Chapter 34 Hometown

Chapter 34 Hometown

When he was twenty, Xie Chong wanted to be a backpacker, dreaming of making Mongolia the first stop on his backpacking trip. The day before departure, Qian Song got into a car accident and suffered a concussion, so the trip was called off.

He never got to be a backpacker, and he never made it to Ulaanbaatar either. Later, he visited countless places, and Mongolia slipped his mind.

That day, he got that backpacker feeling again.

They drove to the herding area in Mou Dechang's car.

Mou Dechang put it this way: "Your car is nice and big, but my little car is at home on the grasslands. If you happen to drive badly and scrape the chassis, it'll cost a fortune to fix."

Xie Chong took him up on the offer.

Their car was loaded with lots of booze, cigarettes, fruit, vegetables, and snacks. Mou Wen was in the back seat, munching away the whole time.

Off in the distance, they spotted smoke.

Mou Dechang introduced it to Xie Chong: "That's the herding area over there. Herding areas like this are rare nowadays; most people have settled in herder settlements. Fewer and fewer herders are willing to set up yurts and move with the water and grass." He sighed and went on, "Old herders can't bear to leave the grasslands, but young folks want stability."

Mou Wen had always had complicated feelings about the grasslands since she was a kid.

She loved visiting the grasslands—there were so many horses, cattle, sheep, and camels, and she had something to do every single day. What the adults did for a living was just a game to her. She loved tending sheep, milking cows, and leading camels to water. To her, it was all just playing house. But if she stayed on the grasslands for more than three days, she would get sick—she couldn't get enough fruits and vegetables, her lips would chap and peel, and she'd get nosebleeds. That's when she'd start to get homesick.

The smoke got closer, and yurts came into view.

They stood out against the sky, ringed by big fences. It was daytime, so the sheep pen was empty. Wait, no—three little lambs were tied to the fence with red ropes around their necks, bleating away.

A group of people stood in a neat row.

Xie Chong asked Mou Dechang: "What's the name of the first dark-skinned uncle? What's the name of the second auntie with the dimple on her left cheek?..." He was worried he'd forget and offend someone. But Mou Dechang laughed and said, "Call them whatever you want—after a night of heavy drinking, everyone's names get all mixed up anyway."

Mou Wen had already run off to cuddle the little lambs.

She wrapped her arms around a lamb's neck, bleating along with them, and untied them from the fence. The moment the rope loosened, the lamb thought it was free—the one that was white as a cloud wobbled off unsteadily.

Mou Wen ran after it, leaving the long welcome ceremony behind.

It was sure to involve singing, dancing, offering ceremonial scarves (hada), then pulling people into the yurt for milk tea, fried millet, and dried beef while chatting.

When Mou Wen came back carrying the lamb, Xie Chong had already had his first drink.

"The sun hasn't even set yet," Mou Wen said. "Drink later—have him come cook mutton with me."

They cooked the mutton by setting up a stove out in the open, between sky and earth. They filled a pot with water, threw in the cut-up mutton, and let it boil. They had to keep feeding the fire, and it crackled and popped—it was a blast.

Xie Chong could barely understand what the herders were saying. He sat on a small stool and complained to Mou Wen: "It's all Inner Mongolia, so why do people talk differently in different areas? I can understand folks in Yakeshi, but here I can't make out a word."

"Then you'd better stick close to me. I'm your little translator." Mou Wen stood up and said with her nose in the air: "Come on, little sidekick, let's go get water from the creek."

"You can't speak it either—you can only spit out a few words here and there." Xie Chong ruthlessly called her bluff.

"I can understand it. Can you?"

"No."

The two of them bickered as they got ready to haul water.

Mou Wen found a little cart and started pushing it.

He meant to help—to get her to let go so he could push. But the cart wouldn't cooperate and started going its own way. Xie Chong pushed the trailer recklessly across the grassland, watching them get farther and farther from the stream, while Mou Wen followed behind him, laughing so hard her stomach hurt.

When they finally made it to the stream, Xie Chong was blown away by the view.

There was an old tree by the creek with a massive canopy, branches spreading out and drooping almost to the ground, like a giant mushroom.

Xie Chong squatted by the creek to wash his hands, took a sip of the water—it was sweet and fresh. He filled the buckets, strapped them onto the cart, and was about to push off when he heard Mou Wen making fun of him again.

"If word got out that Young Master Xie can't push a cart, wouldn't everyone laugh at you?" Mou Wen said, imitating him: "Oh my, it's grown legs!"

She'd found a headscarf from somewhere and tied it around her head, her face sunburned red, looking just like a herder girl.

Xie Chong got flustered by her teasing, tossed the cart aside—the two buckets tumbled off, spilling water everywhere—and he didn't give a damn. He took off after Mou Wen.

Mou Wen let out a shriek and ran.

This time Xie Chong didn't hold back. Within seconds he caught her wrist, yanked her back, and wrapped his arm around her waist. Stubborn as she was, Mou Wen pushed against him, and they both tumbled into the grass.

The tall grass swallowed them up.

Xie Chong pressed Mou Wen down into the soft grass.

They were both panting hard, and a blade of grass pricked Mou Wen's leg, making her squirm.

"Don't move," Xie Chong murmured.

Sunlight filtered through the dense tall grass, and the wind made the light dance across Mou Wen's face. Xie Chong pulled a wet wipe from his pants pocket, braced his arms on either side of her head, and started wiping his hands.

Mou Wen let out a soft hum, tilted her face up, and kissed him. As her face fell back, Xie Chong leaned in after her.

He kissed her like he was out of his mind.

This kiss was nothing like any kiss he'd ever given her.

Light and shadow danced across her smooth legs, and grass blades kept brushing her ankles—it was so ticklish. She shifted outward to dodge, which gave his hand room to move.

Mou Wen looked up at the clouds—they seemed to be sinking lower and lower. The clouds were about to come down, about to land right on her.

"Xie Chong, Xie Chong, Xie Chong." She kept saying his name.

"I'm here." Xie Chong kept watching the light and shadow play across her face. Her head was slowly shaking—whether from the light or in refusal—as she mumbled his name.

She was terrified someone might walk by, yet she craved this fleeting moment in the world, just the two of them. Just them.

"Someone might see us." Mou Wen was so nervous she looked about to cry.

"There's no one. Absolutely no one," Xie Chong said. He pulled her up to sit and made her see for herself: "No one..."

They were under that old tree, with tall grass all around. She held onto his shoulders, letting his arm around her tighten and loosen in turns.

"Mou Wen, you're too tense." Xie Chong pressed his lips to hers and said, "Are you trying to bite me to death? Huh? Trying to bite me to death?"

"I'm not." Mou Wen was so nervous she sounded on the verge of tears: "I'm not."

"You are." Xie Chong loosened his arm and made her look down: "You are. See for yourself."

Mou Wen didn't know if this was how all humans were. She felt herself shrinking from nervousness, almost too small to take him in. But her pleasure came fast—in an instant, the world was spinning.

She held him tight, tilted her head up to see sunlight falling through the leaves, saw clouds pressing down on the canopy, and her whole body turned red.

"You haven't even..." Mou Wen said.

"It's fine. I'll push the cart a bit more and then head back down." Xie Chong started to stand up, but Mou Wen grabbed him and pushed him down onto the grass.

Xie Chong felt the weight of the clouds above him—how could clouds, so soft and fluffy, leave him breathless?

Storm clouds were rolling in.

Rain on the grassland came suddenly.

The dark clouds rolled toward them from the distance. They went to fetch water again, and this time Mou Wen pushed the cart on the way back.

"Are your hands sore?" Xie Chong asked.

Mou Wen shot him a look. "Stay away from me."

Xie Chong was in a good mood and hummed a little tune. A drop of rain landed on his face, and he said, "Uh-oh, it's raining."

Then two drops, three drops, and more and more raindrops fell on their faces. Mou Wen screamed, "Run!" and took off running, pushing the cart.

How could they outrun rain on the grassland?

The rain seemed to chase after them on purpose.

In no time, they were both soaked to the bone.

They ran and laughed, shouting, "The grassland rain is out to get us!"

"It's gonna eat Xie Chong!"

"It's gonna eat Mou Wen!"

What a thrill it was to get soaked!

Even if they stumbled across the uneven grass, mud clinging to their shoes, even if by the time they ran back to the yurt, the buckets that had been full were now only half full.

Mou Dechang tsk-tsked at the buckets and said, "If I'd known it would rain, we could've just caught the rainwater directly." They set the buckets outside again, letting the rain fill them up, while they stood at the yurt's entrance watching the rain pour down.

Only then did they realize how thin the earlier clouds had been, because pitch-black clouds were rolling in from the horizon. They moved slower, but wherever they went, they devoured the last light, plunging the world into darkness.

The dark world was slowly swallowing the pasture, and finally closing in on them.

The sheep made it back just before the downpour.

Mou Wen hurried to open the gate of the sheep pen and stood at the entrance, with Xie Chong beside her, standing ready to help. But he had no idea what she was about to do.

She wore a large raincoat, while Xie Chong was wearing a raincoat and carrying a big umbrella. But at that moment, the umbrella was the most useless thing ever. A gust of wind nearly knocked him over. Mou Wen wiped the rain from her face and teased him, "You're gonna fly away~"

Xie Chong remembered the time they stood on the overpass watching the rain—now it felt like a role reversal.

Mou Wen told Xie Chong to get out of the way and not block the lambs' path. The lambs bleated as they rushed into the pen. Mou Wen quickly patted each lamb's head or backside, counting aloud, "One, two, three..."

Lambs patted on the head ran even faster than before, shaking their tails as they dashed to the back of the pen. The counted lambs soon huddled into a big cluster, bleating like they were complaining about the rain.

Others were also busy getting ready for the storm.

"Is it gonna rain all day and night?" Xie Chong pointed at the pot they'd used for stewing meat and shouted, "Oh no, the fire went out."

Mou Wen totally ignored him.

She only had eyes for the lambs.

Her hand patted their heads or backsides as if casting a spell on them. The lambs stared at her with round, clear eyes, as if she was their savior.

If she weren't in Beijing, Mou Wen would have a pretty good life too. At least here, in the grassland Xie Chong knew nothing about, she was the leader of the flock.

Her face was soaked, and the rain was coming down harder. She told Xie Chong to go back to the yurt first, but he refused, saying that if the wind carried her off, he'd be there to pull her back.

They shouted a couple of things at each other over the rain.

The lambs were all counted—not a single one was missing. Then the shepherd dog came striding over to them majestically, startling Xie Chong. A dog that still looked enormous even when soaked, staring right at him.

Mou Wen ordered Xie Chong, "Hurry, praise it! It brought the lambs home again—you have to praise it."

Xie Chong quickly praised it, "You're amazing!" The dog, happy with the praise, wagged its tail and trotted off.

Mou Wen pulled Xie Chong into the pen to check on the water and food.

It was Xie Chong's first time in a sheep pen during rain, and the smell was indescribable. He pursed his lips, wanting to gag, but Mou Wen snapped at him, "Choke it back down!"

Xie Chong forced himself to tough it out.

Because the frightened lambs needed his comfort, he forgot about feeling sick, patting one and murmuring a few words, then patting another and murmuring more. He didn't seem as aloof as usual—he became gentle and talkative.

So much so that Mou Wen kept rolling her eyes, telling him to hurry up so they could go talk.

In weather like this, everything came to a halt.

Everyone sat in a circle inside the yurt, with plates and bowls spread out in the middle. Xie Chong spotted the milk tablets, grabbed a few, popped one in his mouth, and stuffed the rest in his pocket.

The rain drummed on the yurt above them, and he felt like the rain had never been so close. The temperature plummeted, and they lit a fire in a brazier. Everyone who'd been soaked gathered around the fire, getting nice and toasty.

Mou Wen nudged him with her elbow, telling him to stop zoning out.

"They're asking you how old you are," Mou Wen said.

"I'm... 27," Xie Chong answered honestly.

"What do your parents do for a living?" Mou Wen asked again.

"They run a business," Xie Chong replied.

Everyone had questions, and Mou Wen relayed them all to him, and he answered them. They practically dug up Xie Chong's whole family tree. Mou Wen enjoyed it too—it was entertaining.

Outside, the pot they'd just set up was already boiling under a small wooden shelter. The grassland folks were really smart—despite the strong wind, their stove's fire was blazing.

An old woman was cutting up beef nearby.

The beef wasn't like what you'd get in the city. Xie Chong couldn't help but try a piece: tender and full of flavor.

Finally, dinner was served.

Outside was pitch black; the clouds refused to budge, hanging over the grassland. But inside the yurt, things were getting lively. A dozen people poured themselves baijiu. An elder asked Xie Chong how much he could handle. Xie Chong quickly shook his head and said, "I can only handle about two ounces of baijiu."

What a liar. Mou Wen thought to herself. But she didn't call him on it. She remembered that Xie Chong was "alone" here, and she was his only support, so she took extra care of him. When Xie Chong wanted a bite of cucumber, Mou Wen picked it up for him the moment his eyes wandered; when he wanted a sip of water, Mou Wen eagerly handed him the cup.

The elders teased them for being so sweet on each other. Xie Chong didn't get it, and Mou Wen snorted, "So what if we are?"

Every sip of alcohol seemed to be pure torture for Xie Chong.

He dodged the drinks in every way imaginable, an uncle chasing him with a cup, and everyone burst into laughter.

Later in the evening, Xie Chong asked Mou Wen, "You up for more drinking tomorrow?"

Mou Wen said, "No, we're heading back to Yakeshi tomorrow evening."

"Alright then."

The others were already pickled in booze, their speech slurring, and strange Mongolian phrases floating around the yurt, which Xie Chong couldn't understand. But he was persistent, picking up a bottle and a cup to go on the attack.

He zeroed in on the ones whose eyes were glazed over and about to collapse at the table, going up to toast them. He was super polite when toasting: "If you can't drink anymore, no need to force it. It's fine—I'll finish mine, you do as you please."

How could those straightforward, honest herders say no to that? Even if they couldn't handle it, they had to drink anyway, and after that last cup, they'd keel over backward.

Mou Dechang gave a thumbs up and whispered to Mou Wen, "His tolerance is no joke—has he seriously never been drunk? Could he be a hired drinker?" Mou Dechang had heard that in big cities, there were men who accompanied others in drinking and could earn a good sum each time. With that kind of tolerance, Xie Chong could totally cash in, right?

Mou Wen answered earnestly, "I really don't know how good his tolerance is; he does get drunk sometimes." But watching Xie Chong now—after all that booze, still steady on his feet—had this sly old fox been faking being drunk around her all along?

Xie Chong became a legend across the pasture.

He was the only outsider—a son-in-law, no less—who could drink a whole group of herders under the table. Before they toppled over in a heap, they all told him, "Drink again, next time we'll drink again."

Xie Chong flopped down too: "Can't drink anymore, can't drink anymore."

Mou Wen helped him back to their "room"—the little yurt.

The relatives had set up a small yurt for them, but they had to brave the heavy rain and walk about thirty meters to get there. They put on raincoats, held hands, and made their way "home."

Xie Chong deliberately stomped in puddles, and Mou Wen jumped right in, splashing everywhere—no one was getting out dry.

Once inside the yurt, Xie Chong started being a total baby.

His voice was all slurred and mushy: "Wife, wife, I feel awful."

He said "wife" in a voice that sounded stuck in his nose, all raspy, making her heart skip a beat.

"Wife, I want some water."

Mou Wen brought him water, and he took the chance to hug her. His head rested on her lap, his face nuzzling against her: "Wife, love you."

That "love you" was so soft it was barely audible. Mou Wen's hairs stood on end, and she cupped his face with her hands, making him open his eyes to look at her: "Say that again, what did you just say? I didn't hear it."

Xie Chong's gaze began to blur, and he mumbled, "Wife, love you." Then he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

He had drunk far too much.

Before coming, he'd done his homework, knowing that people in the pastoral areas liked to befriend those who could hold their liquor and enjoyed lively drinking sessions. Mou Wen's father didn't drink, so Xie Chong fought alone, using every trick in the book, and became the last one to fall at that table.

Is your tolerance good or not?

Mou Wen pinched his face and said, "You're like a big fool. Can't you just pretend to be drunk?"

Xie Chong thought to himself: Sure.

His arms tightened around Mou Wen, and he fell into a deep sleep.