Chapter 20

Before the words had even left his mouth, Wubi kicked the chair over, stood up, and slammed the door shut with a bang.

The phone was thrown into the pot, splashing a large spray of oil. The screen flickered a few times before going completely dark.

The hot pot bubbled and simmered quietly, filling the room with silence.

What Wubi said was like thunder striking out of a clear sky, leaving Anping dazed and confused. It took him a long moment to find his voice again. "What did he just mean by that...?"

Mu Gesheng held his teacup calmly, his expression indifferent. "The literal meaning."

"What?!"

"I don't remember." Mu Gesheng shrugged. "My memory is fragmented; I've lost some very important parts. I can't piece together the cause and effect of many things. From what later generations say, I made mistakes back then and caused a lot of trouble."

“Deep gratitude and ultimate betrayal, life and death teacher and friend.” Mu Gesheng took a sip of tea, “I can’t recall, the wine we once shared.”

“Don’t talk about things that upset your digestion while eating.” Mu Gesheng said as he set down his cup, reaching in with chopsticks to fish the phone out of the spicy pot, “This pot’s ruined, have them bring a new one.”

A fresh pot was quickly brought over. Anping ate without tasting, and Mu Gesheng swirled a piece of tripe for him, “If you want to know something, just ask. Don’t wear a sour face at the table. Don’t be like my unlucky daughter, bottling things up inside. Carrying too heavy a burden—no wonder she never grew tall.”

Anping picked up the tripe and ate it; the spicy heat hit his nose, nearly bringing tears to his eyes. “Banxian’er, about this matter... I still want to ask.”

“I know, I really forgot something important.” Mu Ge Sheng handed him a piece of paper. “Anping, how far have you gotten with your dream recently?”

“Chai Shuxin, ah no, Ling Shuzi is staying briefly at the Ginkgo Study.”

“That’s soon.” Mu Ge Sheng did some quick calculations and said, “The time of the coldest days was winter, then turning to early spring the next year, I said farewell to my master and descended the mountain. Let me think... it’s been about four years since I left.”

Anping was stunned. “Why?”

"Studying abroad, that was all the rage in those days." Mu Gesheng smiled, "Before I was accepted as a disciple, my father had already told the master that cultivating oneself is just the first step in governing and bringing peace. I was born into the Mu family, after all—I couldn't just stay at the master's feet forever to fulfill filial duties."

An Ping suddenly understood, "No wonder you never copied my English homework."

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” Mu Gesheng recited a passage in a perfectly polished Oxford accent, “You probably couldn’t even dream of those four years, but nothing much happened during that time—except for one thing.”

“That must have been my third year abroad. I was in Moscow then; the school was built about a kilometer from the Neva River. It was winter when I received a letter from my second brother—the riverbank was covered in snow.” Mu Gesheng said, “He wrote that the master had passed away.”

Anping was so startled that he stood up abruptly, overturning the teacup on the table. The sound of porcelain shattering rang out, and tea spilled all over the floor.

"That was an old matter from many years ago. Anping, why are you reacting so strongly?" Mu Gesheng poured another cup of tea for him. "Before my master passed away, he left instructions saying I could return to the country for the funeral, but once the seventh day had passed, I had to leave."

"The distance between the homeland and Moscow is thousands of miles. By the time I received the letter from my second brother, the seventh day had long since passed. Orders from my master cannot be disobeyed, so I did not return home. It was only after I completed my studies that I went to bow before his grave."

Mu Gesheng shook his head as he spoke, smiling softly, "I too have been drifting for a long time."

Then returning, all the affairs of life, how can one bear to look back.

Wandering the world, still flesh and blood, how many families can there be?

An Ping remained dazed until he got home. He hurriedly washed up and tried to rest, but tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep.

He did not understand.

When Mu Gesheng saw him off at home, he seemed to sense the heavy thoughts weighing on him. He patted his shoulder and left him with a line, "It's all in the past, just a dream. Just think of it as watching a movie."

Perhaps from eating too much oily and spicy food, An Ping felt a sudden dryness in his throat. He got up to brew a packet of the calming tea Mu Gesheng had given him. Since he couldn’t sleep anyway, he decided to burn the midnight oil and pulled out his homework to start reviewing.

The pile of assignments was towering; studying was indeed a good way to shake off worries and troubles. An Ping took out a blank sheet of paper and began to outline a timeline of modern history.

The year 1937 AD, the twenty-sixth year of the Republic of China.

The French Popular Front government was forced to resign, and political turmoil in France continued until the outbreak of World War II.

Yugoslavia signed a non-aggression and arbitration treaty with Italy, joining the Rome-Berlin Axis.

The Soviet Union's total industrial output surged to first in Europe, becoming the world's second-largest industrial power.

The German airship "Hindenburg" disaster marked the end of airships in commercial aviation.

On July 7th, Japan launched a full-scale invasion of China, and the entire nation began its resistance.

The night was deep and heavy, the second hand ticking steadily forward. Anping, staring at the sea of black characters on white paper, suddenly felt a wave of drowsiness wash over him. He couldn’t help but put down his pen, preparing to rest his head on the desk for a while.

Life flows on like water, and all is but a fleeting dream.

“Newspapers! Newspapers! National Defense Meeting to be held on August 7th!” the newsboy shouted from the dock. “Get your paper! Only five cents a copy!”

The harbor was one of the liveliest spots in the entire city. As the ship docked, its whistle echoed long and clear. Passengers moved up and down the gangway; among them was a fashionably dressed young woman carrying a small leather suitcase, her high heels clicking sharply. A sharp-eyed newsboy hurried over, calling out warmly, "Miss, want to buy a paper?"

The young woman seemed in a hurry, waving her hand repeatedly. "No, no, move aside quickly."

"Just buy one, please. Things haven’t been peaceful lately. Stay informed, buy one for peace of mind..."

"Please give me a paper." Suddenly, a hand blocked the space between the two. The newsboy looked up to see a tall, slender young man dressed in a linen suit, carrying a briefcase and a long-handled umbrella. "Thank you for your patronage, young sir!" The newsboy quickly handed over a paper. "Five cents a copy."

“No need to look any further.” The young man handed over a silver dollar, pointing to the flower-selling girl not far away. “I believe that young lady is your sister, right? Get a red camellia for this lady.” He smiled at the woman beside him as he spoke. “It’s not easy for kids to make a living at the dock. She might have been a bit rough while earning her money, please don’t hold it against her.”

The newsboy was taken aback, then quickly ran off to buy a camellia, handing it to the woman. “I’m sorry, miss, please accept my apology!”

The woman’s anger melted into joy, her cheeks flushing slightly. She whispered a thank you to the young man, took the flower, and turned to leave, leaving behind a trail of fragrant perfume.

The newsboy looked at the generous young man before him, about to thank him, when the man suddenly raised his hand and slapped him on the head. “It’s been years, Xiao Fengzi, how did you get so clueless? That lady just now is the second daughter of the shipping company owner. You bumped into her—do you still want to keep working at the dock?”

Xiaofeng stumbled back from the slap, then looked at the young man in surprise. "…You are?"

"It's me." The young man took off his glasses and raised an eyebrow. "Just a few years apart, and you can't recognize me?"

Xiaofeng was stunned, then suddenly lunged forward, shouting, "Fourth brother of the Mu family?! Mu Gesheng, you're actually back!"

The two embraced tightly. Mu Gesheng was a head taller than him. Xiaofeng clung to him, unwilling to let go. "Mu ge, you finally came back… Brother, how many days has it been since you washed your hair? Why is it so greasy?"

“Get lost, that’s called hair gel.” Mu Gesheng patted the other’s shoulder. “I remember your family ran a tailor shop, right? How come you’re selling newspapers here now?”

“The times have been rough, business isn’t good. A while ago, my dad got sick, so we had to close the shop for now. My little sister and I came out to earn some money to help support the family.” Xiaofengzi sniffled as he spoke. “Mu Ge, I’ve missed you these past few years.”

In his youth, Mu Gesheng was known as a troublemaker. Whenever he came down from the mountains, he’d gather friends in the city, no airs about him, and could get along with anyone. “You weren’t around these past few years, the streets just aren’t as fun anymore. Even Song Ge doesn’t pick fights like he used to,” Xiaofengzi said. “A few years back, when the owner of Yinxing Zhai passed away, everyone went to pay their respects, but I didn’t see you come back…”

“See, I’m back now. You’re a grown man, stand tall, don’t go around with red eyes all the time.” Mu Gesheng set him down and said, “Your uncle is sick, why haven’t you gone to visit the Chai family?”

“It was Master Chai who diagnosed the pulse. Thanks to the Chai Mansion’s pharmacy, otherwise my father wouldn’t have been able to get treated at all.” Xiaofengzi rubbed his eyes and said, “Brother, how long are you staying this time you’ve come back?”

“I’m not leaving.” Mu Gesheng smiled, “Tonight, Song Ge is hosting a welcome banquet—there’ll be plenty of food, so make sure to bring your sister along.”

“I’ve been freeloading meals at Song Ge’s place all this while.” Xiaofengzi scratched his head awkwardly, then worriedly added, “Brother, everyone’s saying there’s going to be a war. You’re not hiding out abroad anymore, so why come back now?”

“Look at what you’re saying.” Mu Gesheng gave him a light but firm slap, “Even fallen leaves return to their roots. This is my home. If there’s a war, you think I wouldn’t come back?”

"You're right, brother," Xiaofengzi nodded repeatedly. "So, brother, you're really not leaving?"

"Not leaving," Mu Gesheng said. "If anything comes up, don’t tough it out—come find me anytime."

"With you saying that, I’m not afraid of anything," Xiaofengzi smiled. "Brother, you just got back, where are you planning to go? Want me to show you the way?"

"Get out of here. Haven't seen me for years and you think I’ve become directionally challenged?" Mu Gesheng laughed and scolded. "If you want to show me the way, fine—carry my suitcase and let’s head to Guanshanyue."

“Got it!” Xiaofengzi understood immediately. “As expected of Brother Mu, loyal and righteous, rushing to see the beloved as soon as he returns!”

“See the beloved? What beloved?” Mu Gesheng said leisurely. “Brother’s taking you to the hall to listen to some tunes.”

Four years had passed, yet the old scenery remained the same. Guanshan Yue had expanded by two more floors, and the gilded main hall was filled with a subtle fragrance. The daytime hall didn’t receive guests, serving only as a teahouse. Just as the two entered, a Pingtan performance was beginning. On the stage, two female performers sat side by side—one holding a sanxian, the other cradling a pipa. Between them stood a jade-like young man, holding a white fan, singing an act from “Wenzhao Pass.”

“How can one care for the thousand miles of wind and frost, the countless mountains—”

The sound of the pipa was like pearls and jade, and the young master spoke gently, his voice refined and scholarly. Mu Gesheng requested an elegant private room, looked down at the floor, and smiled, saying, "The entire audience is filled with women, all here to listen to the storytelling—truly worthy of a famous performer. Even the young ladies are drawn to the hall to hear the tales; it's quite extraordinary."

A nearby attendant, smiling brightly, brought up tea. "Mr. Wu's voice is top-notch; tickets are hard to come by on ordinary days. Today is an early show, so it's rare to have this private room available. Young master, you’re fortunate—this must be fate."

Mu Gesheng laughed aloud upon hearing this: "Not just fate, but years of enmity and karmic debt."

The attendant was momentarily stunned, covering her mouth and asking, "Young master, are you old acquaintances with Mr. Wu?"

“I’ve seen you before. Are you the elder sister Zhao Yi brought out?” Mu Gesheng blinked at the person. “Don’t you recognize me?”

“Hey, it would be strange if I did,” Xiaofengzi interrupted. “Look at you, all dressed up like a fake foreigner.”

The courtesan sized the person up and down, suddenly remembering something, and exclaimed, “You—you’re Young Master Mu?!”

“It’s impressive that you still remember me,” Mu Gesheng said with a smile. “After all these years, old friends and old scenes, Zhao Yi’s business has only gotten better. She even managed to get Third Brother on stage.”

The storyteller on stage was none other than Wu Zixu.

About two years ago, Mu Gesheng received a letter from his hometown while in Europe. Song Wentong was not one to indulge in idle chit-chat; his letters were usually brief and to the point. However, this letter was unusually lengthy, spanning several pages, and it focused solely on one matter—Wu Zixu had become a pingtan master at Guanshan Yue.

The backstory was not complicated: Wu Zixu was dragged by Song Wentong to play cards at Guanshan Yue and, unsurprisingly, lost everything. But this time, Aunt Zhao refused to let him off with an IOU; she forced him to stay and pushed him onto the stage to sing a few tunes.

Wu Zixu’s voice was naturally exceptional, and the moment he opened his mouth, the audience erupted in applause. Aunt Zhao, relentless in her resolve, made him stay at Guanshan Yue to sing off his debt. Not only did she personally coach Wu Zixu to train his voice, but she also opened daytime performances. After just a few shows, his reputation spread far and wide; the whole city knew that Guanshan Yue had a Mr. Wu whose tone was exquisite, and tickets were hard to come by.

The money was soon repaid, but the audience was reluctant to leave, forcing Aunt Zhao to personally go to the Wu residence to invite him. Wu Zixu tried to decline, but after some back and forth, he ended up singing continuously. The Yin-Yang family traditionally paid little attention to matters of the living world, and no one in the Wu clan minded the young master running the tavern every day. Over the years, his reputation only grew, and fellow performers called him the "Jade-faced Gentleman."

"Which gentleman on stage is so charming?" Mu Gesheng laughed and shook his head, "Although I had long heard from the second brother, seeing it with my own eyes was still a shock. Who would have thought that a few years ago, the third brother would blush when meeting a girl?"

"A few days ago, Brother Tong told me that Young Master Mu would be returning soon," Qing Guan smiled brightly, unable to sit still any longer. "Since we're all family, don't just sit upstairs. Let me take you backstage?"

"Then I’ll trouble you, sister," Mu Gesheng stood up and said, "It's been years since we last met; I should go pay my respects to Aunt Zhao."

Wu Zixu finished performing a set on stage, stopped playing, and took a break. He lifted the curtain and walked backstage, only to see a crowd gathered in a tight circle. Aunt Zhao’s voice rang out high and clear, “Oh my boy, you’re truly filial. Auntie’s love for you wasn’t in vain!”

“These are some of the latest cosmetics popular in France. I don’t know much about them, so I just bought a few kinds my classmates recommended.” A laugh came from the crowd. “Aunt Zhao, you try them first. If you like them, I’ll ask my friend to send more.”

Though the young man’s voice was steadier than before, Wu Zixu recognized that laugh instantly. His face lit up with joy as he called out loudly, “Fourth Brother! When did you get back?”

“Third Brother! You’re done performing?” Mu Gesheng stood up, pushed through the crowd, and came forward. The two immediately embraced. “Not bad, kid.” Mu Gesheng laughed heartily and patted him on the shoulder. “After three days apart, one should look at you with new eyes. After all these years, you’ve actually become a famous actor!”

“Just joining the fun, the audience is willing to support, but it’s nowhere near as good as someone formally trained.” Wu Zixu was overjoyed, repeatedly asking, “When did you get back? I heard from the second brother that you bought your ticket late, wasn’t it still a few days away?”

“He’s setting me up. If he knew I was back today, he’d have been waiting at the dock to block me.” Mu Gesheng winked, “I rushed here to listen to Mr. Wu sing, didn’t I?”

“You come back for a moment and start badmouthing me.” Wu Zixu pushed him playfully, then pulled him back, “There’s no time to prepare a welcome lunch, but I’ll set up a few tables for you tonight so the brothers can have a proper gathering. Wait for me to finish the next show, then we’ll go mooch a meal off the second brother.”

“Perfect.” Mu Gesheng clapped his hands, “Eating cold cuts every day abroad, I’ve been looking forward to coming back and eating the second brother into bankruptcy.”

“You’re something else,” Wu Zixu laughed with a sigh. “Second brother might be over the moon with joy. Even if you served a full Manchu-Han banquet, he’d be happy to cook it himself.” He looked the person up and down carefully. “Your outfit’s quite stylish—Western goods?”

“Don’t say another word. Do you have any spare clothes? Lend me something first,” Mu Gesheng waved his hand. “Aunt Zhao calls me a fake foreign devil the moment she sees me.”

“You do have a bit of a pretentious air about you,” Wu Zixu said with a smile. “But Fourth Brother, you’ve grown quite a bit. I wonder if my clothes will fit you.”

“If they don’t fit, I’ll have them altered!” Aunt Zhao said repeatedly. “Bring out that new silver-gray long coat!” Then she smiled at the two of them. “It was just delivered a few days ago. Xiao Wu has a performance of ‘Three Laughs’ coming up soon—a great piece for the big sanxian. Wearing it will be just right. Looks like you kids are getting a good deal.”

“Aunt Zhao cares for me,” Mu Gesheng recalled something and asked Wu Zixu, “What are you singing next?”

“Still ‘Wenzhao Pass,’” Wu Zixu replied. “Why, is there a piece you want to hear?”

“You once gave me a performance of ‘Parting at the Long Pavilion’ at the dock,” Mu Gesheng said at once. “Now that an old friend returns from the west, let’s do a show called ‘Stunning Beauty.’”

“Sounds good. I remember you loved ‘Romance of the Western Chamber’ back then,” Wu Zixu agreed immediately. “I just changed my clothes; come on stage with me.”

“That won’t do. I’m not familiar with Pingtan scripts, I only know a few lines of Kunqu opera,” Mu Gesheng objected. “The audience came to listen to the story, how can we just change it on a whim? Be careful, or they’ll ask for refunds.”

“No worries,” Aunt Zhao said with a smile. “I’ll vouch for you—sing your heart out.”

“My dear aunt!” Mu Gesheng waved his hands repeatedly. “I’ve been abroad for so many years, I’ve completely forgotten the tunes.”

“Don’t try to fool me. You even had Second Brother send you records back then,” Wu Zixu said. “Don’t think I don’t know—you and Second Brother used to go to Guan Shanyue to listen to songs all the time. When you were in the mood, you’d even go up and replace the singer on stage—rumor has it you even played the sanxian for Lingshuzi?”

Mu Gesheng: "No way out, it’s definitely the second brother who sold me out."

“A fine day, a beautiful scene, a delightful affair—if I mess up, I’ll take the blame for you.” Wu Zixu smiled and cleared his throat: “Come on, sir—”

Mu Gesheng was once mockingly called a playboy. Though he hadn’t learned much of the refined arts at the Ginkgo Study, he was well-versed in all four tones and five notes from his time mingling in the world of romance. The master of the Ginkgo Study loved Kunqu opera and would often have him perform a few pieces during festivals, especially favoring The Romance of the Western Chamber, joking that it was “a passionate debt of love and folly.”

Mu Gesheng changed into a long gown, and the two divided their roles: Wu Zixu played Zhang Sheng, Mu Gesheng took the part of Cui Yingying, and they even recruited a courtesan to play Yingying herself. “I’m lucky today,” the courtesan said with a bright smile, “to meet two handsome gentlemen.”

The strings began on stage, and Yingying and Zhang Sheng met in the Buddha hall. As she cast a lingering glance before leaving, a lovesickness that pierced to the bone took hold. Zhang Sheng then said, "Ah, who would have thought to meet a celestial being in a temple—just as the fateful grudge of five hundred years ago unfolds!"

"Heaven is cruel, not making things easy for people, leaving me with no way to pass the time—truly, how can one linger so?" The Matchmaker spoke coquettishly, "Miss, have you suddenly lost your way, stirring the hearts of men and the restless monkeys of desire?"

"It dazzles the eyes and leaves the tongue tied, the soul soaring in midair." Zhang Sheng twirled the folding fan in his hand, "Ah, alas, I would die—"

The stunning act was not long, yet the two, caught up in the moment, unknowingly sang until noon. As the audience dispersed, one person remained in the seats, speaking calmly: "Coming back only to rush on stage to sing—what kind of behavior is this?"

Mu Gesheng had just lifted the curtain when he paused at the sound of footsteps, turning his head to look. The next moment, he leapt down from the stage. "Second Brother! When did you get here?"

"I've been here for a while. You were so lost in your performance, you didn’t recognize me for a long time."

"That’s only because you’ve become even more handsome. I thought there was some celestial beauty sitting in the audience."

"Stop talking nonsense." Song Wentong was dressed in a bright red long robe, his youthful figure tall and slender. He gave Mu Gesheng a slap on the head. "Nice hair gel, Western stuff?"

“Stop teasing me, stop teasing me, I’ve been made fun of all morning.” Mu Gesheng ran his hand through his hair. “You came at the right time, I was just about to come find you—what’s for lunch?”

“Wait for Third Brother to come out.” Song Wentong stood up, flicking his long robe. “I’ll take you to the shop to eat.”

Song Wentong had mentioned in a letter that he had opened a hotpot restaurant, named “Yeshui Zhuhua.”

He was skilled in the kitchen and loved spicy food; the broth he concocted was said to be unparalleled. Not long after opening, it was hard to get a table. Mu Gesheng could smell the rich aroma from afar. “I remember every year at the winter solstice you liked to make hotpot, stir-frying lantern peppers with old ginger and garlic, mixed with beef tallow—so fragrant that the little novice monk at Baishuisi would wake up at midnight to ring the bell.”

“Old Five doesn’t eat spicy food, so he’s been cooking less since he arrived.” Song Wentong led the group into the shop, went up to the second floor, and entered a private room. “Order whatever you want.”

“Whoa.” Wu Zixu laughed upon hearing this. “The boss is generous.”

“As if I’ve been cheating you out of money. Don’t know who keeps coming here to freeload every few days.” Song Wentong glanced at him. “Entertaining a living person is one thing, but you even bring the Fengdu banquet here.”

“Then I won’t hold back.” Mu Gesheng tossed the menu aside, rolled up his sleeves, and said, “Bring me the whole menu, every single dish—don’t leave one out.” —

Author's note:

1. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. — Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

2. Life drifts along like flowing water; in the end, it’s all but a fleeting dream. — Li Yu, "Black Night Cry"

3. Two Poems of "Golden Thread Tune" by Gu Zhenguan

[The First]

Is Ji Ziping safe? Returning home, all the affairs of life, how can one bear to look back?

On this long journey, who offers comfort? An old mother, a poor home, and young children. I can’t recall the wine we once shared.

Demons and spirits grappling with men should be familiar sights, yet it’s always him, the hand that overturns rain and clouds.

Ice and snow, enduring for so long!

Tear stains do not soak through the ox-hide coat, counting the distant horizons, still flesh and blood, how many families can endure?

Compared to the many fragile beauties, even fewer remain now. Only the desolate frontier, bitter cold unbearable.

For twenty years, Bao Xu has kept a promise, hoping that the black-headed horse’s hooves will finally bring rescue.

Leaving this note, may you hold it close to your heart.

【Part Two】

I too have drifted for long, for ten years, deeply indebted and betrayed, life and death with teachers and friends.

In former days, our fame was well matched, not unworthy; now look at Du Ling, emaciated. Once unmatched, now like the wild Yelang hills.

The ill-fated bid farewell to confidants for good; ask of life—has it come to this desolation?

A thousand regrets, I lay bare for you.

Born in the year of Xinwei, I in Dingchou, together through time, frost and ice have crushed us, early withered like cattails and willows.

From now on, I must write fewer poems and essays, preserving heart and soul to keep each other company. I only wish for a clear river and a long life.

As the day of return hastens, I hastily revise the garrison records, leaving behind an empty name to be managed after death.

Words fail to express, Guan kowtows deeply.