Chapter 25: The Tune of Drunken Flowers Is Hard to Compose in Desolation; The Prelude of Drawing Eyebrows Is Difficult to Write with Natural Ease

"I do have some impression of 'Zui Hua Yin'." The *Zui Hua Yin* Guan Yin was familiar with was a *cipai* (tune pattern for lyrics), certainly not a *qupai* (tune pattern for operatic arias). "I feel as though I have seen it somewhere before."

The bookcase was speckled with mold from the increasingly humid weather, the greenish spots standing out against the brownish-yellow wood, as if a slice of an ancient pine tree had been brought indoors.

Guan Yin stood up and rummaged through the shelves. He recalled that before he used to calmly grade his students' papers, there had been times just like this—students would be called into the office while he was still busily flipping through piles of exam papers.

Until... the veteran teacher beside him would stand up, find the student's paper in a few swift motions, and, while doing so, make his own current mood perfectly clear.

Cheng Heng had looked anxious too, fearing that his own impatient nature might tear the delicate *xuan* paper. Finally, he had no choice but to stand aside and wait. When the moonlight slanted across the room and Guan Yin still hadn't found what he was looking for, he reached out.

"Ah, this is it."

"Though, it's called 'Northern Zui Hua Yin'. I'm not sure if it's the same one the person you spoke with mentioned."

Guan Yin laid the *xuan* paper flat on the table and tapped it lightly, signaling for Cheng Heng to look.

(Enter the Taoist priest Bai Yue, holding a whisk.)

[Southern Tune: Dian Jiang Chun] In the Jiangnan of ink and wash, the traveler grows old amidst the misty rain. Pine forests are lush and verdant, a lone horse returns to the old path. A fair wind and blue clouds—how can one say spring returns too early? The celestial palace is vast; the crane-like visage of an immortal—who is there to laugh at the passing of years?

I, this poor Taoist, am a native of Huizhou Prefecture. Fortunate enough to encounter true scriptures, I was enlightened by an immortal. At the age of fourteen, I came to Mount Bai Yue, beneath Zixiao Rock, in the Yuxu Palace. I took vows, worshipped the True Warrior, and have now served for nearly forty years. A friend of the Guan family has come here to deliver the souls of the departed. It happens to be the fifteenth day of the seventh lunar month, the Zhongyuan Festival, when the Earth Official pardons sins—the most auspicious time to set up an altar and perform rites. (Calling out) Where is Fellow Taoist Guan?

(Zheng Sheng [Male Lead], offstage) A great flood has breached the river levee; I have come today to offer sacrifices for the living. (Enters and sees the priest) I have not been able to prepare the incense, flowers, and fruits in full; I hope the Immortal Master will forgive my shortcomings. (Bows) I trouble you, Immortal Master, to deliver the souls of the departed this time.

(Bows; the Priest) Fellow Taoist Guan, you have come for the sake of the people of Huizhou; how can you speak of trouble? Let me and my disciples raise the sutra banners, pay homage to the Heavenly Worthy, and chant scriptures to offer food. As the saying goes: When the country is prosperous and the people are at peace, they may enjoy their lives in carefree cultivation.

(Exits; Zheng Sheng bows.)

[Northern Tune: Zui Hua Yin] The years of joy and peace are fleeting; I invite the heavens to share three cups until I am drunk, brewing the dusk into the morning of spring. It is hard to escape this fate, wasting away one’s youthful prime.

(The Priest enters with his disciples, setting up three altars, offering incense, flowers, tea, and fruit, and hanging up the banners.)

(Sighs; the Priest) Who says that one's lot in life is decreed by heaven? Whether rich or poor, there is no difference in the weight of a soul. Even if one faces setbacks for a time, if one’s conscience is clear, the gods will take note. Fellow Taoist Guan, heed my words: Heaven will not fail those who study diligently, and those who serve the people with devotion shall find their own brilliance.

(Zheng Sheng bows) Many thanks, Immortal Master, for your guidance.

[Southern Tune: Hua Mei Xu] Singing of fishermen and woodcutters is better than the lonely, grinding life of a scholar. Expressing the aspirations of a lifetime, sometimes I cannot help but wail. Who is there to ask where the sounds of sorrow come from? It is hard to find the fragrant grasses at the ends of the earth. With chaotic hoofbeats on the road home, I rely only on the pride of my solitary soul.

(Three drumbeats offstage. The Priest wears the Five-Elder Crown and ritual robes; the disciples play music. Enter Dan [Female Lead].)

[Northern Tune: Xi Qian Ying] (Chorus) Suddenly, the cloud-tide rises; the ornate banners are raised, and the Southern Palace takes its place on high. The taste of sweet dew is scattered to guide the way, and the departed souls ascend to transcendence. In an instant, the spirits drift away, arriving at the Golden Gate and the Jade Trees of the Jasper Realm. Bright and clear, the Savior of Suffering at this moment, recommends them to the highest heavens.

(Zheng Sheng and Dan bow) May the departed souls find transcendence, and may the floodwaters never breach the banks of Huizhou.

(The Priest bows) The Heavenly Worthy of Taiyi sits in the East, holding a willow branch to sprinkle nectar.

(The disciples bow) Riding a nine-headed green lion, he leads the departed to the Heavenly Paradise.

(The Priest bows) The Heavenly Worthy of Taiyi descends to the purple court, bringing light to the long nights of the Nine Underworlds.

(The disciples bow) A thousand transgressions are cleansed by chanting the name of the Heavenly Worthy; ten thousand sins are wiped away by a single scroll of scripture.

[Southern Tune: Hua Mei Xu] (The Priest) Cease your wailing; the drowned are rescued from the raging waves. Breaking through the gates of the underworld, they are delivered from the bitter sea. As for rewards and punishments, where do they rest in the underworld? Good and evil are assessed by the reports of the human world. Who shall come to comfort the wronged souls? Look into the clear mirror of the official’s lake.

(The Priest sighs; Dan, Zheng Sheng, and the disciples bow.)

[Northern Tune: Chu Dui Zi] (Dan, Zheng Sheng) We plead bitterly to the heavens, praying for our neighbors and kin. May the crops be bountiful with little toil; may the rains and winds be favorable, bringing a year of prosperity, as we look forward to the clear moon reflected in the calm tide.

"This set of Northern and Southern tunes in the Huangzhong mode generally only began to appear after the middle of the Yuan Dynasty. Before that, the Southern and Northern suites were kept separate." The first sentence Cheng Heng read brought up the era that Guan Yin had never been able to pin down.

Sensing the surprise in the latter's eyes, Cheng Heng was stunned. "Aren't you a history major? You still can't determine what era you are currently in?"

"I've never had the chance to travel far, and the objects I encounter in my daily life are so jumbled that it's difficult to pinpoint an exact date."

"Oh, that's why I told you to go out and walk around more..."

The conversation between the two turned awkward again. Finally, Cheng Heng continued along the lines of his own professional field: "This scene is very similar to the 'Entering the Tao' scene in the fortieth act of *The Peach Blossom Fan*. Of course, since it uses the same suite of tunes, it's normal for it to feel similar, though the stories are worlds apart."

"Hmm." Nodding as if he understood, Guan Yin rolled up the thin paper and stood up.

"You said that much of what an author writes is themselves. Do you think this is the story of the original owner's parents, or... is it the original owner's own longing for a woman to enter officialdom?"

The question was a bit sharp. Cheng Heng shrugged. "That's hard to say. It could just be a story. Talented scholars and beautiful women, chance encounters—it doesn't need much reason."

"It's like the cliché web novels we read now, the CEO romance novels; they don't require the author to have personal experience or empathy. Some parts of operatic literature are just like today's formulaic writing."

"For example, *Wujiapo* and *Fenhewan*, or *Mistakes of a Kite* and *The Phoenix Returns to the Nest*..." Cheng Heng rambled on about a great many things. Guan Yin had heard of few of them, but he nodded and silently committed them to memory. "But in many cases, they still reflect the era, don't they?"

"So, I should ask: have there been any major floods that burst the dikes over the years?"

"Keep reading the content that follows; if it were just a simple natural disaster, there would be no point in writing it."

"You mean, man-made?" Guan Yin already had the answer in his heart. If it were a drought or an earthquake, there might be nothing to be done in history; it would just be a natural disaster.

But floods were different. Building dikes and canals in advance, or like the Dujiangyan irrigation system that has lasted for thousands of years—water management has always been an unchanging topic for the Chinese people. Dike breaches rarely happen without human negligence.

"Mm-hmm." Cheng Heng no longer had the maturity he displayed when "acting" as the teacher. After his moment of detachment, he feigned profoundness. "It has to do with the officialdom—it's man-made."

"Corruption." After they both said the word in unison, there was no further conversation; their gazes were fixed straight out the window.

If it was corruption, then it was a difficult matter.

If you pull on one thread, it’s just like that trumpet creeper vine outside the window. Its roots in the ground stretch on endlessly, and its thousands of tendrils on the fence can bloom into bright, vibrant flowers, making one want to offer a few words of praise.

But who can clearly distinguish between a trumpet creeper and a datura? A datura might also be praised for its beauty, but in the end, it is poisonous through and through, used in medicine to harm others.

The daylight gradually whitened, the moon hid behind the western mountains, and the trumpet creeper on the fence swayed in the gentle breeze...