The Stone Man in Town

The weather in Sang Town, lately, always seemed covered in a layer of unwashable gray. Not that there wasn't sun; the sun was there, hanging brightly in the sky, yet it couldn't penetrate that invisible haze. When it fell on people's bodies and faces, it was merely tepid, unable to stir the slightest vitality. The townspeople, too, were much like the weather; their eyeballs were alive, able to move, to see, but looking around, there was nothing novel to behold, so they retreated back inwards, hidden beneath half-closed eyelids, as if this could conserve some energy.

The wind had started the night before last. First, it let out low growls, like a lonely grave sighing in the wilderness. Later, mixed with sand, it rattled against the window paper, drawing out a few short, timid dog barks that quickly died out. It was on this night, when the wind rose, that the soldier son of Wang Ermazi from the east end of town returned.

To say he returned, however, was somewhat peculiar. No one saw how he entered the town, nor did anyone hear him knock. The next day at dawn, Wang Ermazi opened his courtyard gate, intending to fetch water from the well, and saw something standing in the center of the yard.

That thing wore the shabby military uniform his son had left in, carried the much-patched knapsack, and even its posture was just like his son's characteristic stance—slightly stooped back, head craned forward as if always searching for something. But it wasn't his son. Or rather, not entirely. The thing was entirely grayish-white, like stone from the mountains, coarse, stiff, without a trace of life. The outlines of the facial features were still there, but blurred and indistinct, as if forcibly smoothed over by something.

Wang Ermazi collapsed on the spot, a rattling sound coming from his throat, but he couldn't scream. His wife heard the commotion, came out, took one look, and fainted too.

This news, as if it had grown wings, fluttered throughout Sang Town. At first, there was panic. Every household bolted its doors and windows; even children were confined indoors, forbidden to go out. Women drew charms and chanted spells by the stove, while men gathered in the teahouse, lowering their voices, exchanging glances, the smoke rings they exhaled tinged with suspicion and fear.

"A monster! Must have encountered something unclean on the road!" asserted a thin old man, sucking on his dry pipe. He considered himself worldly-wise, having traveled north and south with merchant caravans in his youth. "I don't think so," countered a plump shopkeeper, shaking his head. "It looks more like... like he's fallen under some wicked spell. Think about it, how could a perfectly fine person turn into stone?" "Could it be heavenly retribution? What sins did he commit out there?" someone speculated. "Nonsense! That boy of his, honest as they come, what sins could he commit?" someone immediately retorted.

Discussions swirled, reaching no consensus. But panic, it comes quickly and goes quickly, especially in a place like Sang Town. Within two days, curiosity gained the upper hand. People began to drift, in twos and threes, pretending nonchalance, towards Wang Ermazi's house, craning their necks, trying to peek through door cracks or over walls to glimpse the "Stone Man."

Wang Ermazi's main gate remained tightly shut, like a clam refusing to speak. But it couldn't withstand the sheer number of people. There were always a few bold adolescents who, under the cover of darkness, climbed the wall. Although they only saw a dark silhouette in the courtyard, it was enough to brag about to their peers for half a day.

Later, the town's Baozhang stepped in. He brought two deputies and knocked on Wang Ermazi's door. No one knew what happened inside, only that when the Baozhang came out, his face was ashen. He waved his hand, telling the crowd to disperse, muttering, "Nonsense! Utter nonsense!"

But what this "nonsense" referred to – the son turned to stone, or the townspeople's prying – nobody could say for sure. The Baozhang posted a notice, vaguely worded, stating roughly that Wang's son had "unfortunately perished, with an altered appearance," urging everyone not to believe or spread rumors and to live peacefully.

This notice, far from calming things down, was like water splashed into hot oil, setting off even greater clamor. What "perished"? How "altered appearance"? These ambiguous words fueled wild speculation. Some said the stone man moved at night; some said you could hear crying from within the stone if you got close; others swore they had personally seen a white light descend from the sky and strike Wang Ermazi's son.

At that time, I was in the town's only small schoolhouse, teaching children to recite "Man's nature at birth..." The commotion outside made the children restless, craning their necks, their eyes shining with an unusual light. I tapped my ruler, sternly saying, "Concentrate! What business is it of yours what happens outside?"

But how could I concentrate myself? Lying in bed at night, my ears seemed to echo with the townspeople's discussions, half fearful, half excited, and the sound of the wind, still wailing, as if trying to blow something from afar into this town that was like stagnant water.

The most absurd thing happened a few days later. Several men in uniform came from the county, supposedly sent by higher-ups to investigate. They circled Wang Ermazi's courtyard, looked around for a long time, measured dimensions, and took several photographs—using a metal box that flashed light. Then, they spoke with Wang Ermazi and his wife, then with the Baozhang, and finally, in the teahouse, they talked with a few "worldly-wise" old men.

When they left, they left behind a "preliminary investigation conclusion," posted next to the Baozhang's notice. The conclusion was written in obfuscating language, using many obscure terms, stating roughly that the phenomenon was "extremely rare, with complex causes involving geological, climatic, and individual physiological variations," and recommending "maintaining calm, adopting a scientific perspective, and avoiding panic."

As soon as this conclusion appeared, the townspeople seemed to lose their backbone, falling silent all at once. The previous most energetic speculations and rumors seemed to lose their foundation instantly, becoming dull. Yes, if even the "officials" from above couldn't explain it, what could they, common folk like them, possibly know?

And so, the "Stone Man" transformed from a terrifying monster, a bizarre mystery, into a "rare natural phenomenon." People stopped gathering to watch, stopped discussing it, as if the thing standing in the courtyard was just an ordinary mountain rock or a dead tree stump.

Wang Ermazi and his wife also seemed to have resigned themselves to their fate. They no longer spent their days weeping but silently guarded the courtyard, guarding the "Stone Man." Someone occasionally saw them wiping dust off the stone figure, their movements gentle, as if caring for a sleeping child.

Days passed, the gray, hazy weather persisted. Sang Town returned to its former deathly stillness. Talk in the teahouse reverted to trivial matters like Zhang's lost chicken or Li's quarreling wife. The "Stone Man," once a sensation, was gradually forgotten, as if it had never existed.

Only I, occasionally awakened by the wailing wind late at night, would go to the window and gaze towards the darkness at the east end of town. I knew that in some closed courtyard, a stone man, wearing a shabby military uniform, forever maintained that forward-leaning posture, silently facing this equally silent and numb world.

Sometimes I wonder, what is more terrifying? A living person turning inexplicably into stone, or the people around, becoming accustomed to, indifferent towards, even forgetting this absurd tragedy so quickly?

Perhaps, the people of this town, unknowingly, have all become "stone people" in a sense, I thought. The thought sends a chill down my spine, colder than the night wind. I quickly retreat into my room, closing the window tightly, as if I could shut out the boundless absurdity and chill. But the chill in my heart, I cannot dispel it.