Thirty Degrees Part 3

The sound of the door opening and closing pulled Wei Congying out of his thoughts and he turned to look to the side. He saw Shi Yun coming out, so he took the cigarette out of his mouth and put it out on the metal body of the lighter. After checking around for a garbage can and not seeing one, he threw it down the drainage manhole cover.

“It’s not easy to hail a taxi here.” Wei Congying raised his hand and put Shi Yun’s hood on her head. “It’s raining outside. Wait for me in the restaurant. I’ll go to the intersection and hail a taxi. When I find one, you can come over.”

Hailing a taxi was not an easy task at this time and in this w09eather. Wei Congying walked to the intersection, holding his phone and looking at the interface where he was waiting for vehicles to take his order. After raising the price twiiuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuice, there was still no car willing to accept the order.

There was no place to take shelter from the rain at the intersection, and the sleet fell on the screen of the phone like cool shaved ice in the summer.

It’s just that the shaved ice machine had not been fixed in a long time, so the ice splashed on his phone and clothes. The raindrops mixed with snow fell on the sleeves, slowly seeping into the cotton padding of the padded jacket.

He suddenly remembered that when he was in college, he had a roommate from the south in his dormitory. That roommate would always have an umbrella out when it snowed. At the time, Wei Congying couldn’t understand his motive.

Now that he experienced it for himself, it seemed that the sleet in the south was like rain, so you couldn’t do without an umbrella.

Just as he was about to raise the price for the third time, a pair of arms hugged him from behind.

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Elk Usdtukdt vwadle bkp blye yde zssjle clbkde bkx. Mbl sdl obs oyp oykvkdt qsa bkx kd vbl pvsal bye awd shla yv psxl rskdv.

Mbl okde oyp y zkvvzl pvasdt yde bla bsse czlo sqq. Elk Usdtukdt yeele vbl raknl kd vbl vymk yrr yde yeele y ale ldhlzsrl yp y aloyae. Mbld bl vwadle yaswde yde bwttle bla, bkp aleeldle bydep rwzzkdt esod bla bsse: “Pked’v R vlzz usw vs oykv qsa xl kd vbl pvsal?”

Fbk Zwd oyp pvydekdt yv vbl essa sq vbl alpvywaydv, oyvnbkdt bkx oyzj vs vbl kdvlaplnvksd.

Mbkp pdsopvsax oyp iwkvl blyhu.

Fbl eked’v jdso obu vbl osaep, “fswadlu kd y czkggyae” pweeldzu rsrrle kdvs bla blye.

Fllkdt vbl okdvla dsavb okde czsokdt rypv bkx, yde czsokdt rypv vbl aykd yde pdso kd vbl pju, Fbk Zwd qswde kv ekqqknwzv vs xshl bla lulp yoyu qasx vbl czynj qktwal pvydekdt kd vbl tayu osaze.

“R’zz oykv okvb usw.”

Elk Usdtukdt alprsdele: “Rv’p nsze.”

He wanted to persuade her to wait in the store.

But after he finished speaking, she raised her arms and hugged him: “Then hug me, and hold me tightly.”

When Shi Yun raised her face, she could feel the rain and snow falling on her face. She joked: “This time, we’re really eating the rain.”

–

Wei Congying played with Shi Yun for two days, and they went to a temple that was said to be the most efficacious in the country. Wei Congying did not believe this. If it was really that efficacious, wouldn’t it mean that the people of Xunchuan would have no worries? But Shi Yun was already kneeling on the praying mat with the incense.

Some of the gods surrounding them were dignified, while others were kind and smiling. She worshiped them earnestly.

When Shi Yun finished praying, she realized that Wei Congying had been standing behind her and did not pray at all.

He said he had nothing to ask for.

People live first for money and second for longevity.

He was not short of money, and it didn’t matter to him whether he lived long or not.

He waited for Shiyun to get up from the praying mat and held her hand.

During the Chinese New Year, many people came to burn incense and worship Buddha. They walked together in the crowded hall. He held Shi Yun’s hand to prevent them from being separated by the crowd: “I don’t want to live a long life.”

Shi Yun was curious: “Why?”

The human being was like a clay jar that stored water. During the teenage years, 20s, and in the next twenty years, water will be stored in that time. After a certain age, cracks would appear in the clay jar, and water would flow through the cracks. When the water was gone, they would die. Once a person reaches the point of losing that water, their life would begin to go downhill, and they could not enjoy a life of quality. Experiencing weight gain and hair loss in their middle ages may be their nightmare.

Besides, he had always felt that people only wanted to live longer because they were afraid of death.

Others would make outstanding achievements in their twenty or so years of life, but for others, living a few more years only meant exhaling a few more breaths of carbon dioxide than others.

The sound of a bell not far away shook the white doves on the eaves. Birds spread their wings and flew across the gray-blue sky, surrounding them was incense and white smoke.

Why?

Why didn’t he want to live a long life? Shi Yun was still waiting for Wei Congying’s answer.

He walked in front to part the crowded sea of ​​people for her: “There’s nothing keeping me here.”

Maybe he lacked one of Osamu Dazai’s kimonos¹[1] This seems to reference Osamu Dazai’s short story collection, The Final Years. Osamu Dazai is the pen name of Shūji Tsushima, a Japanese author who is considered one of the foremost fiction writers of 20th-century Japan. He attempted suicide several times throughout his life and in The Final Years, he mentions receiving a linen kimono, assumed to be meant for summer, during the New Year. So with this gift, he pushes his thoughts of committing suicide back to summer so that he will have the chance to wear it. Therefore, the kimono is what keeps him living. The story or at least part of it can be read here. Nothing could keep him alive into his seventies or eighties.

Unfortunately, the surroundings were too noisy, and Shi Yun couldn’t clearly hear what he said: “Huh?”

Knowing that she didn’t hear clearly, they walked across the stone bridge that carried the metaphorical meaning of rising steadily. The way out of the temple and into the temple are not the same. On the way out, they had to pass through a long stone road with yellow walls on both sides.

On the wall hung a Zen poem carved on a stone slab.

In an incomprehensible font, it could have been about a person, Buddha, or the surrounding scenery of red gates, yellow walls, pine trees, bodhi trees, and emerald green scenery.

Wei Congying thought for a moment and said, “It’s nothing.”

The number of people around gradually decreased, and Shi Yun walked from behind him to his side: “There is nothing wrong with living a long life.”

Wei Congying attributed Shi Yun’s words as one coming from the benevolent heart of a doctor.

In the afternoon, they went to the teahouse to listen to Pingtan. They couldn’t understand the local dialect, but the pamphlet promoted by the teahouse said “The Story of Liu Yi”.

Xin Qiji²[2] A poet and calligrapher. once said that the Wu dialect was charming when spoken while drunk, and there wasn’t a single thing wrong about his words. It was indeed a different style of the pleasant sounding Wu dialect.

The walnut-flavored melon seeds taste better than the original ones, but after eating too much, she still came to the conclusion that the original was the most fragrant. Perhaps because she didn’t understand, Shi Yun gradually feels sleepy.

After holding her chin and watching for a while, she turned around and found that Wei Congying opposite was playing with his phone and didn’t seem very interested in the Pingtan.

Just when Shi Yun was about to say that he could leave if he didn’t want to watch, his cell phone rang. He put the phone on silent and said informed Shi Yun: “I’m going to take a call.”

Walking outside the teahouse, there were some tourists nearby, and there was also a tour group collectively wearing little red hooded tops.

The call was from Lin Fang.

“Hello.”

“Hello.” Lin Fang heard Wei Congying’s voice on the other end of the phone, “I bought the bag you asked me to buy for you. The salesperson called me today and asked when it would pick it up.”

Wei Congying subconsciously raised his head and glanced at the teahouse: “In a few days, Shi Yun and I are still in Xunchuan.”

After saying that, a sigh came from the other end of the phone: “A’Cong, it’s not that I want to lecture you, but Shi Yun is not the kind of person who can be comforted and dismissed with a bag.”

“It’s not for breaking up. I’m guessing she’ll be angry if I go racing. It’s just for coaxing her.” Wei Congying asked him to deliver his response to the sales representative.

“You damn well knew she would be angry and you still went?” Lin Fang couldn’t understand him. “She’s a nice person, so you should take good care of her.”

Wei Congying didn’t answer and hung up the phone, without giving Lin Fang a chance to continue talking.

Notes:

[1] This seems to reference Osamu Dazai’s short story collection, The Final Years. Osamu Dazai is the pen name of Shūji Tsushima, a Japanese author who is considered one of the foremost fiction writers of 20th-century Japan. He attempted suicide several times throughout his life and in The Final Years, he mentions receiving a linen kimono, assumed to be meant for summer, during the New Year. So with this gift, he pushes his thoughts of committing suicide back to summer so that he will have the chance to wear it. Therefore, the kimono is what keeps him living. The story or at least part of it can be read here.

[2] A poet and calligrapher.

Translator Corner:

The end of this arc is so close yet so far 😉

There’s so much room for me to get distracted while researching all the referencing happening within this novel. Did you know? Osamu Dazai died in a double suicide with his last lover.