Ah Zhao enters the courtyard behind Ah Wang with his head bowed and his shoulders bent. He falls to his knees in front of Baba and touches his head to the ground three times.
“Old Master Zhang!” he says. “How lucky I am! I was begging Ah Wang for a chance to see you. He refused, but to my surprise, you sent for me! Thank you.”
“Why did you want to see me?” Baba asks.
“I wanted to express my gratitude to you for the many kindnesses you have shown me. Your two precious children commissioned me to do a painting of a dragon for your birthday. I spent many months trying to render the image of a fantastic beast onto paper, but finally I gave up on the dragon. Instead, I decided on this simple sketch of a dragon-shaped rock painted on silk, which I now present to you. I hope it will please you.”
He kowtows again before presenting a small oblong box he is holding in both hands. Baba opens the box and takes out a silk painting rolled into a scroll, twice as long as it is wide. As he lays down Ah Zhao’s birthday gift and slowly unrolls it, a collective gasp escapes the lips of the men round the table.
Instead of the frightening beast he has been painting, Ah Zhao has drawn a single black rock. We are too far away to see the image in detail, but it must be amazing because all of Baba’s friends are speechless with admiration. They clap their hands in spontaneous applause. Many call for wine, to drink a toast to the young artist. They point out to one another the rock’s jagged profile jutting proudly against the brown silk background; the perforations in the stone captured by many ink washes, patiently applied, tone on tone; the subtle patterns of the rock’s dark and light surfaces; and the sprig of hardy green leaves sprouting delicately from the hollows.
“Did you give this painting a name?” Baba finally asks.
“Your worthless servant was thinking of calling it Dragon Rock,” Ah Zhao replies, still kneeling.
“Excellent name!” Commissioner Ye says. “I see you have left space for an inscription on the left side of the rock. Why don’t you stand up, come to the table and write a dedication to Magistrate Zhang. We’ll help you compose a suitable verse.”
“I am illiterate, Your Honor,” Ah Zhao says humbly.
“I know His Majesty’s likes and dislikes,” Tong Guan suddenly interrupts. “I think He will be very impressed by this painting. I suggest I take it with me when I go back to the Palace tonight. In the morning, I’ll ask His Majesty to write a few words in His distinctive shou jin (slender gold calligraphy). That would really make this painting famous and immortal!”
“Will you do that for me?” Baba asks, his eyes shining.
“Of course!” Tong Guan says. “One more question, Ah Zhao. Did this painting come from your imagination or were you inspired by a particular rock?”
“Your Honor, I came across this particular stone lying by itself in the ravine at the back of my master’s house one year ago. I thought it was special, and would visit it from time to time. It seems to be related to the earth from which it sprang and yet it stands alone. By painting it, I meant to release its spirit and set it free. I’m so glad everyone likes my painting.”
“Why do you like rocks?” Liang asks.
“Rocks are full of meaning, don’t you think? They are direct links to the essence of who we are. I love to work on pieces of stone with hammer and chisel. When I tap on a rock, I hear an echo and it reminds me of who I am.”
Liang nods his head, and I know he is impressed, as is everyone else.
“You may go now, Ah Zhao,” Baba says after a while. “Thank you for your birthday gift. You have done a wonderful painting. I like it very much.”
“One more thing before you go,” Tong Guan adds. “How big is this piece of rock on which your painting is based?”
“It’s big. About ba chi (over eight feet) tall and liu chi (over six feet) wide.”
“Can the rock be delivered to His Majesty’s garden?” asks Tong Guan.
“Surely you are joking!” Baba answers. “A rock that size will require at least a dozen men to move from my place to the Palace.”
“Let me confide something,” Tong Guan says. “At this very moment, His Majesty is having a special cargo ship built to carry an enormous boulder from Tai Hu (Tai Lake) in the south to His Palace here. The Taoist priest Lin Ling Su , His Majesty’s spiritual advisor, has convinced Him that this particular rock is full of divine significance, and His Majesty has decided He must have it. Unfortunately, because of the rock’s size, we might have to tear down some bridges and enlarge a few canals to bring it here. Compared to that, transporting your rock poses next to no problem.”
“Where will these rocks be placed?” Commissioner Ye asks.
“In the enormous Genyue Imperial Pleasure Park, just outside the walls of His Majesty’s Palace, which I spoke of earlier. Besides scholars’ rocks and exotic plants collected throughout the Empire, the park will also have elephants, lions, leopards, rhinoceroses and a host of rare birds such as herons and tufted ducks. Presently, as many as thirty ships have been dispatched to every place under Heaven to transport the specimens to Genyue.”
After Ah Zhao leaves, the men go back to their conversation. Gege listens intently to every word, but I’m tired; it has been a very long evening. So when Nai Ma comes and tells me it’s time for bed I’m quite happy to go.
A detail from Qing Ming Shang He Tu (Along the River at Qing Ming). This particular scene of the boat about to capsize is described on this page. The entire painting is seventeen and a half feet long and only ten inches high. Known as China’s Mona Lisa and painted with ink on silk, it captures the holiday atmosphere of ordinary people celebrating Qing Ming, presenting a panorama of Song Dynasty life. Note the period clothing, hairstyles, headgear, sedan chairs, stalls packed with merchandise and the variety of boats on the river.
From the same painting, this detail shows the ornate guardhouse above the city gate described on this page. Some guardhouses also served as drum and bell towers. In ancient times, there were no mechanical clocks. Officials kept time by sundials, water clocks, sand clocks or by burning incense sticks. The public would be notified of the time by the daily beating of drums and bells at regular intervals.
A man with the sleeves of his jacket tied round his waist (front center) stands among a crowd gathered round an animated storyteller who has a luxurious beard and mustache. (This scene is described on this page.) Storytellers have a long tradition in China. They combined classical history with contemporary humor to entertain the audience.
The title of this painting is Auspicious Dragon Rock (Xiang Long Shi ). It was supposedly painted by Emperor Huizong of the Song Dynasty (see this page and this page), whose shou jin (slender gold) calligraphy can be seen to the left of the rock.
The painting Ting Qin Tu (Listening to Zither Music) was also presumably painted by Emperor Huizong. It shows the Emperor sitting under a tree and playing the zither to two ministers and a young female attendant. On this page Zhang Ze Duan tells his sister Zhang Mei Lan that he painted the attendant to look just like her, thereby making her famous and immortal. The calligraphy and poetry above the picture was written by Cai Jing , the Prime Minister under Emperor Huizong.
All images reproduced by kind permission of The Palace Museum, Beijing.
Dragon Rock Painting
Ah Wang keeps Ah Zhao even busier than usual after Baba’s birthday party, assigning him the revolting job of emptying the latrines every morning. It’s as if he’s trying to punish him for being the center of attention at the banquet. The stench is so overwhelming that Ah Zhao stuffs his nostrils with dried jujubes to hide the noxious odor whenever he steps into the outhouse. Gege is also increasingly preoccupied, spending more and more time at the university, preparing for his impending Imperial Examination.
This gives me a chance to write a poem that I’ve been thinking of for some time. It’s about the nature of friendship.
For years now, I’ve found it impossible to write in my bedroom, the room I
share with Nai Ma. She means well, but she’s always asking questions or engaging me in conversation when I don’t feel like talking. Normally, I would escape to Ah Zhao’s shed. Since Niang’s recent warning, however, I don’t dare go there so often, especially when Gege is not with me.
Fortunately, I have a secret hideaway that nobody knows about. It’s the alcove part of the main parlor, hidden behind a latticed screen. This is where Niang and I listened to the monk who spoke about my foot-binding, years ago. Compact and well lit, it’s furnished with a redwood table and comfortable chairs. When I want to be alone, I go there and can write undisturbed for hours on end. It’s my very own private “writer’s retreat.”
Immediately after breakfast this morning, I sneak into the alcove when nobody is looking. I take my writing materials out of the cabinet by the wall, where I’ve hidden them behind Niang’s best porcelain: ink in a flask, brush and paper. I arrange them carefully on the table, moisten my brush and begin my poem:
When we talk, there is always something new
Our topics are endless and inexhaustible
A poet’s pen has turned this affinity to shape
And given it a name. It is called
As I concentrate on finding the next word, a man’s voice booms out loudly somewhere in the same room: “I bring you auspicious news and inauspicious news. Which do you want to hear first?”
The voice is so close I almost jump out of my chair. Then I remember where I am. Keeping as still as possible, I peek through the screen and see Baba entering the parlor behind a tall man with military bearing. Tong Guan! I should have recognized that voice as soon as I heard it.
I know I should declare my presence, but I’m embarrassed. Suddenly it’s too late. I know that if I appear now, my baba will be shamed by having a daughter who hides and listens to other people’s private conversations. My only alternative is to remain hidden and hope I’m not discovered.
“Auspicious news first, as befits my optimistic nature,” Baba says.
“His Majesty thinks so highly of your Dragon Rock painting that He has already written an inscription with His own hand, in the space to the left of the image.”
“Excellent! What’s the inauspicious news?”
“His Majesty wants to buy the painting from you.”
“Buy it from me? For how much?”
“As much as you like … or as little as you like … His Majesty instructed me to bring you one hundred ounces of silver as a starting price.”
“A hundred ounces of silver for one painting by my barbarian servant!? And you consider this inauspicious news?”
“If I were you, I would give the painting to His Majesty as a present, and return His silver. In the long run, it’s much more valuable to have His Majesty in your debt than to have a hundred ounces of silver. However, I say this as a friend. The decision is yours and yours alone.”
“My thanks to you, General Tong. If that’s what you recommend, that’s what I’ll do. But I still consider these to be good tidings.”
“I haven’t finished yet. In addition to the painting, His Majesty wants to buy the rock on which the painting is based. Is it still lying in the ravine at the back of your house?”
“I haven’t yet seen the rock. Ah Zhao will know where it is. My barbarian servant is the only one here with a passion for rocks.”
“His Majesty happens to share the boy’s passion. For another hundred ounces of silver, He wants the Dragon Rock to be moved to the Palace garden as soon as it can be arranged; preferably today.”
“That’s why you brought the wagon and the guards! You came prepared.”
“Yes, I did. I now need to tell you His Majesty’s third and final request.”
“Auspicious or inauspicious?”
“You be the judge. Along with that painting and the rock itself, His Majesty wants Ah Zhao to enter the Palace and be one of His artists-in-residence.”
Baba is silent for so long that Tong Guan gets up from his chair and takes a stroll around the room before sitting down again. Meanwhile, behind the screen, I’m trying not to make a sound, but the thought of Ah Zhao leaving us is like a blow to my heart.
“You know the boy is an orphan …,” Baba finally says.
“So I’ve been told, but having no family just makes it easier.”
“Makes what easier?”
“To subject himself to castration and become a eunuch.”
“I was afraid of that,” Baba says. “Is there any way that Ah Zhao can work in the Palace without castration?”
“That’s out of the question.”
“Then I must say no on his behalf.”
“Are you saying no to His Majesty? Need I warn you of the consequences?” Tong Guan sounds outraged. “I can’t understand why you are against his becoming a eunuch. What an opportunity for a penniless orphan!”
“All I know is that I would never allow my son to be a eunuch.”
“Your son is your son. He will pass the Imperial Examination and become a Han Lin scholar one day soon. His future is assured, and he will marry and give you many grandsons. How can you compare your son to an illiterate orphan destined to be a servant for the rest of his life?”
“Maybe you are right,” Baba says. “The only one who can decide on that life is Ah Zhao himself.”
“Well said! There’s so much prejudice against eunuchs that is unjustified. But if you place yourself in Ah Zhao’s shoes, how and where would you find this sort of opportunity again?” Tong Guan’s voice cracks as he says this, and I suddenly recall that he is a eunuch himself.
“Of all the ministers who work for our sovereign, you are the one most qualified to talk to Ah Zhao about this offer. May I send for him and leave the two of you alone?”
“If you like,” Tong Guan says with a smile. “I will try my best to give him the pros and cons, so he can make a rational decision.”
“Please wait here while I tell someone to get him.”
Behind the screen, my heart sinks as I realize I will be trapped in the alcove even longer. I don’t know what the punishment is for eavesdropping on such an important conversation, but I’m sure it’s harsh. To my dismay, I feel a sudden cramp creeping up my crooked toes, into my leg. I bend down to massage my muscles, and my shoulder brushes against the latticed screen. It sways back and forth dangerously. I lunge forward and just manage to save it from falling. I hold my breath in terror, certain that Tong Guan has seen or heard something.
Luckily, no one has noticed. I hear Baba coming into the room, followed closely by Ah Zhao. Tong Guan must have had his back to the screen the whole time, and seen nothing.
Peeking into the parlor, I see that this is a different Ah Zhao from five days ago. Instead of his long, dark blue gown, he’s wearing his everyday work-shirt and rough trousers. His hands are soiled from working in the garden. A pair of pruning shears protrudes from his breast pocket, and he smiles as he strides in with the exuberance of youth and high spirits.
“Old Master Zhang, you called!”
“Yes, Ah Zhao. I want to introduce you again to General Tong Guan, whom you met here five days ago at my birthday party. There’s no need to kneel. You may remain standing. The General wants to have a private talk with you.”
“I am honored,” Ah Zhao says, smiling.
“How long have you been living at my house?”
“Close to four years.”
“Have you been happy here?”
“You have treated me like a second son. I am happy and content.”
“You are a very talented young man,” Baba continues. “I regret that I did not ask Teacher Lai to teach you reading and writing when I first took you in. Now others are beginning to recognize your abilities. General Tong here wishes to make you an interesting proposition. You are more than welcome to stay and work here for the rest of your life, but you should listen to other opportunities when they arise, and decide for yourself. I will now leave you alone with the General.”
&n
bsp; Baba leaves the room. At first there’s an awkward silence as Ah Zhao and Tong Guan smile at one another. Finally, General Tong signals Ah Zhao to sit on the chair previously occupied by Baba.
“I gather you’re an orphan,” Tong Guan begins.
“Yes, I am.”
“Would it interest you to know that I too am an orphan?”
“So we are two of a kind,” Ah Zhao says.
“I know only too well how it feels to belong nowhere; to be in perpetual exile. In your case, it’s probably worse because I can see from your wavy hair and blue eyes that you are not even a Han Chinese.”
“Yes. I am a barbarian. As such, I will always be a wai ren (outsider).”
“I myself was passed from relative to relative,” Tong Guan says. “Then, when I was nine years old, a distant cousin ‘sold’ me to an old eunuch at the Palace and I became his adopted son. Two years later, my foster father persuaded me to undergo the operation and I became a eunuch also, just like him. From that time until now, I have served in the Palace continuously for over thirty-nine years.”
Ah Zhao leaned forward. “Forgive me for asking, but are you happy? Do you have any regrets?”
“As soon as I entered the Palace, I knew I had found my permanent home. Strange as it seems, things came together for me when I became a eunuch. Yes! I am happy. I am also immensely successful. There’s no way I could have become who I am today without having entered the Palace.”
“It’s certainly a great honor for me to see you today,” Ah Zhao says.
“I showed His Majesty your Dragon Rock painting after I returned from your master’s birthday party …” Tong Guan hesitates at this point.
“Did He like it?” Ah Zhao asks eagerly.
“His Majesty is a great patron of the arts. He has a general interest in chess, music, dancing, poetry, calligraphy, antiques, architecture and gardening, but He’s passionate about only two subjects: rocks and painting. And those two passions happen to be combined in this painting of yours titled Dragon Rock.”