Volume Two: A Sword Sharpened for Ten Years - Lovely moons and blossoms beckon the flutist

Xing Yan and his father hurried downstairs, following the sounds of the drunken old man tumbling down, only to find that no matter where they looked, there was no trace of him.

"That old fellow certainly was quick on his feet."

Old Zhang spoke. Yet scarcely had he finished that casual remark when he suddenly grew alarmed.

"Oh! Xing Yan, do you think that old fellow might have been an immortal?! He should have fallen right here-heaven forgive us-but how could he disappear in the blink of an eye?"

The old man had shown his dragon's head only to hide his tail, and Old Zhang found it most peculiar. Hearing his father's words, Xing Yan replied:

"No, how could we just bump into an immortal in broad daylight? And one who treated us to food and wine and gave us all those gifts? It's impossible when you think about it."

"I reckon someone probably helped him up and took him around the street corner."

Xing Yan offered his father another possibility, dismissing the notion of an immortal. He did so out of filial concern. With his father's blunt, straightforward nature, if he truly believed they had met an immortal, he would start seeing spirits everywhere and never have a moment's peace, whether working or sleeping.

After considering his son's words, Old Zhang also decided that his notion had been too absurd. His son was right to remind him. Otherwise, if he rashly told the story later, people would surely laugh at him!

Yet although he had reassured his father, Xing Yan could not stop turning the matter over in his own mind. Deep down, he felt that there was indeed something strange about it. Amid his muddled words, the old man had seemed to know something of the unlawful deeds Xing Yan and Ju Ying had committed in Poyang County the other day. Fortunately, this knowledgeable elder seemed to approve of what they had done; otherwise, he would hardly have treated them to a meal and given him a flute and a music book.

Could we really have met an immortal?

Though he had just made up a story to fool his father, he could not fool himself. Still, after some thought, he decided it was unlikely. As he himself had said, how could an immortal be so easy to encounter? Of course! The old man's conduct was very much like that of the extraordinary wanderers described in tales of roaming knights.

Yes! That must be it. Heh heh!

Feeling that he had found the right answer, Xing Yan laid that worry to rest.

Once father and son had both found reasonable explanations for their strange encounter, they began discussing what to do next. Old Zhang said to his son:

"Xing Yan, these two rabbits still haven't sold, so I'll go hawk them. You haven't been to school for two or three days either. Hurry over and have a look! Master Ji might already be angry."

"All right. Be careful on your own, Father."

"It's fine. This time I'll just sell the pair for whatever I can get, without fussing over the price."

"All right, I'll be off, then."

"Mm. Remember to come home early for supper."

With that casual exchange, father and son parted.

But after watching his father turn the street corner, Xing Yan barely moved a few steps himself. Going to school was not what occupied his mind now. He had attended the Ji Lineage's school for so many years that he had read nearly all the classics, histories, philosophical works, and literary collections he ought to read. He also knew a little of all the poetry, books, rites, and music that scholarly households were expected to study. Missing a few lessons scarcely mattered. As a boy from a poor family, he had never dared hope that poetry and books would earn him his food and clothing. His most pressing task now was to find another odd job as quickly as possible, or even his future meals would be in doubt.

He was sixteen this year, already a young man. Children of poor families took on household responsibilities early; though still called a boy, he already counted as half an adult. Xing Yan could no longer bear to stay at home eating without earning his keep. Where could he go? The Rice Fragrance House? Judging by Manager Liu's face, his nose practically twisted crooked with anger earlier, there was plainly no hope there. Where else could he go? For a moment, the boy hesitated.

The sun shone bright overhead, and people streamed along the busy street, passing the boy as he stood in a daze. After pondering his food and clothing for a while, his eyes suddenly lit up.

Right! How could I have forgotten what that old gentleman gave me?

At a loss for what to do, the boy suddenly remembered the old man giving him the flute and music book. He realized he had yet to try the flute's sound. At that thought, Xing Yan hurried to a quiet spot, took the flute from inside his robe, and prepared to play it.

Strangely enough, the jade flute Divine Snow in his hands was not only elegant and refined in appearance; its material also seemed unusual. Ordinarily, a flute carved from jade felt heavy in the hand and was unsuitable for holding up to play for long periods. Moreover, stone was hard, unlike the light resilience of bamboo, so notes played on a jade flute were often less clear and lilting than those of a bamboo flute.

Thus, although jade flutes were by no means rare, most served merely as showpieces for wealthy households:

Some had silk tassels tied to them and red sandalwood stands made for them, then were enshrined like bodhisattvas in studies as decorations-their role was that of a "flower vase." Others were carried everywhere by fashionable young gentlemen visiting friends, lending their bearers a touch of poetic elegance and serving much the same purpose as an "autumn fan." In short, the ordinary jade or white jade flute was really nothing more than a hollow stone stick. A wandering swordsman might find it handy to brandish, but a proper musician could scarcely play it.

And this was precisely what made Divine Snow so strange. Though it was not light as a goose feather, it weighed little more than an ordinary bamboo flute. When played, its notes were graceful and lilting, yet even clearer and more ethereal than a bamboo flute's. After trying it for only a short while, Xing Yan nearly had tears welling in his eyes!

I really must thank that old gentleman properly! I, Zhang Xingyan, finally have a flute of my own!

Small wonder Xing Yan was so excited. The Ji Family School where he studied also offered lessons in rites and music. The instrument used to introduce the pupils to reading music was this most commonplace of bamboo flutes. Yet even though ordinary bamboo flutes in the markets cost only a few coins, impoverished Xing Yan still could not afford one. For the Zhang household, spending money on anything other than food, clothing, and daily necessities was a sin.

Thus, whenever such lessons came around, Xing Yan would cut a length of bamboo in the wild mountain groves, then use a knife to gouge eight holes along it at the prescribed intervals. Making a flute sounded simple enough-one merely had to cut holes with a knife-but bamboo was not tofu. Gouging a round hole without jagged edges into a bamboo tube was no easy task. Often, the holes Xing Yan finally carved were neither round nor square: some had seven sides, others six corners, and all eight holes differed in shape, with no regularity at all. The musical quality of those homemade flutes was therefore easy to imagine. Their low notes were generally passable, but their high notes were so woeful that one could not bear to listen to the end...

Filled with excitement at suddenly owning a real flute, the boy opened the music book Water Dragon's Chant that the old man had given him. This time, however, he was somewhat disappointed. The flute notation recorded in gongche symbols in that slim book was truly unexpected and bewildering. Water Dragon's Chant made frequent use of yu notes, rose to extreme heights, and often altered the zhi note yet again beyond its already altered pitch. It was simply...

"Not something a human could play!"

That was Xing Yan's verdict.

Once his excitement had passed, the problem of finding work stood before him again. This time, however, he was not as helpless and scattered as before. Soon, inspiration flashed through his mind, and he cried:

"I know where to go!"

A glance at his newly acquired flute, Divine Snow, had given Xing Yan an idea.

He suddenly remembered passing Flower Moon House, the largest brothel in Raozhou City, a few days earlier and happening to notice a bright red notice pasted on the screen wall outside its entrance. It had said something about "seeking a flutist." At the time, Xing Yan had merely been passing by with nothing to do; the red paper caught his eye, so he went over for a look. Now that he had lost his livelihood at the Rice Fragrance House and received a flute from a generous gentleman, he naturally ought to try his luck at the brothel.

But four or five days had passed since the notice went up, and he did not know whether someone else had beaten him to it. Applying at Flower Moon House had now become almost his only hope, so he could not help fretting over whether he would gain or lose it. He quickened his steps and raced toward Flower Moon House on Front Gate Street.

In truth, as the saying went, concern threw the mind into confusion, and Xing Yan's worries were unnecessary. At that time, men who could play a few flute tunes were either wealthy young gentlemen or refined scholars. They plainly would not lower themselves to work in a humble brothel and compete with Xing Yan for a livelihood. Poor boys who had ample reason to compete for that livelihood, meanwhile, had neither the inclination nor the leisure to learn such musical flourishes, which did nothing to till the fields. Even if some wished to learn, they might not have the opportunity. Seen in this light, Xing Yan's chance to receive Old Scholar Ji's instruction made him something of an exception among impoverished boys.

Apart from the men, there were women, among whom musical performers were by no means scarce. Yet in the little city of Raozhou, few talents could be found among the ranks of courtesans. Besides, the flute was somewhat unusual, as a popular saying had it:

"Of bamboo instruments suited to rouge and powder, only the vertical flute qualifies; the transverse flute may be played briefly, but not often. For men are judged chiefly by their sound, women chiefly by their looks. When a woman plays a flute or pipe, the sound may please the ear, but the sight cannot bear scrutiny."

There was some truth in that saying. When a woman played the flute, her breath filled her cheeks until they bulged. No matter how flowerlike her face or moonlike her beauty, even if she could make geese fall and fish sink, the sight became unbearable.

Yet although accomplished flutists were few, a flute was indispensable to a brothel's ensemble; a group of strings and bamboo instruments depended chiefly on it to carry the melody. Thus young Zhang Xingyan, unaware that he was precisely the sort of scarce talent they needed, had worried for nothing. When he reached Flower Moon House, he was delighted to find the red notice still there, though its color had faded somewhat. Overjoyed, Xing Yan hurriedly interrupted the brothel attendant, who had mistaken him for a customer and was chattering away, and stated his purpose directly.

After hearing him out and studying his appearance, the doorkeeper seemed somewhat hesitant. But then he reflected that no one had applied in all these days. Now that someone had at least come to their door, he naturally ought to inform the madam, Aunt Xia.

Once the attendant had reported his arrival and obtained permission, Xing Yan followed him inside and met Aunt Xia, the madam of Flower Moon House. She looked to be in her thirties and still retained her charms. Unlike other brothel madams, who liked the girls to call them Mother, the madam of Flower Moon House preferred to be called Aunt.

Perhaps flutists truly were hard to find, for there was little fuss: Xing Yan merely played a few simple tunes on his jade flute and passed Aunt Xia's appraisal. The madam raised few questions about his musical ability. Instead, she was rather interested in Divine Snow in his hands, asking the shabbily dressed boy one question after another about where he had obtained such a fine flute.

When Aunt Xia asked, Xing Yan made little effort to conceal anything and briefly recounted the morning's events. As his story flowed on, Aunt Xia kept exclaiming in wonder, saying that he was truly fortunate to have met an extraordinary man.

Once he had settled in, Xing Yan found himself very pleased with his new employment. Though the wages for being a musician at Flower Moon House were not especially high, they were considerably better than those from his previous odd jobs. Moreover, the greatest benefit of working there was that Flower Moon House provided his meals and lodging, solving the largest problem of his daily life, which had remained unresolved for years!

What delighted him even more was Aunt Xia's assurance that, if his luck was good and he encountered a wealthy young gentleman eager to put on airs and flaunt his riches, he might receive an extra tip after playing a tune. Though the brothel took a third of such tips, to Xing Yan, who had never earned any respectable sum, this already counted as a generous income.

Joining Flower Moon House had another advantage for Xing Yan. Although it was Raozhou City's largest brothel, Raozhou itself was small and not a particularly important crossroads, so few traveling merchants came through. Consequently, the ensemble had virtually nothing to do during the day. Only in the evenings, when customers asked the girls to keep them company over wine, would the musicians be called to play nearby and enliven the occasion. He could therefore use his idle daytime hours to attend Master Ji's lessons or go about other errands.

Of course, though he had entered a brothel as a musician, Xing Yan had never worried about being mocked by his classmates from scholarly families. To him, dignity came second; finding a way to feed and clothe himself came first. So long as he earned money honestly, he was willing to do even the lowliest work.

In fact, over his years at the Ji Family School, impoverished Xing Yan had unwittingly built up a certain prestige. This boy from the wild hills, an oddity in the school, was not only bright and quick at his studies but strong and fit as well. He could climb trees to raid birds' nests and plunge into rivers to catch fish. As the years passed, the children of wealthy families who studied alongside him came to see him as capable of almost anything. After a few fights and bouts of mischief, Xing Yan had practically become the king of the children! Apart from food and clothing, he lacked nothing compared with them; one call from him brought a hundred responses, and no one dared look down on him!

Of course, there was another reason they dared not casually mock Xing Yan for lowering himself to work as a brothel musician. If they offended this all-hearing informant at Flower Moon House, and he happened to spot them sneaking in one day to perform their own coming-of-age rites, then went back and broadcast it far and wide, that would be very bad indeed!

Flower Moon House, where the boy would now earn his food and clothing, was the largest brothel in Raozhou City. It stood on Front Gate Street, facing south. Although it extended through several courtyards and contained many rooms, its frontage was not especially grand. A two-story gateway spanning two ground-floor bays faced the street, painted red on both levels, with flowers of the silk tree and birds depicted here and there, quite in keeping with a brothel's style. Perhaps owing to years of neglected repairs, however, the paint had darkened to a deep vermilion, and in places the red coating had peeled and flaked away.

On either side of Flower Moon House's entrance hung a couplet, which read:

"The same merciful ferry can grant release; those in colored robes are those in black."

Whoever had composed the couplet had shown a witty sense of humor. The first line deliberately twisted the Buddhist idea of "release," while the whole couplet also teased the white-robed Guanyin. Though distinctly disrespectful toward Buddhism, this was a time when Buddhism was suppressed and Daoism exalted, so everyone took this sacrilegious doorway couplet quite in stride.

In any case, after losing his cherished livelihood as a waiter, sixteen-year-old Zhang Xingyan officially became a member of the musical ensemble at Flower Moon House, the largest brothel in Raozhou City under Ganzhou Prefecture.

Yet what made the boy feel rather guilty just then was that, once the problem of his meals and lodging had been solved, the yearning for the Dao in his breast began, imperceptibly, to fade...