Whirling Snow — a wuxia short story translation

Whirling Snow

Chen Jiye

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In the afternoon, snow falling. Snowflakes fluttering about, frequently blowing into Old Shangguan’s simple wine shop in the village. Old Shangguan suddenly recalled when Shangguan Wuxue left home at the age of fourteen; that day the sky was also full of dancing snowflakes. His son looked back a few times as he departed, ultimately fading away, lost in the midst of the thick snowfall.

The door curtain was stirred, snow mingling with the wind as it blew inside, snapping Old Shangguan out of his remembrances of eight years ago. Two men of the rivers and lakes entered, both of them young. They didn’t say much. Shangguan brought out wine and beef. Shangguan had specially added more wine and beef to their dishes, as was his custom whenever travelers of the rivers and lakes stopped by; they always seemed to want more wine and meat. Shangguan would always think, perhaps my son Wuxue is at this moment sitting in some shop, drinking wine and eating meat.

Shangguan stayed off to the side, smoking and smiling as he listened to his guests’ idle chatter. Shangguan always enjoyed listening to the conversations of people from the rivers and lakes. He believed his son ought to be having his own astounding encounters to talk about. Not only that, but occasionally he would pick up some news of his son from listening to these discussions.

The first few years he heard of his son defeating several martial arts experts, and that he had performed numerous chivalrous deeds. When people spoke of his Shangguan Wuxue, they all called him the same thing: “Shangguan, the Young Xia”. But after a while he heard no further news from the rivers and lakes concerning his Wuxue. In fact, he heard rumors that it seemed like Wuxue had fallen into some deep abyss and died. But Old Shangguan didn’t believe that at all. Not long ago he had received news of his son. He had fallen off a cliff, but in the end it had been a blessing in disguise that ended in an adventure. Not only had his martial arts improved, but he had also fallen in with a fellow lady xia who was as pretty as a heavenly immortal. The past year or two, though, it seemed there had been no news of his son. He didn’t know what kind of adventures Wuxue had encountered.

The two rivers and lakes travelers finished their conversation, paid their bill, and stood up, ready to be on their way. Old Shangguan brought in two bowls of piping hot plain tea to warm and settle the travelers’ stomachs before they departed. The two youthful travelers were touched and repeatedly thanked him. When they had finished their tea, they saw that one of the wine shop’s support posts was loose, so one of them lifted the post up with one hand and placed a brick under it, making the post much more stable. Only then did the two men, with warm hearts and high spirits, set off from the wine shop. With a hurried pace they stepped out into the wind and snow and were back out onto the road, among their wanderings.

As the sky grew darker, the snowfall became heavier and heavier. Old Shangguan put his pipe in his pocket, put out the stove fire, and cleaned up and tidied his cutting board and other things. He packed his bowls and chopsticks in the bag on his carrying pole and, step by step, headed into the village. Shangguan didn’t know that his son, Wuxue, two years ago had been killed amongst the ever-fluttering snowflakes on a snow-covered mountain by those same two men who had just ate and drank in his shop. Naturally, there was no particular reason for it, just another senseless fight.

He left behind a track of distinct footprints on the snowy ground, which were little by little covered up by the falling snow. This sky full of whirling snow! As if it was trying to turn this monstrous and multicolored world into a single color.

Originally published in an issue of the Chinese wuxia magazine 《今古传奇·武侠版》 (Legends Old and New: Wuxia Edition)