She smiled and let him hold her hand softly. "What do you want to hear?"

"Tell me again about the time we were in the park."

"You've forgotten. We will never repeat the same story."

He had really forgotten. However, she began to stir the fire obediently...and then they returned to the park. He was nine and she was seven. They sat by a pond which was covered with a layer of thin mist. A lotus flower bloomed in the middle. And from another corner of the pond came the sounds of oars mixed with singing. He gazed at the red blossom; the flower suddenly changed into a pulsating flame.

"That's it?" he said disappointedly. "That was too short."

"I've told you already. We will never repeat the same story."

"I can't remember clearly, but our story can't possibly be that short."

She didn't say anything, but drooped her head. The fire had already died out, and the remnants of his Life turned into black, broken embers. He looked at her silver-gray hair and could not help being sullen.

The next evening he came back again, cut off a thick slice of Life, and tossed it into the hearth. She reached out but was unable to stop him, and couldn't hold back her anger.

"You shouldn't do that. After all, it is your Life."

"That's right. It's my Life and I can do anything I want." He examined the wax figure in his hand. An arm and a leg were already gone.

"My Life," he groaned coolly, "is nothing but a wax figure -- it's all superstition. Let me tell you how this superstition came about. When our great, great grandparents were still traveling in space, everyone had to carry a small wax figure. Actually it wasn't a wax figure, but a piece of condensed, solid fuel. Just in case of an accident, they could insert it into the mini-reactor of their life-support suit. This way they would be able to survive for ten more days in space while waiting for rescue. They called this wax figure `Life', and we just inherited this superstition."

His vision became blurred when he stored away the badly maimed figure. "Please tell me another story. Tell me a long story, a long, long story."

She sighed and obediently stirred the fire...and they returned to a small hut by the sea. He was nineteen and she was seventeen. He hugged her tightly and kissed her soft, black hair. She enjoyed rubbing her cheek on his short beard, and then gave him a mystifying smile.

"Why do you look at me like that?"

"Lend me your ear and I'll tell you."

He did what she asked. She nibbled his earlobe lightly and said, "I love you."

They stood close by the window, listening to the perpetual sound of the waves. The moonlight bathed her naked shoulders, making her skin look slightly blue and her form slim and attractive. (It is said that moonlight can make people go crazy.) He kissed her again and again, then lifted his head and gazed at the moon. Gradually, the jadelike disk began to dissolve into a radiant orange light. He groaned painfully.

"No! Don't do that. You clearly promised me a long, long story."

"I can't. I have tried my best to stretch the story out, but each time it's just shorter than the last. I don't understand why myself."

As the fire died out, the room cooled down immediately. The biting cold penetrated deep into his soul. He could stand no more, gritted his teeth and pulled out the wax figure, but she grasped his knife-yielding hand just in time.

"That's enough! Winter's still long."

"Anyway, this is the last winter, so you don't have to worry about me."

"I said enough is enough." She argued with him for a while, then changed her tone and cajoled him, "If you behave yourself, I'll let you listen to another story. I can tell a story even if there's no fire."

"Really? I don't believe it."

"If you behave, I'll start." Then she did start telling another story about a far-off city that was covered with snow and ice the whole year long. There people were always hiding in huge, windowless cylindrical buildings, and workers moved in the subterranean tunnels like ants going back and forth day and night.

"I don't want to listen any more. How can you remember so clearly?"

"Because it's not imagined. Don't you remember? Didn't you always say that if you could just leave that city you'd be satisfied and wouldn't want anything more?"

But he did not remember, or maybe he did not want to remember. She continued to talk about a spring-like city where flowers bloomed everywhere, the sunlight was bright and everlasting, and the people sang and danced all around.

"You said once you got to the Spring City, then you'd be happy. But in the end you still weren't."

"And after that?"

"After that you left me and followed her."

"Followed whom? I've completely forgotten."

He really didn't remember, he had forgotten everything. There was only one way. He started rubbing the wax figure in his pocket. It seemed that she had figured him out and said coldly, "Don't bother, I'll tell you...After that you again returned to my side, and then again you went off for another woman. Then you came back again. After that you became old. After that we left the city and moved here."

"Why? I really don't understand. How could I be so foolish?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "You've lost all your imagination, but it's not my fault."

It was getting colder and colder. Knowing that she wouldn't tell any other stories, he stood up and left. The woman did not say anything, just sat quietly in front of the extinguished fire.

Dreamless nights were an ordeal for him. He tried his best to recall the people she talked about in her stories, but they were reluctant to form clear images in his mind. Did he really meet other women? She said there were two, but he hardly had any recollection. She said it's all in his imagination. However, he often doubted that they even existed there; maybe she was just making them up in her stories in order to hurt him. Actually he only liked to listen to stories about the two of them -- in the park when he was nine and she was seven. But each time she told the story the contents were different. Sometimes it seemed that they were sitting by the pond; sometimes they were swinging in a swing. The worst was that he always forgot the contents of her previous story. Perhaps she was only repeating five or six different park stories, instead of what she claimed -- that the contents were completely different each time. But he also had no way to prove it.

One day he was astonished to realize that he had forgotten even his own name! This was a new blow. He had no choice but to ask the woman. She replied indifferently, "Does it matter? There are only the two of us here."

"But, how could I live without a name?"

"OK, you're called Qin Guoben."

"And you?"

"My name is Lin Ailian."

He suspected that she was tricking him and didn't believe that he was called Qin Guoben, but couldn't think up a reason to the contrary. He felt that his last name was Lin, and hers was Qin. He wanted to write down this discovery so he wouldn't forget it, but he realized that for a long time already he had forgotten how to write. He seemed like a caged animal. Day by day the cage was shrinking, but he couldn't do anything about it. He hated the woman -- she didn't want to say anything!

Nevertheless, his memory was not completely blank. He could recall trivial things quite clearly. He knew some things that the woman couldn't remember -- for example, why the wax figures were called Lives. The woman cherished her figure. Unless it became intolerably cold, she would never cut off a slice to get some warmth. But he did not care, whenever he visited her, he would light the fire for her. And he himself realized, in some sense, this came from his concern for her. Perhaps it was just because of this that the woman was willing to recount their stories when the blazing fire lit up her face.

Or perhaps, she still also cared a little for him? No! The woman probably hated him, otherwise why did she torture him like this? He could not recall why they had decided to live apart. He lived on the hilltop, and she in the valley. In the daytime he didn't go down to disturb her, but on those dreamless nights, when he couldn't stand the solitude, he would go down to look for her. Still, it didn't do him any good but only increased his misery.

One afternoon when he was chopping firewood, it suddenly occurred to him that he could recall where he had come from. He was extremely excited and ran shouting all the way down the hill. The woman was mending some clothes when he burst in, almost knocking her over.

"I remember! I remember where we came from. We didn't live here originally. Our home is on another planet, a sea-blue planet -- just like a blue gem embedded in space. Did you know that?"

"I did."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"Why did I have to tell you? Now you remember where we came from, but do you also remember why?"

He couldn't answer. The anger in his heart was slowly building up. This crafty woman was always thinking up ways to make him feel uncomfortable. Abruptly, he grabbed her hair and threw her to the ground. She screamed and it made him angrier. He banged her head on the ground as hard as he could -- thud, thud. She struggled for a while and started to cry. Exhausting his energy, he began to pant and swear at her.

"You bitch! You're killing me! I want you to tell me everything right now. I've been tricked too long. Tell me! Why did we come here? Tell me! Will you tell me or not?"

"It was you who agreed to come here with me," the woman said crying. "It's you who said you'd never leave me again. You said you wanted to forget everything about the past and begin a new life. You yourself decided to take the amnesia pill, no one forced you. The reason I didn't want to tell you was because I was afraid...I was afraid you would remember how you used to be and would leave me again. I've had enough! Kill me! I've had enough!"

The woman lay down and cried. He didn't know what to do, but just sat next to her motionlessly. She finally stopped crying, stood up, and said to him calmly, "It's in the cave on the other side of the hill."

"What's in the cave?"

"The ship. There's still enough fuel in the ship...enough for you to fly to the interplanetary station on the plain. There's a bottle of silver pills in the first-aid kit on the right side of the cabin. Take five, and it should be enough to refresh your memory temporarily. After that take three every eight hours. When you return, see the doctors immediately. They have equipment that can completely restore your memory."

"And how about you?"

"You don't have to worry about me." She gathered the clothes that had been scattered on the floor. "You said this was the last winter."

When he left her, she lowered her head and sat in front of the burnt out fire slowly stitching her clothes.

Before the storm arrived, he had already shut himself up alone in the hilltop cabin for three days. Then the storm arrived and he knew he would not be able to leave the planet. This made him feel at ease nevertheless. There were enough provisions and firewood in the cabin, so he did not have to worry about himself. But then he thought of the woman in the valley -- he didn't remember whether he had stocked up provisions and other necessities for her. He should have thought about that, but he was not sure what he had done. After thinking about it for a long time, he decided to go down and look for the woman.

He struggled down toward the valley through snow that was already knee deep. The ghost snow, shining with green phosphorous light, kept on falling. Half way down the hill he slid and fell into a big rut. Fortunately, the snow was deep and he was not hurt. He tried several times but failed to climb out, and could only lie at the bottom, looking up and panting as countless green lights danced in the sky. Then he rubbed the melted snow off his face and tried hard to get out one more time. And just when he was about to fall back again, he managed to grab hold of a tree root.

He clambered out of the snowy rut and continued moving down the hill sliding and rolling. Finding the woman's cabin in the valley nearly buried in a snow bank, he worked hard and finally dug out the snow in front of the door. He knocked for a long time, but the woman did not open the door. He cursed loudly thinking it might be another trick, but also worried that maybe something had really happened to her. He went over to the back door, and again almost exhausted himself clearing a way in. Luckily it was not locked. He climbed into the room, and completely collapsed on the floor.

She was not in the cabin.

After restoring his energy a bit, he searched the entire cabin several times. No, she was not in. He wanted to rush out and look for her, but also realized he did not have enough energy. It seemed colder inside the cabin than outside. Soaked to the skin he curled his body up and listened to the howling wind. He peered out the window at the ghost snow falling in a myriad of green, weblike strands -- like a green net.

At last, you're the only one left, he thought.

His teeth could not stop chattering. He reached into his pocket and touched an icy cold object -- a maimed figure, without arms or legs, only a torso left.

He pulled out the wax figure. In the green light from outside, the figure seemed to emit a strange glow. He stroked it for a while and tossed it into the hearth with a shaky hand. Then he flicked the lighter and made a fire out of the last piece of his Life.

The blazing fire immediately changed the atmosphere in the cabin. The green glow from the outside suddenly faded away. He felt the heat in his chest come back and his face began to warm up. Forgetting all at once about the snowstorm outside, he concentrated on the white hot radiance of the fire.

He saw himself once again, now he could remember everything. He knew who he was, where he had come from, and also why he had come here. At the same time, he recalled that old legend -- when the wax figure has turned to ash, the figure's owner will also vanish with it.

But he didn't care, just opened his mind's eye and concentrated...It seemed that he had returned to the park again. He was nine and she was seven. They sat by a pond which was covered by a layer of thin mist. A lotus flower bloomed in the middle. And from another corner of the pond came the sounds of oars mixed with singing. He gazed at the red blossom; the flower's color slowly began to fade -- from red to something white. He felt himself also gradually weakening. The cold crept up his back inch by inch. So the old saying was really true! However, he stared fixedly at the white lotus and was not at all afraid.

Suddenly the flower changed color. It became intensely red again. He startled, feeling his chest grow warm once more. Then another hand grasped his, it was her hand.

"I came here to look for you, but you weren't in." He opened himself to her like a child.

"I went to the top to search for you, but you weren't there either."

"Did you just toss your wax figure into the hearth?

"Yes, I threw it all in."

He cracked a smile and embraced her tightly. Together they gazed at the last wax figure burning in the fire.