A Dream of Dali

The Yunnan special of "Poetry Across China" was set in Dali, with three days of filming. The production team had booked a hotel halfway up Cangshan Mountain.

Su Jin only found out it was in Dali when she arrived. She immediately had Zhao Mingyuan change hotels; she had been wanting to try the Aman Dayan here anyway.

It had opened only last year and had just fourteen rooms, each facing Erhai Lake. It wasn't listed online, had no sign, and didn't accept walk-in guests.

Zhao Mingyuan fell silent for a moment. "President Su, this Aman belongs to you."

Su Jin smiled. "I know."

Zhao Mingyuan fell silent again. "Then when you had the production team book rooms, didn't the hotel tell them who the owner was?"

Su Jin looked at her crimson fingertips.

"Aman wouldn't tell them."

Zhao Mingyuan hung up.

Su Jin arrived in the afternoon. Dali's sunlight lay thinly over Cangshan Mountain. There was snow on the peak; the snow was white, the mountain green, the sky blue. The three colors overlapped like a watercolor painting that had been washed so many times its colors had almost vanished, leaving only a faint trace behind.

The milk-white G-Class pulled up outside the hotel. There was no gate, only a bamboo fence wrapped in climbing roses. It was October, and most of the flowers had withered, leaving a few dried pink blooms hanging from the thorns, rustling whenever the wind blew.

The butlers were waiting for her at the entrance-not one, but six, standing in two rows. They wore white linen shirts and cloth shoes on their bare feet, their palms pressed together as they bowed slightly.

At the front stood the general manager, a Frenchman in his forties. His Chinese sounded distinctly artificial, but his manner was as respectful as if he were receiving royalty.

"Ms. Su, your courtyard is at the highest point. The one reserved especially for you."

"Have the others arrived?"

The general manager replied with utmost deference that they had.

"The five guests have been settled in five courtyards in the southeast corner. As you instructed, we haven't told them who you are."

Su Jin nodded and walked inside.

There were seven guests on the show this time. Besides the ones from last time, there was also someone Su Jin had never met.

When she came through the bamboo fence, they were checking in at the front hall. It wasn't large. An old elmwood table stood there, with a pot of pu'er tea and several coarse pottery cups engraved with orchids on their sides.

Lu Shihan sat on a sofa in the corner, holding a glass of water without drinking. His bright eyes seemed to be searching for something.

Then he saw Su Jin, and it was as though he had a tail wagging behind him.

When Su Jin walked in, everyone looked up at once, then froze.

Even if you had seen this woman many times, her beauty could still take your breath away.

Today she wore an off-white linen dress. The fabric was handwoven and uneven, dense in some places and loose in others. The dense parts were white; through the loose parts, her skin showed in strips, like sunlight falling through blinds onto a white wall.

Its collar crossed right over left, the same style as the vermilion robe in Dunhuang, but a different color. The vermilion had been deep and heavy; the off-white was light, as light as wind, as clouds, as the thin layer of snow on Cangshan Mountain's peak, ready to scatter at any moment.

A dark blue tie-dyed sash was tied around her waist, with a tiny silver bell hanging from it. It didn't sound when she walked, only when she turned, giving a soft ding like a drop of water falling into a copper basin.

Her hair hung loose, untied, curling slightly at the ends and sunlit to a deep brown by Dali's sun.

A pair of tiny silver teardrop earrings hung from her earlobes. They swayed gently when she turned her head, like two drops of rain frozen in the air, never to fall.

On her feet were white linen sandals, with two slender straps across the top that left her toes exposed. Her toenails were clean and unpainted.

Lu Shihan sat in the corner, still holding his glass of water without drinking. He watched Su Jin, his ears turning red again.

Today he wore a white T-shirt under a thin, light gray hoodie. Its two drawstrings hung untied over his chest, one longer than the other.

His hair was a little longer than it had been in Dunhuang. His bangs fell across his forehead, covering one eyebrow and making his large, round eyes look deeper, like two wells that would never dry up, never freeze, never ice over.

He opened his mouth to say hello, but the words didn't come out.

Su Jin gave him an amused look. "Your shoelace."

He looked down. The lace on his right sneaker had come undone and was trailing on the floor. He crouched to tie it, and when he stood up, his ears were even redder.

The receptionist finished checking everyone in and handed out the room cards one by one.

When she came to Su Jin, she held the card out in both hands and bowed slightly. "Ms. Su, your room card. Your courtyard is at the highest point. A butler will take you there."

Su Jin took the card, turned, and walked away.

Lu Shihan stood behind her, watching her go. Her off-white dress was almost transparent in the sunlight, and he could see the way she walked: feet close together, back straight, hands at her sides, each step neither hurried nor slow, like someone who knew the way.

He didn't follow. He stood where he was, still holding the glass of water. The water had gone cold.

At four in the afternoon, the production team gathered by Erhai Lake.

They were filming a poetry reading, a poem about Dali. It wasn't a Tang poem, but one written by a contemporary poet, called "Erhai Lake Moon."

The poem was short, just four lines: "The moon fell into the water / and shattered / I wanted to scoop it up / but feared it would melt."

The director had everyone read it once. Lu Shihan was fifth. He stood beside Erhai Lake, holding the sheet of paper with the poem printed on it. He looked down at it for a while, then raised his head and gazed at Cangshan Mountain in the distance.

He read so softly that it was like someone talking to himself. "The moon fell into the water. And shattered. I wanted to scoop it up. But feared it would melt."

He read every word, then folded the paper and put it in his pocket. He looked at the lake, where the wind was rippling the water. The moon hadn't come out yet, but his voice was like the moon: shattered, fallen into the water, impossible to scoop up again.

The director nodded in satisfaction and called for the next person.

Su Jin stood at the very edge, with no paper in her hands.

The director looked at her.

She looked at the scenery before her, and a new idea came to her.

"I'll walk into the water. When the moon comes out, its reflection in the water will shatter. I'll stand in the middle of the shattered moon, and you film it."

The director's eyes lit up, and he kept saying yes.

She took off her shoes and stepped barefoot onto the beach. It was wet, and the gray sand had been soaked so long it had turned hard. Her feet didn't sink into it.

She walked to the water's edge. The water was cool, cool enough to make her toes curl, but she didn't draw back. She kept walking. The water rose over her ankles, her calves, her knees.

The off-white hem of her dress floated on the surface like a lotus that would never sink, never wither, never be picked.

She began to recite. The moon came out. It wasn't round, but curved, like a sickle hung in midair, never to fall.

Moonlight fell on the water and shattered into pieces of silvery white, spreading around her as though someone had smashed a mirror and scattered the shards across the surface, where they neither sank nor melted nor drifted apart.

She stood in the middle of the shattered moon, without moving or looking back.

The director didn't call cut, the cameraman didn't stop filming, and everyone watched her from the shore. No one spoke.

Lu Shihan stood on the beach, transfixed by the sight of her in the water. He had only joined this variety show for fun, but then...

He watched the shattered moon spread around her, watched the off-white hem of her dress floating on the water like a lotus that would never wither.

He lowered his head and looked at the glass in his hand. It was empty. He gripped the empty glass, his knuckles turning white.

That evening, the production team gathered for dinner in the hotel restaurant.

The restaurant wasn't large. A long table seated twelve, covered with a dark blue tablecloth embroidered with white camellias, sparsely scattered like flowers someone had casually strewn over it, never to wilt.

By the time Su Jin arrived, more than half the seats were taken.

Lu Shihan sat in the corner, with an empty seat beside him. She walked over and sat down next to him. His body stiffened for a moment. He didn't look at her, but his ears turned red, quickly, from the lobes to the rims, as though someone had lit a lamp inside them.

He didn't speak, and neither did she, but they sat very close together.

The servers began bringing out the dishes. First came cold-dressed tree blossoms, then hot-and-sour fish, then steamed pork belly with preserved plums.

The veteran actor raised a glass and welcomed their new friends. Everyone raised their glasses. Su Jin raised hers, and Lu Shihan raised his. His hand shook as he did, and the wine rocked in his glass. A drop spilled onto the back of his hand, but he didn't wipe it off.

That was when the man arrived.

The door was pushed open, and a man stood in the doorway wearing a thin black knit shirt, open at the neck to reveal his collarbones and a small patch of skin tanned a light wheat color.

He wore dark gray suit trousers with perfectly straight creases and black leather Derby shoes, their toes polished to a shine.

He was tall, over 1.85 meters, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Standing in the doorway, he blocked most of the light behind him.

His features were the kind of handsome you couldn't forget after a single look. He had a prominent brow, deep-set eyes, a straight nose, and thin lips. When he pressed them together, the corners curved slightly upward, as though he were smiling without making a sound, holding the smile in his mouth for so long that he couldn't bear either to swallow it or spit it out.

His hair was deep black and side-parted, exposing his forehead, where a faint line showed-not from age, but from smiling.

He stood there, his gaze sweeping over the whole table, past Lu Shihan, and finally settling on Su Jin.

It stayed there a long time, and then he smiled.

When he smiled, his eyes curved into two crescent moons, and the lines at their outer corners gathered like two tiny folded fans.

"Sorry, my flight was delayed."

His voice was low and deep, like a finger plucking the C string of a cello: a hum, not loud, but resonant.

He strode inside, walked over to the seat opposite Su Jin, pulled out the chair, and sat down.

Once seated, he looked at her again. This look lasted even longer than the last, so long that the people beside them noticed.

His tone was eager.

"You're Su Jin."

It wasn't a question, but a statement.

Su Jin paused, then smiled and nodded.

"And you are?"

"My name is Shen Rang. Rang as in modesty."

Shen Rang looked at her. The light in his eyes wasn't the polite, social, courteous sort. It was the light in the eyes of someone who had finally seen something he had liked for a long time and couldn't bear to look away.

"I've seen your film," he said. "The one in Berlin, 'Winter Harbor.' I watched it three times. The first time I watched Lin. After that, I kept watching you."

Su Jin held her wineglass, swirling it.

He didn't look away.

"Lin stood barefoot by the sea in Winter Harbor. The water was cool, but she didn't draw back. The third time I watched it, I felt you weren't playing Lin. You were standing there for everyone. The water was cool, but you didn't draw back. Not because you weren't afraid of the cold, but because you knew drawing back wouldn't help."

Su Jin looked at him with some agreement and raised her glass.

Beside them, Lu Shihan kept his head down. His glass was empty. He didn't pour any wine or drink any water; he just gripped the empty glass, his knuckles turning white.

Shen Rang glanced at him, and the corner of his mouth curved. The movement was slight and brief, but Lu Shihan saw it.

Lu Shihan stood up, picked up the wine bottle, and poured a glass for Su Jin and one for himself. He raised his glass and said, "Teacher Su, a toast to you."

He called her Teacher Su.

After he said it, his ears turned red instead.

Su Jin raised an eyebrow, picked up her glass, and clinked it against Lu Shihan's, then against Shen Rang's.

The glasses met with a sound as faint as a wind chime.

After dinner, the production team arranged a tea gathering in the courtyard.

The courtyard wasn't large. An osmanthus tree stood in the center, smaller than the one at the hotel entrance, but in full bloom, its fragrance cloyingly sweet.

Several plates of tea snacks sat on the stone table: flower pastries, osmanthus cakes, and pine nut candies. Su Jin sat beneath the osmanthus tree with a cup of pu'er in her hand. The tea was deep red, almost black in the moonlight.

Shen Rang sat opposite her, also holding a cup of pu'er. He didn't drink it, just held it, letting the steam rise and blur his features.

Lu Shihan sat beside her, one person's distance away, neither far nor close.

"Teacher Su, what are you wearing tomorrow?"

Su Jin looked at him. His ears were red again.

"I want to wear the same color as you," he said haltingly.

Shen Rang laughed beside them. It wasn't a mocking laugh, but the kind someone couldn't hold back on hearing something very amusing, without any malice.

"Kid, even if you wear the same color as her, she still won't give you another look."

Lu Shihan's ears went from red to deep crimson. There was a trace of disappointment in his eyes as he lowered his head and looked at his shoelaces. They were tied tightly, not loose.

Su Jin glanced at Shen Rang.

"White."

Lu Shihan immediately looked up. "Then I'll wear black."

Shen Rang looked at him, the corners of his mouth turning down.

Lu Shihan looked a little pleased with himself. He lowered his head and arranged the pine nut candies on the table one by one, lining them up, then took them back one by one.

Su Jin smiled and shook her head, put down her teacup, and stood up. "I'm tired. Good night."

Then she turned and walked away. The off-white hem of her dress was almost transparent in the moonlight, and they could see the way she walked: feet close together, back straight, hands at her sides, each step neither hurried nor slow.

The jade pendant at her waist chimed softly, ding, ding, ding, the sound growing farther away and fainter until it could no longer be heard.

Lu Shihan sat on the stone stool, gripping the last pine nut candy in his hand. He held it for a long time, until it melted and stuck to his palm, but he didn't wipe it off.

Shen Rang leaned back in his chair and looked at the osmanthus tree. Its flowers were still blooming, still fragrant, still falling. Tiny petals landed on his shoulders, but he didn't brush them off.

He picked up his cup of pu'er, now completely cold, and took a sip. It was bitter, but he didn't frown.