In The Crack Where Life Thrives

After the tomb-sweeping day, it rained more. Sometimes, it drizzled; sometimes, it showered. The mists lingered in the valley for days, wrapping the mountain in its arms. The sludge along the way seemed to swallow every step, making it hard for Lan and other villagers to walk. Each foot had to be pulled out speedily before stepping into the bog again; otherwise, you could never wade across the mud.

Lan sat on a stool at the door, waiting for the shower to stop. Her mother’s tomb was just in the thicket behind Lan’s house. On the headstone, moss grew wildly, nearly overtaking the entire grave marker. It was difficult to recognize her mother’s name under the moss. Lan often came to clean the headstone, but the lichens burgeoned rapidly, out of control. A beautiful fly agaric, which seemed to be a bright red umbrella, sprung out of the dirt beside her mother’s tomb. Lan was taught the more beautiful the creature was, the more poisonous it was. Although she didn’t pick it up, she was amazed by how wildly life thrived among death.

In Lan’s village, each home honored Nüwa, the Goddess of Creation, by displaying a small statue on their table. The faith that villagers held onto soothed them and led them to believe in Nüwa, who could bring them fortune, health, and happiness, though they were poor and sick. Lan still remembered that at the age of eight, she was beaten by her father after she accidentally knocked over the statue of Nüwa. Her father whipped her with twigs and cursed that she had ruined the good fortune. At that time, Lan’s mother, who was still alive, stopped her father by grabbing the twigs away. As days became colder in that winter, her mother’s coughing worsened. Her mother never made it through that winter, even though she had drunk jugs of herbal medicines. Her father deeply believed that shattering the statue of goddess brought misfortune, leading to her mother’s death.

Lan was good at feeding chickens, a skill that her mother passed onto her. Now she had three hens, a rooster, and a few chicks and became more vigilant against weasels, which had slain her three chickens one week ago. She tied a bell onto the wire mesh pen, and once the bell rang, she would dash out as soon as possible. In doing so, she had several nights of poor sleep, but she was determined to protect her chickens.

Ms. Su, an urban woman with an ambition of making a difference, voluntarily came to this rural school, which had only four teachers, including her, and thirty students. She was multitasking, being a teacher of reading, writing, singing, and swimming. The first day she stepped into the classroom, Lan was mesmerized by her, with her long hair tied high up like a bun, a white shirt, a black knee-length skirt, and a pair of skin-colored leather sandals. Soon, all students knew Ms. Su had been a swimming athlete but finally had retired from the provincial swimming team. Sometimes, she told students the stories happened in cities and always finished her narration with an ending: “You must read and write. One day, you’ll go outside to see the world for yourself.”

Lan’s school was situated at the foot of the mountain, while Lan’s village was perched on top of the mountain. Lan and her peers still walked to school on foot. The one-meter-wide lane - the only way spiraling up to Lan’s village - was treacherous and repeatedly ruined by the flood. The new pavements built with the government grant even crumbled in the flood. Then various rumors of officials embezzling the funding spread. Villagers could not leave the village and people outside could rarely enter it, leaving it inaccessible, isolated and forgotten.

Along the way lay a famous lake, called Mirror Lake, where Ms. Su decided to organize swimming classes. On a steaming afternoon in July, when the sun scorched everything, the dazzling light almost hurt eyes, and the surface of the lake gleamed like sparkling diamonds, Ms. Su and her ten students marched to the lake. The round mirror-shaped lake, bordered by lush pines, was entrancing. Lan felt the irresistible allure, as if a mesmerizing siren enchanted to lure sailors to their doom. All children became exhilarated, chirping and darting towards the lake. Some boys, who couldn’t wait to plunge into the water, had already taken off their clothes, leaving only their shorts on.

When Lan’s father knew they had swum in Mirror Lake, he was infuriated. He shivered as he told Lan about the old tragedy that had happened three decades ago. Thirty years ago, three boys of their village swam on a stormy day, but they vanished, and their remains hadn’t been discovered until now. More mystically, the parents of these three boys had died one after another. The tragedy became a taboo, which younger children had no idea of.

Lan’s father dreaded that all demons had resided physically in these children. The next early morning, he accompanied Lan to her school to talk with the principal. When Lan’s father stopped at the door, the principal, Mr. Zhang, was standing on the podium waiting for the children’s arrival. Mr. Zhang immediately knew he was Lan’s father and strode to the outside.

All students heard their argument.

“It’s superstitious,” Mr. Zhang spat.

“No, it’s not. There are always things that can’t be explained,” Lan’s father insisted. “You don’t know anything about ghosts. If you get intertwined with them, then the best way is to perform a ritual to show them our respect and they would leave.” Lan’s father’s cheeks were red, as if a fire was scorching him.

Mr. Zhang turned, gazed in the direction of the mountain, and paused for a minute. Ultimately, he agreed with the proposal of Lan’s father: invite a witch to perform the ritual.

Two days later, during the recess, a woman of around fifty years old, carrying a big basket covered with a colorful checked tapestry, strolled into Lan’s school. She strode straight to Principal Zhang’s office. All students stopped playing games and tiptoed after her until Principal Zhang came out, greeting her. Several boys pressed their ears against the closed office door, but soon, but could only hear muffled voices. When the door sprang open, the children scampered away. Then the woman, who was led to Lan’s classroom, instructed all of them to move desks to the wall, leaving the center empty. On the floor lay the woman’s basket, which contained a pair of chopsticks, a bowl, a spoon, a pair of candles, a rope, and a small knife. All the ten students, including Lan, who had swum in the lake, sat around the woman, who sat in the center.

Shortly afterwards, the classroom became dim as the sky turned overcast. The witch scooped some raw rice into the bowl, lit the two candles, poured the wax on the floor, and pasted the candles on the melted wax. The candles’ flames flicked in the air. After wrapping the rope around the chopsticks, she shut her eyes and held the rope to whirl above her head, so the chopsticks swung in the air. She murmured a series of mysterious words, like casting a spell. All students kept silent, their eyes following her every move. After a short while, she knelt on the floor, her eyebrows furrowed, her facial muscles distorted, and beads of sweat formed on her forehead, as if she was suffering a great pain. She waved the knife in front of the chopsticks and sliced it across them. At last, she slumped onto the floor.

After that, life went on as usual. Principal Zhang gathered all the students into the playground, and announced some good news: there would be a big donation for them, including books, stationery, desks, chairs, and also a school bus.

One afternoon, when Lan and other classmates were writing homework, a sudden roar filled their classroom. One boy dashed outside first and yelled, “A big monster!” Then all other students followed him to the yard. From the peeling paint, everyone could tell it was an old bus, but for the children who had never seen one before, it was the most precious gift they could imagine.

All the boys and girls, holding their breaths, circled around the bus and then were allowed to get on it. For the first time, Lan sat in a real bus, and she stroked the seat, feeling the leather texture.

Ms. Su drove the bus on the playground while all students squeezed into it. Boys stuck their heads out of windows to feel the breeze brushing against their cheeks. Girls sat on the leather seats and chirped merrily. The old bus rattled on the court, making the normal day a big celebration for them.

The principal proposed Ms. Su to drive this bus up to Lan’s village to pick up all the students. A journalist coming from the city was ready to report this big news. Although the road conditions were tough, Ms. Su was brave, hoping not to disappoint the children, the principal, or the journalist.

The following Monday, Lan rode in the bus to school, but the day before, she was busy with chores. She gathered all her chickens into the coop while the dark cloud above predicted rain would come any minute. When the thunder roared, Lan put the tarpaulin over the coop, so the chickens wouldn’t get soaked.

She couldn’t refrain from grinning when she saw the big white eggs. The warm eggs, with traces of blood clinging onto the shells, cheered her up. She cupped these eggs in her palms and trod steadily to her room. After gently wiping the blood clean from their shells, she put them into a basket -- a gift for her favorite teacher, Ms. Su. Meticulously, she put the basket of eggs beside her bed, so next morning she wouldn’t forget to take it to school.

At night, Lan and her father were awakened by the sound of rainwater leaking through their roof. Her father lit the lamp, and saw the water reaching above his ankles. All bowls, pots, and hay floated around. He couldn’t find his shoes, so he waded barefoot in the water. They scooped the water with buckets and poured them out one after another. The rainwater filled up the cropland, making it a pond. Potato seedlings were all destroyed, and her father signed and held the urge to cry. During the second half of the night, the rain stopped. Now Lan was more worried about the next morning if the school bus would arrive.

The rooster crowed, and after a short while, the bus appeared, its horns blaring. Ms. Su jumped off the bus. She wore a pair of black rain boots, which clearly didn’t fit her. She made a lot of effort to pull out of her feet from the mud. Lan had already slung her cloth bag on her shoulder, with a basket in her hand, and darted towards the bus. With great care, she showed Ms. Su the basket, which contained the eggs. Nine children were already sitting in the bus, so Lan sat in the front passenger seat. Though she was the oldest at thirteen, she was more mature than the others. She enjoyed watching them chatting and giggling.

“Ms. Su, can I be a driver when I grow up?” Xiaojun asked.

“Yes, of course. You can be a very good driver if you practice a lot,” Ms. Su answered.

Another girl teased Xiaojun. “First, you need to have a clean shirt. If you always blow your nose with your clothes, then I’m sure no one would sit in your car.”

All other children laughed, and Xiaojun’s cheek blushed. “I will have a car and become a good driver,” he protested. He had a miniature toy car, which he collected from the donations of other city schools.

When the bus rattled down the muddy path, Ms. Su led them to sing, and the lively songs lifted their spirits, turning the dull atmosphere into a merry vibe.

Yet, they still came to the most perilous trail hung on the cliff, below which was the Mirror Lake. Ms. Su paused the bus for a short while before she fired up the engine. Lan peered down through the window, beneath which was the lake. Heavy clouds lingered above the lake, darkening the turquoise of the water. For Lan, the lake seemed deeper and more mysterious, like a starving monster waiting to be fed. She shivered as she thought of the three drowned boys and the mysterious ritual the witch did. She felt dizzy, as if a force was pulling her down.

Ms. Su dared not to steer the bus, which was hanging on the cliff. It might slip off the cliff if she just moved the bus an inch forward. She held her breath, ordering students not to move, but one boy squealed, “I saw them in my dream! He rose to his feet and darted towards the door.” The bus started to tilt; in seconds, the bus began rolling down the cliff. They rolled across branches and bumped into rocks. Their crying died down, and silence permeated. All the children fainted, blood splattered across the window. Lan’s eggs lay shattered, their sticky yolk spattering against the glass and flowing in every direction. After several violent rolls, the bus came to rest tangled in tree branches, and a dead silence filled the air.

“Cuck—oo, cuck—oo,” a cuckoo stood on one wheel. Ms. Su woke and opened her eyes slowly. In her blood-blurred vision, everything was red. She wanted to wake all children up, so she shouted their names. “Lan, Xiaojun, Linlin …” she repeated their names, but no one responded. After a short while, she heard Lan’s murmur.

“Ms. Su, are we in heaven?” Lan asked in a faint voice.

“No, not yet. We’re stuck on a big tree,” Ms. Su stammered.

“My neck hurts! Am I going to die?” Lan began sobbing.

“No, we won’t! Don’t give up.” Ms. Su, whose tears dripped down, tried to cheer Lan up, but she knew it wouldn’t work for long. All other children were silent and motionless.

“Are the three ghosts hunting us?” Lan murmured.

“It’s superstitious,” Ms. Su soothed Lan.

Suddenly, their bus tilted more and rattled violently. Without the hold of the big tree trunk, their bus resumed rolling. Seconds later, it plummeted onto the surface of the lake. The sinking was gradual. The water was freezingly cold even in September without any ice.

As the water filled the entire bus little by little, Ms. Su recovered consciousness and unbuckled her seat belt. She swam towards the children and checked for their pulses one after the other. The only one who had a thumping pulse was Lan. Instantly, Ms. Su tears merged with the water. She unbelted Lan, gripped Lan’s coat, and lifted her from the seat.

Yet, the door, being stuck, couldn’t be opened, Ms. Su swam towards the window and grabbed the emergency hammer to knock hard on it. Lan’s coat swelled like a balloon. Lan opened her eyes in the water, seeing seaweeds swinging and three boys swimming towards her. They looked so pale, and their skins looked transparent when the ray of sunshine pierced through the water. Two boys grasped each of her arms, and another boy lifted her back, and finally all three floated up.

Lan opened her eyes, and found herself lying in a bed in the hospital of the county, and Ms. Su was lying on a nearby bed. On the TV, a piece of news caught her eyes. The remains of three boys were found in a wood near the Mirror Lake. She heard the commotion outside of her ward, where a bunch of reporters tried to squeeze into. Lan didn’t know what had happened, but suddenly she remembered she was in a lake. Her father squeezed into her ward and brought her some food.

“Where are they?” Lan asked.

Her father was busy putting all the food on a small table, “You should care about yourself first.” Lan noticed the tears in her father’s eyes. She knew the answer, but she didn’t want to believe.

“All of them?” Lan asked.

“Yes, they all drowned!” Her father cried, wiping his tears.

The news of their school bus falling into the lake went viral, gaining more attention. Several entrepreneurs claimed to donate money to reconstruct the road, and some merchants promised to build better facilities for Lan’s school. Lan’s family would be donated a fair amount of money. All the children who had perished were laid to rest in sturdy tombs, built to withstand the sun, the rain, the wind, and the snow.