Mute Words

“Long time no see.”

Mo Chuan took off his felt hat, lowered his eyelashes, and gave me a slight nod. In an instant, the very faint emotion on his face was well hidden, and a modest smile even appeared at the corner of his lips, as if he was genuinely happy to see us again after a long time.

Yan Chuwen said, “Baiyin has just arrived today. I’ll show him around, and you go about your business. Don’t worry about us.”

Yan Chuwen and Mo Chuan were in the same class at the university and even shared the same dormitory. They had always been close. Later, Yan Chuwen decided to quit his job and pursue his doctorate, and he followed Professor Ge here. He has been living here for several years now, and his interactions with this Oracle of Cenglu have become even closer.

To be honest, if I wasn’t convinced that Yan Chuwen was single-minded in his pursuit of academics and had no time for romance, and that Mo Chuan would never fall for a man, I would suspect that these two were getting together behind my back.

“That won’t do,” Mo Chuan rejected Yan Chuwen’s proposal without hesitation, speaking gently, “A guest is a guest from afar. Baiyin is a guest, and so are you. It would be rude to ask a guest to help the host entertain other guests.” He turned and shouted into the temple. Soon, a Cenglu boy came out of the temple at a fast pace.

Mo Chuan waved him over, “The Winter Harvest Festival is soon approaching, and many clan members have come to Pengge. Luckily, there is Li Yang. He grew up here since he was a child, and besides me, he is the person who knows this temple best.”

The boy had the typical appearance of a member of the Cenglu tribe: a high nose, deep-set eyes, a dark tan, and the appearance of being about six or seven years old. There was even some baby fat on his face.

After the new Oracle of the Cenglu Tribe took office, he would begin the process of selecting his adopted son, or disciple, from among the tribe’s children under the age of three. The names of all the children would be written on slips of paper and thrown into a silver pot. The oracle would then follow the ritual procedures and, by the will of heaven, select the next oracle who would meet the requirements of the Mountain God.

Although I have never seen him before, I think this child must be Mo Chuan’s adopted son.

The other party looked at me curiously, and then turned his attention to Yan Chuwen. He obediently said, “Hello, Teacher Yan.

His Xia dialect was much more awkward than Mo Chuan’s, but I could still understand it.

Mo Chuan lowered his head and explained to the boy, “This is a friend of Teacher Yan’s. He just arrived in Pengge today and wants to explore the temples. I can’t leave, so please entertain them for me.”

When I heard Mo Chuan’s words, I almost burst out laughing. The classic line from the movie went through my head – he didn’t even want to call me “Godfather”.

We had eaten together, taken classes together, and stayed in the same tent, but in the end, he wouldn’t even call me “friend.

“Okay, I’ll show you around,” Li Yang nodded solemnly, as if he was giving Mo Chuan an important task.

Mo Chuan patted his head and then said apologetically to Yan Chuwen, ‘Then I’ll excuse myself.

From beginning to end, he only focused his attention on Yan Chuwen, not even giving me a second glance.

“It’s okay. We can meet again when you’re free.” Yan Chuwen didn’t notice anything unusual at all, and waved his hand, telling Li Yang to lead the way.

When we said goodbye, Mo Chuan and I, as if we had agreed in advance, tacitly left out the part about being polite, and without saying goodbye, we both walked in opposite directions at the same time.

After taking a few steps, I couldn’t help but turn around and take a look, only to see Mo Chuan’s snow-white back getting further and further away from me.

A string of beeswax and green jade, draped down to his knees, swayed gently from side to side as he walked, accentuating the contours of his butterfly bones that were faintly visible under his clothes.

What a beautiful back…

Perhaps he sensed someone watching him, for the figure in the distance suddenly stopped. I quickly averted my eyes for a second before he turned to look back, and walked a few steps quickly to catch up with Yan Chuwen and the others.

The entire temple is not large, and aside from the main hall, there is a two-story wooden building in the back. The first floor houses portraits of the successive oracles, and the second floor is where Li Yang and Mo Chuan’s nephew live.

The Oracle of the Cenglu tribe, like Buddhist monks and nuns, once chosen, must leave their bloodline family and renounce worldly desires, living a life of purity and asceticism in the temple for the rest of their lives.

This is the holy place of the entire Cuoyan Song, the most sacred place in the hearts of the Cenglu people. In theory, only the Oracle and his disciples are allowed to live here. But Mo Chuan, against the will of the majority, insisted that his nephew also live here.

As a result, the village elders almost fought with him. But the village secretary of Pengge, afraid that something might go wrong, asked the county magistrate to mediate. After a lot of hard work, they came up with a plan that satisfied everyone – they could live there, but only until they turned 18.

Of course, Li Yang didn’t want to tell us these things. After all, he was just a little kid who couldn’t even walk steady. I know so much about this because Yan Chuwen broadcast it live back then.

If Yan Chuwen, who doesn’t like to gossip, was so nosy, it must have been a pretty lively time.

By my reckoning, the boy must be 16 this year. It seems that he is still half Xia people.

“Why is there only one of you and another one?” I’ve always wanted to see what the boy looks like. They say that nephews look like their uncles, so I wonder how much he looks like Mo Chuan.

“Cha-gu? Li Yang tilted his head innocently and said, “He goes to school in the city, far away, so he can only come back during winter and summer vacations. I live a little closer, but it takes me two hours to walk there, so I usually live at the school and come back on weekends.

“Cha-gu…” I searched my mind and quickly found the Chinese equivalent of the word, ‘Eagle?

Li Yang was surprised, ‘You speak Cenglu?’

Even Yan Chuwen was shocked, “When did you learn to speak Cenglu?”

When?

I’ve only been learning Cenglu intermittently for the past seven years, and I’m still stumbling over the language, but I’m not going to let Yan Chuwen know that, so as to avoid him guessing.

“I just happen to know this word.” I gave him another example in case he didn’t believe me: “I also know how to say ‘hello’ in French, but does that mean I can speak French?”

Yan Chuwen didn’t suspect a thing: “It surprised me. I thought you’d secretly gone and learned Cenglu.”

Li Yang nodded and said, “That’s right, it’s Eagle. There’s also a Salar name for eagle called ‘he nan yuan,’ which also means ‘eagle,’ the eagle of Shannan.

Shannan is located in the southwest and has a vast area. It is one of the provinces in China with the most ethnic groups. Cuoyan Song, where the Cenglu tribe has lived for generations, is just one of the eight autonomous prefectures under its jurisdiction.

The Eagle of Shannan. The name is neither too big nor too small, just right.

Not far from the small building is a row of cement-block houses built along the wall. They look like they were built recently. Li Yang said that’s where they wash and cook.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Yan Chuwen said as he confidently walked toward the brick house.

Li Yang and I waited in the same place. To ease the awkwardness, I started a random conversation.

“What is this place?”

In the northwest corner of the temple, there is a huge cypress tree. Passing through this huge tree that blocks out the sky, in the farthest corner of the temple, there is a small wooden house that looks old and dilapidated.

Li Yang looked at it and said, “That’s the wood shed where they stack firewood.

“Oh, isn’t it for holding people?”

“Holding people?” Li Yang frowned in confusion.

I saw that his expression didn’t seem fake, and I assumed that he had never been held before, so I changed the subject: “Is Mo Chuan usually strict with you?

“Mo…” Li Yang sensed that something was wrong after repeating just one word, quickly shut his mouth and glared at me, “You have to call him ‘Pinjia’.

“Is it so important whether he’s Mo Chuan or Pinjia?” I laughed. ‘Before he became an Oracle, I always called him Mo Chuan.’

Li Yang’s lips turned down, his face full of seriousness: “It is important.

The look in his eyes was like if I called him Mo Chuan again, he would jump on me and bite me.

I didn’t want to argue with him, so I could only compromise: “Fine, fine, Pinjia, Pinjia.”

His face brightened slightly, but he didn’t really want to talk to me, and as for my question… he completely ignored it.

After a moment of waiting, Yan Chuwen came out of the bathroom, wiping his rimless glasses. His near-sighted eyes didn’t even notice the stiff expression on the boy’s face.

“Let’s go, it’s almost time to finish the tour of the main hall, and it’s almost time to go back for dinner,” he said, putting on his glasses.

On the way from the small building to the main hall, there were many potted plants neatly arranged along the exposed wall, each one growing like a scallion. Li Yang said that they were orchids from Mo Chuan that were put outside to get some sun on a nice day, but had to be brought back in when the weather turned bad. They were very delicate.

We returned to the main hall and found Mo Chuan and the worshippers praying again at the entrance. The old woman was full of wind and frost, and I don’t know where she came from. She was so excited to see Mo Chuan that she couldn’t help herself, her hands clutching the hem of her clothes tightly and tears glistening in her eyes.

It was as if as long as she saw Mo Chuan, the gods would definitely be able to hear her wishes.

Li Yang made a gesture to silence us and led us past her into the hall.

As soon as I stepped through the door, I felt the light inside dimming. After my eyes slowly adjusted, I saw a huge statue of a deer-headed human figure standing in front of me.

The statue is about ten feet tall, fully gilded, and half reclining. The left hand hangs to the side, hidden in the heavy sleeve, and the right hand rests naturally on the knee. The bare chest and right wrist are adorned with magnificent necklaces and bracelets.

A ray of sunlight fell through the skylight in the roof and reflected off the butter lamp on the altar, making the golden statue of the Deer God even more dazzling.

I looked at him and he looked at me. It was clear that He was lifeless, but it was as if I saw pity and compassion in His eyes.

This is…the god of the Cenglu tribe, the mountain god of Canglan snow mountain. He is also Mo Chuan’s wife, husband, and master.

“The Pinjia will stay here for daily practice, receive guests, and eat here. There is also a small room next to it where he rests at night. If there’s nothing special there, I won’t show you.” Once inside the hall, Li Yang lowered his voice and became cautious without realizing it.

Although I don’t believe in ghosts and gods, I have read many religious books since I was a child because of Jiang Xuehan. Among the Dunhuang Mural Paintings is a painting called “The Life Story of the Deer King,” which tells the story of the nine-colored deer who is ungrateful to humans. I don’t know if this is the same deer as Cenglu’s.

After a long time, I took my eyes off it and looked around. I saw that there was a low table next to the statue of Buddha with the four treasures of the study on it. There was a piece of white Xuan paper in the middle, so I went over to look at it.

On the white Xuan paper was a beautiful piece of small regular script, with a strong and healthy pen, elegant and graceful characters, and a natural composition. It seemed to be a passage from the Diamond Sutra.

I wanted to take a closer look, but a thin, pale hand appeared in front of me, pinched the thin piece of rice paper, and folded it twice before slipping it between the scriptures.

“What are you looking at?” Mo Chuan had entered without my noticing, still looking as holy and untouched by the world as ever, but the smile on his lips was gone and his eyes were dark and somber.

Not far away, Yan Chuwen was whispering something to Li Yang, and neither of them paid any attention.

I really wanted to beat a gong and drum to get their attention, to show them how their Snow Mountain God’s Son could change between two faces at will.

“I’m sorry,” I said apologetically, shrugging my shoulders, “I didn’t realize your privacy would be in such a place where people come and go.”

He had no intention of arguing with me further, and after glancing at Li Yang and the others, he said, “Are you done looking around?”

I smiled and said, “I’m done looking around except for your fragrant chamber.”

He looked outside the temple: “If you’re finished, go home early. The steps down the mountain are crowded and steep, and it’s getting dark, so it’s not easy to walk.”

That was a clear order to leave.

I understood, so I didn’t waste any more time and called Yan Chuwen directly, urging him to hurry up and go.

Yan Chuwen looked like he still had some unanswered questions, but I was pushing him so hard that he had no choice but to hurry up and catch up.

“What’s wrong?” After more than 20 years of brotherhood, he could tell from my face that something was wrong, even if he was slow. Were you arguing with Mo Chuan again?

We had already walked some distance from the temple, and when I saw that no one was around, I just stopped and took a deep breath. As soon as the cold air entered my lungs, I shivered and the anger in my heart immediately subsided.

“He only discriminates against homosexuals,” I muttered, burying the lower half of my face in my scarf. “Feudal dregs.”

Yan Chuwen helplessly shook his head: “He is the first in his family to go to school and university. Before him, the Oracle of Cenglu had been stuck in Cuoyan Song for generations, and he had never even flown on an airplane. His conservative upbringing, coupled with the fact that he has practiced Buddhism since childhood, is the reason he can speak to you calmly. Do you still want him to bless you?

I remember Yan Chuwen telling me that the Cenglu tribe was very backward in the past, even more so than now. The children learned only Cenglu culture, and very few of them could speak the Xia language. Mo Chuan went to school because his grandfather was persuaded by the poverty alleviation officials at the time.

I glanced at Yan Chuwen, put my hands in my pockets, and slowly walked down the steps, correcting him: “He didn’t graduate. He didn’t graduate from college, and now he only has a high school diploma.

Yan Chuwen was taken aback, then he smiled and said to me, “He spends most of his time at the temple. If you don’t want to run into him, don’t come here.

I nodded without saying anything, but I couldn’t help but remember my first encounter with Mo Chuan in college.