Apprenticeship

"Oh, okay, okay, thank you... Th-thank you... Huh!!!"

The old man clutched his phone, momentarily dazed. He turned to look at Xu Tong, who was lying on the ground, and saw him staring back. The old man couldn't help snapping, "You're not dead?"

"I think... I can still be saved!"

Xu Tong finished speaking, then closed his eyes again and crossed his hands over his chest. Mm... peaceful.

"Hey, you little bastard who fooled that guy with the egg! You even dared to trick your Grandpa Song!"

Now the old man understood. With nowhere to put his hands, he picked up the broken pipe from the ground and waved it up and down in front of Xu Tong's face three times before finally banging it hard on the table, venting the last of the pipe's stubbornness.

Xu Tong lifted one eyelid and said with a grin, "Wasn't I just giving you a bit of valuable life experience?"

"Get lost!" The old man curled his lip. He was so angry he nearly took off his shoe to hit him, then waved him away, telling Xu Tong to hurry up and leave.

Seeing that the old man was truly angry—and not the kind who was easy to placate—Xu Tong could only sit up from the ground. "Come on, old man. That move of yours just now was incredible. I nearly stopped breathing. Look, look, I've even got a bump on the back of my head."

He pulled his collar aside and turned around to show the old man.

The old man had been seething, but when he saw that the back of Xu Tong's head really was swollen, his heart clenched. He felt it with his hand, and sure enough, Xu Tong had a big lump.

Thinking back, it was no wonder. Xu Tong had fallen straight backward just now. It might have looked easy, but ordinary people couldn't do it.

There was a move like that in Peking opera called the Zombie Fall. You had to learn how to absorb the impact, but more importantly, overcome your fear. You couldn't crane your neck or lift your head. Without five or six years of practice, how could an ordinary person pull it off?

Looking at the bump on Xu Tong's head, the old man's anger vanished. Could it be that I really scared him?

Just then, he sniffed and caught the rich, familiar aroma of braised meat. He drew in a deep breath without thinking. "That Li Family Braised Meat from Democratic Street?"

"You've got a great nose, old man."

Xu Tong turned around and brought out the braised meat he'd prepared earlier, setting it on the table along with two bottles of liquor.

The old man stared, then looked Xu Tong up and down. He couldn't figure out where the kid had hidden all that stuff—or how he'd managed not to give off even a hint of its smell.

In the blink of an eye, Xu Tong had arranged the food and liquor, even setting out chopsticks for the old man.

At that point, even a fool could tell Xu Tong had come prepared.

He glanced at the pipe on the table, then reluctantly picked up the broken Jade Pipe Bowl from the ground and set it down. With an annoyed look, he said, "All right, spit it out. No need to beat around the bush."

The smile vanished from Xu Tong's face. He took out the paper flower he'd made and held it out to the old man. "Take a look. I made this."

The old man raised an eyebrow, took the paper flower, and rubbed it between his fingers a few times before tossing it onto the table. "Your master's wife taught you this, didn't she? Take it home and practice for a few more years."

"Unfortunately, my master's over eighty this year, and he's been single his whole life. Where would I get a master's wife?"

The old man had reached for the liquor, but at that, he set his cup back down. He gave Xu Tong a humorless look and pointed toward the courtyard. "Take a look at my courtyard. It's falling apart, and every Tom, Dick, and Harry wants to sneak in."

"It's falling apart because no one's fixing it. If you'd like, I can fix it for you."

Seeing how stubborn the old man was, Song had no idea what else to do. He was just about to glare and throw Xu Tong out when...

Xu Tong suddenly clutched his head and dropped to the ground. "Ow, no, how about you call an ambulance first? My head's killing me right now... Ow..."

His acting was so over-the-top, he might as well have written on his face: If you don't agree, I'll claim you injured me.

The corner of Song's mouth twitched. Suddenly, he felt that the past decade or so of his life had never been as full of twists and turns as today.

"Fine, fine, fine... Stop messing around and get up. We'll talk once you're up!"

Song reached out and pulled him to his feet. He took a drink to calm himself, then picked up the paper doll from the table again. "This is a dying craft. Why would a young person like you want to learn it?"

"Would you believe me if I said it's a hobby?"

Xu Tong raised his head and looked Song straight in the eye.

"I would." Song nodded. The paper flower was only so-so, but making something like that still took a great deal of effort.

Then he changed tack. "But this can't be a hobby. Paper effigies have their own taboos. I know young people these days like novelty, thrills, and reviving old traditions, but there are things you don't understand. Don't go sticking your nose into them. You'll only hurt yourself and others."

Song gave him a heartfelt warning, hoping the kid would listen and stop dabbling in this ill-omened trade.

He took a sip of liquor and gazed at the paper dolls filling the room. A glimmer of moisture appeared in his eyes, as if he'd remembered some painful experience.

Perhaps because his mood had been such a roller coaster that day, Song seemed unusually emotional. After several more drinks, his face was full of melancholy.

Xu Tong sat quietly beside him. Song downed another four or five cups, and only when his mood had gradually settled did Xu Tong speak, unhurriedly.

"Old man, a hundred years ago, we had no cakes, and the West kept mocking us for not knowing what a dessert was. Now, a hundred years later, there's a young man named Zhou Yi who took the traditional dough-sculpting skills passed down by our ancestors and resolutely brought them into the world of cakes. At the world's biggest cake competition, held in London, he was acclaimed as the best of them all, giving those Westerners a taste of their own medicine."

Xu Tong's gaze was calm, yet bright with conviction. "We shouldn't dismiss a craft because of its history. Developing it, passing it on, innovating, and finding a new path—that's the future."

As he spoke, he took out a sheet of gold leaf and set it before Song. "Look. If we replace the paper with gold, wouldn't what we make still be a work of art?"

Song froze. He picked up the gold leaf and fell into deep thought.

Tick, tick...

The clock's pendulum ticked in the dim room.

Outside the courtyard, it was pitch-black. From time to time came a bird's call or the low meow of a stray cat.

No one knew how long it had been when, with a "dong," the hour hand reached nine.

"You should head back."

Song put down the gold leaf. "It's late. Go home early."

At that, Xu Tong's expression dimmed, but he said nothing more. He stood and started for the door.

Only when he reached it did he hear Song murmur, eyes half closed, "Come early tomorrow and pull the weeds in the courtyard. There's another room next door. Move in there for now."

"Yeah!"

This time, Xu Tong was genuinely surprised. He turned to look at Song, who was smiling with his eyes half closed and saying nothing. A smile finally spread across Xu Tong's face. "You got it!"

He trotted off, not forgetting to close the door behind him.

Watching Xu Tong leave, Song picked up his chopsticks, took a piece of braised meat, and slowly savored it.

The old house was dim, and the clock ticked away.

Apart from Song, who was drinking, everything in the room seemed frozen in place.

Only after three rounds of drinks did Song absentmindedly pick up the pipe beside him and cross one leg over the other. He looked at the "family" filling the room.

"Good. Look, our family line has another successor."

As soon as he finished speaking, a cold breeze swept into the room, and laughter echoed through the house...