[I know, I know. I should have spent more time on SPW. But this is such a good story and it helps me to get into the translation mood. SPW will come shortly after.]
[The direct translation of the book title would have been “Celebrating the Remaining Life.” I decided to use the name “Joy of Life” because throughout the life of the protagonist when he was given a second chance, he slowly discovered the true joy of life in himself which is really something that transcends life – The Translator]
Prologue: Black Cloth
-- written by Maoni
Fan Shen worked
hard to keep his eyelids open, so he could look at his fingers and count how
many meaningful things he had done in his life. But before he even finished
counting the five fingers on his right hand, which were so thin that they
looked like chopsticks, he sadly gave it up with a deep sigh.
As always, the
hospital room was filled with the stinking smell of medicine. The old man in
the next bed had been gone for two days, reporting for his duty to the lord of
the underworld. It might not be long for his turn.
He was very sick.
It was some kind of a strange disease that completely weakened all his muscles,
the kind that was perfect for a typical male lead in romantic fiction novels.
The disease was also terminal, and during his last moments, he would not even be
able to move a finger, except to let tears stream down his extremely pale
cheeks.
“But I am not the
main character of a romantic fiction!” Fan Shen murmured, which turned into a
stream of incoherent groans due to the non-functioning muscles around his jaw.
Staring at his middle-finger, he felt great sympathy for himself. “I am still a
virgin!”
……
……
He hadn’t really
done any meaningful things in his entire life, except for things such as
helping senior citizens cross busy streets, offering his seat to the needy on
buses, getting along well with neighbors, and helping classmates cheat during
exams……
Fan Shen was a
good man in the traditional sense: good, but useless.
His parents had
passed away a long time ago, leaving him alone in this world, in this hospital,
waiting for the end of his life.
“Good men don’t have
good endings,” he thought.
During one
lonesome and cold night, Fan Shen could almost feel the slow slackening of his
muscles in his throat and chest, like an old rubber band that had lost all of
its stretch and no longer tightened. That clean, young nurse caring for him was
nowhere to be found. The only companion was an old woman, who seemed to be in
the middle of an incessant chatter.
“Is this the
moment of death?”
A mixture of fear
for death and the deep yearning for a further taste of life created a complex
feeling he had never felt before. Sharing his last few minutes with the old woman,
instead of the lovely little nurse he had long hoped for, only added more
sorrow to his heart.
Wretched
and miserable, he glanced with drooping eyes at the black cloth blocking the
sunlight over the window. “Life is as lonely as dog shit!” he thought.
Wretched and
miserable, he felt a drop of liquid sliding down from the corner of his eye.
Downheartedly, Fan Shen licked at it. To his surprise, it not only tasted
salty, but also a bit pungent – did his tears begin to stink because he seldom
showered at the hospital?
“Weeping like a
girl, did you really think you are the main character of a romantic fiction?”
He couldn’t help but scold himself angrily in his mind.
But he immediately
noticed that something was not right. How was he able to stick his tongue out
to lick his tears? Didn’t the doctor say that his tongue had lost all mobility?
The only function left for it was to easily fall into his gullet and block his
breathing canal and make him the kind of rare genius who could commit suicide
by swallowing his own tongue.
Then he noticed
that opening his eyes also became easier. He could see a wide angle and his
eyesight was also greatly superior compared to before he became sick. The world
in front of him was bright and something made out of bamboo lay right before
his eyes.
……
……
Fan Shen stared
blankly at the bamboo strips. Suddenly, through the cracks of the bamboo strips,
he made out a shocking scene: men in black robes, each with a murderous look, were
swinging their deadly weapons right toward him!
Having no time to
distinguish whether this was just a bizarre dream or maybe the standard
experience for people on the brink of death, Fan Shen cringed spontaneously,
covering his eyes with his two hands, the ostrich kind of behavior any normal
person would have chosen.
“Whoosh…!” Sounds
of objects tearing through air suddenly arose, followed by stifling groans and
then ultimate silence.
Hands still
covering his eyes, Fan Shen waited for a moment and tried to make some sense
out of it. Gingerly spreading two fingers slightly open, he eventually built up
enough courage to look out sneakily from behind the crack. The bamboo strips
that made up the basket sliced the view in front of him into countless diamond-shaped
windows, and looking through these windows, he could clearly construct the
shapes of over a dozen corpses lying motionless on the ground; blood streamed everywhere
and started to build up a strong smell of death.
Fan Shen was
stupefied. All of this in front of his eyes appeared so real that he simply couldn’t
wrap his mind around it. Suddenly he remembered the hands that were still
covering his face.
“Did I just move
my hands? Can I move my hands now? Have I recovered? But what on earth just
happened out there? Am I in the middle of a dream? Once I wake up, will I still
be that good-for-nothing, lying on the sick bed, not able to move a muscle, and
simply waiting for the approach of death? If that were true, then I’d rather
remain in the dream and never wake up. At least my hands can still move and my eyes
can still blink.” Immersed in these mournful thoughts, he rubbed his wet face
with his hand.
When he withdrew
his hand, he found his hand covered with blood. The drop of liquid that had
rolled down from the corner of his eye was no tear. It was blood – blood
splashed onto his face from someone.
Fan Shen stared at
his hands, thunderstruck, while a scream reverberated fiercely in his head,
“These are not my hands!”
Extending in front
of him was a pair of extremely fair-complexioned and lovable small hands.
Covered by blood stains, they looked almost like a white lotus blossoming in
the underworld, with an eerie kind of beauty. However, they were absolutely not
the kind of hands that would have belonged to an adult!
Waves of mixed
feeling surged into Fan Shen’s head and dumbfounded him. Myriad questions and incomparable
terror soon completely consumed his mind and his heart.
……
……
That year was the
57th year of the Qing Calendar. The conquering army led by His
Majesty was still in the middle of a war against the western barbarians. The Count
of Southernland was also at His Majesty’s service in the army, and the capital
was governed by the Great Empress and the High Councils.
On that day, the Villa
of Serenity outside of the capital by the riverside of the Flowing-Crystal
Creek caught fire. A group of assassins, under the cover of the night sky and
the fire, attacked the villa, began killing everyone in sight, and committed
the most atrocious massacre.
A young servant of
the villa carried the young master with him and fought his way out. The
murderers in night suits chased after him and they fought all the way to the road
entrance leading south outside of the capital.
The attackers had
no idea that the handicapped youngster turned out to be an expert fighter of
fathomless kills. Besides, there were also reinforcement behind the small hills
– and the identity of the reinforcement was even more horrifying!
“The Dark Riders!”
moaned the assassins who were mowed down by the crossbows. Lying in a pool of
blood, they were already on their last breaths.
All the riders
wore the standard black suit of armor, which radiated a faint, soul-stirring
shine under the illumination of the moon. Each rider carried a strong crossbow,
the kind only authorized for the military. The first barrage of the crossbows
had wiped out most of the assassins.
Surrounded by the
Dark Riders was a middle-aged man sitting inside a horse-drawn wagon. He had a
wan face and very sparse beard under his chin. Fixing his glance on the young
servant carrying the child on his back, he nodded slightly, and then gently
clapped his hands.
The clapping was
the signal to strike!
A section of the
riders began to separate from the main formation and charged toward the badly
beaten assassins, as swift and merciless as the reaping scythe of Death himself
under the dark sky.
A wizard among the
assassins raised his wand high and began chanting some secret spell, and people
in the field felt some kind of unknown energy gathering alongside the small
hills.
The middle-aged
man frowned slightly, but did not move. A dark shadow suddenly leapt out from beside
him and shot forward swiftly like a night hawk. The wizard’s voice halted
abruptly after a crisp snap, and his head flew high into the air, splashing
blood along the way.
The middle-aged
man on the wagon shook his head. “These wizards from the far west never get it.
When confronted with true might, wizardry is just like the pen of the Prime
Minister, useless.”
Dozens of the solemn Dark Riders combed the
surrounding areas and signaled safety with closed right fists. All the
assassins had been eliminated. The troop split up. The horse-drawn wagon inside
moved forward slowly until it arrived in front of the young servant. With the
help of his subordinates, the middle-aged man sat in a wheelchair. Rolling the
wheels himself, he slowly approached the young servant who remained in an
upright position in the middle of the field, as sharp as a spear.
The middle-aged
man on wheelchair glanced at the bamboo basket on the young servant’s back. A
faint redness finally appeared on his pale face.
“It’s very
fortunate!”
A black cloth
covered the face of the young man carrying the basket. Inside the tight grip of
his hand was a long black iron chisel that looked almost like a sword and fresh
blood dripped slowly from the tip. Around him lay many dead bodies, all top-notch
ambushers. On the throat of each body was a small red clot. Apparently it only
took the youngster one strike to stop each of the assassins.
“I need an
explanation,” the man with the black cloth around his eyes said in a chilling
voice. The voice didn’t have the slightest tremble and neither carried the
slightest emotion.
“Of course, you
shall have it. I also need to give my lord an explanation.” A faint softness
flashed past the middle-aged man’s face so quickly as though it never happened.
The young servant
wearing the black cloth nodded and made to leave.
“Where are you
taking the child?” the middle-aged man on wheelchair said coldly. “You are
blind. Did you want the young lord to wander about the world with you?”
“This is Her
Ladyship’s flesh and blood.”
“This is also His
Lordship’s flesh and blood!” the middle-aged man in the wheelchair exclaimed in
a gloomy tone. “I promise you I can find a safe harbor for the young lord in
the capital.”
The young man
shook his head and straightened the black cloth on his face.
The middle-aged
man on wheelchair knew very well that the young man was loyal only to her
Ladyship. Even his own lord could not have commanded the blind servant. So he
heaved a sigh and persuaded, “Once His Lordship is back, everything in the
capital will quiet down for sure. Why do you insist on taking him with you?”
“I don’t trust
your lord.”
The middle-aged
man frowned as though he really detested these words. After a short pause, he
said, “Nursing the child, teaching him to read and write; are you capable of
any?” He let out a sneer. “Blind, what do you know besides killing people?”
The blind man was
not annoyed and only gently gave an upper push to the basket on his back. “Cripple,
isn’t killing people the only thing you know as well?”
The middle-aged
man let out an insidious smile. “It was only some nobles in the capital who
started this. Once His Lordship is back, of course I’ll clean them up.”
The blind youngster
shook his head again.
The middle-aged
man gently rubbed his fingers against the wheelchair, as though he was guessing
what the other party might be afraid of. A short moment later, he said with a
frown.
“I know what you
are afraid of. But in this mundane world, who else is capable of protecting him
against that kind of unknown danger besides the child’s father?”
The blind
youngster suddenly opened his mouth again, his voice still emotionless. “A new
identity and an uninterrupted life.”
The middle-aged man
gave it a thought, and then nodded.
“Where?”
“Port Danzhou. His
Lordship’s nanny lives there.”
The blind
youngster remained silent for a while but eventually accepted the arrangement.
With a relaxed
smile, the middle-aged man rolled the wheelchair behind the blind youngster and
picked the child up from the basket. Looking at the child’s pretty and lovely
little face, he couldn’t help but sigh. “He looks almost identical to his
mother. So pretty!”
He suddenly burst
into a string of loud laughter. “I am sure he’ll grow into a great man!”
In the distance,
his subordinates stood silently. Although they kept their faces blank, deep
inside, they were astounded by the joyous laughter from their boss. What kind
of important figure could the child be? They couldn’t help but wonder.
“Oh?” The blind
youngster leaned his head slightly and took the child back into his own arms.
Although he was simpler than any normal person, he didn’t want the child’s face
to be too close to the hands of that venomous snake. In the meantime, he used a
one syllable word to express his pure politeness-prone question.
The middle-aged
man kept his smile as he stared at the child’s face. However, the smile seemed
to also contain an indescribable flavor of horror. “A child only two months
old, yet he was able to wipe the blood off his face with his own hands. And
after such dreadful terror tonight, he could still sleep so soundly. He is
certainly worthy of…”
He suddenly
lowered his voice, making sure none of his subordinates could hear the next few
words, “…being the child of the Heavenly Vessel.”
This middle-aged
man was a powerful man in the capital with a reputation for his cruelty and
brutality. No official falling into his hands could withhold anything from him
for more than two days. Needless to say, he was a man with sharp eyes. But even
such an extraordinary man failed to recognize that the child was not in a sweet
sleep but had been scared senseless.
……
……
In the name
“Heavenly Vessel,” heavenly indicates the divine connections, and vessel means container
for the blood. Putting them together, it means vessel of divine blood descended
to the human world. In the legends of this world, every couple hundred years,
one of the Heavenly Vessels left in this world by the divine would awaken.
Being a Heavenly Vessel
could mean they possess mighty and invincible fighting power, for example, the
great general in the Nasgu Kingdom far, far away. At the brink of the complete
destruction of their kingdom by the barbarians, with shear personal valor and
fighting power, he killed the majority of the barbarian elder assembly and made
history.
Some “Heavenly
Vessels” would show extreme genius in art or intellectual development, for
example the Great Wizard Poore in the western world, who only passed away three
hundred years ago, and his wife, playwright Fubo.
Of course, no one
could prove that they were true Heavenly Vessels left by divine creatures to
overcome the many tribulations of the world. But these people did, in fact, bring
peace to the world along with many other things.
In the end all of the
“Heavenly Vessels” vanished. No one, not even any country could find any trace
of them. They would appear all of a sudden and then disappear out of the blue.
Other than some obscure records, they didn’t leave anything that could have
proven their existence.
The middle-aged
man on wheelchair happened to be one of the very few who knew for sure that
such “Heavenly Vessel” phenomenon did indeed exist.
For some unknown
reason, after Fan Shen died, his soul came to this world. And just like that……was
miraculously reincarnated into an infant’s body, and the infant’s father or
mother happened to be the mysterious “Heavenly Vessel” bloodline on this
continent.
By daybreak, the
battlefield had been cleaned up. The horse-drawn wagon slowly followed the
stone slab road eastbound. Right behind the horse-drawn wagon, a troop of dark
riders and a pale-faced middle-aged man in a wheelchair made up an eerie scene.
A small rock on
the road gave the horse-drawn wagon a bump, which woke the infant lying flatly
on the soft silky mat.
The infant’s stare
dispiritedly wandered about, skipping the faces of the men who had saved his
life, and instead, fixed upon the direction the wagon was heading. The stare was
totally different from a normal infant’s stare, which would constantly wobble
but remain clear yet unfocused. The stare now contained something more,
something beyond words.
No one knew that
such a fragile, small body actually contained a soul from a different world.
At the end of his
stare, the curtain flapped in the coming wind and exposed a corner of the green
hills outside the wagon and the long stone slab road that rapidly moved
backward as though there were countless frames in a continuous rewind.
In front of the
wagon, the blind youngster held the iron chisel tightly in his grip. A black
cloth covered not only his two eyes, but also the entire world.
Now support the author Maoni by clicking this link, and support the translator Lanny by following my blog! :)
Give yourself a pad on the back once a while. You deserve it somehow! And if you can't reach behind to your back, you can always use a robotic arm.
Picture of the Day:
The Happy Duo
