Chapter 9 Wu Xie’s Story (Part 1)

It happened on a sunny afternoon in a Tibetan-style cafe by the Jiangnan River. At that time, Wu Xie wasn’t a grave robber, but a photographer named Guan Gen. Of course, this was only a disguise to get into some archaeological projects, but he did study photography for a long time.

The name of this cafe was “Kekexili”. The walls were covered with Tibetan-style tapestries and curtains, and inlaid with prayer wheels and several waist-high Vajra pictures. In the corner was a large gold-plated incense burner, which slowly emitted Tibetan incense. Whether it was the sights or smells, this shop had a very strong Tibetan aesthetic.

However, Wu Xie didn’t particularly like it here. Outside the window was the Grand Canal Cultural Park on the banks of the Jiangnan River, where you could see some Han-style wooden buildings with overhanging eaves. Looking out the window at the Han Dynasty eaves in a Tibetan-style cafe made him very uncomfortable, but that may have been because he was engaged in photography and had an almost abnormal desire for style coordination.

But it was obvious that the meeting host didn’t mind this kind of abruptness.

It was a gathering of seven people: two old critics, a publisher, a female writer, Wu Xie, and two journalists, all of whom were local celebrities. The meeting had been set two months ago, mainly to plan a new book about the desert that the female writer was about to begin writing—in this era, the hard work of writing was no longer done privately. Every aspect of the planning process was often started early, beginning at the same time the author started to write. Even her trip to Badan Jilin two months ago to gather research was a hyped-up piece of news at the time.

The meeting started at nine o’clock in the morning and continued on into the afternoon, but Wu Xie actually didn’t know what they were talking about. Publishers, writers, journalists, and photographers were all unreliable people, chatting and going a thousand miles off topic.

He didn’t take part in much of the discussion. First, his work was very simple and those plans had little to do with him, so he could only be regarded as an obligatory observer here. Second, his attention was focused on the woman writer for a long period of time because she was somewhat unusual.

Her name was Lan Ting and she was a freelance writer, or at least that’s what she wrote on her business card to Wu Xie.

Wu Xie was surprised since few writers would get business cards for themselves, but he was quite familiar with the name. In recent years, this name had always appeared in various newspaper articles. It seemed like she wrote mysteries, and was regarded as a rising star. Wu Xie always thought that her name had something to do with the Orchid Pavilion preface(1), so he was very impressed.

Lan Ting was quite beautiful, with long curly hair and a bohemian style of dress. When she looked around, she had a kind of ethereal beauty that was rarely seen, unlike the two unkempt old ghosts at the same table. He knew a lot of writers— whether they were ugly or disabled—but they were all men. It appeared that female and male writers were two completely different things.

She attracted Wu Xie’s attention because she looked a little uncomfortable. The whole table was very relaxed, even laughing from time to time, but she kept quiet and seldom expressed her opinions. Wu Xie found her hands were unconsciously fiddling with her hair.

To master a considerable degree of psychology, a photographer must be able to use language to control a model’s emotions, and doing business in an antique shop also required this ability to sense and observe. According to Wu Xie’s experience, Lan Ting’s little movements were generally due to inner tension and anxiety.

But under such circumstances, what was she worried about? There was no reason to worry about whether the book would be a bestseller or not. Nor was there a reason to be so nervous if she was having an affair with the publisher.

Wu Xie couldn’t help being curious, so he kept watching her, but she didn’t do anything else except for this little move.

Later, Wu Xie was tired. Writers always had some problems and quirks. Nabokov could only write on cards three inches wide and five inches long, and Pope could only write when he put a box of rotten apples beside him. It wasn’t written down anywhere that female writers couldn’t be nervous for no reason. In this way, he was relieved, although her anxiety infected him a little.

The table of people talked all the way from morning to evening, and it was only after dinner that several milestones were achieved. Since it was a relatively mature team, the planning was decided quickly after they discussed it in detail.

By the end of the day, the discussions had turned to general small talk, and without the psychological burden, they also relaxed and began to drift aimlessly. Since there were more people in the café at night, and the atmosphere was gradually lively, Wu Xie’s spirits also rose. At some point, he was dragged into talking about the desert.

Wu Xie said that he liked the desert very much, and had been to several of the major ones in China. At the end of 2007, he experienced traveling in the desert for the first time. At that time, he was mixed up in the Remote Sensing and Aerial Photography Archaeological Center of the National Museum, and had a joint archaeological activity in Alashan Meng, covering the Badan Jilin Desert. It was a particularly interesting trip, and although the desert wasn’t inhabited, it was a photographer’s paradise. The natural atmosphere made it very interesting to put anything there. At that time, the head of the center said, “The desert turns boys into men and women into girls.” Wu Xie said he thought this sentence was wonderful.

At that time, he followed along the entire way and almost ran more than a thousand kilometers back and forth in the sand sea. Most of the time, he stepped out into the sand with one foot deep and the other shallow. He walked back and forth to four or five ancient city ruins and took more than two thousand photos. For more than two months, he heard no noise or desires floating on the wind, and that kind of feeling was like having his whole body washed from top to bottom. It was like every pore was clean.

Of course, this feeling disappeared as soon as he got back to the city. It took him more than two months to purify his body, and only a few hours for it to be polluted again. The city was sure ferocious.

Wu Xie was very happy to talk about this experience and he talked a lot. The party lasted until after seven o’clock in the evening, at which point everyone dispersed. This time, something Wu Xie didn’t expect happened.

At that time, it was decided how to carpool home: the publisher had a BMW 7-Series that could send beautiful writers straight back to the hotel; the two old men and reporters were going to the bar; Wu Xie was a little sleepy after chatting all day, so he went home along the Jiangnan River and let the cold wind blow in his face.

During winter, the days were short and it got dark early. It was still quiet on the Jiangnan River and he quietly took a few steps before suddenly hearing someone calling to him from behind.

“Teacher Guan.”

Looking back, it turned out to be Lan Ting.

“What, your boss’ car break down?” Wu Xie asked, half surprised and half joking.

She smiled helplessly against the wind and shyly said, “No, I don’t want to ride in the car. I want to walk with you for a while, is that ok?”

Lan Ting was quite tall, almost the same height as him, and her long coat under the streetlight looked a little thin and somewhat lovely. Wu Xie looked behind him and saw that the publisher’s BMW had already started to drive away.

If he was his innocent self back in college, Wu Xie would have probably thought he was about to have an affair, but after much experience, he knew that the plot of such a novel was definitely unreliable. He reasoned that she really didn’t want to take a car, and among the several people attending the meeting at that time, he may seem like the most harmless, so she asked to walk with him.

But the following developments proved that Wu Xie’s imagination was still lacking.

“Listening to what you just said, you’ve been in the desert for a long time?” Lan Ting was very energetic as she asked.

Wu Xie nodded: “It was relatively long, two or three months I’d say. Moreover, it’s quite pure out there. We were walking in no-man’s land, not the usual tourist route, so it felt quite worthwhile.”

She hesitated for a moment and said, “The Badan Jilin you mentioned is the place where I collected my research materials. I stayed there for three weeks, so I miss all the things you said. But listening to our tour guide, it can only be considered a small desert.”

Wu Xie sniggered, remembering their panic after a group of people got lost. With forty-seven thousand square kilometers, China’s third largest desert was really too small for a huge sand sea like Taklamakan, but it was large enough for individuals.

She continued, “Have you been to a place called Gutong Jing in Badan Jilin?”

Wu Xie was slightly surprised and didn’t expect that she would even ask about that place.

In Badan Jilin, he had heard people mention that place over and over again. According to the locals, it was a mysterious and unusual place located in the no-man’s land of Badan Jilin. The only explanation he got from the local people was that it was best not to go there, it was different from other places. But no one knew why there was such a saying.

This kind of secrecy wasn’t a mystery, but must have been a custom handed down from ancient times. Generally speaking, these kinds of customs should be respected by archeologists so they didn’t go to Gutong Jing. Besides, what they found during their expedition was enough to support the topic of the next expedition.

Wu Xie shook his head and said with a wry smile: “It’s a shame, but there was no such place in our itinerary at that time. Although some of us wanted to take a look, our guide didn’t want to take us there. I don’t know why.”

“Your guide refused your request?”

“Yes, you know we were walking in no-man’s land. The guide was different from the usual tour guide from the travel agency. He was the leader of the local adventure club, so during our journey, he had the greatest power. When he said that this place couldn’t be visited, we couldn’t refute it.”

Lan Ting took a deep breath, looked at Wu Xie, and then whispered, “You are so lucky to have hired a good guide.”

He looked at her in surprise and heard the implication: “Did you go there?”

She nodded, paused again, stopped, and then looked at Wu Xie: “Teacher Guan, I’ve heard many friends mention you, saying that you’re stable and reliable, and know a lot about photography. There’s one thing I’ve always wanted to ask someone, but I don’t want others to know. This matter is very important to me. Can I trust you?”

Wu Xie was somewhat puzzled as he nodded stupidly: “What’s wrong?”

She hesitated for a moment before saying, “Something strange happened in Gutong Jing.”

<Chapter 8> <Table of Contents><Chapter 10>

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TN Notes:

(1) The Orchid Pavilion Gathering of 353 CE, also known as the Lan Ting Gathering, was a cultural and poetic event during the Six Dynasties era, in China. Wu Xie is referring to the Preface to the poems composed at this Orchid Pavilion.