Along the River (17 page)

Huizong announces that Confucius and He both believe that
Ya Yue
(Proper Music) is beneficial and nurturing, whereas
Yin Yue
(Improper and Licentious Music) is corrupting and destructive. When asked the definition of Proper Music, His Majesty replies that
Ya Yue
consists of two kinds of music written and produced at the Bureau of Music of Great Brilliance: heavy and solemn music, or light and entertaining music. The former is to be performed at sacrificial rites and other official Confucian ceremonies, whereas the latter may be played during dinner parties, banquets and other informal gatherings.

Some time later, Huizong receives an unexpected fan letter from a distant land. Apparently, Emperor Yejong of the Korean Court of Goryeo has heard of the Chinese Emperor’s growing reputation as a patron of the arts. After expressing his admiration, the Korean Emperor begs Huizong for guidance in the purchase of musical instruments from China. Filled with pride and gratification, Huizong immediately orders dozens of zithers, horns, flutes, cymbals, chimes and bells to be sent to Yejong as a goodwill gesture. Not long afterward, Huizong follows with an even larger gift of four hundred and twenty-eight musical instruments.

Since Gege is increasingly preoccupied with his studies and classmates from the university, Ah Zhao and I are left more and more to our own devices. We talk for hours about nothing and everything—painting, sculptures, rocks, ghosts, history, family intrigue, court gossip or Ah Wang’s bossiness. But mostly we talk about the meaning of art.

Ah Zhao believes that the goal of a great artist is to strive for artistic Truth, not just to make things look realistic. He thinks loving art will improve a person’s quality of life—any person’s life.

“An artist,” he says, “is in touch with Heaven. In fact, he’s an instrument of Heaven. Look at the trees, flowers, shrubs and rocks around us. How orderly Nature is! I feel that the source of our sense of beauty comes from Nature. A true artist is engaged in a spiritual quest. He’s searching for his private Heaven.”

One afternoon, Gege returns home from classes earlier than usual and comes into the playroom carrying a thick roll of silk. He plonks it down on the table and says to Ah Zhao, “There you are!”

“That’s a long piece of silk!” I exclaim.

“Just over one and a half
zhang
long.”

“It looks narrow,” Ah Zhao says. “What’s its width?”

“You
told
me to get as long and narrow a piece of silk as possible for our painting. This is only seven and a half
cun
wide.”

“Length and width are perfect!” Ah Zhao replies. “The color is great too. Not too yellow. Not too white. Somewhere in between.”

“What are you going to do with it?” I ask, full of curiosity.

“Remember the day the three of us were together on the bank of the river at Qing Ming?” Gege says. “Ah Zhao promised to help me paint the view of the capital from the Longevity Gardens.”

“It’s going to be a magnificent picture!” Ah Zhao’s eyes are shining. “Unlike any painting before. I have a vision of the Bian River meandering down the entire length of this long, narrow scroll. We’ll sketch the boats and bridges on the water…”

“Will you include the
Hong Qiao
(Rainbow Bridge) with everyone watching the boat that almost capsized?” I ask.

“Of course we will! We’ll also put in the farms, country roads, trees, people, animals and buildings along the shore. Exactly the way it was that day,” says Gege.

“In the market I saw shops selling wine, grain, vegetables, cookware, lanterns, musical instruments, jewellery and all sorts of other goods. Don’t forget to draw all the different people milling around: the farmhands, camel-drivers, goatherds, pig-farmers, as well as city folk such as peddlers, jugglers, beggars, monks, carpenters, scribes and fortune-tellers.” I feel more and more excited at the idea of the picture.

“The main thing is to capture everything the way it was that day. How everyone dressed and walked must be faithfully portrayed. We’ll draw the people, animals, buildings and boats accurately and represent every image in the correct proportion,” Ah Zhao proclaims.

“What about the wheelbarrows, sedan chairs and carriages?” Gege asks.

“Put them all in!” Ah Zhao answers grandly.

“Won’t the painting take months, if not years, to finish?”

“Probably, but so what? A great work of art is worth any amount of effort and time. Done properly, this painting may even live on after we’re all dead and gone.” He looks at Gege’s expression and reassures him, “No worries, my friend. I’ll help you finish it if it’s the last thing I do… I promise!”

“Let’s start now!” Gege cries.

“There’s no better time than now,” Ah Zhao agrees.

“How do we begin?”

“I’ve got it all planned out. I have a stack of paper here. Each sheet is ten
cun
long and ten
cun
wide. And here’s a pair of scissors. Let’s begin by cutting the papers down to the same width as our roll of silk. Seven and a half
cun
. Now we unroll the silk and find out how many pieces of paper we need to represent the entire painting. Will you help us, Little Sister?”

We unroll the silk scroll, place the paper on top and count the number of sheets that cover its length. The answer is sixteen. Or, to be exact, fifteen and four-fifths, just shy of sixteen.

Ah Zhao rolls up the scroll and puts it away in his big wooden storage box by the wall. The boys begin to work in earnest. After various rough drafts on numerous sheets of paper, they decide to make the arched bridge the central focus of their picture. Next, they sketch the river meandering down the entire length from right to left.

“Think back on that day,” Ah Zhao urges. “What did we first see when we came out of our gate?”

“A rural scene of crop fields, tall trees, narrow muddy lanes with donkeys, camels and oxcarts plodding along, and peasants plowing their farms with the help of water buffaloes,” Gege answers.

“Very good,” Ah Zhao says. “Let’s depict the first part of our journey on this sheet of paper and label it ‘One.’ Remember, everything in proportion! Meanwhile, Little Sister, you can help us by writing down in your notebook everything you saw that day. Start from the moment we passed through our gate at home, and continue on as we approached the city.…”

We are so absorbed in our tasks that we don’t hear Nai Ma coming into the playroom until she’s standing immediately inside the door and calling loudly: “Little Sister! Your
niang
is looking for you! She wants to see you in her room right now.”

Reluctantly, I put away my ink brush and notebook. Nai Ma is clearly anxious, and she whispers that Niang is in a very bad mood.

I must have done something wrong, but for once I can’t think what it might be. The boys wish me luck.

I tidy myself hastily before knocking on Niang’s door.

“Good evening, Niang.”

Niang’s eyes wander over me with open disdain, and I know she doesn’t like what she sees.

“How unkempt you look!” she begins. “I think you’re getting uglier and uglier as you grow older and taller.”

Her unkind remarks make me wince. I try to answer, but I suspect a trap—one wrong answer and she’ll strike. So I say nothing.

“Where were you just now?”

“I was in the playroom, helping Gege with his painting.”

She sits down, and I can’t help noticing that the turquoise silk of her robe goes perfectly with the pink cushions on her chair. Nothing is allowed to clash in Niang’s rooms. The only thing out of place is me.

“Was Ah Zhao there also?”

“Yes.”

“Did your father tell you we’re on the verge of signing a marriage contract for you?”

I’m shocked and don’t know what to say. Surely Baba would have told me if there was anyone seriously asking to marry me?

“No, Niang,” I reply.

“He probably doesn’t want to bring bad luck and ruin it by mentioning it to you—it has taken long enough to get to this point,” Niang says. “This is what I want to speak to you about. You’re growing up. While marriage negotiations are under way, you’re not to spend too much time in servants’ quarters or talking to them in a familiar way.”

I can’t think what she means.

Niang eyes me coolly. “Don’t try looking innocent—you know the boy I mean. Your
baba
has a soft spot for him, and I must admit he is strangely talented for such a creature. If your
gege
likes to spend time with him, that’s his affair, but I don’t want any chances of a good marriage being ruined because you can’t keep away from low company. Do you hear? What were you doing in Ah Zhao’s shed anyway?”

I feel anger welling up inside, but try to control myself. “I already told you! Ah Zhao and I were both helping Gege with his painting.”

Niang’s beautiful face distorts with anger. “How dare you speak to me in that tone of voice? Just because your father dotes on you, you think you can do anything you want. When you’re married, you’ll soon find out things will be different. I hear your future mother-in-law rules her home with an iron hand. Even her husband, Commissioner Ye, is frightened of her. Let alone her son!”

Suddenly I’m not angry anymore but terribly frightened. Commissioner Ye’s son is about forty years old, almost the same age as Baba. Besides being old, he’s also known to have a terrible skin condition that leaves him with weeping sores all over his body, including his face.

“Please, Niang, please don’t make me marry him—anybody but him. I’m sorry I was rude—just let me wait a few years before I get married. I’m not ready yet.” I can hear the note of panic in my voice and know I’m humiliating myself, but I don’t care.

Niang can’t help smiling. “Oh—so now it’s ‘Please, Niang’ and ‘I’m sorry, Niang.’ Well, it’s too late, I’m afraid. For once you won’t get your own way with your father—he needs this marriage to advance his career. When Commissioner Ye becomes the
Hu Bu Shang Shu
(Minister of Revenue), your
baba
will be promoted to
Cang Bu Lang Zhong
(Director of the Granary Bureau).”

A wave of anger hits me. “My mother would never have let me marry a man like that,” I say bravely. “She would have protected me.”