Yuanyou first year, ninth month. Osmanthus covered the ground, golden yellow, stepping on it soft, like stepping on clouds.
After court, Zhao Xu came to the Imperial Garden as usual, looking up at that osmanthus tree as usual—the highest one had already been picked by me, and he had set his eyes on another one, growing at the treetop, even higher than last time.
"You can't reach it," I said.
"I know," he said, but didn't move, still looking up at that flower. Sunlight fell on his face; he was already half a head taller than me, and when looking up, his jaw tensed into a clean line, Adam's apple rolling slightly. "You are not allowed to climb either."
"I didn't say I would climb."
"Your eyes said it."
I paused. He lowered his head to look at me, mouth corners raised, that "I know everything" expression, imitating the Empress Dowager's tone, but when smiling his eyes curved, that particular to youth, unable to hide smugness.
That evening, Eunuch Li suddenly handed me a long cloth bundle. "From the Music Bureau."
"Music Bureau?"
"Mm. Said it's an old object found from Suzhou. The Empress Dowager had the Music Bureau find a good pipa a while ago, said His Majesty wanted to hear Suzhou tunes. They searched for several months, only found this one from an old musician in Suzhou." He paused, "Reportedly that old musician said, this instrument had been in his hands for forty years, passed down from his master. There's a scratch on the body, said to be from bumping against a door frame. He couldn't bear to repair it, said this is the instrument's fate."
I opened the cloth bundle, paused. It was a pipa. The head carved with an orchid, strings newly replaced, a shallow scratch on the body. My fingers touched it, fingertips trembling slightly. Not Grandmother's. Grandmother's was still in Suzhou, in the old house on Shiquan Street, hanging on the living room wall. But this one, almost exactly like Grandmother's. Orchid head, silk strings, the position, depth, and curve of that scratch on the body, all similar to Grandmother's. Grandmother had said, this scratch was from when she was young moving the instrument, bumping against the door frame. She said, there would never be a second instrument in this world, bumped in the same place, leaving the same mark. But it appeared. I stared at that scratch, remembering Grandmother speaking. She sat on the threshold, fingers touching that mark, saying this was the mark the Suzhou River left on the instrument. Now, another instrument had the same mark. I couldn't tell if this was coincidence, or something I couldn't understand. Perhaps some things, simply find their own way.
A note was tucked in the instrument case. Paper was palace xuan paper, characters proper, stroke by stroke, Music Bureau musician's writing: "Autumn, Yuanyou first year, found this instrument in Suzhou. Old musician says: this instrument passed down forty years, now entering palace. May Wu music be heard."
Not Grandmother's writing. Grandmother's was crooked, every捺 [right-falling stroke] drooping down. I held that note, stood for a long time.
Eunuch Li poked his head out from inside, saw the pipa in my arms, said nothing. After a while, brought out a cup of tea, placed it beside me. He asked nothing, just sat at the door a while, looking at me, then stood up, patted dust from his robe, left.
That night, when Zhao Xu came, seeing the pipa, he paused. "What is this?"
"Pipa. Found by the Music Bureau from Suzhou."
"You can play?"
"A little. Grandmother taught."
He crouched down, leaning close to look. His fingers lightly touched the strings; the strings hummed, he withdrew his hand, as if burned.
"It sounded."
"Mm. You touch it, it sounds."
He extended his hand again, this time not withdrawing. Fingers slid across the strings, the pipa ding-ding-dong-donged a few times, not a tune, but pleasant. He smiled. "Like rain."
"Suzhou rain. During plum rain season, rain falls like this. Drip-drop, for several days, falling until one's heart softens."
"You listened as a child?"
"Listened. When Grandmother played pipa, I sat beside listening. She played Suzhou tunes. Sung in Suzhou dialect. Singing a river, singing a bridge, singing someone waiting for a boat."
He looked at me. "Sing for me to hear."
I held the pipa properly, fingers on the strings. The first piece Grandmother taught, "Suzhou River." She said, little one, this piece has our family's river. When she said this, sitting on the old house's threshold, pipa on her knees. Sunlight came in from the courtyard, falling on her hands, falling on that scratch. She sang her whole life.
I took a deep breath, fingers plucking down—
"Above is paradise, below is Suzhou and Hangzhou—"
Suzhou dialect. Soft, like freshly cooked sugar porridge, glutinous, like osmanthus falling on water. He tilted his head listening, eyes bright. Moonlight leaked through window缝隙, falling on his face, on the pipa, on that scratch.
"Suzhou city inside the river water clear and clear, Suzhou city outside the boat rocks and rocks—"
He listened a while, suddenly opened his mouth, following with a hum. Not Suzhou dialect, northern dialect, biting characters hard, like stones dropping into a river, dong-dong.
"What did you hum?"
"What you sang. Boat return."
"That's 'waiting for boat to return.'"
"Waiting for boat to return." He learned once, still hard.
"Suzhou dialect is very hard."
"Not hard. You speak. Say 'A Heng.'"
"A—Heng." He bit word by word, like chewing a hard candy. A dragged too long, Heng too short.
"Wrong. Connect them. Faster."
"A Heng." Fast, but still hard. Northerner's tongue, can't roll.
"Faster still."
"A Heng." This time, fast, and soft. Like how Suzhou people speak. His eyes brightened. "Said it right?"
"Still a little short. Tongue. Suzhou dialect's tongue, is flat. Your tongue, rolled."
He tried several times, tongue still rolled. He frowned slightly, mouth slightly pouting. "How is your tongue placed?" He leaned closer, staring at my mouth to see.
I opened my mouth, placed tongue flat, slowly said: "A—Heng."
He looked at my mouth, tried once himself. Still rolled. He was somewhat anxious. "You—let me touch."
"Touch what?"
"Your tongue. I see what flat looks like."
I paused. He extended his hand, fingers stopping before my lips, then withdrew. Ears red.
"Forget it," he said, voice somewhat hoarse, "I'll try again. A Heng." This time, he said it right. Tongue was flat, voice soft, like freshly cooked sugar porridge.
"Said it right."
He smiled. Smiled until his eyes curved, like a bridge in Suzhou city.
"Sing again," he said.
"Still sing?"
"Mm. Sing until I learn."
I played again. He followed humming. This time, hummed like it. Not northern dialect, Suzhou dialect. Soft, glutinous.
*"Above is paradise, below is Suzhou and Hangzhou—" He hummed here, stopped. "What does 'ya' mean?"
"Means nothing. Just for singing. Sounds good."
"Then I'll sing 'ya' too."
He continued humming. Hummed to "Suzhou city inside the river water clear and clear," stopped. "What does 'ge' mean?"
"'De' [possessive particle]."
"Then why not sing 'de'?"
"Because 'ge' sounds good."
"Then you sing for me to hear in the future. Sing with 'ge.'"
"Good."
He continued humming. Hummed to the last line, suddenly stopped, frowning.
"What is it?"
"This character, I can't."
"Which one?"
"Waiting for boat to return's 'return.'"
I sang once: "Return."
He learned once. Wrong. Learned again. Still wrong.
"Return." He tried once more, tongue rolled too much, sounding like "ghost."
I smiled. "Not 'ghost,' is 'return.' Mouth rounded, tongue doesn't move."
"Return." This time, like it.
"Right."
He breathed a sigh of relief, finished singing the last line. After singing, looked at me, mouth corners raised.
"Like Suzhou people?"
"Like."
"Like you?"
"Like me what?"
"Like how you speak."
I paused. He learned me speaking. Not learning Suzhou dialect, learning me. Soft, every word dragged long, like freshly cooked sugar porridge.
"You learned me."
"Mm. Learned you."
"Why?"
"Because sounds good."
He smiled. Smiled with complete satisfaction, as if he had already learned the entire Suzhou River.
"A Heng."
"Mm?"
"When you were in New York, did you also play pipa?"
"Played. Played in the dormitory. Roommate said, this was the strangest sound she had ever heard."
"Strange?"
"She said, like a river flowing in the room."
He thought. "When you played then, did you miss home?"
"Yes."
"Miss Suzhou?"
"Yes. Also missed Grandmother. Also missed Shiquan Street. Also missed—" I thought, "also missed the osmanthus here."
He lowered his head, pulled that osmanthus flower from his sleeve. The one I picked last time, already dried, petals thin, golden yellow, like a small piece of gold foil. "I kept this one. When you play pipa, I listen. When you sing Suzhou dialect, I learn. You—when you miss home, I am here."
He stood up, placed that dried osmanthus in the instrument case, together with the Music Bureau's note.
Later, he had me sing many more times. Sang until moon rose to highest point, sang until he could finally sing the entire piece from beginning to end, not a single character wrong. Sang to the last time, his voice was already somewhat hoarse, but he still followed humming the last note.
"Sleep," I said. "Sing again tomorrow."
"Teach new tomorrow."
"Good. Teach new tomorrow."
He stood up, patted dust from his robe. Walked to the doorway, turned back.
"A Heng."
"Mm?"
"Suzhou dialect sounds really good. Your voice, sounds even better."
He ran. Coat hem trampling stone pavement, pa-pa-pa, like horse hooves.
That night, I hung the pipa at my bedhead, together with that wheat ear. In the instrument case, the Music Bureau's note and that dried osmanthus lay side by side. I picked up my pen, wrote on the back of the note: "Played. Someone learned. Learned like it. He said, sounds good."
Moon outside the window. Round, bright. I closed my eyes. That pipa hung at the bedhead. Moonlight fell on the instrument body, on that scratch. Grandmother said, this was the mark the Suzhou River left. Now, it had new marks. Where his fingers touched, the sound of his learning to sing, the heat of his breath on the strings when his ears reddened. This river, flowed here. It won't leave.
[End of Chapter 21]