“You flatter me, my friend.”
“Gege’s right,” I say. “Art is important because it gives meaning to life. Since Heaven is the source of Order, a great artist like you is searching for Truth, for Order and for Heaven in your work.”
“To be an artist, then, is to improve life and give it meaning. If that’s the case, how can I subject myself to becoming a eunuch in His Majesty’s Palace? For a salary of one hundred and ten ounces of silver a year, they want to rob me of my manhood and my art.”
“How can the Emperor claim your painting to be His work without even asking you for permission? That’s simply not right,” I say indignantly.
Gege sighs. “It’s more complicated than that, Little Sister. The great thing is that His Majesty is prepared to give money to support the arts. What’s more important—a work of art, or the artist who painted it? Great works of art continue to be appreciated long after the artist has died. Some people would even claim that without the Emperor’s support, many paintings wouldn’t have been created in the first place. So in a roundabout way, these works were really the Emperor’s creations, even though He didn’t paint them.”
I want to shake Gege. “Aren’t you confusing the word ‘creation’ with the word ‘possession?’ ”
“Well, there are many ways of looking at art. It all depends on your personal point of view.…”
Ah Zhao gets up impatiently. “I hate to interrupt your philosophizing, Gege, but I need to make a decision. General Tong Guan wants me to live in the Palace of Divine Inspiration with hundreds of other eunuchs and paint pretty pictures at His Majesty’s command for the rest of my life. During the first two years, he says I’ll be placed on night duty and become a dai zhao (imperial attendant).”
“Night duty?”
“Yes! Apparently, His Majesty always keeps a painter on night duty; a versatile painter who is adept at painting anything: flowers or birds or stones. The Emperor gives frequent dinner parties during which He might suddenly summon for a painting. The imperial attendant needs to be ready to produce a painting at all times.”
“Are you going to accept the job?” Gege asks.
“I would rather die than live in that Palace and become that type of a painter. Nothing could be worse than living with hundreds of eunuchs, painting thousands of pretty pictures all signed by the one name, Huizong. I need to figure out a way to disappear without involving you two or your family.”
“Not involve us!” Gege cries. “Nothing of the sort! We want to help you!”
“I told your Baba about my conversation with Tong Guan. He advised me to leave the capital and hide, if I have no intention of ever entering the Palace. Turning down an offer from His Majesty will not be viewed in a positive light.”
Gege’s face betrays his sadness, but I realize with sudden insight that he’s prepared for this to happen. In a way, he wants it to happen.
“I’ll never be able to find another friend like you,” Gege says. “I feel it in my bones. You must know that both my sister and I admire and love you. No one can ever replace you in our hearts.”
Ah Zhao puts his arm round Gege’s shoulder. “You have your whole life ahead of you. Every boy our age wishes he could be in your shoes. When I’m gone, you’re bound to make other friends. Soon enough, you’ll pass the Imperial Examination and become a brilliant minister in His Majesty’s court. I have no doubt.”
“Where will you go?” Gege asks. “What about money? Do you have any?”
Suddenly he jumps up.
“Wait here, both of you—I’ll be back in a moment.”
As Gege runs from the shed, Ah Zhao turns to me. “Well, Little Sister, it has come to this.”
I’m overwhelmed by grief. “You have no idea,” I say, my voice choking with despair, “how bad I feel right now. Please, please won’t you take me with you? Unlike Gege, I have no future. I would do anything to come with you.”
“If only I could! But how would we live? You know as well as I do that nothing can be more hopeless. Besides, you’re only thirteen years old!”
“I could take the jewelry my mother left me,” I say.
“I wish I had your courage and confidence, Little Sister,” he says sadly. “But honestly, where would we go? With my height and barbarian features, they’d catch us in no time. If you run away with me, your baba would never forgive me; he’d think I’ve betrayed him, and accuse me of ruining you. I can’t do that to him. He’s my benefactor.”
“But will I ever see you again?” To my embarrassment, I start to cry. “I long to go off somewhere and be free; have a room of my own, just like this shed; create an oasis where I can write.…”
“Perhaps I can help you do that, one day. The three of us have had such happy times, especially when we were working together, with Gege and me painting and you writing.…”
“Will you come back for me when you’re rich and famous?” I plead desperately.
“My chances of that aren’t great!” he says sadly. “But I promise I’ll come back to see you, one day.”
“When?”
Ah Zhao thinks it over before he answers soberly. “Whatever happens, I’ll wait for you at our ravine, on or before the Qing Ming Festival, in three years’ time. By then, you’ll be sixteen and I’ll have an inkling of what my life is going to be like. Right now, I feel as helpless as you. I wish we were free to do what we want; be happy together with no Baba or Niang to worry about. But they are around, and we’re not free.”
“Everyone under Heaven knows what my niang has planned for me.”
“You have shown yourself to be stronger than your niang, once before—you can do it again, if you have to. Be brave! I have faith in you.”
There’s the sound of running footsteps, and Gege bursts through the door.
“You’ll need money,” he manages to say, between breaths. “I have some saved. You must take it all.”
I can see that Ah Zhao is touched. “Thank you, my friend,” he says. “One day I hope I’ll be in a position to pay you back. Your baba has also given me all the silver from Tong Guan, as a farewell gift, so I’m well set up.”
“What else can we do?” Gege asks.
“You’ve done more than enough already. You two are the only family I have, and this shed my only home. But it’s only a home because of you. Wherever I go, I’ll always carry the memory of you in my heart. I give you my solemn promise that I’ll be back.”
We help Ah Zhao pack his few clothes into a bag, together with his paintbrushes, cash and silver ingots.
“No more tears, Little Sister!” he says to me. “I’m afraid life is often unfair. Make your right hand into a fist and wrap your left hand round it. Gege will wrap his hands round yours, and I’ll wrap mine round his. There! Now we have a giant fist, let’s make a pact that we’ll always be united in our hearts and minds, wherever we may be.”
His eyes are glinting with tears as he picks up his bag and strides away. He closes the door gently behind him, but opens it again almost immediately.
“Nearly forgot!” he exclaims. He runs to the wooden storage box, by the wall, where he keeps his art supplies, lifts the lid and stuffs a thick roll of silk and some paper sketches into his bag.
“Don’t look so sad!” he says. “Remember that one single positive dream is more important than a thousand negative realities. Since we’re young and free to create whatever we wish, you he bu ke (is anything impossible)?”
And then he’s gone.
Two Gifts
Next day, Baba sends Ah Wang and Little Chen to report to Tong Guan that Ah Zhao has run away in the middle of the night. For a while, Baba is fearful that the Eunuch General will blame him for Ah Zhao’s disappearance, or, worse still, will launch a search for the young fugitive. At their next social gathering, however, Tong Guan says nothing when his friend Cai Jing asks Baba about Ah Zhao.
“Barbarians don’t think like normal people,” Commissioner Ye remarks, after Baba tells everyone of A
h Zhao’s disappearance. “I’m sure your servant has no idea what a great opportunity General Tong Guan was giving him. He’ll remain poor all his life and be buried in a pauper’s grave. That will be the end of him.”
Since Tong Guan is sitting there, Baba does not mention that Ah Zhao had shown no hesitation whatsoever in rejecting a eunuch’s life of power and luxury in favor of freedom and liberty.
Every hour of every day, I feel I’m about to hear from Ah Zhao, but there’s only silence. Baba allows Gege and me to keep his hut in the garden, but after a while I’m the only one who goes there. Gege takes the final part of his Imperial Examination and passes, amid much celebration.
Baba is practically bursting with pride, especially on the day of Dong Zhi (the Winter Solstice Festival), when Gege and Cai You are chosen, along with Baba, to escort the Emperor in an important procession. They dress in formal robes and caps and proceed to Tai Miao (the Grand Ancestral Temple) to present offerings to Huizong’s ancestors at the Yuan Qiu (Round Mound Altar). The parade runs south from the Xuan De Men (Gate of Virtue Proclaimed) of the Da Nei (Inner Palace) to the Nan Xun Men (Southern Infusion Gate) of the Da Wai (Outer City) and is accompanied by seven elephants, fifty flag-holders, dozens of drummers and gong players as well as two hundred musicians and dancers dressed in colorful costumes. Tens of thousands of onlookers line the imperial main road to watch the parade, falling to their knees at the sight of His Majesty dressed regally in his imperial yellow robes.
After the ceremony, Huizong and his entourage return to the Palace, accompanied by processional music “loud enough to shake Heaven and Earth,” according to Gege. Then His Majesty proclaims an amnesty to hundreds of prisoners who are lined up in the courtyard. They are set free by the guards, while the Imperial Military Band plays wind and percussion instruments. Gege says he has Cai You to thank for being included in the Emperor’s inner circle.
When Gege and Baba come home from the Palace that evening, our family sit together in the dining room, and eat our traditional Dong Zhi dinner—hot dumpling soup. These delicious dumplings look the same, but each has a different filling. Baba says that today, the day of the Winter Solstice, has the shortest daytime and longest nighttime of any day in the year. The name Dong Zhi means “winter has arrived.” From tomorrow on, the days will get longer and longer until Li Chun (Spring Equinox), when daytime and nighttime will be of equal length. I ask Baba why and he says it’s because of Yin and Yang. Yin is female and darkness whereas Yang is male and light. The two are not opposites but mirror images of one another. He promised to get a book from the market that will explain everything. The title of the book is Zhou Bi Suan Jing (Astronomy and Mathematics in Ancient China). It was written fifteen hundred years ago and will teach me Tian Wen (the Language of Heaven).
Besides excelling in his studies and climbing the ladder of success at Huizong’s court, Gege becomes increasingly active in the Da Cheng Yue Fu (Bureau of Music of Great Brilliance) where his friend Cai You has been appointed Da Si Yue (Musician-in-Chief). Gege continues to ask for my help in writing lyrics for Cai You to sing and perform for the Emperor. I give the songs titles such as “Flowing Water,” “Mist and Clouds Over the River,” “Wild Goose Lost,” “Refrains of a Prisoner.”
In the last song, I write:
Like a caged bird,
I have wings but cannot fly.
Like a horse in a forest,
I have legs but cannot gallop.
Gege complains that my words are too sad, but he and Cai You adapt my lyrics to their music anyway.
“Why do you ask for more when you criticize me all the time?”
“We’re not criticizing,” Gege protests. “We love your work. Cai You was saying just yesterday that your lyrics are extraordinary. They have such depth and insight. Some lines simply take one’s breath away!”
“That’s right,” Cai You adds. “Your words make my music unforgettable!”
This makes me so happy I work even harder.
In return for Gege’s helping him with his music, Cai You tries to advance Gege’s painting career. He gives advice whenever he’s here, which seems to be nearly every day, as far as I can see.
“I’ll tell you the best way to get on, Ze Duan,” says Cai You. “You should forget about yourself as an artist and give credit to His Majesty wherever possible.”
“That should be easy enough!” Gege replies.
“In short, Gege, flattery will get you everywhere!” I say sarcastically.
I’m pleased that, despite his newfound importance, Gege can still blush.
In order to impress the Emperor still further, Gege combines art with music and paints a portrait of Huizong playing the zither under a tall pine tree in the garden of the Royal Academy. He names the painting Ting Qin Tu (Listening to Zither Music), and presents it to His Majesty on His birthday. The Emperor is so pleased that he orders Prime Minister Cai Jing to write a few lines of poetry above the image, to commemorate the occasion.
“Should I mention that Your Majesty is the one playing the zither in this painting?” Cai Jing asks.
“Of course,” Huizong answers, beaming.
“Who should I say is the artist?” Cai Jing asks.
There is a short silence. Then Gege says hastily, “His Majesty is the artist as well as the subject of this painting.”
“Well said, Zhang Ze Duan!” Huizong comments, obviously pleased. “Do you know that the particular zither I’m shown playing in the picture was made three hundred years ago by the renowned Tang Dynasty instrument maker Lei Wei (Mighty Thunder)? Lei Wei even gave that zither a name, Chun Lei (Spring Thunder). Presently, my agents are searching far and wide for the best zithers in my Empire. My collection will be housed in the Pavilion of Ten Thousand Zithers. Although the total number of zithers will be vast, my favourite zither will always be Spring Thunder.”
This story makes me laugh, especially since Gege says that he has sneaked my likeness into the painting. He drew me as a meek little maiden in a green robe standing next to a minister dressed in blue. Because there are only four people portrayed (Emperor, two ministers, girl) and I’m the only female, Gege says he has made me famous and immortal. But even as I’m laughing, I wish for the millionth time that Ah Zhao were here, to share the joke.
I also wish he could see the different suitors that seem to be coming out of nowhere for me, in spite of my big, ugly, unbound, natural feet. Besides Commissioner Ye’s son, with the skin disease, the field has now widened to include the Prime Minister’s son Cai You (but only as his concubine, since he already has a wife), General Tong Guan’s nephew and many others.
I don’t know whether Gege’s success at court has anything to do with my rising popularity, but matchmakers are definitely beating a path to our door. Baba, Niang and Nai Ma talk to me endlessly about making a good match. Niang, in particular, is desperate to find someone who will take me off her hands.
I keep infuriating her by repeating that I don’t want to marry—and that I especially don’t want to marry the one with the skin disease, who persists in his suit. I feel quite powerful as I realize that no one can force me to marry if I don’t want to. They plead, cajole, persuade and threaten in turn, but it’s useless.
I’ve been reading about Buddhist nuns who become female poets. In the nunnery, these women spend their time studying, thinking and writing. Learning about these women’s lives gives me the first glimmer of hope I’ve had since Ah Zhao went away.
Nai Ma says there’s a nunnery adjacent to a Buddhist Tie Ta (Iron Pagoda) near her village, just northeast of Bian Liang. Despite its name, the Iron Pagoda is made of brick, not iron. It has thirteen stories and is almost fourteen zhang tall. Inside is a spiral stone staircase, while the exterior is made of fifty different kinds of glazed brick with over one thousand five hundred carvings of Buddhas, monks, singers, dancers, lions and dragons.
When I ask my Baba about visiting the Iron Pagoda nunnery and becoming a nun, he thinks I’m jok
ing, and tells me I won’t get good noodles in a Buddhist convent. After I convince him I’m serious, he’s furious and says that no daughter of his is going to shut herself away from all under Heaven. I suspect, however, that Niang is secretly on my side. I know I would be, if I were her.
After breakfast every morning, I go to Ah Zhao’s shed and sit at his large round table. I make myself a pot of hot tea and read my books. Then I pour water on the ink-stone, grind the ink-stick and make fresh ink. I moisten my brush, open my notebook and write my lyrics, stories and poems.
Sometimes, I hold imaginary conversations with Ah Zhao. I whisper to him that I miss him … but when I try to put down on paper these thoughts that are not for the eyes of strangers, I’m unable to do so. At those moments, my heart is full of inexpressible emotions that are felt but unspoken. I tell myself that, if he were here with me, we would not need to talk at all. We could pretend we were children again and go rambling in the woods along the ravine, forgetting the woes and cares burdening our minds.
Nothing interests me except my books and my writing. I read and write all day, and sorrow vanishes when I use that magic. I find it incredibly consoling to be able to turn to this activity any time I wish. Writing is my source of recreation as well as my salvation. It gives me enormous pleasure to think of the many unwritten poems I have inside me. That’s when I repeat to myself Ah Zhao’s favorite phrase, “You he bu ke (is anything impossible)?”
As the third Qing Ming Festival approaches, I start counting the days with the help of my wonderful book Zhou Bi Suan Jing (Astronomy and Mathematics in Ancient China), which Baba bought for me at the market. By reading this book, I’m starting to understand the relationship between astronomy, mathematics and the calendar.
In my notebook I draw a calendar, beginning with Dong Zhi. The second new moon following this festival is New Year’s Day. Fourteen days afterward is Yuan Xiao Jie (the Feast of Lanterns), when homes and shops throughout our city are ablaze with lamps.