Along the River (24 page)

After the ceremony, Huizong and his entourage return to the Palace, accompanied by processional music “loud enough to shake Heaven and Earth,” according to Gege. Then His Majesty proclaims an amnesty to hundreds of prisoners who are lined up in the courtyard. They are set free by the guards, while the Imperial Military Band plays wind and percussion instruments. Gege says he has Cai You to thank for being included in the Emperor’s inner circle.

When Gege and Baba come home from the Palace that evening, our family sit together in the dining room, and eat our traditional
Dong Zhi
dinner—hot dumpling soup. These delicious dumplings look the same, but each has a different filling. Baba says that today, the day of the Winter Solstice, has the shortest daytime and longest nighttime of any day in the year. The name
Dong Zhi
means “winter has arrived.” From tomorrow on, the days will get longer and longer until
Li Chun
(Spring Equinox), when daytime and nighttime will be of equal length. I ask Baba why and he says it’s because of
Yin
and
Yang. Yin
is female and darkness whereas
Yang
is male and light. The two are not opposites but mirror images of one another. He promised to get a book from the market that will explain everything. The title of the book is
Zhou Bi Suan Jing
(
Astronomy and Mathematics in Ancient China
). It was written fifteen hundred years ago and will teach me
Tian Wen
(the Language of Heaven).

Besides excelling in his studies and climbing the ladder of success at Huizong’s court, Gege becomes increasingly active in the
Da Cheng Yue Fu
(Bureau of Music of Great Brilliance) where his friend Cai You has been appointed
Da Si Yue
(Musician-in-Chief). Gege continues to ask for my help in writing lyrics for Cai You to sing and perform for the Emperor. I give the songs titles such as “Flowing Water,” “Mist and Clouds Over the River,” “Wild Goose Lost,” “Refrains of a Prisoner.”

In the last song, I write:

Like a caged bird
,
I have wings but cannot fly
.
Like a horse in a forest
,
I have legs but cannot gallop
.

Gege complains that my words are too sad, but he and Cai You adapt my lyrics to their music anyway.

“Why do you ask for more when you criticize me all the time?”

“We’re not criticizing,” Gege protests. “We
love
your work. Cai You was saying just yesterday that your lyrics are extraordinary. They have such depth and insight. Some lines simply take one’s breath away!”

“That’s right,” Cai You adds. “Your words make my music unforgettable!”

This makes me so happy I work even harder.

In return for Gege’s helping him with his music, Cai You tries to advance Gege’s painting career. He gives advice whenever he’s here, which seems to be nearly every day, as far as I can see.

“I’ll tell you the best way to get on, Ze Duan,” says Cai You. “You should forget about yourself as an artist and give credit to His Majesty wherever possible.”

“That should be easy enough!” Gege replies.

“In short, Gege, flattery will get you everywhere!” I say sarcastically.

I’m pleased that, despite his newfound importance, Gege can still blush.

In order to impress the Emperor still further, Gege combines art with music and paints a portrait of Huizong playing the zither under a tall pine tree in the garden of the Royal Academy. He names the painting
Ting Qin Tu
(
Listening to Zither Music
), and presents it to His Majesty on His birthday. The Emperor is so pleased that he orders Prime Minister Cai Jing to write a few lines of poetry above the image, to commemorate the occasion.

“Should I mention that Your Majesty is the one playing the zither in this painting?” Cai Jing asks.

“Of course,” Huizong answers, beaming.

“Who should I say is the artist?” Cai Jing asks.

There is a short silence. Then Gege says hastily, “His Majesty is the artist as well as the subject of this painting.”

“Well said, Zhang Ze Duan!” Huizong comments, obviously pleased. “Do you know that the particular zither I’m shown playing in the picture was made three hundred years ago by the renowned Tang Dynasty instrument maker Lei Wei
(Mighty Thunder)? Lei Wei even gave that zither a name,
Chun Lei
(Spring Thunder). Presently, my agents are searching far and wide for the best zithers in my Empire. My collection will be housed in the Pavilion of Ten Thousand Zithers. Although the total number of zithers will be vast, my favourite zither will always be Spring Thunder.”

This story makes me laugh, especially since Gege says that he has sneaked my likeness into the painting. He drew me as a meek little maiden in a green robe standing next to a minister dressed in blue. Because there are only four people portrayed (Emperor, two ministers, girl) and I’m the only female, Gege says he has made me famous and immortal. But even as I’m laughing, I wish for the millionth time that Ah Zhao were here, to share the joke.

I also wish he could see the different suitors that seem to be coming out of nowhere for me, in spite of my big, ugly, unbound, natural feet. Besides Commissioner Ye’s son, with the skin disease, the field has now widened to include the Prime Minister’s son Cai You (but only as his concubine, since he already has a wife), General Tong Guan’s nephew and many others.

I don’t know whether Gege’s success at court has anything to do with my rising popularity, but matchmakers are definitely beating a path to our door. Baba, Niang and Nai Ma talk to me endlessly about making a good match. Niang, in particular, is desperate to find someone who will take me off her hands.

I keep infuriating her by repeating that I don’t want to marry—and that I especially don’t want to marry the one with the skin disease, who persists in his suit. I feel quite powerful as I realize that no one can force me to marry if I don’t want to. They plead, cajole, persuade and threaten in turn, but it’s useless.

I’ve been reading about Buddhist nuns who become female poets. In the nunnery, these women spend their time studying, thinking and writing. Learning about these women’s lives gives me the first glimmer of hope I’ve had since Ah Zhao went away.

Nai Ma says there’s a nunnery adjacent to a Buddhist
Tie Ta
(Iron Pagoda) near her village, just northeast of Bian Liang. Despite its name, the Iron Pagoda is made of brick, not iron. It has thirteen stories and is almost fourteen
zhang
tall. Inside is a spiral stone staircase, while the exterior is made of fifty different kinds of glazed brick with over one thousand five hundred carvings of Buddhas, monks, singers, dancers, lions and dragons.

When I ask my Baba about visiting the Iron Pagoda nunnery and becoming a nun, he thinks I’m joking, and tells me I won’t get good noodles in a Buddhist convent. After I convince him I’m serious, he’s furious and says that no daughter of his is going to shut herself away from all under Heaven. I suspect, however, that Niang is secretly on my side. I know I would be, if I were her.

After breakfast every morning, I go to Ah Zhao’s shed and sit at his large round table. I make myself a pot of hot tea and read my books. Then I pour water on the ink-stone, grind the ink-stick and make fresh ink. I moisten my brush, open my notebook and write my lyrics, stories and poems.