[Continue]

He remains capable of detecting ‘pain’, and in one moment after another, he continues to ‘bite down’ fiercely on the mid-segment vertebrae and local nerves of that tail —— and further on all twenty-three caudal vertebrae and all seven pairs of caudal nerves of that tail —— and even more so, he ‘bites down’ on the unfortunate history of that tail, which, having failed to degenerate into three coccygeal vertebrae and a single pair of coccygeal nerves, has been silently consigned to oblivion within the canine species for over ten thousand years… When I was fortunate enough to reach out a hand to grab his tail, he seemed as though a wave of ‘pain’—— one that had been quietly persisting for ten thousand years —— swept rapidly through all his bones and his entire nervous system, causing his cervical and lumbar vertebrae to twist sharply into an excruciating angle —— so painful that it felt as though it was precisely because of a similar accidental twist at this very angle that he had lost the ability to walk upright ten thousand years ago —— so excruciating that it felt as though a hand grasping a grey wolf’s tail ten thousand years ago had turned it into the ‘wolf-illuder’ it is today —— part wolf, part human; so excruciating that it seemed only by turning its head and stretching its muzzle towards the tail held in my hand, illuding people with a ‘feint’ that was both resistant and accepting, could it demonstrate that it was indeed a ‘fake-werewolf’—— neither wolf nor human… When I was fortunate enough to reach out with my other hand to grasp his upper and lower jaws, all his sharp fangs and teeth seemed to be firmly shutting a door —— not that ‘door of teeth’ tightly sealed by lips that cannot be drawn back —— but rather the gate of resistance inherent in every wolf and steadfast unto death—the gate of the wolf’s language through which wolves express their thoughts to one another —— the gate of human language through which humans express their thoughts to one another —— and, above all, the gate of agony through which not a single thought can ever be expressed to any wolf or any human… In his extreme pain, he allowed one of my hands to grasp his tail, and the other to seize his upper and lower jaws; he even allowed my pair of caudal nerves —— long since atrophied to the point of being utterly numb and insensate —— and my ‘three-in-one’ caudal vertebrae to sneak away, whilst crouching, to a dead angle that could never be detected, and even allowed my four wolf fangs —— long since no longer prominent or sharp —— to mock his four canine fang, still long and pointed yet tightly clenched, under the guise of ‘tiger fangs’ or ‘canine-teeth’, emitting a series of shrill, echo-less taunts… Despite being mocked time and again, he continues to trust my hands and eyes as always, lying on his back in a posture of surrender and innocence, exposing his immaculate white belly openly for my eyes to scrutinize in detail, and with his head tilted back, mouth agape, and forepaws curled up in a relaxed posture, he left his soft, supple neck and the entire expanse of his flat, exposed chin to be freely scratched by my hands, as if the mocked wolf could curl up and vanish without a trace within my hands, and as if the mocked person could, beneath my hands, return to that infantile state devoid of flesh and bone, where gender does not exist, identity does not exist, perspective does not exist, limitations and circumstances do not exist, ‘protection’ and ‘prevention’ do not exist, form and posture do not exist, and nor do language and intellect, and even less so do loneliness and pain…

Hand pauses…

Claw rises…

Alerted and vigilant…

Glances ad scans…

That moment of serene calm came to an abrupt end, just as if ten thousand years of tumultuous upheaval had been hastily brought to a close, and just as if a ‘wolf-like yet human-like’ infant from ten thousand years ago —— blinking in confusion, startled awake from a crystal-clear dream of ‘only hands yet never claws’ and ‘only handshakes yet never claw-grasps', and even more as if that “me” who scornfully mocked him —— abruptly emerging from the awkward predicament of “I am being mocked” to return, rejoicing in its good fortune…

That remnant of a tailbone —— partly there, partly not —— was like a wolf’s tail, haphazardly crushed again and again by a rough, jagged stone in a pool of blood ten thousand years ago —— as clumps of bristles and soft fur were ground away, the moon still hovered up above, gazing intently and smiling down upon  —— as layer upon layer of coarse hides and thick fleshes were crushed, the moon had already shyly retreated into a thick sea of clouds —— as a wet and sticky tail was crushed off, the moon remained half-concealed, half-revealed, silent in the sky —— what was left behind in the soft moonlight was a severed tail, its skin gone, with only three tail vertebrae clinging to a single corner and two scattered joints sinking into a corner —— whilst what was carried away from the shimmering moonlight and the vast sea of clouds was another severed tail, its fur and skin clinging to one another yet oblivious, still possessing twenty tail vertebrae and nineteen joints linked together in a final tribute…

The four survived canine teeth remain as sharp as swords —— two rows of parallel, symmetrical blades standing in stark contrast to one another, still towering like summits —— two summits echoing one another as they pierce the clouds, and two summits simultaneously plunging into the depths of the sea; they still resemble the slender icicles and pristine snowdrifts of ten thousand years ago; they still resemble the wolf’s teeth, one after another, silently shattered by conical stones ten thousand years ago; and they still resemble the broken teeth, one after another, that left fine, dense scratches upon a thick, broken tail ten thousand years ago…

My feet, encased in a pair of shoddy leather shoes with hard soles but no soft lining, pressed against the firm ground…

His four white paws had been licked and sucked clean time and again by a long tongue —— capable of stretching out to catch food and curling up to lap up water —— until they were exceptionally immaculate; and by a long tail —— which gleamed black amidst thick grey fur yet revealed a white tip at its slender end —— intermittently set off against an even brighter white gleam; and as it pressed against a rectangular patch of grass rippling with green waves, bordering that hard ground —— four snow-white blossoms rippled gently, rising and falling in turn…

My two pupils, looking down from above, lifted him from head to tail, holding it parallel within two deep brown irises…

His pair of pupils —— larger, rounder, darker, brighter and purer —— remain encircled by a pair of deep brown irises, gazing with dewy eyes from the green grass beneath the blue sky, quietly looking up at my nostrils, lips and slitted eyes; as he gazed, he quietly crouched on his hind legs, swiftly straightened his tail, pricked up his ears, and, whilst gazing, subtly retracted his rows of sharp teeth whilst extending the tip of his tongue ever so slightly...

My tongue-root, short, dull and curled up, also longs to ask it plainly and directly ——“Why do you lick and suck every speck of mud or dust from your fur so thoroughly every day?”“Why, after eating meat and drinking broth, do you push the dense whiskers beneath your mouth and the thick, soft fur on your chin into the soft grass to rub and wipe them clean?”“Why, every late night, after slipping alone into the wooden shed and before sinking into a deep sleep, do you scratch and smooth those two worn blankets folded beneath your tail back and forth until they lie perfectly still?”“Why, when offered a celery leaf or a strip of carrot —— does a mere sniff cause you to look up in bewilderment, sinking into that profound silence where your eyes are besieged and its long tail held fast?”“Why, in the solitude of waking from a deep sleep amidst the surrounding silence —— would you employ the suction and grasping power from the depths of your long snout, like a giant suction cup or an invisible claw —— to repeatedly sniff the faint traces of human scent seeping in through the cracks and corners of the doors and windows from outside?”Why, when a rosebush hidden in a corner bloom with three red flowers, do you foolishly stretch your long, thick snout through the sharp, dense thorns —— sniffing the fragrance and nibbling a few petals in the gaps between the dry, hard branches as if entering a wonderland?”“Why do you silently and ceaselessly lick the blood or pus from your own wounds?”“Why, when the pain is unbearable, do you merely let out a low groan or a soft whimper rather than a frenzied howl?”“Why do you howl at the moon only in its loneliest and most helpless moments —— and yet, with the posture of a wolf and the gaze of a man —— weaving wave after wave of howls between the pleura and the vocal cords into a deep, rumbling current that seems to connect end to end and resound throughout the universe —— and, in a situation where the wolf can never hear it and man can never understand it, to cry out for help with all one’s might like a wolf, waiting for an echo that comes solely from man?”……

His eyes, wide open and not blinking, continued to gaze at me —— silent, yet never truly silent…

Not a single word escaped from in between my teeth…

Yet a thousand words flowed from the depths of his eyes…

At last, a faint, yet resonant, yet foolish smile, drifted from the corners of my mouth…

As if soared to the clouds, he could instantly stifle that overflowing laughter, the white tip of his tail pointed straight at the white clouds, whilst his black snout pressed against the tips of the green grass, his hind legs raised high, his forelegs stretched out low, the rustling sound from his throat seemed to be slowly turning a clanging thought, each sharp tooth seemed to be streaming with flashes of white light, both razor-sharp and effortlessly controlled, whilst the corner of his eye constantly spied on my thick, hard soles and clumsy legs…

My cervical and lumbar vertebrae are both slightly arched forward; both forearms are slightly drawn inwards; both upper arms are slightly extended outwards; both knees are slightly bent; both legs are slightly apart; both nostrils are slightly pinched; both eyelids are slightly closed; both corners of my mouth are slightly indented, all four canine teeth are slightly bared, and a small cluster of coccygeal vertebrae —— stiffened for ten thousand years —— seems to be extending firmly and urgently beyond the buttocks whilst moving with lively coordination, and a pair of caudal nerves, stiff with death for ten thousand years —— seem to expand effortlessly into seven pairs brimming with vitality, so that every single needle-like hair and thread of downy fur, dancing lightly in the surrounding fresh air —— all adhere resolutely and densely to a single caudal vertebra, newly revived and pointed towards the white clouds —— that crude caudal vertebra, hastily assembled from a mere twenty-three caudal vertebrae and seven pairs of caudal nerves —— that bizarre caudal vertebra, where the skin is gone yet the hair clings to the bone—that surviving caudal vertebra, where ‘bloodlines’ still run faintly and muscular ‘memory’ remains—that complete caudal vertebra, where the lament of birds echoes amidst the lush greenery…

In his extraordinary excitement, he felt as though he had been hastily propelled from his mind by some bizarre desire, only to be pushed back into a vast mass of warm air charged to the very limit of exhilaration; for only such a ‘forceful thrust’ could confront weight force, and only ‘excitement’ could resist inertia, whilst ‘exhilaration at its peak’ could resist numbness —— especially that ‘numbness’ which had been sealed layer upon layer by unruffled ‘warmth’ until it was nothing but narrow-mindedness and arrogance, a numbness so profound that a ‘polar sled dog’—— chewing ice and treading snow —— could, in a warm, sunny moment, be reduced to a state of bewilderment by a ‘plush toy dog’ that neither sheds nor fades…

There is no ‘sea’ within my skull, nor is there 'sea' in my Cerebrospinal fluid; there is only a ‘sea’ in my imagination…

He has ‘imagination’ and ‘desire’, as well as hallucinations, phantasms and illusions that leave one both laughing and crying…

I desire —— that he is trampling through a blanket of falling snow and crunching a chunk of solid ice…

He desires —— that I am swaying a pointed tail and opening and closing a mouth full of fangs…

I, wrapped layer upon layer in clothes, hats, shoes and socks, am like an imitator who has strayed into the jungle…

He, protected by layer upon layer of fur, creates with effortless ease, whilst also protecting me…

I detected —— the wind rising beneath his feet —— all four limbs effortlessly generating gust after gust of wind, as if digging into the hard ground with bare hands, as if tearing through tough grass with bare hands, as if flinging mud with bare hands, as if tossing up rubble with bare hands, as if wrestling with the wind with bare hands, and even more so as if crafting ‘four claws’ into ‘four feet’ with bare hands —— and then, with bare hands, fashioning those ‘four feet’ into ‘four hands’ —— and further, with bare hands, fashioning those ‘four hands’ into ‘four wolf fangs’ capable of ‘etching’ non-symbolic characters onto one wolf’s tail after another…

His fangs —— rising, surging, soaring, exulting, leaping, lashing, turning his head, shifting his gaze —— leaping from a patch of grass to a hard ground, then from a hard ground into another patch of grass, and also in the same spot, on muddy ground, sandy ground, rubble-strewn ground, gravelly ground, ground strewn with withered leaves, broken branches, fallen blossoms, and the lairs of insects and ants, where mosquitoes and flies alight, where cats and mice scuttle, where the bones of birds and beasts lie, where fur and hair are shed, where shells and armor are cast off, where head and tail lie parallel, where hand and eye become one, on level ground, on slopes, depressions, and familiar ground, as if endowed with wings, as if able to soar aloft, as if spreading its wings to fly, like a hand, like a foot, like a claw, like a thorn, like a character…

The tip of my tongue pressed against the root and the gap of my lower incisors, leaving two syllables to burst from my sinuses —— ‘Chiang-Chiang’…

Breathless and panting, he no longer charged left and right like a fighter, dodged left and right like a hunter, feinted left and right like a warrior, or darted hither and thither like a demonstrator; nor was he chased by me like a five-year-old urchin —— or challenged feignedly like a comedian —— nor did he resemble the impulsive survivor and custodian —— leading me, without pretense, back to the icy wilderness of ten thousand years ago and to that pack of wolves by the lake, hidden deep in the jungle’s recesses —— taking me to gaze upon and imagine a pair of rough hands, vague and fleeting, whilst also drawing me close to and plunging me into the ‘teeth-grinding game’ of two cubs chasing and challenging one another…

[Unfinished. To be Continued]