After Bajie finished speaking, he fell silent for a moment.
Then he turned around.
He spread his arms.
The once-empty Yellowstone Town suddenly stirred.
As though something had returned.
The sun slowly rose.
Columns of cooking smoke emerged from the rooftops, rising straight upward before spreading out in midair, stained orange-gold by the light.
The wind blew over, carrying the fragrance of food.
Footsteps sounded in the distance along the bluestone streets.
A child ran through an alley, tripped, cried twice, then got back up and kept running.
Someone stood beside the well drawing water, its windlass creaking as it turned.
Someone opened a window and brought in a quilt that had been airing all day, the cotton fabric thudding against the windowsill.
It was as though something had given the whole town a gentle push.
Bajie stood beneath the old pagoda tree, watching it all, and murmured:
"Three hundred and seventy-two households, fourteen hundred and twenty-six people."
"They're all me."
"What I want most is just to live a peaceful life."
He shook his head, smiled, and crouched to stroke the big yellow dog.
The big yellow dog licked the back of his hand and wagged his tail twice.
"Uncle Chen, who loves to nag and preach, who wishes he could knock me on the head three times a day."
The big yellow dog turned his nose aside and dodged his hand.
Bajie smiled and continued:
"The waiter who darts all over the inn, who can't sit still and scolds me at the drop of a hat-his surname is Sun."
"The peddler who shoulders his heavy load and trudges onward without a word-his surname is Sha."
"The scholar with that delicate skin, who spends his days holding a battered book and sighing beneath the eaves-his surname is Bai."
The