Each shadow speaks its own words. They are tireless and never rest in the fog, just wanting to tell the secrets they know. How can the shadow speak? The peasant girl can understand the languages of all human tribes in the world, the language of eagles, the language of wolves, and the language of wind. She also didn't master some languages well, such as the language of the elves who once roamed the sky and the woods. They are like large fireflies, their wings flicker like mosquitoes, emitting golden or blue light. But they died before Peasant Girl was born, so her knowledge of their words is limited.
In the past, she had never heard the shadow speak once, and she could not understand the shadow's words at all. The old man asked her to point out some interesting shadows and tell her their nonsense.
The peasant girl first pointed to a thin and stooped shadow. The old man listened for a while, and then translated to her what the shadow said:
famine. It was truly the greatest famine in his life. The grain and wild vegetables are gone. The bark is gone too. The children are gone too. The smallest ones have not yet grown all their lanugo hair. I couldn't bear it, so I had to exchange it with the neighbor's child. The neighbor's child was older, so it was delivered without a leg. The pot on the fire whined, and the child hid behind the fire and also whined.
"This is the past that happened in your world." The old man said, "But time is not very far away from us. We can go further forward. The shadow will remember everything that happened."
The old man led her forward. In the fog, she had no idea of the direction and relied entirely on the old man's guidance. Along the way, she pointed out three or four shadows one after another, and what they said was translated to her by the old man. The shadow that most resembled the peasant girl said:
Weddings require a little bit of elegance. Even in bad times, you have to be more particular than usual, otherwise it would be better not to do anything. When weaving a garland, it is best to use branches of flower trees planted by your own hands. Plant them when you are young and they will grow just right by the time of the wedding. How well that tree I planted grew! The flowers are big and full, as if sewn with blue velvet. The wedding I have been waiting for for many years! But the tree was also burned down. The robbers chopped it down to boil a pot of hot water, and the axes used to chop the trees shone like blood. What about him? What about him? Where is he?
There is another shadow of a giant fish, larger than a farmer's house. What it said was different from the previous shadows:
I know there are many small fish on the sea. Glowing fish. Small and bright. They are cunning, appearing only half the time of the day and always floating on the surface. If I wanted to eat them I had to surface quickly. be quick! I rushed to the surface and found nothing. I sank down for a while, then looked towards the sea, and they came out again! cunning! I have to endure it and wait for them to get closer...Did one of them sink? It smells so good, it's a little different than before. near! near! Bite it! No, no, no no no no, what is this? hook! ah! Pointy, crafty hook!
The sounds made by these shadows, which were about the same size as her, or much larger than her, were clear and continuous even though she could not understand them. Another time she didn't see anything clearly, but the old man stopped and listened to a sound with interest. He said they were something very small, smaller than an ant, the eye of a needle, or a hair split into ten strands, so people always forgot their existence. But they also speak like all other shadows, it just takes a little experience to hear. The words the old man heard at that time were:
What's this? A chunk of bean curd skin. The structure is rare. There's a piece here too. There's a piece there too. Come try this. Come try that one. Can it be imitated? Can you learn? Is it time to breed? Not yet, wait a moment. hold on. When everything is reduced to ashes, the work has just begun. The old thread ends and the new thread starts again. But alas! Shhh...it seems like something is listening...
The peasant girl did not understand what these words meant. She instinctively felt a little nervous, but the old man just laughed it off.
"Everyone wants the world to work in his own way," he said somehow. But the peasant girl didn't think so. She hoped that the world would turn around the way it originally did. In that earthly spring, which was much softer and gentler than the gem tree, the creatures would breed their offspring and weave the earth into colorful colors. At that time, maybe she pretended to be a mortal and walked into the scroll to watch.
However, the further she advanced in the mist of shadows, the more her mind, as hazy as the breeze, became aware of the truth. These various shadows, using their own languages and emotions, tell the same thing over and over again. Among the countless colors and sounds in the world, they only choose things related to death. died of hunger. Death by violence. Died by hunting. Death from disease. Die of grief. Except for a few words that she couldn't understand, everything else was a lonely, desolate and dejected death.
Such endless sadness and sorrow caused an unprecedented emotion to sprout in her heart. She felt that her heart was like a broken stone, from which endless sources burst out. She had seen such a source gurgling from the eyes of living beings, whenever a knife blade was reflected in their face, or the corpses of relatives and friends lay before them. Over time she learned how to imitate that expression, but she didn't really know what it felt like. But now she is walking in the opposite direction in this shadow mist that no one in the world has seen, and all she can pick up are the dust of the past. Those losses linger like the morning mist watching the passing water, leaving thoughts that cannot bear to let go of life in the world of shadows. It was not the power of a unique being, or a demonic world imprisoned by an evil curse. There is neither right nor wrong there. The shadow echoes that repeat, echo, conflict, and cover each other are an endless accumulation of all unfinished wishes and dreams that refuse to accept the end.
If she had never flown out of the abyss, she would have had no expectations of this world, just a spiritual mist and a tangible wind. But now, now she does know where those wishes came from and how they are related to her. What all the shadows emphasize over and over again - if you have something, you can't accept losing it. The pain and regret of that loss is so strong that they don't even need to wait until they actually lose it before they start going crazy about the destined outcome. Wasn't this the case with all the mortal creatures that had ever puzzled her? Those monsters, robbers, gravediggers, corpse eaters... all their cunning and viciousness, aren't they just to stay in the spring of that country?
When she understood this—as if she had become one of them—suddenly the voices of the shadows all took on meaning. She didn't need to fully understand, the emotions in those murmurs were as clear as the sound of the wind. She ran in the mist full of shadows, forgetting the old man who guided her. In those desperate whispers, she traced the roots, as if to find an answer to all this.
Don't want to lose. the shadows said to her.
The mist on the fortress was as heavy and thick as lead, slowly passing by her side. The fire-breathing iron ship the old man told about rowed silently in the void. Why do they go from one star to another? If every star is as huge as the earth, does it mean that there are as many disasters on each star as there are on earth, so they would rather wander forever than suffer in one place?
Don't want to leave. The shadows still spoke to her.
She ran faster and faster. In front of her, out of sight, there was a voice louder than the other shadows. It seemed to be calling her to come closer, to suddenly turn around from the present full of suffering, to go upstream, and to go all the way to the moment when all things were just born. Run, run, to the place where everything is still full of hope.
The sound drew her towards him. That was the most special shadow she had seen in this misty land. At the end of her run, a spiral cloud of mist shimmered like a throne atop a mountain. The majestic figure standing in front of the throne, its outline as erratic as the edge of flames, she recognized from its majestic manner the lone king in the gallery. The sight frightened her, for she had thought that the only things that existed in this land of shadow were dead things.
But the shadow in the fog, she was sure, must be the king. It was the most majestic life she had ever seen. When it stood up, it looked like a giant tower sloping down, its eyes radiating flames. The king's shadow looked around like this and finally made a decision. It thrust its hands into the mist below and scooped out a bunch of condensed shapes. Those fog balls soon became as small a shadow as the peasant girl, wandering back and forth at the giant's feet. They make short calls, plunge into the mist, die, and emerge from the mist again.
That sight pleased the king's shadow. It looked down at the activities of these tiny creatures, which seemed both familiar and strange to the peasant girl. She could recognize every detail and outline of it, but this shadow-like king looked majestic and benevolent, but also looked so young and happy. When all kinds of tiny shadows appear in the mist, it is interested in each one of them, caring and generous. She heard a whisper that was very much like the wind, but the voice was powerful and intimidating:
create. This saves me from loneliness. Let me give life to these little things, and let them run to every corner of this ashes! It’s time for something new here! create! create! create! Let the dust move!
The king's shadow was in high spirits, waving his arms endlessly, as if dancing a triumphal dance in a spring celebration performance. Gods, trees, birds, beasts, flying dragons, people... all appeared as small as a peasant girl in the mist that it waved through, and they ran quickly through the mist.
She watched them go away and disappear. The source in her heart burst out violently, as if it was filling her chest. But a thunderous sound filled her ears. It was the shadow of the king laughing heartily.
