Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Border Between Civilization and Wilderness (Part Two)

The Borderless Ghost Doctor without Pop-ups

Eight or nine foreigners happened to be seated near the western side, and when they heard a burst of unrestrained laughter, they found it odd and all turned to look in its direction. Beneath the bright lights, they noticed that while the clothes worn by this group were not as clean and vibrant as those of the young people on and off stage, certain decorative details and the overall impression nonetheless caught the attention of one among them.

Within this group were two individuals researching the history and culture of the Eastern Yao people. One was a golden-haired beauty named Jenny, who had already spent half a year in Guizhou. This was her third time entering Lao Village, accompanying fellow Britons, and so she boldly took the female interpreter at her side and approached Jin Duan’s group.

After awkwardly greeting them in Mandarin, Jenny spoke at length in English to the interpreter, who, after some inquiry, nodded and asked Jin Duan, “Miss Jenny says she noticed your attire is different from those performing on stage, and that the embroidery on the collar of this tall gentleman is something she has never seen before. She wonders where these clothes are made, and whether she could visit the place they are produced?”

In fact, Kong Ning, upon seeing Jenny approach, had already discreetly moved to a row behind old He, bending over to rest his chin on his hand and converse with Dan Niu. However, the sharp-eyed British woman still noticed him. Kong Ning easily understood every word she said, and was confident his spoken English was at least ten times better than the interpreter’s. Yet, to avoid trouble, he kept his head down and continued chatting with Dan Niu. Unbeknownst to him, Dan Niu, upon seeing a golden-haired, blue-eyed foreign woman approach, could barely contain his curiosity, stopping mid-conversation and staring at Jenny, his round eyes wide in wonder.

Jin Duan, the village chief, was familiar with Jenny but not with Kong Ning. He too was curious about the gold and silver thread embroidered honeysuckle on Kong Ning’s collar, for tradition dictated that the front collars of the Yao men’s black shirts were edged purely in blue. Jin Duan turned to old He and old Mo; old Mo was equally mystified and looked to old He, who thought for a moment before telling the interpreter, “This is a personal matter; I don’t know either.”

Jenny, after hearing the translation, turned her gaze to Kong Ning. Just then, Kong Ning, finding the situation awkward, finally raised his head, feigning ignorance with a stern face. Jenny was astonished by his refined and handsome features, his high nose, bright eyes, and the small mustache on his upper lip, which only added to his charm. Such looks were rare not only among the Yao people, but even among Eastern men. Admiring him, she found herself momentarily transfixed.

However, the female interpreter at Jenny’s side grew anxious. Seeing Jenny’s look of surprise, she assumed offense had been taken, and immediately pointed at Kong Ning’s nose, scolding loudly, “How can you be so rude? Miss Jenny is our honored guest, from Oxford University in Europe, do you know that? Apologize to Miss Jenny and answer her question honestly!”

At her shout, several tall white youths came over, worried something might happen. All the tourists stood up, looking toward the west. Old Mo and the others were at a loss as to how to proceed. Kong Ning, though angry, was also cautious, but it was the experienced old He who pointed at the interpreter and retorted sternly, “You’re a government worker, aren’t you? Your attitude is unacceptable. Who is seeking whom here? Who is being impolite? What about foreigners? Are foreigners not people? Let me tell you, I am a representative of the People’s Congress. If you keep being unreasonable, I’ll report you to your superior and ask why they use such a translator!”

At old He’s words, the young men beside him all stood up. Jenny, seeing the situation deteriorate, hurried to explain. The foreigners, realizing the misunderstanding, sneered disdainfully and pulled Jenny back to their seats. The female interpreter, deeply embarrassed, hung her head and followed behind the group.

With the situation calmed, old Mo laughed and said to old He, “You were impressive today, old He! I’ve always admired your temperament.”

Old He laughed, pointing at Kong Ning, “This fellow’s too handsome—made even the foreign lady dazed. I’ve always said a man who’s too good-looking brings trouble, and here it is. Dan Niu, with that silly look, why are you drooling?”

Everyone laughed again, and after a while, the performance began, so they turned their attention to the stage. Forty minutes of the Copper Drum Dance left old Mo and old He disappointed, shaking their heads. They were furious to see their thousand-year-old ancestral dance changed beyond recognition. They exchanged mocking remarks—“Even monkeys dance better than this,” “Those copper drums sound like someone pounding laundry,” “The bamboo pipes sound like farting”—leaving Jin Duan red-faced with embarrassment. At last, he confessed: the dance had been adapted by the county’s cultural troupe leaders.

Kong Ning found the exchanges amusing and struggled to suppress his laughter. Dan Niu and the others burst out laughing once the performance ended, only stopping when the rapid drumbeats heralded the climax—a show of climbing the Mountain of Knives.

Two Yao men in white trousers chopped several bamboo stalks with long knives, then arranged the sharp blades into a stairway. A sixteen- or seventeen-year-old Yao youth, barefoot, climbed step by step up the blade edges to over four meters high, stood atop the highest knife, and struck a pose like a white crane spreading its wings, earning thunderous applause. He performed a few more moves, then descended the mountain from the other side. As soon as he stood firm, applause surged again. Afterward, many tourists gathered at the Knife Mountain, eager to take photos with the brave Yao youth.

By the time the show ended, it was nearly ten o’clock. The Knife Mountain act won high praise from old Mo and old He. Jin Duan, in excellent spirits, suggested continuing to drink, and everyone readily agreed. Fifteen or sixteen people marched grandly to Jin Duan’s stilted house, where several women, seeing them return from afar, rushed into the backyard to prepare.

Halfway through their lively drinking, Jenny and two tall British youths arrived uninvited, accompanied by the interpreter. Everyone was surprised, then warmly invited them to sit. Kong Ning took the opportunity to whisper to old Mo and old He; though puzzled, they agreed.

After the guests drank three cups as per Yao custom, conversation flowed freely. Jenny, unable to speak Chinese, could only express her gratitude through the interpreter. Her manner of expression was classically polite, but the interpreter, flustered, failed to convey her meaning. Seeing the Yao people’s confusion, Jenny grew anxious, repeating herself faster and faster, while the interpreter became increasingly panicked and everyone more bewildered. Suddenly, one of the tall British youths scoffed in English, “Dear Jenny, do you really think it necessary to waste time communicating with these primitive savages?” The other white youth burst out laughing.

All the Yao turned to the female interpreter, who understood the white youth’s words but kept silent. Old Mo and the other elders exchanged confused glances, unable to grasp what had happened. At that moment, Kong Ning’s cold voice rang out—not loud, but clear enough for everyone in the room to hear.