Explore Chapter 1 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.
Our destination was Mars. According to my late friend's calculations, we had indeed entered Mars's atmosphere before the plane met with disaster. Had I then landed on Mars? If that were truly the case, the soul of my friend could rest content: the first Chinese to reach Mars, his death was not in vain! But, 'in the end,' where was this? I could only 'believe' it was Mars; it might as well be, for I had no means of proving it one way or the other. Surely astronomy could determine which planet this was; alas, my knowledge of astronomy, like my knowledge of ancient Egyptian script, was nonexistent! my friend could have pointed it out to me without a moment's hesitation, but he, he... Oh! My dear friend, my friend and classmate since childhood!
The plane was shattered. How was I to return to Earth? I dared not think! I had only the clothes on my back-torn to shreds like hanging dried spinach-and some dry provisions in my stomach; not to speak of a plan for returning, I dared not even think how I would survive here! The language was unknown, the place unfamiliar. Were there even creatures resembling humans on Mars? Questions swarmed like... best not to think. 'The marooned man on Mars,' was that not enough to console myself? How unprofitable to let worry diminish courage!
Naturally, this is a recollection of the situation at the time. Back then, my mind was addled by the shock. A stunned mind may spawn many disjointed thoughts, most of which I can no longer recall; only these-how to return, and how to survive-seem to have remained etched in my memory after my mind cleared completely, like two planks washed ashore by the tide, the ship having sunk entirely.
I regained full consciousness. The first task was to find a way to bury my friend, that mound of flesh and bone. As for the plane, I dared not even look at it. It too was my good friend; it had ferried the two of us here, a loyal machine! Both friends were dead, only I remained alive. I felt as though their misfortune were somehow my fault! The two competent ones were dead, leaving only me, the incapable one. That the fool should have all the luck-what an intolerable form of self-consolation! I felt I could bury my classmate single-handedly, but I certainly could not bury the plane as well, which is why I dared not look upon it.
I ought to have started digging a pit, but I did not. I only stared blankly at my surroundings, gazing through a veil of tears. Why did I not clasp that mound of remains and weep? Why did I not begin digging at once? In a state akin to waking from a dream, many things I did were not truly of my own volition; looking back, this is perhaps the most reasonable explanation and self-absolution.
I stared blankly at my surroundings. Strangely, what I saw then is etched in my memory with perfect clarity. Whenever I close my eyes, I can see those sights again, standing before me in full color, even the subtle gradations where hues meet. Only this scene, and the memory of first visiting my father's grave with my mother as a child, remained with me as two indelible pictures.
I cannot say what I paid particular attention to; I bestowed an equal measure of 'unconcerned attention' upon everything around me, if such a phrase holds any meaning. I was like a sapling in the rain, letting the drops fall upon me; with each drop that landed, a leaf would tremble.
I saw a gray sky. It was not overcast; this was a kind of gray atmosphere. The sunlight could hardly be called weak, for I felt intensely hot; yet its heat was not proportionate to its brightness. The heat was heat alone, devoid of dazzling brilliance. I seemed able to touch the thick, hot, dense, stifling gray air all around. Nor was it dusty, for distant objects were seen quite clearly, certainly not as if through wind-blown sand. The sunlight seemed attenuated within this grayness, then dispersed evenly, so that everywhere was gray, yet everywhere held a light-a silvery-gray universe. In northern China during a summer drought, when the sky hangs with layers of ineffectual gray cloud that dim the sun somewhat, yet the temperature remains scorching high, there is a faint resemblance to this place; but here the gray air was more somber, heavier, pressing against my face like a weight. A tofu shop at night, filled with trapped heat, with only a single oil lamp casting a spectral glow within it-that was the prototype of this universe. This air made me feel uneasy. In the distance were some low hills, also gray, darker than the sky; for sunlight was not absent, the hills bore a gray tinged with a faint red, like the iridescent sheen on a wood pigeon's neck.
Drawing my gaze back from the distance, I saw a plain, gray! No trees, no houses, no fields, flat, flat; flat to the point of irritation. Grass grew upon the ground, hugging the earth, with large leaves but no upright stems. The soil did not seem infertile, I thought; why was it not cultivated?
Not far from me, several eagle-like birds took flight, gray, with only their tails white. These spots of white lent the all-gray universe a touch of variation, yet did nothing to lessen its bleak, oppressive aspect; it was as if several pieces of spirit money were flying across a sky of bitter gloom!
The eagle-like birds flew towards me. As I watched, my heart suddenly leapt-they had seen my friend, that mound... In the distance, several more took wing. I grew frantic, instinctively searching the ground. No shovel, not even a wooden stick! I had no choice but to turn to the wreckage of the plane; an iron bar would serve to dig a pit, slowly. But the birds were already circling overhead. I dared not look further, yet I could sense they were flying lower and lower. Their cries-long, sharp, and bitter-were right above my head. With no time for a careful search, I grabbed a piece of the plane, I couldn't tell which part, and tore at it like a madman. One bird descended. I let out a desperate shout. Its rigid wings quivered, its legs were about to touch the ground when its white tail hooked, and it soared away again. As this one flew off, two or three more arrived, calling like magpies that have found some morsel. The cries of those above grew longer, as if pleading with the ones below to wait; finally, with a collective 'zha,' they all came down. I tore at the plane, my palms growing sticky-I must have been bleeding-yet I felt no pain. Tear, tear, tear; it was useless! I lunged at them, kicking and shouting. They spread their wings, dodging to the sides, but showed no intention of flying away. One had already pecked at that mound...! A red light flashed before my eyes. I lunged at it, trying to seize it with my hands. Intent on catching this one, I was set upon by the others from all sides; I began kicking wildly again. They cried 'zha zha,' spreading their hard wings to evade; the moment I drew my leg back, they attacked with furious eyes. And once they attacked, they were loath to retreat, intent now on pecking at my feet.