Before his voice could even fade, Wu Biyou kicked over his chair and stormed out, slamming the door with a resounding *thud*.
The phone had been tossed into the pot, sending up a large splash of oil. The screen flickered a few times before going completely dark.
The hot pot continued to bubble and hiss, but the room had fallen into a dead silence.
Wu Biyou’s words were like a sudden bolt of lightning, leaving An Ping dazed and disoriented. It took him a long time to find his voice. "What he just said... what did he mean?"
Mu Gesheng held his teacup, his expression unreadable. "Exactly what he said."
"What?!"
"I don't remember." Mu Gesheng shrugged. "My memory is fragmented; I’ve lost some very important parts. I can’t quite piece together the causes and effects of many things. I only know what those who came after have said—that I made a mistake back then, and many were caught in the fallout."
"Betraying profound grace, through life and death, mentors and friends." Mu Gesheng took a sip of tea. "I cannot recall the cups of wine from long ago."
"One shouldn't discuss things that are hard to digest while eating." Mu Gesheng set down his teacup and used his chopsticks to fish the phone out of the spicy broth. "This pot is ruined. I’ll have them change it."
A fresh pot was soon brought out, but An Ping found the food tasteless. Mu Gesheng swirled a piece of tripe in the broth and placed it in An Ping's bowl. "If you want to know something, just ask. Don't look so miserable while eating. Don't be like my wretched daughter, bottling everything up inside. Carrying such a heavy burden... no wonder he won't grow any taller."
An Ping picked up the tripe and ate it. The spice rushed into his sinuses, nearly bringing him to tears. "Half-Immortal, about that matter... I still want to ask."
"I know. I really have forgotten something important." Mu Gesheng handed him a napkin. "An Ping, where has your dream reached lately?"
"Chai Shuxin—no, Ling Shu Zi—has come to stay at the Ginkgo Library for a while."
"Then it’s coming soon." Mu Gesheng did a mental calculation. "He arrived during the dead of winter. By the beginning of the following spring, I bid farewell to my Master and left the mountain. Let me think... I was gone for about four years."
An Ping was startled. "Why?"
"To study abroad. It was the fashion of the era." Mu Gesheng smiled. "Before I entered the sect, my father told my Master that 'cultivating the self, regulating the family, governing the state, and bringing peace to the world' begins with the self. I was born into the Mu Estate, after all; I couldn't stay by Master's side forever."
An Ping had a sudden realization. "No wonder you never copy my English homework."
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," Mu Gesheng recited in a near-perfect Oxford accent. "You probably won't dream of those four years, but not much happened during that time anyway—except for one thing."
"It must have been my third year abroad. I was in Moscow then. The school was built a kilometer away from the Neva River. It was winter when I received the letter from Lao Er, and the riverbanks were covered in snow." Mu Gesheng continued, "He said in the letter that Master had passed away."
An Ping stood up in shock, knocking over his teacup. The porcelain shattered against the floor, tea spilling everywhere.
"It’s an old story from many years ago. Why such a big reaction, An Ping?" Mu Gesheng poured him a new cup. "Before Master passed, he left instructions saying I could return for the funeral, but I had to leave as soon as the first seven days of mourning were over."
"Moscow is thousands of miles away. By the time I received the letter, the seven days had long passed. A Master’s command cannot be disobeyed, so I didn't return. It wasn't until I finished my studies that I finally went to kowtow before his grave."
Mu Gesheng shook his head and gave a soft, light laugh. "I, too, have been a drifter for so long."
*Upon my return, the myriad affairs of a lifetime—how can I bear to look back?*
*Counting those at the ends of the earth, how many families still have their kin?*
An Ping remained in a trance even after he returned home. He washed up and went to bed in a hurry, but he tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
He didn't understand.
When Mu Gesheng had walked him home, he seemed to notice An Ping’s heavy heart. He had patted his shoulder and left him with a single sentence: "It’s all in the past. It’s just a dream; treat it like watching a movie."
Perhaps it was the heavy oil and spice, but An Ping felt a parched sensation in his throat. He got up and brewed a bag of the soothing tea Mu Gesheng had given him. Since he couldn't sleep anyway, he decided to burn the midnight oil and pulled out his schoolwork to review.
With homework piled like a mountain, studying was indeed a good way to escape his worries. An Ping took out a blank sheet of paper and began to list a timeline of modern history.
*1937 AD, the 26th year of the Republic.*
*The French Popular Front government was forced to resign; political instability continued until the outbreak of WWII.*
*Yugoslavia signed a non-aggression and arbitration treaty with Italy, joining the Rome-Berlin Axis.*
*The Soviet Union's total industrial output jumped to first in Europe and second in the world.*
*The Hindenburg disaster occurred, marking the end of the airship's era in commercial flight.*
*July 7th, Japan launched a full-scale invasion of China; the nationwide War of Resistance began.*
The night grew deep. As the second hand ticked forward, An Ping looked at the page full of black ink on white paper and felt a sudden wave of exhaustion. He put down his pen and leaned his head on the desk to rest for a moment.
*The affairs of the world drift away like flowing water; a floating life is but a dream.*
"Extra! Extra! National Defense Conference convened on August 7th!" A newsboy shouted at the docks. "Get your paper! Only five cents a copy!"
The port was one of the liveliest places in the city. Steamships entered the harbor with long whistles, and passengers bustled up and down the gangplanks. A fashionable young lady in modern dress carried a calfskin suitcase, her high heels clicking crisply. The sharp-eyed newsboy rushed forward, greeting her warmly. "Miss, would you like a paper?"
The lady seemed to be in a hurry, waving him off repeatedly. "No, no, move aside."
"Buy one, Miss. Things are unstable lately; buy some peace of mind by knowing the news..."
"I'll take a paper, please." A hand suddenly reached between the two. The newsboy looked up to see a tall, slender young man dressed in a linen suit, carrying a leather suitcase and a long-handled umbrella.
"Thank you for your patronage, Young Master!" The newsboy hurriedly pulled out a newspaper. "That'll be five cents."
"Keep the change." The young man handed over a silver dollar and pointed to a flower girl nearby. "I believe that girl is your younger sister? I’ll take a red camellia to give to this lady." He smiled at the woman. "Children making a living at the docks have a hard time. He was a bit pushy in his eagerness to earn; please don't take offense."
The newsboy blinked, then ran over to wrap a camellia and handed it to the lady. "I'm sorry, Big Sister, please accept this as an apology!"
The lady’s anger turned to joy. Her face flushed slightly as she whispered her thanks to the young man, took the flower, and turned to leave, leaving a trail of perfume in her wake.
The newsboy looked at the generous young man and was about to thank him when the man reached out and gave him a light smack on the head. "A few years apart and you've lost your eye for people, Xiao Fengzi? That was the second daughter of a shipping magnate. You offended her—do you still want to work these docks?"
Xiao Fengzi stumbled from the smack, then looked at the young man in surprise. "...And you are?"
"It's me." The young man took off his glasses and raised an eyebrow. "Only a few years and you don't recognize me?"
Xiao Fengzi froze, then suddenly lunged forward, shouting, "Mu Family's Fourth?! Mu Gesheng, you actually came back!"
The two embraced. Mu Gesheng was a head taller than the other. Xiao Fengzi clung to him, refusing to let go. "Brother Mu, you're finally back... Brother, how many days has it been since you washed your hair? Why is it so oily?"
"Get lost, that's called hair gel." Mu Gesheng patted his shoulder. "I remember your family owned a tailor shop. Why are you out here selling newspapers?"
"The times are too chaotic, business is hard. My dad fell ill a while ago, so we had to close the shop. My sister and I came out to earn a few coins to help out." Xiao Fengzi sniffled. "Brother Mu, I’ve really missed you these past few years."
In his youth, Mu Gesheng had been something of a "demon king." Whenever he came down the mountain, he would gather friends all over the city, putting on no airs and getting along with everyone. "With you gone, the streets haven't been as fun. Even Brother Song doesn't look for people to fight anymore." Xiao Fengzi continued, "When the Master of the Ginkgo Library passed away a few years ago, everyone went to pay their respects, but we didn't see you come back..."
"Well, I'm back now. You're a grown man; stand up straight and don't get teary-eyed so easily." Mu Gesheng set him down. "If your father is ill, why didn't you go to the Chai Estate?"
"It was Young Master Chai who checked his pulse. It's thanks to the Chai Pharmacy; otherwise, my dad could never have afforded the medicine." Xiao Fengzi rubbed his eyes. "Brother, how long are you staying this time?"
"I'm not leaving." Mu Gesheng smiled. "Brother Song is throwing a welcome feast tonight. There’ll be plenty of food; remember to bring your sister."
"I've been freeloading meals at Brother Song's place lately anyway." Xiao Fengzi scratched his head sheepishly, then asked worriedly, "Brother, everyone says a war is coming. You were safe abroad; why come back now?"
"Listen to yourself." Mu Gesheng gave him another light smack. "Even falling leaves return to their roots. This is my home. Should I not come back just because there's a war?"
"You're right, Brother." Xiao Fengzi nodded repeatedly. "So, you're really not leaving?"
"Not leaving." Mu Gesheng said. "If you run into trouble, don't try to tough it out alone. Come find me anytime."
"With those words, I'm not afraid of anything." Xiao Fengzi laughed. "Brother, you just got back. Where are you headed? Want me to lead the way?"
"Get lost. You think I became a lost cause just because I was gone for a few years?" Mu Gesheng teased. "If you want to lead the way, fine. Carry your brother's suitcase. We're going to Guan Shan Yue."
"Understood!" Xiao Fengzi caught his drift. "As expected of Brother Mu—loyal and sentimental. The moment you're back, you're rushing to see your sweetheart!"
"What sweetheart?" Mu Gesheng said casually. "I'm taking you to the establishment to hear some tunes."
Four years had passed, but the old scenery remained. Guan Shan Yue had expanded by two floors, and a faint fragrance drifted through the gilded hall. During the day, the establishment didn't take "guests" but served as a teahouse. When the two entered, a *Pingtan* performance had just begun. On the stage sat two female masters—one on the left with a *sanxian* and one on the right with a *pipa*. In the center was a refined gentleman holding a white fan, singing a piece from *Wen Zhao Guan*.
*"How can I care for the thousand miles of frost and ten thousand mountains—"*
The *pipa* sounded like falling pearls, and the gentleman’s narration was mellow, elegant, and scholarly. Mu Gesheng requested a private booth and looked down at the floor, smiling. "The seats are full of ladies, all here for the storytelling—as expected of a star. To charm the ladies into coming to a house like this just to hear him... truly impressive."
A young courtesan brought tea with a smile. "Mr. Wu’s voice is top-tier. Usually, a ticket is impossible to get. Today is an early show, which is why we had a rare empty booth. You arrived just in time, Young Master; it seems you have a fated connection."
Mu Gesheng laughed. "More than just a connection—it's a debt of several years."
The girl blinked, covering her mouth. "Is the Young Master an old acquaintance of Mr. Wu?"
"I've seen you before. Aren't you the sister Auntie Zhao brought up?" Mu Gesheng winked at her. "Don't you recognize me?"
"Hah, it would be strange if she did," Xiao Fengzi interjected. "Look at your 'fake Westerner' getup."
The girl looked him up and down, then suddenly remembered something. She gasped, "You... you're Young Master Mu?!"
"I'm touched you still remember me, Sister." Mu Gesheng said with a smile. "Years have passed, yet the people and scenery remain. Auntie Zhao’s business is doing better than ever—she can even get Lao San on stage."
The storyteller on stage was none other than Wu Zixu.
About two years ago, Mu Gesheng had received a letter from home while in Europe. Song Wentong didn't like idle chatter and usually wrote only a few lines of essential news. However, that letter had been unusually long, spanning several pages, and it was about only one thing—Wu Zixu had become a *Pingtan* master at Guan Shan Yue.
The story wasn't complicated. Song Wentong had dragged Wu Zixu to Guan Shan Yue to play cards, and Wu Zixu had, predictably, lost everything. This time, however, Auntie Zhao hadn't let him off with an IOU. She had forcibly kept him there and pushed him onto the stage to sing a few tunes.
Wu Zixu’s voice was naturally gifted; the moment he opened his mouth, he brought the house down. Auntie Zhao, refusing to let him go, made him stay at Guan Shan Yue to sing off his debt. She personally taught him how to train his voice and opened a storytelling theater during the day. Within a few shows, his fame spread far and wide. The whole city knew that a "Mr. Wu" had arrived at Guan Shan Yue, possessing a beautiful voice and selling out every show.
The debt was paid off quickly, but the audience refused to let him leave. Auntie Zhao had to personally go to the Wu Estate to invite him back. Wu Zixu couldn't refuse, and so he continued to sing. The Yin-Yang practitioners never cared much for worldly affairs, and no one in the Wu clan minded their young head running to a teahouse every day. Over the years, his fame grew, and fans called him the "Jade-Faced Gentleman."
"Which family's gentleman is so dashing on stage?" Mu Gesheng shook his head as he laughed. "Even though Lao Er told me, seeing it in person is still a shock. Who would have thought that a few years ago, Lao San would blush just meeting a girl?"
"Brother Tong mentioned a few days ago that Young Master Mu would be returning soon." The girl was beaming, unable to sit still. "We're all family; don't just sit up here. Shall I take you backstage?"
"Then I'll trouble you, Sister." Mu Gesheng stood up. "After so many years, I should go pay my respects to Auntie Zhao."
Wu Zixu finished his set on stage. He stopped the strings, ended the session, and lifted the curtain to go backstage, only to find a crowd gathered three layers deep. Auntie Zhao’s voice was pitched high: "Oh, my dear boy, you really are filial! I didn't spoil you for nothing!"
Though the young man's voice was steadier than before, Wu Zixu knew that laugh all too well. His face lit up instantly, and he shouted, "Old Fourth! When did you get back?"
"Old San! You're done with your set?" Mu Gesheng stood up, pushed through the crowd, and the two immediately embraced. "Not bad, kid!" Mu Gesheng laughed, patting his back. "One must look at a person with new eyes after three days apart. A few years and you've become a star!"
"Just joining the fun. The audience is kind enough to support me, but I'm far from a professional." Wu Zixu was overjoyed. "When did you get back? Lao Er said you bought your ticket late and wouldn't be here for a few more days."
"I tricked him. If he knew I was coming back today, he would have blocked the docks." Mu Gesheng winked. "Didn't I rush here just to hear Mr. Wu sing?"
"Stop teasing me the moment you're back." Wu Zixu gave him a shove, then pulled him back. "It's too late to prepare a welcome lunch, but we'll set up a few tables tonight so the brothers can have a proper reunion. Wait for me to finish the next set, then we'll go freeload a meal from Lao Er."
"Excellent." Mu Gesheng clapped his hands. "I ate nothing but cold platters abroad; I’ve been looking forward to coming back and eating Lao Er into poverty."
"You..." Wu Zixu sighed with a smile. "Lao Er will be so happy he won't know what to do with himself. Even if you asked for a full Manchu-Han Imperial Feast, he’d happily cook it." He looked Mu Gesheng up and down. "Your outfit is quite stylish. Western goods?"
"Don't even start. Do you have any extra clothes? Lend me a set." Mu Gesheng waved his hand. "Auntie Zhao called me a 'fake Westerner' the moment she saw me."
"It is a bit pretentious," Wu Zixu laughed. "But you've grown quite a bit, Fourth. I don't know if my clothes will fit you."
"If they don't fit, we'll alter them now!" Auntie Zhao chimed in. "Bring that new silver-grey robe!" She smiled at the two of them. "A new robe just arrived a few days ago. Little Wu has a performance of *The Three Smiles* in a few days—a great script for the *sanxian*. It would have suited him perfectly, but you've lucked out, boy."
"Auntie Zhao spoils me." Mu Gesheng remembered something and asked Wu Zixu, "What are you singing for the next set?"
"Still *Wen Zhao Guan*," Wu Zixu said. "Why? Is there a script you want to hear?"
"When you saw me off at the docks back then, you sang a scene from *Farewell at the Pavilion*," Mu Gesheng said immediately. "Now that an old friend has returned from the West, let's have a performance of *The Sighting*."
"Consider it done. I remember you always loved *The Romance of the Western Chamber*." Wu Zixu agreed instantly. "Since we're changing clothes anyway, come on stage with me."
"No way. I'm not familiar with *Pingtan* scripts; I only know a few lines of *Kunqu*." Mu Gesheng refused. "The audience is here for the storytelling. We can't just change it on a whim; they'll want refunds."
"It doesn't matter," Auntie Zhao said with a smile. "I'll take responsibility. Sing your heart out."
"My dear Auntie," Mu Gesheng waved his hands. "I've been abroad for years; I've forgotten all the tunes."
"Don't try to fool me. You had Lao Er send you records back then," Wu Zixu said. "Don't think I don't know. You and Lao Er used to come to Guan Shan Yue every other day. When the mood struck, you'd go up and replace the performers—I heard you even played the *sanxian* for Ling Shu Zi?"
Mu Gesheng: "No doubt about it. Lao Er definitely sold me out."
"A fine scene, a beautiful hour, a joyful matter. If you go off-key, I'll cover for you." Wu Zixu started a note. "Come now, my good sir—"
Mu Gesheng had been called a dandy in his youth. He hadn't learned much of the "Eight Refinements" at the Ginkgo Library, but he had spent enough time in the pleasure quarters to master the four tones and five notes. The Master of the Ginkgo Library loved *Kunqu*, and every holiday he would have Mu Gesheng perform a few segments, especially from *The Romance of the Western Chamber*, jokingly calling it "the infatuation of a romantic debt."
Mu Gesheng changed into the robe. They split the roles: Wu Zixu sang Zhang Sheng, Mu Gesheng sang Hong Niang, and they found a young courtesan to play Cui Yingying. "I am lucky today," the girl said with a smile. "To meet two such handsome gentlemen."
The strings opened the scene on stage. Yingying and Zhang Sheng met in the Buddha Hall. *That single glance of her autumn-wave eyes infected him with a lovesickness that pierced to the marrow.* Zhang Sheng spoke: *"Ah, who would have thought to meet a goddess in a temple—stumbling right into a romantic debt from five hundred years ago!"*
*"I hate the Heavens; the Heavens do not make things easy for man. It is so hard for me to find relief; how can I bear to stay?"* Hong Niang spoke crisply: *"Oh, Miss, have you not led this man's heart and mind astray?"*
*"It leaves one dazzled and speechless, the soul flying into the mid-sky."* Zhang Sheng flicked his folding fan. *"Ah, I am dying—"*
The scene *The Sighting* wasn't long, but the two got carried away and sang until noon. As the audience dispersed, one person remained in the seats. He spoke coolly: "The moment you're back, you rush onto the stage to perform. What kind of behavior is this?"
Mu Gesheng had just lifted the curtain to exit. Hearing the voice, he paused, turned to look, and the next second, he leaped off the stage. "Lao Er! When did you get here?"
"I've been here. You were so into your performance you didn't even recognize me."
"That's only because you've become even more beautiful. I thought some celestial being was sitting in the audience."
"Stop it." Song Wentong was wearing a bright red robe. The young man was tall and straight. He gave Mu Gesheng a smack on the head. "Nice hair gel. Western goods?"
"Stop mocking me, stop it. I've been teased all morning." Mu Gesheng smoothed his hair. "You're just in time. We were just saying we'd go find you—what's for lunch?"
"Wait for Lao San to come out." Song Wentong stood up, flicking his robe. "I'll take you to the shop to eat."
Song Wentong had mentioned in his letters that he had opened a hot pot restaurant called "Ye Shui Zhu Hua" (Vermilion Blooms of Ye).
He was a master of the kitchen and loved spicy food. The soup bases he created were legendary, and soon after opening, it became impossible to get a table. Mu Gesheng could smell the rich aroma from a distance. "I remember every Winter Solstice you loved making hot pot. Stir-frying lantern peppers, old ginger, and garlic with beef tallow... it smelled so good the little monks at Baishui Temple would wake up at midnight to ring the bells."
"Lao Wu doesn't eat spicy food. After he arrived, I made it less often." Song Wentong led them into the shop, up to the second floor, and into a private booth. "Order whatever you want."
"Hah." Wu Zixu laughed. "The boss is being generous."
"You say that as if I've cheated you of money. Who knows which of you comes here to freeload every other day?" Song Wentong glanced at him. "It's one thing to host you living people, but you even bring the banquets of Fengdu to my place."
"Then I won't be polite." Mu Gesheng tossed the menu aside and rolled up his sleeves. "Bring me the whole book. Every single dish on the menu, don't leave out a single one."
***
