Chapter 3: Main Text: Li Yijie's Laughter and Dream

Main Text: Li Yijie's Laughter and Dream

Seeing the old man like this, Li Yijie's previously suppressed hidden worry began to trouble him again.

It's not his fault; after all, the old man told a story and caused three dazes.

One daze from talking about Qi, another from talking about snow, and now another one.

He might as well rename himself "Dai Lao" from now on, so others can be mentally prepared.

Seeing the old man motionless, Li Yijie thought: this time waiting for him to regain consciousness might take until the moon climbs up.

Again, the setting sun had been devoured by the mountains for most of its light; the remaining part resembled a curved, orange‑yellow‑red eyebrow hanging over the ridge,

which, together with the old man's two eyebrows, formed the wondrous sight of three eyebrows emerging together.

If it were the past, Li Yijie would have already been rolling on the ground, laughing uncontrollably.

That's just how he is; every slightly amusing fragment in his life

he responds with the freest, most unrestrained, boundless laugh.

Li Yijie's laugh is not a mocking laugh, but as pure and flawless as a lotus emerging from water,

without a trace of ulterior feeling.

Only laughter—pure laughter, reckless and loud.

He laughs at the heavens, the earth, the four seasons, the flowers, insects, fish, and even laughs at himself together with others!

In his eyes, the world has only two states: laughable and unlaughable.

There are eaters and gluttons, dazes and dazed heads, and laughter?

Laughter has Xiao Ka!

Li Yijie is a full‑blown Xiao Ka.

When he is not laughing, he is gentle and serene, like a modest lord; when he laughs heartily, he is unrestrained, like a wanderer.

Thus the old man often jokes at him: "Li Yijie, Li Yijie, why don't you call yourself Li Lang Xiao En,"

so that anyone hearing your name would know the essence of a Xiao Ka.

And at that moment he always replies with a laugh: "If there is laughter today, laugh today; don't wait until there is no laughter to speak pointlessly!"

After laughing and finishing, he would also, in an old‑fashioned, pompous manner, add another line:

Laughter should be an attitude of the heart, not a facial technique!

When attitude becomes technique, laughter can only be called a stretching exercise of the face.

Anyway, in matters of laughter, the old man can only humbly submit to his lesser peak.

Time flies; it has already been twelve years since the old man rescued him from the snow.

Twelve years, laughing and watching, he has grown up!

Twelve years, laughing and laughing, the old man grew old from laughter!

He still remembers that a few years ago, the old man still had a single black hair.

Whenever he threatened the old man to take him out, he would pull that black hair,

which was far more effective than pulling a handful of white beard.

Thinking of this, Li Yijie laughed again.

He is always out of sync, and even laughs louder and louder,

almost reaching the pinnacle of his laughing path.

From heart to mouth, mouth to face, face to head, head to body, the five parts act in unison.

Every muscle has begun to tremble;

Every cell is churning;

while the brain is so excited it becomes a blank!

Yes, laughing into a blank!

Yes, blank, blank; as he laughs, his face turns pale, his mouth like cracked dry earth.

Li Yijie only feels his body like a building about to collapse, a long‑suppressed palpitations suddenly exploding,

spreading like a spark wildfire, racing through his blood to every limb.

Every muscle, every cell, every atom begins to quiver,

as if the masses of the world boiled into a pot at the end of the world.

Hope for light in the darkness of the apocalypse!

A lucky heart, self‑numbness, often serve as an excellent mask to evade reality.

At such times, covering one's ears and stealing a bell is no longer a pejorative.

At this moment, Li Yijie is exactly that.

Palpitations cause the whole body to tremble; cold sweat is stuck in his pores, helpless,

brain cells are so terrified they make his hair stand on end.

Only his calm, clear mind remains seemingly tranquil.

What follows is a wave of flaccidity, an indescribable oppression and discomfort that makes Xiao Yijie unable to bear the weight.

His eyes went black, he fell heavily to the ground, and with a loud "Bang" he passed out.

Before he blacked out, he seemed to see two silhouettes:

a white‑haired old man and a two‑ or three‑year‑old boy.

The boy was perched on the old man's nape, chubby hands each clutching a handful of white hair.

Before he could look closely, his eyelids grew heavier, as if Death's hands pressed them.

The silhouettes receded, leaving only a trail of gradually thinning footprints.

It gently stretched out into the scattered bushes in the distance.

Finally, only three or four fragmented sounds could be heard:

Gee, gee, old man, go faster... whoa... whoa... whoa... gee...

Ah, you little rabbit bastard, your asshole has no eyes, huh?

Oh, no, "fruit seller", what karma have I created to meet you, you damn dad...

Heaven wants my death, ah, heaven wants my death...

"Old man, old man, old man, wake up quickly...

"Old man, old man, don't go, don't go, don't leave me alone...

"Old man, I'm so scared, I'm so cold, so cold... where are you...

"Wake up quickly, don't scare me...

"Old man... old man... old man eh..." Li Yijie startled awake from the nightmare,

He muttered fragmented nonsense.

He felt as if he had had a very long, lengthy dream.

As long as twelve years, yet as long as a lifetime!

He dreamed that at that time he was matching wits and strength with the old man on the chessboard, measuring length and breadth.

Who would have thought, the old man suddenly stood up as if gone mad, babbling a bunch of eerie, strange tones,

As if speaking to him, yet also as if speaking to himself.

Also like squeezing toothpaste, on and off. Li Yijie heard it as hazy and indistinct,

As if separated by a distant epoch, making its meaning hard to grasp.

What puzzled Li Yijie even more was that the old man, as he spoke, seemed to stop,

Frowning his white brows, he stared blankly at the sunset.

He also thought the old man's childishness had returned, and they started playing the ninja game "Whoever Moves, Poops" again.

Since he lost every time, he thought the old man was cheating.

"Staying still like taking a dump" seemed to be the old man's exclusive privilege.

Sometimes the old man could sit motionless for a whole day, narrowing his eyes to slits, gazing at a spot.

When the wind blew, it lifted his white brows but could not lift his eyelids.

Li Yijie, whose competitive spirit was as fierce as a tiger, could now endure for most of the day.

Just when he felt he could have another showdown, who knew the old man became even fiercer, literally making the sunset stand as midnight,

and then made midnight stand as high noon.

After high noon, Li Yijie's muscles had already begun to betray his competitive spirit.

But his muscles still hadn't overcome his iron-like will to win.

In his half-dazed, half-dreaming, half-awake state, he stubbornly baked the sun to the mountain's edge, turning it into a crooked yellow brow,

very much like the relieved smile the old man gave when he surrendered; after that he couldn't remember anything.

Or perhaps there was no aftermath at all!

What puzzled Li Yijie greatly was that, clearly, it could be considered a neutral dream.

But just as his eyes were about to open and his mind about to wake, a surge arose that would make every cell in his body prefer self-destruction,

and that he could not bear to face directly—a palpitation came.

Immediately afterward, he felt a blast of cold wind.

Ice-cold as a knife, it swept through his pores, wantonly scraping away the lingering warmth within his body.

Even more terrifying, he seemed to see:

In a vast expanse of snow, the old man turned his back on him and walked farther and farther away.

He wanted to follow, but as soon as he took a step, he collapsed.

Thus he bellowed desperately: "Old man, wait for me, wait for me..."

Later he woke up.

After waking, waves of dizziness and brain pressure still entangled him, refusing to let go.

Yet deep inside he was very doubtful about the dream:

Clearly it wasn't sunset, so how did it jump to a vast snowy field?

Clearly it wasn't the joyful surprise of imminent victory in "Whoever Moves, Poops"?

How could a palpitation linger, as if foreboding some great misfortune?

Li Yijie himself could hardly figure himself out:

Is it the dream that's weird, or is it him?

Doubt lay like heavy clouds, blanketing Xiao Yijie's heart,

making even Da Yijie feel a bit short of breath.