After the end of the Russo-Japanese war, I chose a three-line better and set off from Manchuria to Russia. Pretty soon crossed the Russian border, crossed a ridge and on the shore of the ocean met with a Chinese, a seeker of zhen-shen. Louvain sheltered me in his hiding place, hidden from typhoons in the disintegration of Zusu-he, completely covered with irises, orchids and lilies, surrounded by trees of unprecedented relict rocks, densely entwined with lianas. From a secluded place in the thickets of Manchurian walnut and wild grapes, I saw a miracle of the coastal taiga – a female spotted deer Hua-lu (Deer Flower), as the Chinese call it. Her thin legs with tiny, sturdy hooves were so close that they could grab the animal and tie it up. But the voice of a man who values beauty, who understands her fragility, was muffled by the voice of the hunter. After all, a beautiful moment can be saved, unless you touch it with your hands. This is understood by the new person born in me, almost at that moment. Almost immediately, as if in reward for the victory over the hunter in himself, I saw a woman on the seashore from the ship’s settlers who had brought the settlers.
Her eyes were exactly like Hua-lu’s, and she seemed to affirm the inseparability of truth and beauty. This new, timidly enthusiastic person immediately opened in me. Alas, the hunter who woke up in me almost did not destroy the almost held alliance. Again
Louvain knew very well who the steamboat had taken from me. To my happiness, it was an attentive and cultured father, for the essence of culture is in the creativity of understanding and communication between people: “Your wife is growing, I will show it to you soon.”
He kept his word and took me to the taiga, where “my” root was found twenty years ago and left for another ten years. But the deer, passing, stepped on the head of the wife-shena, and he froze, and recently began to grow again and in fifteen years will be ready: “Then you and your bride – you both will again become young.”
Having engaged with Luvan very profitable prey of antlers, I from time to time met Hua-lu along with her one-year-old deer. Somehow by itself came the idea of domesticating spotted deer with the help of Hua-lu. Gradually, we taught her not to be afraid of us.
When the rush began, Hugo-Lu was followed by the most powerful handsome horns. Precious panties were now obtained not with such as before, with labor and not with such traumas for relic animals. The very thing, done in the coastal subtropics, amidst unspeakable beauty, became for me a medicine, my wife-shenem. In my dreams, I wanted, in addition to taming new animals, to “Europeanize” the Chinese who worked with me, so that they did not depend on people like me and could stand up for themselves.
However, there are terms of life that do not depend on personal desire: until the time has come, conditions have not been created – the dream will remain a utopia. And yet I knew that my root ginseng grows and I will wait my time. Do not succumb to despair in case of failure. One such failure was the flight of deer into the hills. Hua-lu somehow stepped on the tail of a chipmunk, who was enjoying the beans fallen from her trough. Zverek clenched his teeth in her leg, and the deer, distraught with pain, rushed to the side, and behind it all the herd that brought down the fences. On the ruins of the kennel, how not to think that Hua-lu is a witch who beckoned her beauty and turned into a beautiful woman who, as soon as I fell in love with her, disappeared, plunging into depression. Hardly had I begun to cope with it, creatively breaking the vicious circle, as Hua-lu had crushed all this.
But all these philosophies are always broken by life itself. Suddenly she returned with her deer Hua-lu, and when the gong started, the males came for her.
Ten years passed. Louven died already, and I was still alone. The nursery grew rich. All in due time: in my life a woman appeared again. It was not the woman who once appeared, like the turned princess Hua-lu, the Deer Flower. But I found my own being in it and fell in love with it. This is the creative power of the root of life: to overcome the boundaries of oneself and open oneself in another. Now I have everything; my own business, my beloved wife and children. I am one of the happiest people on earth. However, from time to time, there is one thing that bothers you, something that does not affect anything, but about which you have to say. Every year, when deer dumps old horns, some pain and yearning drives me from the laboratory, from the library, from the family. I go to the rock, from the cracks of which water flows, as if this rock is always crying. There, in my memory, the past is resurrected: I see a grape tent,