Taishan and the Cat

Taishan and the Cat

I began accompanying people climbing Mount Tai on a foggy morning. To be precise, it wasn't "accompanying," it was "being accompanied." I stood at the exit of the Nantianmen cable car station, like a forgotten piece of luggage, waiting for the next lonely soul.

The first guest was a middle-aged woman in an elegant suit. She carried an LV bag, but wore mismatched hiking shoes. She glanced at me, her eyes holding a kind of weariness, like a lake in late autumn, reflecting no ripples. "Let's go," she said, her voice raspy as if sanded down, "I need someone to talk to."

I followed behind her, listening to her rambling on about power struggles at the company, her son's rebellious phase, and her husband's increasingly infrequent time at home. When she spoke, her eyes gazed into the distance, as if confessing to the empty mountain valley. I just responded with "Mm-hmm" and "Ah," like a well-trained echo machine.

"You know," she suddenly stopped, leaning on a stone covered in inscriptions, "sometimes I feel like this stone, carved with all sorts of words, but I don't know which one is the real me."

I remained silent. I didn't know what to say. I was just a cat who accompanied people climbing, a silent, nameless cat.

Later, I "accompanied" many others. There was a student carrying a heavy backpack, an elderly man with a thermos, a bride in a wedding dress, and a young man wearing VR glasses. Each of them had their own story, their own loneliness, their own Mount Tai.

I was like a ghost cat weaving through the crowd, observing their joys and sorrows, their confusion and struggles. I watched them cheer at the summit, pray in the temples, and fall silent at sunrise. I watched them try to find some kind of meaning on Mount Tai, some kind of release, some... something they couldn't even put into words themselves.

One night, I sat alone on the top of Mount Tai, looking at the city lights below. The wind was strong, making my ears ring. I remembered a sentence written by Wang Xiaobo: "I see a world without wisdom, but wisdom exists in chaos; I see a world without sex, but sex exists in chaos; I see a world without fun, but fun exists in chaos."

I suddenly felt a surge of inexplicable sadness. This sadness wasn't for myself, but for those people searching for answers on Mount Tai. They were like a group of children lost in a maze, yearning to find the exit, but not knowing where it was, or even if it existed.

I looked down at my paws. I was a cat, a nameless cat who accompanied people climbing Mount Tai. I couldn't give them answers, I couldn't even give myself answers. The only thing I could do was accompany them, to walk this lonely journey with them.

Perhaps, this is my purpose. Like the stones on Mount Tai, stepped on by countless people, inscribed with countless words, yet still standing silently there.

The next day, the sun rose as usual. I continued to stand at the exit of the Nantianmen cable car station, waiting for the next lonely soul. I am a cat, a cat waiting on Mount Tai. And Mount Tai, it is always there, like a giant question mark, waiting for each person's interpretation.