Though the decision to go to the States had been made, it wasn't a matter of simply leaving; there were numerous affairs to settle before heading abroad. Da Jinya settled his home in Beijing, and during this time, he and Fatty sold off antiques. I returned to Fujian to visit relatives, and afterwards, I paid my respects to the families of several fallen comrades. In between, Fatty and I even took a trip to Inner Mongolia, where we had previously done our rustication. In total, it took nearly two months to wrap up everything.

By the time I got back to Beijing, it was the dead of winter, and only a few days remained before our departure. Everything was now prepared, and the recent days had been consumed by endless farewell drinks with acquaintances.

On this particular day, Shirley Yang wanted to go out with me for a walk, to see the winter scenery of Beijing, so I took her to Beihai Park.

Due to the relentless, overnight northwest wind, the ground appeared exceptionally clean. This winter at the close of 1983 seemed particularly frigid; the air felt almost frozen solid, and inhaling felt like drawing shards of ice directly into one’s stomach, causing a sharp ache in the bronchial tubes. During the day, the wind had died down considerably, but the sky was a dull, monochrome gray, obscuring the sun’s position entirely. It looked as if a heavy snow might fall before nightfall.

Beihai Park is situated in the northwest corner of the Forbidden City, boasting a history of over a thousand years, having served as the imperial garden for five dynasties: Liao, Jin, Yuan, Ming, and Qing.

Walking along the lake, the sight of the White Dagoba on Qiongdao in the middle of Beihai Lake carried a distinct air of desolation. I felt there was truly little to enjoy here in the winter, yet with the imminent departure overseas, with no idea which year or month I might return to Beijing, I couldn't help but feel a lingering attachment to the white towers and red walls. Despite the cold, I paid it little mind.

Shirley Yang was in high spirits. She had already arranged for Ah Xiang to join her in the States and get settled. Professor Chen, who was undergoing psychiatric treatment there, was also showing significant improvement. Seeing the many skaters on the frozen lake—several of whom were veterans of the ice rink, appearing every winter—effortlessly executing various intricate maneuvers with their figure skates, moving sometimes like dragonflies skimming water, other times like swallows darting through waves, we stopped to watch. Shirley Yang remarked to me, "This is quite lively! This kind of pleasure, ice skating amidst a classical winter grove, is probably only available in Beijing."

I replied casually, "Of course. Even the clear waters of the Five Lakes and the vastness of the Four Seas pale in comparison to skating on Beihai Lake."

Shirley Yang asked me, "Hearing the reluctance in your tone, are you having second thoughts about coming to America with me? I know this decision causes you some difficulty, but I truly worry if you go back to tomb raiding. If I can't watch you every day in the States, I simply won't be able to rest easy."

I said, "There’s no turning back once the arrow leaves the bowstring. I’ve made up my mind to go to America, so naturally, I won’t regret it. Although I genuinely feel a pull toward leaving China, once I have thoroughly seen through the main path and fulfilled my mission, I can certainly bring you back to visit." As I spoke, I pulled a Mojin Fu charm from my coat pocket to show Shirley Yang: "Look at this. Fatty and I have both removed our charms, essentially retiring from the field—we won't be doing any more grave robbing in this lifetime unless we’re tired of living. From now on, we’ll focus on stable business ventures."

The Mojin Xiaowei are required to wear the Mojin Fu; it functions as a sort of work permit, and in a way, it also represents luck. Once worn around the neck, it must never be removed, because taking it off implies a break in fortune, and putting it back on would mean forfeiting the protection of the Ancestors. Only when one decides to end their professional career is the charm removed, equivalent to the underworld’s "washing the golden basin"—very few ever return to the old ways after removing it. Elder Liaochen was an exception; to aid Shirley Yang’s maternal grandfather, Partridge Whistle, Elder Liaochen removed his charm and re-entered the field, ultimately dying in the Xixia treasure cave in Black Water City.

Seeing that I had already taken off my Mojin Fu, Shirley Yang was visibly moved and said to me, "So many ancient tombs have been emptied throughout history. Those that survive often possess unique characteristics and hide too much danger, which is why I always feared you going tomb raiding. Now that you’ve finally decided to remove the Mojin Fu, this is truly wonderful. When we get to America, I won't have to worry about you secretly sneaking back to raid tombs."

I told Shirley Yang, "I won't return until the main line is seen through to the end. I hear America is great everywhere, but the dietary habits and manner of living are hard for people to accept. I’ve heard American food is monotonous and poorly prepared—two slices of bread hard as stone, with a slapdash tomato slice and a piece of undercooked fried beef sandwiched in between, or else they just chop up rotten greens and eat them raw. Can that even be called a meal? Even what I ate on the Yunnan front lines was better than that. Are we going to be eating this stuff every day? I think Americans really don't know how to eat, or rather, they don't understand food at all. No wonder America is so rich; it turns out they save it all by skimping on their mouths."

Shirley Yang replied, "How could I let you eat hamburgers every day? There are many Chinese restaurants in America; if you want to eat it, we can go every day. What do you mean by 'manner of living'?"

I said, "You don't even know this? In China, the phrase 'I love you' might be uttered a few times in a lifetime, but I hear that in America, for a couple living together, saying 'I love you' just once a day implies estrangement and imminent separation or divorce. Saying it morning, noon, and night is barely enough; preferably, you add two more times upon waking and before sleeping. Even saying it ten times a day, no one finds it excessive. Sometimes people make long-distance calls just to say this one phrase; they can chatter on about it endlessly and never seem to tire of it. It’s truly strange. I suspect these rumors might be true because I also heard that when an American soldier was gravely wounded on the battlefield, dying but not yet gone, he urged his comrade to relay this message to his wife..." I pretended to be gasping for breath, on the verge of expiring, and continued, "...Lieutenant... promise me... help me tell my wife... tell her that I... I love her." After saying this, I was laughing so hard my stomach hurt.

Shirley Yang also burst out laughing but admonished me, "Old Hu, you're being indecent. There’s nothing to mock about that. That phrase isn't just for lovers or partners; it can be used for children and parents too. If you love someone, you must let them know how important they are to you. That is very normal and very necessary. From now on, you’ll have to say it ten times a day too."

(End of Book)