But now the first question of the day was, “Has the fog closed in?” They all knew to look for the stagnant vapour – “the leaven” – at the bottom of Bewitching Valley that heralded the fog, and the lookout had become a favoured morning gathering point. It was well into the autumn of 1971. Normally, there would have been two or three fogs by now, but so far there had been no sign of it. The entire plantation was engulfed in disappointment. Yan Tao’s daughter, Yan Zhu, was the most distressed. She had been mute since a bout of pneumonia at the age of six. This made her a keen listener and she was crazy about Shi Ding’s stories. No one was more important to Yan Tao than his daughter and he didn’t want to see her unhappy.
Shi Ding was a purchasing agent for Wenchuan Turbine Factory, but he had been living at the farm for three weeks after being injured on his way up the mountain. He was a quiet young man, from Beijing. Still in his twenties, he was tall and slender, he wore glasses and he spoke perfect Mandarin. But his calm aura vanished when he told his stories, his eyebrows dancing, his face radiant, and his voice, first loud then soft, full of emotion. Storytelling – the Sichuan natives called it “scaffolding the dragon’s gate” – was a local custom, but Shi Ding’s stories were extraordinary; to the loggers they were dragons’ gates on a grand scale.
He had just finished Pride and Prejudice. The loggers loved the descriptions of the Bennet family, and they had learned that not only in China was having daughters a loss-making business. Married men saw their wives in the gauche, shrewish, self-opinionated Mrs Bennet, while their wives responded by saying that irresponsibility was obviously a universal male attribute. Everyone loved Mary accompanying herself to sing in a “weak voice” and “affected manner”; they ached with laughter at the arrogant Lady Catherine de Bourgh and the fawning Mr Collins, and revelled in the twists and turns of the love between Elizabeth and Darcy.
But Shi Ding was now fully recovered and ready to leave. Except he had not yet finished Anna Karenina, his new story about adulterous affairs in Russia.
Extramarital affairs had always been a subject of great interest, and never more so than now. Since the start of the Cultural Revolution, catching adulterers had become the duty of every revolutionary committee member. For the sake of social purity, some would lie in wait for hours, in the icy chill of winter or the scorching heat of summer, to snare adulterers in the act. Of course, they would then make sure their captives suffered more than they had. The boldness of Vronsky and the openness of his affair with Anna amazed Shi Ding’s listeners. They were dying to know what happened in the end and their only chance lay in a foggy day break.
On this particular morning, the loggers had already changed into their thick canvas overalls, strapped on safety gear and picked up their tools, ready to go. Shi Ding was measuring the pile of timber assigned to the Wenchuan Turbine Factory.
“How’s it going, still a lot more needed?” one logger greeted Shi Ding.
“Almost there,” Shi Ding replied.
“How’s your leg? Still giving you pain?” asked another.
“Not really. I will be off soon.”
“How soon?” several voices called in chorus, miserable faces turned to Yan Tao.
Yan Tao yelled at his workers, “Ready? Let’s go!”
Just then, a shrill cry rang out from the lookout. “The fog! The fog is closing in!” It was the guesthouse cleaning woman.
Yan Tao rushed over and saw the milky air creeping into every corner of the valley floor. Once the floor was covered, the fog would rise until it filled heaven and earth. He knew this would only take a few minutes. “Put the equipment inside and go to the guesthouse meeting room. Quick!” he commanded.
People ran in every direction, putting tools away, changing into their non-work clothes, grabbing a stool or a mat, and crowding into the guesthouse. Yan Tao switched on the lights and looked around for his daughter. He watched as the fog spilled up over the edges of the plateau like boiling milk. Feet were covered, then knees disappeared, leaving upper bodies seeming to float …
“Yan Zhu! Where are you?”
Yan Tao’s daughter emerged from their rooms, holding a colourful quilt above her head as she raced towards the guesthouse. Yan Tao followed and saw her head, only a head, fly through the guesthouse door before the fog swallowed everything. He stopped, let out a long breath, and slowly fumbled his way to the guesthouse.
The meeting room was packed. Shi Ding sat at one end in a bamboo armchair softened by Yan Zhu’s patchwork quilt. His dull grey Mao jacket, with its stiff folded collar and four symmetrical buttoned pockets, contrasted oddly with the splashes of colour behind and beneath him. With all eyes eagerly on him, he began.
“Pressures on them came from everywhere, causing Anna and Vronsky to become increasingly unhappy.”
“Oh,” a sigh rose from the listeners.
“Anna was distressed. It was Vronsky who had pursued and pestered her before winning her heart. He had destroyed her peace and had been the cause of all her troubles.”
“That’s true,” a woman from the kitchen said. “He was shameless.”
“Come on!” said a logger. “Flies only love cracked eggs. It was Anna who fancied Vronsky for his good looks. That’s women for you.”
“What about you men?” the woman fired back, before Yan Tao shushed them.
“Vronsky was all she had now,” Shi Ding continued. “So of course, Anna became very possessive. Whenever he went out, she couldn’t help imagining him with other women.”
“That’s very likely,” the woman from the kitchen piped up, immediately sticking out her tongue to show remorse.
Shi Ding smiled. “Do you think I could finish Anna’s story before the fog disappears?”
Everyone laughed.
“Vronsky was annoyed by her unpredictable moods and stayed out more often. She became desperate.” Shi Ding then told his audience how Anna’s husband also prevented her from seeing their son and how her friends shunned her. She was isolated while Vronsky was enjoying the company of his new female friends.
“So,” Shi Ding concluded, “on the one hand, jealous Anna was trying every trick to hold Vronsky, and on the other, Vronsky was determined to get away from her. She missed her son and felt ashamed that she had sacrificed the boy to her love affair. She had had enough. ‘You’ll be sorry for this,’ she promised Vronsky as she headed to the train station after yet another quarrel.”
Shi Ding stood up, looking very stern. He pushed the quilt away and climbed onto the armchair. “Now,” he said to his listeners, standing up straight and towering over them, “Anna stood at the edge of the platform.” He inched towards the edge of the chair, raising a gasp from his audience. “What would she be thinking now?”
He looked around but his eyes landed on no one. “Anna stood there watching the crowds. Everyone appeared disgusting. The entire world was false and evil. Think about this,” Shi Ding suddenly raised his voice. “If you learn that someone you love to distraction