Ma En stayed with the two elderly people by the fountain for the entire morning; the three of them didn't completely revolve around the topic of "Kaidan" (ghost stories/strange tales). Ma En could vaguely sense the old woman's rejection of "Kaidan" wasn't limited to the strange tales of that apartment building, but rather she didn't like any strange tales at all. On the other hand, although feeling the old woman's resistance towards these stories, the other party still told Ma En many stories she knew, again making one feel she seemed to be faintly anticipating something. The grandpa-generation man also assisted the conversation at the side, occasionally supplementing things the old woman didn't say, making Ma En feel he knew more, yet also feeling he similarly didn't intend to discuss these matters too deeply.
As for how much of the stories told during the conversation was true, how much skirted the edges, and how much was fabricated nonsense, hearsay, it was very difficult to distinguish. Stories passed down by word of mouth always looked like this, hidden in the clouds, revealing only scales and claws (只鱗片爪 - fragments), elusive like a mirage , yet it was precisely this haziness that allowed these stories to endure.
The stories Ma En heard from the two elderly people had similar veins to the stories he heard in his motherland, similarly full of humanistic allegories. Setting aside whether the plots were exciting, they were all fully loaded with the flavor of local customs. From the perspective of customs and traditions, these stories were undoubtedly precious, especially against the background of that mist-like atmosphere, particularly reflecting the differences in culture and ways of thinking between the two countries. Even if these stories, in the mouths of the two elderly people, weren't as brilliant as a storyteller's, they still gave Ma En a sense of fulfillment.
While listening, he gradually stopped considering those more practical things. As he listened, rich associations arose in his mind; he imagined high mountains and vast seas, imagined forests of clustered buildings, imagined the breathing of cement and wood, imagined souls and blood flowing like streams and rivers, imagined in the seasons of dancing cherry blossoms and burning maple leaves, women dressed in kimonos , and children wearing fox masks stepping on the attic floorboards...
Just arriving in Japan for the first time, he was already somewhat infatuated with this place, somewhat familiar, also somewhat strange, filled with the ephemeral beauty of a night-blooming cereus (beauty of transient things), and the beauty of mono no aware (the pathos of things) that evoked long-lasting reverie. It wasn't that he hadn't encountered Japanese literature, nor that he hadn't heard others speak of Japan's characteristics, but all this heard and seen was not as profound, not carrying such deep inner emotion, as what came from the mouths of these two elderly people.
Although Ma En left his motherland and set foot on this unfamiliar land for the reason of "seeking refuge," he felt he had already made psychological preparations; as long as he was in a foreign land, he absolutely wouldn't generate the slightest negative emotion due to implicating others. However, now, he began to feel guilty about his narrow-minded, selfish thoughts. Was bringing potential huge disasters to this country just so as not to implicate his motherland and relatives really the correct choice? The people here were not detestable. Perhaps there were definitely bad people, this could be reflected in the stories, but didn't these same stories also reflect their yearning for beauty and peace?
These people were just "temporary strangers," not "good people" or "bad people," but would become "good people" or "bad people" in the future time.
This wasn't some place with only strangers and bad people, not hell, but merely a distant place. As long as one lived here, sooner or later, emotions would arise.
— Unless, one stopped being human.
A tiny voice, like an illusion, murmured in Ma En's mind. Ma En felt he heard it, yet it also seemed he thought of it himself, but specifically what it was, he forgot at the same time he heard or thought of it. He was somewhat concerned, wanting to figure out the content of that voice or illusion. But this impulse quickly shifted away, disappearing like a bubble.
He began to think, if one day he truly fell in love with this land and its people, made new friends here, developed new feelings, at that time, when the disasters triggered by his pursuit of peculiar things affected these people, how should he then conduct himself ? He originally just felt this was an unfamiliar place, a place where he wouldn't leave too many emotions, but the conversation with the two elderly people deeply made him realize he was far less cold than he initially thought himself to be, nor as reliable as he considered himself.
Furthermore, if he could develop feelings even in Japan, then in other countries, would he not develop feelings? In this world, as long as he was still pursuing peculiar things, he could never avoid harming the innocent, right?
Truly a heavy price.
When Ma En realized this point, he felt a wave of sadness. He couldn't ignore this emotion because it was so real. All past resolve, in the face of such natural and real emotion, only made him feel ashamed. That false resolve made him fundamentally fail to imagine that on the second day of arriving in Japan, he would receive such a blow – perhaps to others, this emotional display was overly sensitive and fragile, but to himself, this was something that must be faced squarely.
This wasn't about good or bad, but rather, so this is the kind of person I am.
His somewhat fluctuating emotions were keenly captured by the two elderly people.
"Missing home already so soon? Young man," the old woman asked ramblingly, while taking out a small glass jar from the bag beside her. It was filled with brown pickled fruits. She took one out and handed it to Ma En, saying: "Eat it, your mood will get better."
"This is...?"
"Plum ," the old woman said somewhat proudly. "My old home produces lots of plums; this hand-pickled plum recipe is a craft passed down through generations."
"Yoshiko's plums are very delicious," saying this, the grandpa also took the plum handed over by the old woman.
Ma En gently bit into the pickled plum; the sour and salty taste permeated straight to the bottom of his heart, astringent yet warm, as if about to trigger one's tear glands.
"Grandma, if because I did something, it triggered more things and harmed other people, do you think I should continue doing that original thing?" he asked in the calmest possible tone.
"Is it a very important thing?" the old woman didn't press for specific details.
"To me, it's very important, it's my life's pursuit," Ma En replied affirmatively.
"Has it already harmed other people?" the old woman asked again.
"Not yet, I'm just worried..." Ma En was somewhat melancholy.
The old woman thought for a moment, stared at Ma En's face for a while, then said: "Worrying about things that haven't happened yet isn't a bad thing, but, if it's just worrying, then nothing can be done. I cannot tell you that you should do these things that might implicate others, but, if this is what you want to do, then it can't be helped, right?"
"Can't be helped..." Ma En nodded.
"If you insist on doing it, then you must have the resolve for guilt , must bear the weight of emotions that life finds hard to bear. Only in this way can you make the correct judgment when sacrifices must be made." The old woman seemed to recall something, her tone becoming ethereal. "Who hasn't had the experience of harming others? But, sometimes, harming others, even harming the people one loves, also can't be helped. No matter what one does, there will be sacrifices. If one is willing to sacrifice a bit more, if one's own sacrifice can truly replace the sacrifices of others... ah, these are not things one can decide for oneself."
"Grandma, is there really no method that satisfies both sides?" Ma En couldn't help but seek guidance from these two elderly people whose life experience was much richer than his own, but he immediately understood how naive his question was. He couldn't help but tighten his tie – the suffocating feeling of the tie squeezing his neck could slightly numb his sensitive heart.
Both the grandma and grandpa laughed, looking at Ma En as if looking at a child who never grew up: "Maybe there is, but this requires you to search for it yourself. Perhaps one day you can find it."
"It's also possible to never find it," Ma En was somewhat dejected.
"But the thing you want to do hasn't changed at all; you still want to do it, don't you? Then, your problem is the pain you yourself must bear. Even if you ask us two old people who are about to enter the earth, what difference can it make?" the grandpa said calmly.
"Sorry—" Ma En knew this was his own fragility—something never discovered in the past, in this unfamiliar country, in front of these two elderly people, it was as if magnified—he could only search for the answer himself.
"Aiya, no need to apologize," the grandma took out another plum. "Eat, eat. At least, the plums are delicious; eating them will make your mood better."
Ma En smiled, accepted the second plum, put it in his mouth, savoring the salty, astringent, and sour taste. This taste once again penetrated deep into his heart; it seemed, just as the grandma said, to become warm. Afterwards, he picked up the black umbrella and bid farewell to the two elderly people he had met by chance.
The elderly people were also preparing to leave. Not until watching them leave his line of sight did Ma En return along the original path. He originally wanted to continue searching deeper for clues about the strange tales, to see the places the two elderly people mentioned, but now, he just wanted to return to his room, to reorganize again exactly what he wanted to do, and planned to do, after coming to Japan.
This morning, this coincidental encounter, made him feel incomparably genuinely that his past plans were so pale and fragile, insufficient to support his future life.
Wanting to live a life pursuing peculiar things without regrets is always more difficult than imagined out of thin air. However, precisely because of this, he made up his mind not to leave Japan just like that. He already understood that the problems he needed to face would not diminish or change no matter where he was. Since he had already left his motherland, there was no need to leave Japan again.
*
Ma En lay on the bed. He suddenly heard sounds. He began to feel spots of light behind his eyelids; he felt he was dreaming. But these feelings were not clear. He also felt his body seemed to be pressed down by something sticky, just like the legendary sleep paralysis ; this was the first time he had experienced it in his twenty-odd years. The situations he could feel were increasing, but no single feeling was clearer than that empty voice.
— It's too late to give up.
The voice said so. Like his own thoughts, but he couldn't help but think: If it wasn't...
— No, never intended to give up.
— This isn't a question of wanting to continue or not wanting to continue, but a question of having to continue.
— From the moment that book was obtained... the new world already opened its window.
The voice was still speaking. Ma En felt the last voice was his own thought.
Ma En woke up from a wave of fright. He felt he had a nightmare; he still remembered a voice speaking to him, even vaguely remembered the content of those words. But did he really remember? The more he tried to recall, the fainter the content became. That strange, unsettling feeling made him subconsciously recall everything he had read about dreams and psychology, but at the same time, there was a reluctant feeling preventing him from continuing this recollection.
Ma En felt thirsty. He got out of bed, poured himself a glass of water. When pulling open the curtains, he saw the city night view with lights just beginning to glow. The pale white moon was precisely facing this window, hanging at a low angle. The early night sky was clear and bright; a refreshing breeze brought a trace of moisture, blowing on his body, making him feel he had finally woken up somewhat. At this time, he realized that after returning from the fountain square in the commercial street, he had actually slept deeply until now.
As if escaping something.
He thought this, somewhat disliking this feeling. He didn't like escaping, nor did he like feeling he was escaping, but when one felt oneself was like this, it probably wasn't wrong. Clearly made so many preparations, yet precisely encountered problems in the psychological aspect he cared most about. To him, this was no small matter.
He heard many people would experience various emotions they normally wouldn't have when living alone far away in an unfamiliar place, but Ma En felt his situation should be slightly different from those people's.
If asked where the biggest difference lay...
He looked towards his bedside; that so-called "Seven Revolutions Cave Profound Secret Record" was placed right there—he knew the book was by his bedside, yet couldn't remember when he had moved it there.
Did he flip through it for a while before sleeping? But he had no such memory, and besides, this book now contained only blank pages; all content had disappeared.
No, he abruptly thought: Isn't the content right in my own mind? Those twenty-four inexplicably cryptic characters? Symbols? Or something else.
— Truly a troublesome thing.
He thought somewhat sorrowfully, yet also felt there was no lack of joy within it. He really was finding joy in suffering, enjoying himself amidst it.