Explore Chapter 5 of 'Cat Country' with the original Chinese text, English translation, detailed Chinese vocabulary explanations, and audio of the Chinese original. Listen and improve your reading skills.
I would have slept on forever, had I not been bitten awake by flies. Forgive me for calling them "flies"-I don't even know their proper name. They look like little green butterflies, quite lovely, but their behavior is several times more annoying than common flies. They were everywhere; every time I lifted a hand, a cloud of green flies would swarm up.
My body was stiff from sleeping on the ground all night. In the felinoids' language, there probably was no word for "bed." With one hand swatting at green flies and the other rubbing my body, my eyes scanned the room. There was nothing to see. The bed, naturally, was the earth, so the most essential item in a bedroom was done away with. I hoped to find a basin to wash myself; sweat had soaked me for half a day and a night. There was none. With nothing else to look at, I examined the walls and roof, all made of mud without a trace of decoration. Four walls enclosed a stench-that was the room. In the wall was a hole about three feet high, serving as the door; the window, if one insisted, was the same hole.
My pistol, neither taken by the felinoids nor lost on the way, was a miracle indeed. With the gun secured, I crawled out through the small hole. It dawned on me that even a window would be useless, for the hut was in a forest-likely the one I saw last night. The leaves were so dense that even the strongest sunlight couldn't penetrate, and besides, the sunlight was obscured by a gray haze. No wonder the felinoids had keen eyesight. The forest wasn't cool either. It was damp and steaming hot. Though sunlight was absent, the heat seemed wrapped in the gray haze. There was no wind.
A felinoid was perched in a tree. Of course, he had seen me long ago. But even when I spotted him, he tried to hide among the leaves. This made me rather angry. What kind of way was this to treat a guest? No food, no drink, just a stinking room for me. I acknowledged that I was his guest. I hadn't come here of my own accord-he had invited me. Best not to stand on ceremony, I thought. I walked over. He climbed to the treetop. I unceremoniously climbed up, grabbed a large branch, and shook it vigorously. He made a sound. I didn't understand his words, but I stopped shaking. I jumped down and waited for him. He seemed to realize escape was impossible. With ears flattened, like a defeated cat, he slowly descended.
I pointed to my mouth, tilted my head back, and opened and closed my lips several times, indicating a desire for food and drink. He understood and pointed up at the tree. I thought he meant for me to eat fruit. Felinoids might not eat grains, I thought, feeling clever. There was no fruit on the tree. He climbed up again, very carefully plucked four or five leaves, put one in his mouth, then placed them all on the ground. He pointed at me and then at the leaves.
This method of feeding-treating me like a sheep-I could not endure. I did not go over to take the leaves. The felinoid's face grew extremely unpleasant, as if he too was angry. Why he was angry, I naturally couldn't fathom. Why I was angry, he probably couldn't guess either. I saw that if this dispute continued, nothing good would come of it, and it was meaningless anyway, since neither of us understood the other.
However, I could not bring myself to pick up the leaves and eat them. I gestured for him to pick them up and bring them over. He seemed not to understand. I went from anger to suspicion. Could it be that the principle of men and women not touching applied here on Mars? Was this felinoid, after all this fuss, actually female? I dared not say. Who knew, maybe it was a case of men not touching men? (This guess later proved correct, confirmed after a few days' stay here.) Well, it was pointless to quarrel over mutual misunderstanding. I picked up the leaves and wiped them with my hand. In truth, my hand was filthy, with traces of blood from scratches left by the airplane's iron bars. But habit is second nature, and I did it without thinking. I put one leaf in my mouth. It was fragrant, with abundant juice. Lacking experience, some juice dribbled from the corner of my mouth. The felinoid twitched his limbs, as if about to come over and catch that drop of juice. This leaf must be precious, I thought. But with such a vast forest, why cherish one or two leaves so dearly? Never mind. There were plenty of oddities here. After eating two leaves in quick succession, I felt slightly dizzy, but not unpleasantly so. I sensed that the precious juice not only went to my stomach but also sent a numbing force through my whole body. Immediately, my stiffness eased. My belly filled with a tingling fullness. My mind grew hazy, drowsy yet unable to sleep, and within that daze emerged a faint itch-a tingle like mild intoxication. I still held a leaf in my hand. My hand felt slack and comfortable, as if just waking from sleep. I lacked the strength to lift it. My heart wanted to laugh; I couldn't say whether my face was smiling or not. I leaned against a large tree and closed my eyes for a moment. A very brief moment. My head swayed gently twice. The drunkenness passed. Every pore in my body felt so relaxed it seemed to laugh, if pores could laugh. Hunger and thirst were no longer felt. There was no need to wash. Mud, sweat, and blood clung comfortably to my skin. I'd be content never to wash again.
The forest grew much greener. The surrounding gray air was neither too cold nor too hot, just right. The gray haze and green trees possessed a poetically gentle beauty. In the dampness, upon closer sniff, it was not foul but a rich, sweet fragrance, like a ripe melon. "Delightful" could not describe my state of mind. "Intoxicated"-yes, "intoxicated"! Those two leaves gave me a gray strength in my heart, then, like a fish returned to water, I let the gray haze soak into every part of my being.
The so-called felinoid was not an upright-walking, clothed giant cat. He had no clothes. I laughed and pulled off the tattered strips on my upper body. It wasn't cold anyway, so why bother with these odds and ends? I kept my lower garment, not out of modesty, but because I needed to retain my belt to hang my pistol. Actually, going naked with a pistol holstered might be feasible, but I couldn't part with that box of matches. I had to keep my trousers to have a small pocket for the box, in case they shackled my feet again in the future. I also took off my boots and tossed them aside.
To return to the subject, the felinoid wore no clothes. His waist was long and slender, his limbs quite short. His fingers and toes were also short. (No wonder they ran fast yet acted so slowly, I recalled the scene when they shackled me.) His neck was not short, and his head could bend backward onto his back. His face was large, with two extremely round eyes set low, leaving a broad forehead. The forehead was covered with fine hair, continuously connected to the hair-also very fine. His nose and mouth merged into one, not elegantly like a cat's but somewhat like a pig's. His ears were on the back of his head, small. His body was covered in fine, glossy hair. Up close, it was gray; from a distance, it had a greenish tint, like the sheen of gray feather yarn. His torso was round, probably well-suited for tumbling. On his chest were four pairs of small nipples, eight little black dots.
The strangest thing about his movements, in my view, was his slowness interspersed with sudden speed, and speed with slowness, making it impossible to discern his intentions. I only felt he was extremely suspicious. His limbs were never still. His feet were as nimble as his hands. He seemed to use his hands and feet more than other senses, constantly touching here and there, always in motion. It was less a touch than a probing tap, like an ant's antennae.
What exactly did he mean by bringing me here and feeding me leaves? Perhaps due to the effect of those two leaves, I felt compelled to ask. But how to ask? We shared no common language.