Ai Bei – Green Earth Mother

Earth Mother, a mythical, benevolent Buddhist saint, is the central icon in the Potala Palace. She is said to have seven eyes, with which She can see into people's hearts. Her right leg is stretched out in symbolic suppression of anger and realization of mercy. Earth Mothers come in five colors-white, red, blue, yellow, and green-of which green is the most basic. A powerful roc with golden wings is perched atop the green Earth Mother's head; it is Her protector.

Night once again deceived people's eyes. The wind relentlessly toyed with the overripe berries. In the orange morning light, Mimi pushed open the double cedar doors. The earth was blotted with the reddish brown juice of crushed berries-already rotten, they hid a hope brighter than the eyes of birds in their hearts: now that winter had passed, who could stop the multicolored seeds from sprouting green buds? Mimi asked him about the ancient division of the seasons. Spring is spring winter is winter flowers bloom in the summertime fruit ripens on autumn days once you enter that time mountains rivers flowers trees wind clouds thunder lightning snow rain frost fog all things fuse or multiply even the excretions of men and women and boys and girls increase or decrease. He said it all in one breath.

Why?

People are powerless against the mysteries of heaven and earth. He put on a pair of greasy blue shorts and walked toward the inner room, his skin a snowy white. Mimi's heart floated softly along on two hairless, spindly legs. For days, Mimi had been longing for a snowfall that would cover the land, freezing heaven and earth, solidifying the people in their places to keep their corrupt souls from fluttering all over the streets, even if her own heart were also frozen into a lump of ice. Mimi wanted to stick out her scalding tongue-I'll kiss you, kiss every pore on your body, suck in all the hidden flavors. Her tongue was already frozen. Ice and snow fused heaven and earth, embracing withered branches and dead leaves, wastelands and abandoned slopes, the bare stems of shriveled petals and the ancient forest far from the bustling city, its ruined, rust-blotched trees, and those aged, green-skinned people hobbling all over the world. The aged people wore an overcoat of snow as they seduced the young by singing the praises of parental love. Spring came, the snow slunk away to reveal the ravaged land in all its ugliness. Beneath the sun's rays, it shed tears as it related a tale of shortlived purity and a false love it should never have known.

Kiss me. Why are you afraid of Her?

It just isn't right.

It's not fair. Just look at Her wrinkled old mouth that has been stamped by hundreds, thousands of full-blooded lips, a once rosy color that has peeled away completely from countless scrapings. A kiss, you have to kiss me in front of Her.

It's as out of place as wearing a bathing suit on the street. The sound of his voice shriveled into a lump; the words ran together.

It's as ridiculous as wearing a mandarin gown in a swimming pool.

Blasphemous, sacred motherly love!

I want what's mine, it's got nothing to do with Her!

OK, tonight we'll go to some deserted spot…

No, I don't want any more stolen kisses in the dark.

Mimi got up out of the bathtub, every pore on her bright, pink body spreading open willfully, steam obscuring the reflection of her tender fresh naked female body in the dressing mirror. She pressed her face against the cold silvery surface. Not a single wrinkle anywhere, especially on her pink forehead. In twenty-five years, nine thousand days and nights, those delicate lips had never tasted a bright shining kiss! What appeared to be an invisible dark hand in the mirror was thrust into Mimi's small narrow chest, where it stroked a weakly beating heart that was covered by a thick, heavy layer of dust. Two streams of hot tears gouged out two pale scars. In the darkness, Mimi was hopelessly entwined by pity.

If She opened her eyes, a lover's kiss would immediately become a sinful intrigue.

If in a world of respect for one's elders, there's no room for a kiss in broad daylight, I'd rather have languished in my mother's womb and never have opened my eyes.

Not so loud. Mother will hear. He was breathing hard, his every word chiseled on Mimi's heart.

Mimi composed herself and gazed at the pale tiny tightly closed mouth in the dressing mirror. Her pink body was cooling off, turning as pale as wax. A delicate hand glided down it from top to bottom as she mused, Maybe this doesn't belong to me. No… but maybe… Love knotted in her heart, spun a thread that circled the earth three times, maybe more. Mimi was sure that sooner or later, the world would be destroyed-by love.

Are you crying? Are you… The words stuck in his throat and simply wouldn't come out. He put a towel printed with cats' eyes- red, yellow, blue, white-over Mimi's shoulders. She shook her head, raining tears onto the back of his hand. When Mimi was little, Mama had said she was born under a crying star, that she had come into this world with tears in her eyes. Granny believed she was an unlucky child, so on snowy days she secretly fed her snowballs. Mimi's mouth was frozen open like a trumpet as she sang and sang and sang, never stopping. All Mama could do was buy a set of imported earplugs.

Are you crying again? His hand was lily-white and supple, so soft it seemed boneless. He wiped away the tears on her cheeks, then carried her back to the bathtub and the hot water. He rubbed her back, massaged her shoulders, then let his supple hands rest on her trembling breasts. Beads of water dripped through his fingers.

Ribbons of orange light filtered in through a dark-green bamboo grove. The ribbons, like spirit threads, tied up her tender little heart as they swayed back and forth. Pricked by sharp leaves, her heart settled like a fine powder over her childhood dream world, with all its colored lamps. The colored lamps congealed into a swarm of moths. The moths greedily sucked up the orange-colored light, which shone through their transparent wings. Mimi had been afraid of the moon's orange rays ever since she was little.

Knock-knock. She was at the door.

I'm taking a bath. What do you want?

Is he in there?

He…… Before she could get it out, he covered Mimi's lips with his boneless hand.

Say I'm not here. His mouth was boring into Mimi's ear.

Why?

I shouldn't be here while you're taking a bath.

I'm your wife, I share your bed. What's wrong with a bath?

Blasphemous… Blasphemous, sacred motherly love.

Ptui! Pettiness is the true blasphemous love! Mimi kicked the tub over. A pair of purple slippers floated toward the door on the spilled water.

Ai! A heavy sigh from the other side of the door splintered Mimi's heart. She hadn't left. Instead, She cupped a brilliant excuse in Her hands. I bought you a Moonlight Sonata tape. Come out here, and we'll listen to it together.

Ma-he was embarrassed beyond belief. A snow-white back slipped through the cedar doors.

It's my chest, the same old problem. The moans of a sick cat outside the door.

Ma-I'll massage it for you.

Mimi stood barefoot next to the window. She tumbled into a sea of mist, floated off toward a deep canyon-compressed into a breathless speck of dust, her bloodless lips parted, she gazed up at the creases squirming in the sky. A ruined face like a piece of rotting wood appeared in the tattered vault of heaven. Mimi rubbed her wildly beating heart. What is it I still want? she asked herself. Why hasn't my heart ossified? In spite of herself, Mimi looked down into the courtyard. That knifelike face spread out across a hairless, snow-white chest. Mimi was thinking, The flowers in Her eyes are blooming at an angle, the clouds are drifting at an angle, people are walking at an angle. Her happiness spilled out of Her crisscrossing creases. Like the new bloom of a withered flower, Her face came back to life. Four spindly legs intertwined; two bodies folded together. As though she were watching a centipede, Mimi hid, trembling, behind the curtain. Soap bubbles kept popping; water spread silently in all directions… A pair of tiny feet, made plump by soap bubbles, stepped on the scarlet gravel. A shout- Mama-the orbs of her buttocks arched as she walked, arched and quivered as though restless animals were hiding in them. Arms thrust out in front of her, Mimi ran toward the churning white foam stretching out before her, leaving behind a trail of happy birds' nests with her feet. A pile of bubbles was created in a second; a drab blueness required countless millennia. She ran into it, a fleshy red butterfly toying with a boundless expanse of waves. As she swam ahead, the fleshy red became white, the blue became a deep green.