment in a foreign land was a stroke of good fortune amidst misfortune.
＊
I'm a strange person; I always think about giving nicknames to people I know, as if that would allow me to swagger around in that person's territory.
For example, when I was still in Kaifeng, I named a junior sister in the paper lantern workshop "Zhou Zhou". Although I also have the surname Zhou, I don't allow others to call me that. Over time, everyone started calling her "Zhou Zhou". Another example is a senior brother in the straw sandal workshop. I always call him "Abei", but his real name has nothing to do with "Bei" and even contains the character "Nan". I just wanted to call him that, so I did. Others heard me call him that and followed suit. From then on, Senior Brother Abei lost his real name.
Actually, I felt quite proud when others called me by that nickname that I was the first to use.
However, I couldn't be so smug after arriving in Khitan.
Because I'm deaf, and given my undercover identity, how am I supposed to get acquainted with outsiders? Everyone here is a Khitan!
Of course I know that there are good and bad Khitans, but I don't allow myself to have too much contact with them.
After three years of feeling stifled, I was itching to get back to work, and thankfully I had Chen Zhi to give me some "funny fun".
The neighbors called the "mute" "Amur," and his fellow students called him "Azhi" in their letters. I think I should also give him a different name to distinguish myself from them.
But after racking my brains, I still couldn't come up with anything suitable, so I could only continue to call him "Chen Zhi".
That little-known frustration often haunted me, as if my inability to come up with a special name meant that I wasn't a special person to Chen Zhi.
Until he told me that I was the only person who called him by his full name.
＊
One is mute, the other is deaf; going out alone with one of them always seems like they're asking for trouble, so they often go out together.
The aunt next door saw us going in and out together more and more often, and taking advantage of our "lack of tact," she teased us, saying that Chen Zhi and I were like a couple who held up the family together.
I told my aunt it as a joke, but privately I fantasized about what it would be like if we really got married.
Before this, I had never thought of such a thing, probably because I lacked the ability to imagine. The fragments of my fantasies could only be incorporated into reality, so my idea of "starting a family" was completely devoid of Chen Zhi's figure.
Once this undercover operation is over, we should end our roommate relationship and go our separate ways. He'll go back to Tianquan, and I'll go back to Jiuliumen.
I knew this from the beginning, and I even told myself at the start not to bother with this short-lived relationship.
But Chen Zhi was just too good, so good that I betrayed my original intentions, and later, the thought of parting ways made my heart ache.
...
"like?"
The word popped into my head quite aptly when I saw my employer and his wife at work one day. So I started thinking about it.
I don't know what it means, I only know that I've become very strange these days. Every peaceful night, I want to kiss Chen Zhixiao when he's smiling... or just hold his hand.
Once this thought took root, it spread like a spring vine, impossible to suppress. It made my gaze unconsciously linger on Chen Zhi's lips when I was facing him, only to hastily flee before he noticed.
One snowy night, the snow in Khitan, though not as thick as in his hometown, still blanketed our courtyard. We sat around the small stove, sharing a warm, roasted sweet potato.
This sweet potato is different from the ones I've had before; it's incredibly soft, especially after being thoroughly roasted. Chen Zhi broke it open, and the sweet, juicy filling slid down his fingertips. He subconsciously licked it.
The only sound in the house was the crackling of burning firewood.
As if possessed, I reached out and used my fingertips to wipe the corner of his lips that he hadn't managed to clean.
They were both stunned. Time seemed to freeze at that moment, with only the silent snow falling outside the window proving that the world was still turning.
Chen Zhi looked at me; those eyes, which always held the chill of the Northeast wind and snow, now reflected the flickering firelight and a small, helpless me.
“Zhou Yin,” he whispered my full name, just as I always called him by his full name, “In the Khitan, we were deaf and mute. But now, there are no Khitans here.”
He paused, his voice as soft as falling snow: "So, you can do whatever you want."
And so, on that silent ruin built of lies, I leaned down and, for the first time, kissed my only compatriot.
＊
I've known Chen Zhi for four years, and I deeply regret not discovering his true identity sooner. Otherwise, we could have talked more, and I could have loved him for longer.
There are too many things between us to count.
What impressed me most was probably my group of mice.
Yes, a group of them.
Because the one I brought took a liking to the local rats and they bred a whole bunch of baby mice.
...I was so angry when I found out about this.
Fortunately, I have a silver tongue and managed to persuade the Khitan rat and the rest of their hybrid mice to serve as my "messengers."
Later, Chen Zhi would give the house a thorough cleaning every two or three days.
I was puzzled: "When did you develop obsessive-compulsive disorder related to cleanliness?"
“No,” he said, “but why are there so many mice in the house?”
Me: "..." That's my baby taking a cuddling.
There was a little hiccup in the middle, but Chen Zhi eventually accepted the nest of mice and even praised my mouse for being smart.
I raised my head. "Because I taught them!"
He slapped me on the back and said I was shameless, and that I would definitely be able to keep warm when I went back to Northeast China with him.
"Who wants to go back with you..." I murmured, but secretly I was looking forward to that day.
＊
The deaf man returned home. He bought some food that mice liked and, as usual, called out to the nest of little creatures to come out for a meal, but they wouldn't respond no matter how he called.
"That can't be right," I scratched my head. "Did they run off to play?"
I searched several of their usual haunts but still couldn't find them. However, when I returned home, they were "waiting" for me at the door.
It was crushed, a bloody mess beyond recognition.
...The rats died a horrible death, like wild fruit crushed by a cartwheel, their juices gushing out. I squatted there watching, thinking, "That's it, now even the messenger is gone." Chen Zhi's hand rested on my shoulder, heavy as a clod of earth frozen solid in a Khitan winter. Neither of us spoke; saying anything at this moment would be superfluous.
It finally happened, faster than expected. The grappling hooks and iron nets came crashing down, like catching sparrows. Chen Zhi and I stood back to back; he fired arrows, I swung my sword. His quiver was emptier than my purse, so he ended up fighting me hand-to-hand with his short sword. I knew he was cursing under his breath in the most rustic dialect of Tianquan, but I couldn't hear a word he said.
In the chaos of the fight, I took a blow to the ribs, the pain making me wince. Before I could recover, I glimpsed another dark figure rushing straight for Chen Zhi's neck. I wanted to call out to him, but my throat felt like it was blocked with sand.
"Pfft."
The sound was not loud, like a wet piece of wood being broken.
Chen Zhi leaned back, the knife clattering to the ground. He clutched his neck, blood gushing from between his fingers, not flowing, but gushing. His mouth was open, making a hoarse, bellowing sound, his eyes wide and bloodshot. He tried to breathe, but blood bubbled from the hole in his neck.
My mind went blank for a second, I didn't care about anything else, I just lunged forward and stabbed the bastard who shot the arrow right through me. When I stumbled back to him, trying to help him up, he pushed me away with all his might. Blood was still streaming down his neck, his face was as white as freshly plastered paint, sweat and blood mingling and dripping down his chin. He just stared at me, his eyes so fierce they could devour a person, and with his other hand he picked up the knife that had fallen to the ground, trembling as he held it in front of me.
That stubborn mule.
More blades flashed. My arm, wielding the sword, grew heavier and heavier. Suddenly, it felt like my right side of the head had been struck hard by a hammer, followed by a sharp, piercing pain in my left ear. The sounds of the world seemed to be abruptly cut off by an invisible hand—the sound of the wind, the clash of blades, the barking of those Khitan dogs, and even my own heavy breathing—all vanished.
It's completely peaceful now.
Now look what happened; the one who was pretending to be deaf has become truly deaf. I even feel like laughing a little.
I fell down, blood blurring my vision, and I could only vaguely see Chen Zhi lying not far away. I crawled towards him, blood flowing from somewhere on my body, warm to the touch. Finally, I touched his hand; it was ice cold.
He seemed to be dying; his eyes were glazed over, but he still managed to turn his head to look at me. Blood smeared his chin, and his lips moved, but no sound came out; he just mouthed the shape of his mouth.
[Zhou Yin]
Just two words: my name. Over and over again, until the light in his eyes, like an oil lamp that had run out of oil, dimmed little by little, until it was completely extinguished.
Looking at him, I suddenly felt incredibly tired and utterly meaningless. If I'd known he'd talk so much, I should have poisoned him to make him mute.
I reached out and groped in the sticky pool of blood, finding his equally cold hand. I squeezed my fingers, one by one, between his fingers and held on tightly.
Now, we've finally managed to keep this mute man under control.
We won't be able to have locust leaf noodles, and he won't be able to try Kaifeng cuisine either. The snow was so heavy that we ultimately couldn't go see it together.
＊
They met too early, and they met too late.
They said a lot, but they failed to express the most crucial point.
The deaf man died without ever hearing the mute man say he loved him, and the mute man died without ever being able to say he loved the deaf man.
They lived and died together.
They had never seen each other's faces.
＊
My name is Zhou Yin, and I am a monument.
Two people were buried in the grave.
One was named Chen Zhi, and the other was named Zhou Yin.
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