Deep down, I felt incredibly reluctant, flustered, and warm-hearted. Why did I actually hit him? Wouldn't it have been better to just retort with twenty words?
The two immediately reconciled.
Dandan forgot to press Huaiyu about the secret she had kept. She simply braided her half-wet hair into a tight plait. Once it dried completely, it would be time to perform again. Life hung by a thread, but for her, it was nothing.
Zhi and Gao, bored, chatted in the courtyard about Dandan's long hair. They learned that she hadn't cut it for ten years since she was seven, letting it grow freely. She tied it up every day. She hung it up every day.
"This job is really tough. You have to keep your face down all the time. After a while, your skin will become rough. You'll be rowing at twenty. Sigh, such a young flower has already withered. Sigh, it's so hard!" Zhigao exclaimed to Lai Xin in an exaggerated way.
Dandan retorted, "What's the big deal? Let the beautiful flowers wither on their own!"
What does "Let the beautiful flower wither on its own" mean?
"Who knows. Anyway, it's my problem, you don't need to worry about it."
“That’s not really your opinion, is it?” Zhigao said.
"Yes, I heard it from the opera house."
Huaiyu said nothing, only gazing at the Yang family compound. Though simple and cluttered, the wooden windows were covered with cold cloth, and old bamboo blinds hung there. The sun was high, the sky clear, and sparrows hopped down from the eaves to forage. A couple of wisteria trellises grew under the eaves, looking quite lush. The early spring blossoms were still tender green, slowly changing color. By midsummer, under the sunlight, clusters of pale purple, twining flowers released a warm, soft fragrance. Bees buzzed around them. Suddenly, a flash of golden light appeared; a tiny spider, trailing an extremely fine silk thread, had fallen from the trellis, shimmering in the sunlight… And so, time flashed by. Huaiyu felt a warm, hazy feeling.
Beijing experiences little rain throughout the year, but in late summer, the rain is incessant, as if almost all the rain of the year has been concentrated in these two months. The rain comes in torrents, and the sewers cannot keep up, so water accumulates everywhere, and small ponds often appear in the alleys and courtyards.
If the rain starts in the afternoon, it will soon stop and the sky will clear; but if it starts early in the morning, it will probably rain all day long.
Not long after the stalls opened, a wisp of rain cloud appeared on the northwestern horizon, and soon the cool, clear sky cleared up, and the rain began to fall, starting slowly and then intensifying. Because of this rain, the stalls in various places on the overpass had to disperse. Some hurried home, while others grabbed their equipment and found a place to take shelter from the rain, eventually gathering at the game hall.
Several groups of people from the same industry inevitably bumped into each other at this Kunshu Teahouse, exchanging wry smiles and greetings:
"You've worked hard! Sigh, look at this rain, I wonder when it will stop!"
There are many teahouses in the Tianqiao area, including teahouses specializing in traditional Chinese tea, opera, chess, and books.
The guests were all tea connoisseurs; some came to drink tea and while away the time, some came to exchange information on buying and selling secondhand goods, and some came to print money... But most were unemployed, who would brew a pot of tea, eat some eight kinds of snacks, fermented rice cakes, and sugar peas, and then play chess on the thin rectangular board with a chessboard drawn on it, using their skills on paper.
Suddenly, a rapid drumbeat was heard, stirring the souls of all present.
These disillusioned bureaucrats, aging politicians, or insignificant commoners all turned their heads to look at the small table in the "Chatting Pavilion." There was a painting on a whiteboard depicting swirling auspicious clouds, and a notice was posted on it. It was unclear what the notice was about, but five large characters were visible: "Wind, Fire, Poison, Heat, and Qi." Below each large character were four smaller characters, all praising the benefits of tea.
The singer of Beijing-style drum ballad was Feng Wu. She wore a plain white cheongsam with gray flecks and blue flowers, her hair was simply combed back, and a teardrop-shaped beaded earring adorned her ear. She appeared to be in her thirties. As soon as she stepped onto the stage, she picked up the drumstick and began to beat it rapidly and densely, accompanied by a stringed instrument. Instantly, the entire audience held their breath.
Huaiyu and her father, their clothes half-wet, sat on the west side of the teahouse. They had arrived late and their seats were far back.
Feng Wu's drum ballad lyrics are from "The Romance of the Sui and Tang Dynasties." Since the foundation of the dynasty crumbled, the Guanwa Palace and the Bronze Sparrow Tower were neglected, falling into a desolate and lonely state. Suddenly, a thunderous roar erupted, and heroes rose and fell, ushering in a new dynasty… (Her album includes:)
"The news of prosperity is like light clouds, immortality requires great deeds. A grand strategy aims to save the setting sun, a heroic heart will not join the crowd of charlatans. In times of crisis, heroes may bury their tracks, but when fortune smiles, they will soon serve their lord. It is strange that history cannot record everything, so I will use my brush to compose extraordinary verses."
It's always like this: a sigh begins another round of right and wrong, merit and demerit. True destiny, ruthless hero, extraordinary woman, wicked villain—…the world is a cacophony of righteous indignations, souls wander the three realms. Take a dusty old novel, blow on it, and a sliver of pure land is revealed, allowing the story to unfold from the beginning.
She sings of national and familial sorrow, of love and loss, with both strength and tenderness. Feng Wu's greatest skill is her vibrato; no matter how turbulent and prosperous the events, in her voice, the last line always carries a sense of decline after the peak, of fate ending and flowers withering. With just a drum and a pair of bamboo clappers, she embodies both male and female, loyalty and righteousness, a thousand years of history.
Huaiyu loved to hear stories about "his" Tang Dynasty. Zhigao disliked them; his stories about the Song Dynasty were full of loyal officials being persecuted, powerful ministers holding sway, and emperors living in complacency.
After a performance, tea drinkers would give one or two coins, and some would pay extra for a free service.
Master Miao had Dandan hand over the small bamboo token she had exchanged beforehand. She stood up, and Huaiyu noticed her. The two pointed to the rain, making a helpless expression.
Across the vast sea of people, amidst the wafting aroma of tea, Huaiyu only saw Dandan. Even her frown was different from everyone else's. Huaiyu's resentful expression gradually and incredulously transformed into a smile; he had been looking at her for far too long. —Fortunately, she didn't know that Huaiyu was about to look away, filled with immense reluctance. Old Tang patted him: "What are you doing?"
Just then, the girl on stage, Fengwu, began another performance, which, for some reason, went like this:
"...Beautiful flowers should wither naturally, and raindrops bring sorrow. How beautiful is the young man, gazing into the sky with longing, encountering the fleeting, fragrant soul, secretly lamenting and sighing..."
Oh, so Dandan stole the lyrics from the poem "Red Plum Pavilion" in the Luoziguan. This Li Huiniang was the concubine of Jia Sidao, the Grand Councilor. While boating on West Lake, she met the scholar Pei Shunqing. Li inadvertently praised him, saying, "What a handsome young man!" Jia, consumed by jealousy, immediately beheaded Li Huiniang in the Banxian Hall upon returning home. He then lured Pei into his mansion, imprisoned him in the Red Plum Pavilion, and plotted to assassinate him… But a young man's infatuation—and he met his demise. Beautiful flowers cannot wither on their own; they are always destroyed. No wonder even ghosts lament.
When Feng Wu sang the drum ballad, she adopted a different, tender, and melodious tone, lingering and far-reaching. It made the listener always feel a sense of self-reproach, thinking, "Beautiful flowers should be protected!"
The lingering sound was carried by the wind and rain to the eaves of the teahouse, where vendors selling scraps of cloth, silk flowers, and paper flowers, as well as tobacco leaves, were taking shelter from the rain. They carefully protected their goods, preferring to get a little rain on themselves rather than let their livelihoods be affected.
A barber's carrying pole was resting; at one end was a brazier with a copper basin of hot water on top; at the other end was a small rectangular stool with a drawer. The barber was negotiating a price with someone, who said:
"You're just killing time anyway. I'll give you half the money for a haircut, okay? Look, it's raining anyway, so if you don't want it, fine!" After saying that, he had no choice but to agree.
The man plopped down on the stool, crossed his legs and shook them, while the barber took out a razor and a wooden comb from a small drawer.
The customer turned halfway around to let someone operate the razor; it turned out to be Zhigao. He was quite pleased; it was only half price, seven or eight copper coins—a real bargain!
A torrential downpour will likely continue until dusk. Those who set up stalls on the street will have wasted their entire day. They won't earn much, but they still have to pay rent.
Looking into the distance, the sky was a hazy gray, the thunder had receded, the wind had weakened, but the rain showed no sign of stopping.
Seeing that things were not going well, the group had no choice but to return home dejectedly.
Dandan came out with the Miao family and immediately saw Zhigao, whose head was half shaved. She said:
"It's you, how dignified!" Actually, she was mocking him.
Zhigao was a little embarrassed; this was the comical sight he was in, so he could only laugh it off:
"Believe it or not, hair can be haunted, and it's all gotten onto your head."
"No way! Get lost!"
"It's coming for you, there's nothing you can do if you don't want to, so you'd better run away quickly."
Zhigao really didn't want Dandan to see him looking like this, so he kept telling her to leave.
Even in the sweltering heat, such a torrential downpour had cooled the air, and everyone under the eaves was staggering. Should they continue? Dandan suddenly shivered. A cup of hot tea was suddenly offered to her. Huaiyu, who was near the door, looked at Dandan: