The Red Leaves on the Fragrant Hill
Yang Shuo

I had long heard that the red autumn leaves on the Fragrant Hillmanifested the most luxuriant autumnal colour inBeijing.If I could have a chance to see it, I'd be so happy. The day I finally did go,it was a fine day. The sky was clear and as nice as nice could be. I was luckyenough to find a man who happened to be an old tourist guide. This old manhappened to live right at the foot of the West Hill. He had worked as a touristguide for forty years and although he had become a man bearing a white beard,he was still quite strong.

At first weinvited the old tourist guide to dine with us in a small restaurant in a smallvillage. Having been served several plates of game and half a cup of barleywine, the old man opened his mouth and said slowly, "Except for itsheight, there is nothing worth seeing on the Fragrant Hill. Entering throughthe hill gate, you can see that its threshold is at the same level as the topof the Yuquan Hill (the Jade Spring Hill). In such a high terrain, the air isnaturally fresh and men like to come here. In spring, they come here to strollthrough the green grass; in summer they come here to spend their free time, andin autumn..." A companion asked in eagerness: "I don't know if theleaves on the hill have turned red.

The old mansaid, "It is not quite time, but the south side faces the sun, so theleaves there might be red by now.

Havingfinished our wine and meal, we asked the old guide to lead us on a hike up thesouth slope of the hill. What a quiet place! On both sides of the stone-pavedpath there were ancient pine and cypress trees with rich foliage that screenedout the sunlight. It is said that here men do not sweat in the shade, even onthe hottest of summer days.

The oldguide walked in front at a moderate pace with his two hands across his bellyand always saying unhurriedly, "Originally there was nothing here. In therear there was a patch of waste land where a rich man hired a farmhand to dofarm work and raise pigs for him. The pig feed was poured into a stone trough.But only a little pig feed was enough for the pigs. Finding it rather strange,the farmhand began to put some coins into the trough and the money was far toomuch to carry away. It turned out to be a Treasure Trough. When the day to dothe accounts arrived, the farmhand wanted nothing except that stone trough. Howmuch did a broken stone trough cost? The rich man was only too glad to do him afavour at no great cost to himself and so gave it to him. As the stone troughwas very heavy, the farmhand could only carry it to the hill, for he could notlift it any longer. There he dug a pit in the ground and buried it. Fearing hemight forget the spot, he planted a pine and a cypress tree above it as marks.When the farmhand returned, he found, in surprise, the whole hill was denselycovered with pine and cypress trees, too numerous to count. "Then the oldman gave a sigh and said, "This is really a living hill. With hill, thereis surely water. Where there is water, there will surely be veins. Where thereare veins, there will surely be seedling. No wonder people say that a treasurebowl is hidden underneath here. "

At that timethe old guide led us into a very quiet and tasteful courtyard with two springs.On the stone wall were engraved two characters: "Shuang Qing" (TwoClear Streams). After making a turn about the springs, the old man said,"It has been ten years since I came here last. How is it that a stone tablet hasdisappeared? I remember that the stone tablet was engraved "Menggan Spring"(Chasinga Stream in a Dream). Immediately the old man told us a story: Once there wasan emperor in the Yuan Dynasty who came to visit the hill. As he was too tired,he slept here and dreamt of sitting in a boat and under his feet were rollingwaves. When he awoke, he ordered his men to dig the earth under his feet. Therereally was a stream that gushed under the ground. That is the legend of"Menggan Spring".

The oldguide smiled again and said, "All these stories are just countrysidefolklore. As to how I got these words and how they were said, you should notbelieve in them. "

Listening tothe old man's garrulous talking about those fantastic legends, you could feelthat the Fragrant Hill was still full of charming mythological flavour. Wewould not spoil the fun by saying we didn't believe in him. Thus we continuedto climb all the way up the hill, but why not a single piece of red leaf couldbe found?

The old mansaid, "Don't worry. When we climb to the Banshan Pavilion (HillsidePavilion), you will see everything. "

When wereached "Banshan Pavilion", we looked towards the east. What asplendid sight! The immense misty Hebei Plain spread before our eyes, and inthe midst of the foggy trees Beijing City was hidden. It was really a wonderthat theKunming Lake,which originally held man's vision, now only looked like a basin of clearwater. Wanshoushan (The Longevity Hill) and Foxiangge (Tower for Incense forthe Buddha) were but a few potted landscapes of decoration. We all forgot tolook for the red leaves on the slope of the hill. Although the vast stretch ofthem were still partly yellow and partly red, they were actually veryinteresting. The sad thing was that the leaves spoiled the water, for the redleaves were not red enough. If they had been red through, how luxurious theywould have been in the sun shine!

Looking atthe leaves, I asked:"What tree is it? Why is it not quite like Chinesesweet gum?"

The old mansaid, "It is by no means Chinese sweet gum. It is mangrove. " Thenpointing to the tree by the road he said, "You see, it is that kind oftree."

The leavesof the mangroves on the roadside also had not yet turned red, so we paid littleattention to them. I went over to pick one of the leaves. It was round and onlythe veins penetrated a slight red colour.

I cried outinvoluntarily: "Aha! It smells so fragrant ! "As I put the leaf undermy nose, it gave off a slight medicinal fragrance.

Anothertourist smelled it too and cried:"Aha! It is really fragrant! No wonderthis place is called the Fragrant Hill."

The oldguide said slowly too, "It is really fragrant. I have been working as atourist guide for forty years now, why have I not smelt it?"

My olduncle, I am not so clear about your past experience, but from the densewrinkles in your face, I can guess that you are a man who has experiencedhardships in life. In the past your heart was bitter, so how could you smellthe fragrance of the red leaves? I am not so clear about your life today, butsuch an old man as you, while climbing, you neither walk fast nor are short ofbreath. You seem to be not so quick in your steps, and no matter how hard wetried, we could not keep up with you. An old man with such light steps must belight in your heart. Why then could not you smell the fragrance of the redleaves?

The fragranceof the red leaves lingered all over the hill as the old guide led us on tovisit other sights as "Sen Yu Hu", "Xishan Qingxuer" (ClearSnow in the West Hill) , Temple of Zhao and other scenic spots around theFragrant Hill. When we began descending, it was nearly dusk. Lifting my head, Isaw half a white moon (the first quarter moon) was hanging in the sky.Suddenly, a companion recalled something and said, "Isn't it the DoubleNinth Festival (1) today?" Fetching out the newspaper, it turned out to bethe second day of the Double Ninth Festival. This autumn tour of ours coincidedwith the old Chinese custom, the Double Ninth Festival!

There werealso some people who felt it a pity because they had not seen a good red leaf,regarding it much like a fly in the ointment. But as for me, I picked aprecious red leaf and held it in my heart. It was not an ordinary red leaf buta red leaf that had experienced the hardship in life. The more autumn advances,the more lovely it becomes. It goes without saying that the red leaf is the oldtourist guide.

(1)DoubleNinth Festival: An old Chinese customary festival on the ninth day of the ninthmonth in the lunar calendar. On this day people used to climb onto a high placeto peacefully think of their dead men.