When Liu Yue saw him, she asked where he had been. He told her he had gone to have the photos developed. She asked to see them, complaining that she wasn’t photogenic. Zhao Jingwu had told her that a photo alone would not be enough in seeking a husband, and that she had to meet the man in person. Zhuang was reluctant to show them to her — she was too eager — so he put her off by lying that they weren’t ready. Her excitement dampened, she lowered her voice to tell him that Niu Yueqing was so upset over a magazine that she’d gone to bed. Feeling suddenly drained, he put the photos out of his mind and took the magazine to read in his study. He emerged a while later, smiled at Liu Yue, and said softly, “Get her up for dinner.”
“I don’t dare.”
He paused before walking into the bedroom.
Niu Yueqing was asleep, wrapped in a terrycloth blanket, with a rush fan over her face.
“Why are you in bed at this hour?” Zhuang shook her. “Get up, it’s dinnertime.”
She ignored him. Zhuang tugged at her again. She rolled onto her back, but her eyes remained tightly shut. Liu Yue was standing at the door, stifling a giggle with her hand.
“Yueqing. Stop pretending to be asleep,” Zhuang said. She didn’t move. As if to see whether she was breathing, he put his hand under her nose. She snapped into a sitting position.
“I didn’t feel any warm air,” he said with a laugh, “so I thought you were dead.”
“You wish!”
“Go check the weather, Liu Yue, and see why it’s suddenly windy and rainy on a clear day.”
“The sheets are drying on the balcony,” Niu Yueqing said.
Liu Yue laughed as she disappeared into the kitchen. Realizing what Zhuang had been getting at, Niu Yueqing also laughed, but quickly frowned and cursed him: “You really know how to stir up trouble, don’t you? Are you proud of your past? Are you trying to prove how carefree you can be by showing off a romantic liaison with a famous person?”
“You must have read the article by Zhou Min,” he said. “It’s pure rubbish. You know all about what happened between Jing Xueyin and me.”
“Then why did you allow him to write it?”
“I had no idea he was going to write about this. You know I never read articles like that. I just thought he was new in town and could use me as his material to get started. I would never have allowed it to be published if I had known this was what he had in mind.”
“Yes, he’s new, so how did he come to know so much?”
“Maybe he heard Yunfang and others gossiping about me.”
“But that could only have come from you. She’s the daughter of a high-ranking cadre, and you were probably bragging about an affair with her to bolster your image.”
“Do I need her to raise my status?”
“Now I see. You didn’t end your relationship with her, and now you talk about it for vicarious gratification.” Niu Yueqing was getting progressively angrier and was soon in tears.
Liu Yue ran in from the kitchen when she heard them arguing.
“Don’t be upset, Dajie. There’s no need to be unhappy. Zhuang Laoshi is a celebrity, and things like this happen to famous people all the time. It’s no big deal.”
“You make it sound as if it really did happen, Liu Yue,” Zhuang said. Niu Yueqing smiled as she took the girl in her arms.
“Liu Yue is new here and is right to laugh at us for fighting.”
“We often bite our tongues, and every couple fights,” Liu Yue said. “With my previous employers, the husband had a woman outside, and someone told the wife. She said she didn’t care, so long as the money he earned came to her, not to anyone else.”
Niu Yueqing laughed as she pinched the girl’s mouth.
“All right, you’re not angry anymore, so let’s eat,” Liu Yue said.
“It doesn’t really bother me, it’s just that your Zhuang Laoshi’s reputation will suffer. But I know he’s not like that. He may be an adulterer in his mind, but he doesn’t have either the nerve or the muscle to actually do something. I don’t believe anything people say about him. What really bothers me is how he can brag when he’s in a good mood without any regard for the consequences.” There were more tears. Liu Yue was about to say something when they heard a knock at the door. Quickly drying her eyes, Niu Yueqing signaled Zhuang to go into his study.
“Who is it?” she called out.
“It’s me, Zhou Min.”
Niu Yueqing opened the door with a smile. “Didn’t you go home after work? Well, you came at the right time, you can join us for dinner.”
Zhou said he had gotten off early and had eaten at home. He was in the habit of strolling by the city wall in the mornings and evenings, so he had stopped by on the way. Zhuang came out of the study and said he was glad that Zhou had dropped by. He invited him to stay for a fried millet cake. Zhou begged off, so Zhuang put a tape into the cassette player for Zhou to enjoy some music while he sat down with Niu Yueqing and Liu Yue for dinner.
When Zhou heard that it was a recording of The Butterfly Lovers, he asked Zhuang whether he enjoyed folk music.
His mouth full, Zhuang just nodded.
“I have another tape,” he said a moment later. “The quality is poor, but it’s wonderful music.” He changed the tape. Deep, slow, lingering music spread out like water.
“That is an instrument called the xun. Where did you get it?” Zhou asked.
Proudly, Zhuang replied, “Have you noticed that someone often plays the instrument in the mornings and evenings on the city wall? One night I went out and recorded it from a distance, which is why it sounds fuzzy. But if you close your eyes and imagine you’re there, you’ll feel as if you were in a primitive world, with pining ghosts and will-o-the-wisp sparks. You enter a pitch-black ancient forest and can hear a dewdrop rolling slowly down a branch, where it hangs precariously before crashing to the ground. You sense something fearful and mysterious, but can’t suppress your fervent desire to explore. You walk deeper into the forest, where you see miasma surging, followed by spiky rays of sunlight slanting in through the tree branches and miasma. But you can no longer find your way back.” Zhuang was so caught up in his narration that he laid down his rice bowl.
“Is that a lyrical poem, Zhuang Laoshi?” Liu Yue asked.
Zhuang saw Zhou lower his head. “Doesn’t it make you feel that way, Zhou Min?”
“That’s me playing the xun, Zhuang Laoshi.”
Zhuang let out a soft cry, his mouth hanging open. Niu Yueqing and Liu Yue stopped eating.
“I was just playing it to pass the time. I never expected you to hear it. But if you really like it, I will make a better recording for you another day. What I don’t get is, you’re a celebrity now and can have anything you want. Whatever you set your mind on will be yours, and yet you like xun music.” When he finished, he took a small black clay object from his bag and told them that it was a xun. Zhuang, who had heard the sound but never seen the instrument, took it and marveled over how unique it was. He asked Zhou where he had bought it, adding that he had inquired at a musical instrument shop, but the salesperson did not even know what a xun was. Zhou Min said it was an ancient instrument that few people played these days. He had studied with an old folk musician in Tongguan after hearing the man play. Later, when he came to Xijing, he dug the instrument out while he was working at the Clear Void Nunnery; he was the only one who knew what it was, so he kept it out of sight before he went up to the city wall to practice, playing whatever came to mind. They carried on a spirited conversation.