The Last One Who Wasn’t a Rabbit
5 min read
28.
You devoured my parents, relatives, and close friends. Give them back to me.
But who are “you”?
Each one of “them” (“you”) might also be howling into the endless black air: you devoured my parents, relatives, and close friends—give them back to me—
My hatred, fear, and hopes all fall into the void. No one can find the true “enemy.” There is only a vast, cold machine rumbling rhythmically in the immense black air. We clearly hear the sound of the gears turning, but even this machine is hidden in the black air, untraceable.
In a legend, a juvenile in a white shirt defeated and killed an evil dragon. He ascended to the throne, but gradually, horns grew from his head, and scales and spikes appeared on his body. He became the evil dragon himself, waiting for the next juvenile in a white shirt to come and defeat him.
Or: one day, the first child in the class turned into a rabbit: long ears stood up (to pry), red eyes (to envy), and a small tail hidden between the legs (to be cautious yet hypocritical). The teacher, already a rabbit long ago, quickly praised and rewarded him, encouraging the whole class to learn from him and turn into rabbits soon. Eventually, all the students eagerly turned into rabbits one by one. Later, the only child left who hadn’t turned into a rabbit was labelled sick, accused of having borderline personality disorder, and so on. Subjected to the ridicule of all classmates and the continuous insults and “education” from teachers and his own parents, he finally wore a rabbit costume every day.
Or: there was once a monster that kept giving birth to a large number of children, only to devour them one by one.
You are reading the Bible. You tell me that in the Bible, the “dragon” symbolizes Satan, the evil spirit:
The great dragon was hurled down—that ancient serpent called the devil, or Satan, who leads the whole world astray. He was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him. (Revelation 12:9)
29.
Saturday, March 5, 2022, sunny turning cloudy.
Today is the 10th day since Putin ordered the Russian army to invade neighboring Ukraine. (The invasion started on February 24, 2022.)
7:42 p.m. The rain forecasted has not arrived; it was expected at 6:00 p.m., but it still hasn’t come. I checked the weather app on my phone again, and now it predicts rain at 10:00 p.m.
During the day, we went to a beach further southwest. After several rainy days, there were about two or three hours of sunshine around noon. We sat on a wooden bench by the sea, soaking up the sun and talking. You showed signs of getting a cold, with a tense back and aching legs. I asked if we should go to a pharmacy to get some medicine, but you said no, that you’d be fine in a few days.
I’ve often thought about the day when you might become very old and lose the ability to care for yourself. I’m really afraid of that day coming. Since early summer 2018, before we got together, I’ve had this fear. It has become a constant worry in my heart. Maybe back then, rationally, I should have known that if I couldn’t bear the loneliness and pain of losing you someday, I shouldn’t have started a relationship with someone 16 years older than me. But as I told you a few days ago, ’I liked you so much that rationality had no effect.’ I feel like I’m inept in many ways in life, but if that day really comes and we still love each other deeply, I can only say that I will do my best to accompany and care for you in your later years.
Stay loyal, or stay single; it’s that simple. I just read this phrase.
Although our first intimate moments weren’t with each other, our last should be, and then we’ll die together. This is something you said to me a few days ago, and it made me cry instantly. Life is beautiful and tragic; so tragic, yet so beautiful.
While sitting on the wooden bench by the sea during the day, you suddenly said, “If you still haven’t gotten pregnant in two years, let’s adopt a child.” So considerate. You even gently ran your fingers through my hair, and my whole body relaxed. I love it when you stroke my hair. I said, “Okay, I think so too,” genuinely willing inside. When you’re thoughtful, you always understand me so well, so considerately. Then you continued talking about adopting a child, and I absentmindedly zoned out again. You touched my hair again and asked what I was thinking. I couldn’t remember, even though it was just half a minute ago. I’ve been feeling out of it these past few days, with a discomfort in my chest, feeling very fragile.
I want us to have our own child, which would be the happiest outcome. How much I long to see the continuation of your life in our child’s face. One evening, while walking on the beach, you once again told me your greatest fear (the hardest thing to face) is death. I laughed and told you, there’s someone more afraid of your death than you are—doesn’t that comfort you? You said it doesn’t matter, but you smiled. I love seeing you smile, sometimes so carefree and silly, like a teenager, making me imagine you at 14. I feel heartache for all the time I wasn’t with you.
And if we can’t have our own child, adopting one is good too. We’ll raise a child together from infancy to adulthood, like a real family. Maybe it will give him/her a better life, and perhaps he/she will accompany me through my lonely old age after losing you.
I want to add our remaining lifespans together, divide by two, and then split it evenly between us. Then I’ll subtract one minute from mine and give it to you, so your lifespan will be two minutes longer than mine. That would be perfect. I will die in your warm embrace, while you still love me. Let me be selfish and make you endure two more minutes of loneliness and pain.
Let’s not argue anymore, alright? When we’re angry, let’s be like two loving kittens, licking each other until we can’t stay mad anymore. Alright? Every time we fight, I feel so disoriented, like time and space disappear, and it becomes so hard to live because even breathing feels difficult.
“My goal for the rest of my life is to maintain our current situation.”
31.
We walk along the seaside at dusk.
Not far away, in a mosque, an imam sings the Quran through a loudspeaker, the melancholic and mysterious tune filling the air around me.
32.
…Earlier, I was researching the saying “天地不仁，以萬物為芻狗”; I found various English translations fascinating. Some wrote: “The universe is indifferent to our suffering and deaf to our sorrow”; others said: “The universe has no mercy”; another wrote: “Heaven and Earth are indifferent.” While my translation is: “The Creator does not take sides.” Naturally, I like my own translation best. Then, looking at the Chinese interpretations, I was a bit shocked: “…Confucians often say Heaven and Earth are benevolent, nurturing all things. While Lao Tzu says Heaven and Earth are neither benevolent nor not benevolent. Heaven and Earth gave birth to all things, allowing them to thrive without expecting anything in return. When people help others, they often have conditions, hoping for something in return. Therefore, Lao Tzu said people should follow the example of Heaven and Earth… Do whatever you can, and once it’s done, it’s done, without conditions.”
34.
Sitting in the café, I suddenly felt very sad. A sharp female voice was singing a slow and sorrowful song over the speakers. Through the floor-to-ceiling window to our right, I saw two men sitting across from each other. One was slightly chubby, wearing a tightly wrapped wool hat. The man opposite him wore glasses and was looking at an open laptop. The man in the hat was speaking, gesturing slowly, as if in slow motion. I looked up at the road, the golden sunset casting its light, and my mind began to blur once more. Some things I cannot think about at all, as thinking about them makes me sick. For example, I truly feel anger, disgust, and nausea towards some people; I find them extremely annoying. Why haven’t they exploded yet? In my daze, I heard you say that a Ukrainian father and son had joined the army to defend Ukraine. One was in his thirties, the other in his sixties. Neither had served before, and now they are training together in a recruit training camp. You were quite moved when you told me this. You had already shed tears earlier this afternoon before we went out, after reading about an elderly Ukrainian man who said he dreaded the day when Russia would violently occupy Ukraine. If that day ever came, he wished he would already be dead so he wouldn’t have to witness it. Ukrainian people, it’s not so much that we support you, but rather that your justice, kindness, and resilience bring me immense comfort. As someone born in China, I feel I rarely see such justice, kindness, and resilience among people. It is precisely those who know how to compromise too well, who can find a way to live “not bad” regardless of the circumstances or moral standards—those among the Chinese who are obedient and indifferent—that make me feel anger, disgust, nausea, and shame.
Excerpted from Like the Ocean, a work of creative nonfiction by Xi Nan. Available from Amazon US, Amazon UK, and other Amazon marketplaces.
Author: Xi Nan (西楠) is a writer and translator working in English, Spanish and Chinese. Her own work explores memory, time, displacement and the complexities of human relationships, mostly drawing on everyday life and personal experience. Her published works and books can be found through an online search. She now publishes primarily in Whale Review, the independent online literary journal she co-founded with her husband Fish Lu (魯魚). She currently lives in England.