The Mystery of the Song Dynasty Painting

by Adeline Yen Mah

  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 storeys 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.

  Sometimes, I hold imaginary conversations with Ah Zhao. I whisper to him that I miss him… but when I try to put down on paper these thoughts that are not for the eyes of strangers, I’m unable to do so. At those moments, my heart is full of inexpressible emotions that are felt but unspoken. I tell myself that, if he were here with me, we would not need to talk at all. We could pretend we were children again and go rambling in the woods along the ravine, forgetting the woes and cares burdening our minds.

  Nothing interests me except my books and my writing. I read and write all day, and sorrow vanishes when I use that magic. I find it incredibly consoling to be able to turn to this activity any time I wish. Writing is my source of recreation as well as my salvation. It gives me enormous pleasure to think of the many unwritten poems I have inside me. That’s when I repeat to myself Ah Zhao’s favourite phrase, ‘You he bu ke (is anything impossible)?’

  As the third Qing Ming Festival approaches, I start counting the days with the help of my wonderful book Zhou Bi Suan Jing (Astronomy and Mathematics in Ancient China), which Baba bought for me at the market. By reading this book, I’m starting to understand the relationship between astronomy, mathematics and the calendar.

  In my notebook I draw a calendar, beginning with Dong Zhi. The second new moon following this festival is New Year’s Day. Fourteen days afterwards is Yuan Xiao Jie (the Feast of Lanterns) when homes and shops throughout our city are ablaze with lamps.

  Every morning, I make tea in Ah Zhao’s shed and cross out another day on my calendar. Today is Li Chun (the Spring Equinox) and daytime is equal to night-time. The term ‘Li Chun’ means ‘spring is here’. For the next two months, the days will get progressively longer and longer until the Xia Zhi (Summer Solstice), which will have the longest day and shortest night of the year. Between the Summer Solstice and the Autumn Equinox, the days will gradually shorten. This continues until the arrival of the Winter Solstice, when the cycle of Yin and Yang begins all over again.

  Ah Wang is busy organizing the annual Li Chun Ceremony of the Plough for Baba’s tenant-farmers. Since Baba is too busy to attend, Ah Wang dresses Gege in his official blue silk robe and cap, to take Baba’s place. Blue is the colour for entry-level mandarin officials such as Gege.

  Accompanied by Ah Wang, Gege walks over to the farm next to our house where a new wooden plough, a water buffalo, and a crowd of colourfully dressed tenant-farmers are waiting, some carrying flowers. They have made a fake water buffalo out of a bamboo frame covered by five differently coloured pieces of paper representing the Wu Xing (Five Elements):

  Black for metal

  White for water

  Red for fire

  Green for wood

  Yellow for earth

  Gege and Ah Wang lead the farmers in a parade from Baba’s farm to the local Buddhist Temple where they burn the paper water buffalo. The altar is elegantly decorated with plum blossoms and five kinds of fruits. Everyone kneels and prays for a good harvest.

  While Gege is telling me about his role in the Spring Equinox ceremony, all I can think of is my calendar. Fifteen more days and it will be Qing Ming. But there’s still no sign of Ah Zhao. Will he come? Does he remember his promise? Didn’t he say ‘I’ll wait for you at our ravine, on or before the Qing Ming Festival, in three years’ time’?

  Most of Gege’s days are spent at Huizong’s various palaces, teaching students to paint and sign their work with the Emperor’s name. Huizong holds frequent dinner parties for His ministers, friends and clansmen. Eager to display His talents in the Three Excellences – shi, shu, hua (poetry, calligraphy and painting) – Huizong often entertains his guests by bestowing on them gifts of painting and calligraphy supposedly ‘done by His own hand’. In reality, many of these works are drawn and written for Huizong by Gege and his students.

  Meanwhile, in Huizong’s Palace of Divine Inspiration, hundreds of talented eunuch-artists and calligraphers are at work producing thousands of images of birds, flowers and other small animals in the stilted style favoured by the Emperor. These paintings are exquisite and decorative, but appear ‘empty’ and devoid of feeling or personality.

  I complain to Gege that the pictures look as though they’ve been mass-produced by a mechanical brush that has been taught to paint, but he’s not in the mood to listen. He’s often in a bad mood these days as, despite all his hard work and unquestioning support for the Emperor, he’s unable to achieve his main ambition – which is to be Han Lin Hua Yuan Shang Shu (Director of the Royal Academy of Art). He has started to visit me some evenings, in Ah Zhao’s hut, since I’m the only one he can trust to complain to.

  Tonight, Gege comes home earlier than usual because the weather is bad. He enters Ah Zhao’s shed without knocking and finds me sitting by myself in front of my notebook.

  ‘Written any new lyrics lately?’

  ‘No,’ I reply as I ask myself whether I dare to return to the ravine again tonight. I have visited it three times already: the first time early this morning, and then twice more after I crossed out today’s date (Qing Ming) on my calendar. Each time, the ravine was deserted. But today is the last day for Ah Zhao to keep his promise.

  Outside the rain is pouring down. I’m sorely tempted to take another look at the ravine, but worry that Ah Wang will report my odd behaviour to Niang. I imagine him telling her that I’ve made a total of four trips by myself to the ravine today. The last visit in the midst of a thunderstorm. And in the dark, no less.

  Better not risk it again. Instead, I heat water and make a pot of tea.

  Gege and I sit side by side at the big round table, painting, writing and talking, the way it used to be with Ah Zhao.

  ‘It’s just not fair, Little Sister! I slave for years, learning the right way to do things and please everyone before myself. But I still can’t get the one job I want more than anything in the world.’

  ‘Ah Zhao always said that life is not fair, but if I could give it to you it would be yours in the blink of an eye,’ I say. Despite himself, Gege laughs.

  ‘It’s something nobody can give me, Little Sister,’ he says. ‘To become Director, I need to create one distinctive painting. A painting that will elevate me above all the other artists without arousing the envy and resentment of the Emperor. The trouble is that I’ve been trying to paint like everyone else for so long, my paintings have lost their qi (energy). I can only paint birds, trees and flowers that look exactly like everyone else’s. I’m no longer able to stand out like he li ji qun (a crane among hens).’

  ‘Actually,’ I say, ‘I’m not sure that you ever could.’

  Gege sighs. ‘No, you’re probably right. I am a good copyist, which is why the Emperor likes me.’

  He looks down with disgust at the image of a white cat he just painted on a piece of silk.

  ‘It’s very pretty,’ I say.

  ‘Come on, Little Sister – you don’t have to pretend. I know you don’t
like it, and I know you think I’ve sold myself by allowing the Emperor to claim all my work. I’d only say this to you, but the Emperor is welcome to the credit for most of the rubbish I paint these days, anyway.’

  ‘Remember the dragon Ah Zhao painted for Baba’s birthday?’

  ‘Of course. What an impressive piece of work that was! Not like this awful cat here, produced and reproduced a thousand times over. Huizong has gathered the talents of His Empire and turned them all into little Huizongs to paint pictures and write calligraphy just like His.’

  ‘What happens to all these paintings?’

  ‘He gives them away. It’s customary for an Emperor to give presents to His guests at the end of an imperial feast. During last night’s dinner at the Imperial Archives, Huizong gave each guest three hanging scrolls of painting and calligraphy. There were seventy-five ministers at the dinner, so He dispensed over two hundred paintings in one evening.’

  ‘Did the guests like them?’

  ‘Like them? They were fighting among themselves to be first in line! Their hats were askew and their belts and pendants were all twisted and broken. The spectacle was quite undignified!’

  ‘If Ah Zhao had accepted Tong Guan’s offer, I suppose he would have become one of the anonymous painters in the Palace of Divine Inspiration, never to be heard of again.’

  ‘Those were the days, weren’t they, when the three of us were growing up together and the future seemed limitless? Don’t you wish we can be children again, the way we used to be?’

  ‘I think of that time often. Yes! I wish we were children again. I’m scared of growing up… Don’t know how to grow up and don’t want to. I wish I could feel the way I used to feel in those days. Full of hope and optimism! To be able to shout out to the world with conviction, “You he bu ke?” (Is anything impossible?)!’

  ‘I can’t help wondering –’ Gege begins, when suddenly Nai Ma pushes open the door. She’s dressed in the thick padded jacket and black hemp trousers she reserves for travelling. She’s holding two oblong paper boxes and a dripping umbrella.

  ‘So this is where you are!’ she addresses me. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’

  ‘Where have you been in this horrible weather?’ I ask.

  ‘Little Chen comes from the same village as I do. Your Baba gave him permission to use the coach to go home and sweep his parents’ grave today. Little Chen was kind enough to give me a ride, so I went to visit my sister.’

  ‘Oh of course – today is the Qing Ming Festival!’ Gege exclaims. ‘I had forgotten.’

  ‘What’s in the boxes?’ I ask as Nai Ma opens her umbrella and sets it to drip on the porch.

  ‘I’ll come to that. Guess who was waiting when Little Chen drove back and turned into the road that leads to your Baba’s mansion?’

  ‘Tell us!’ Gege says.

  ‘It was Ah Zhao!’

  When I hear his name, I feel a spasm in my throat.

  ‘How is he?’ I ask, trying to sound casual.

  ‘He looked thin and tired.’

  ‘How did he know you were in the coach?’ Gege asks.

  ‘He didn’t. He recognized the coach and stopped it. He was expecting to see your Baba, and was surprised to see me instead.’

  ‘Why didn’t he come in?’ Gege asks.

  ‘He didn’t want to.’

  ‘What did he say?’ I ask, feeling my heart flip-flopping in my chest.

  ‘He asked after the two of you. I told him of Gege’s success at court. Then he asked whether you, Little Sister, were married and I said no.’

  ‘What is he doing?’

  ‘He didn’t tell me, only that life has not been easy. He has a present for each of you.’

  ‘A present!’ Gege says. ‘So that’s what you’re carrying.’

  ‘Yes – Ah Zhao says each present comes with its own message, and you’ll know what the message is. The heavier box is for you, Young Master.’

  Gege opens his box and takes out a long, narrow hand-scroll. He lays it on the table and gradually unrolls it from right to left. The magnificent panorama of the Bian riverbank slowly appears before our eyes. There it is again, exactly as it was on Qing Ming, three years ago: the fields, crop-farms and narrow country lanes just outside our home; the market stalls close to the city proper; the Rainbow Bridge thronged with spectators gawking at the vessel below; the colourful boats docked along both sides of the river; the splendid city gate with its awe-inspiring flying eaves; the hotels, temples, residences and mansions sparkling under the cloudless sky.

  The three of us look with awe at the painting for what seems like an eternity. I’m back there again on that golden afternoon, eating noodles in the teahouse, admiring merchandise in the stalls, rambling along the shore among the trees and fields, wriggling my toes in the cool, clear water. Yes! Ah Zhao has captured everything! It’s exactly the way it was ‘along the river at Qing Ming’. Every time I think I’ve had enough, I notice something new to stir my imagination and need to look all over again.

  ‘Do you know what message Ah Zhao is sending you?’ Nai Ma suddenly asks.

  ‘Yes, of course!’ Gege says without hesitation, and I nod agreement.

  ‘What? I don’t get it.’ Nai Ma is puzzled.

  ‘Ah Zhao has just given me what I want more than anything in the world: the Directorship of the Royal Academy of Art!’

  ‘In this roll of silk?’

  ‘Yes! All wrapped up in this roll of silk! Show Nai Ma the seal mark, Gege!’ I exclaim.

  Gege unrolls the scroll to the very end and points to the circular, red chop mark bearing the name of the artist.

  We see Gege’s name staring back at us:

  (Zhang Ze Duan)

  ‘Wah! This long scroll must have taken Ah Zhao at least a year to paint! And he puts your name on it! How generous!’ Nai Ma is impressed. ‘I’m curious to see what Ah Zhao has given you, Little Sister!’

  My hands are trembling as I prepare to open my present. On the lid of the box are three words, beautifully written in his distinctive calligraphy. No, not my name. The words are:

  (Please be careful)

  What is he saying? Why is he warning me to be careful? Is there a ghost hiding in the box? What will I find when I open it?

  Inside is a black-and-white silk painting, much shorter than the other one and square-shaped. I unroll it and flatten it on the table, but I have trouble making out what I’m seeing. Gradually, the lines and shadows clarify themselves and I see the silhouette of Ah Zhao’s prominent nose superimposed on my crippled foot.

  ‘My old eyes can’t understand this painting,’ Nai Ma complains. ‘It looks like a big ink blot that’s out of focus.’

  ‘It’s his self-portrait, isn’t it?’ Gege asks me shrewdly. ‘Big Nose!’

  I shrug my shoulders and say nothing. I’m in turmoil. My heart is pounding and blood rushes to my temples. I hear a poem:

  I’m Big Nose!

  Who are you?

  Are you Bad Foot?

  Then we’re a pair.

  Don’t say anything.

  They’ll punish us

  For you being me

  And me being you.

  ‘In my humble opinion, Gege’s Qing Ming painting is much prettier than this weird one!’ Nai Ma pronounces as she positions my painting next to Gege’s for comparison. ‘Look at the detail and fine lines in Gege’s, with the people, boats, animals, buildings, vehicles, sedan chairs and trees all in perfect proportion! One wrong move with his brush and this entire scroll of ink-on-silk painting would have been ruined! No second chance! Now look at Little Sister’s painting, where the ink appears to have been thrown onto the silk any old how! The only beautiful thing here is the calligraphy on the lid of the box! Even I can see that. Did Ah Zhao write these three characters himself, do you think?’

  ‘Probably! Ah Zhao can do anything he sets his mind to,’ Gege says, turning to me. ‘Nai Ma has a point, though, don’t you think? The painting he gave you do
es look sort of strange. In fact, it looks unfinished. What’s his message to you, Little Sister?’

  ‘I’m asking myself the same question.’

  19

  Flight

  But of course I understood Ah Zhao’s message. He couldn’t have said it more clearly if he’d come in and announced it. However, a small voice inside warns me to guard the knowledge to myself. For once, I manage to keep quiet.

  Perhaps it’s the three words ‘Please be careful’ that he wrote on the lid, as if there’s something precious, fragile and breakable within the box; something to be treasured and protected at all cost.

  The rest of the evening seems endless as I pretend that nothing has changed. Gege wants Nai Ma and me to keep on looking at his newly acquired painting, pointing out a thousand and one different details for us to admire. He repeats over and over how pleased the Emperor is going to be with him, as if he already believes the work to be his own.

  After an interminable time, Nai Ma says she’s exhausted, and retires for the night. Gege goes on and on praising his painting, even though I say hardly a word because I can’t wait for him to leave.

  When Gege finally goes to bed and I’m left alone at last, I sit and stare at Ah Zhao’s gift to me.

  ‘Am I right about your message?’ I ask as I study his haunting profile overlaid on my broken toes. ‘Your painting makes me feel less alone,’ I tell him. ‘Are you saying we belong to one another?’

  In one sense, Nai Ma and Gege are both correct: what a weird picture! But if you look at it from a different perspective, this double image becomes a pictorial metaphor, a symbol to express Ah Zhao’s personal longing and dilemma.

  It looks unfinished, Gege has said. Ah! That’s because the friendship between Ah Zhao and me is not finished. The three words ‘It is finished!’ will never be said of us.

  Instead of weird, this picture is brilliant, original and profound, I tell Nai Ma silently. Ah Zhao is representing his perceptions by a radically different and unconventional method. He is expressing his feelings and fears, instead of merely copying what his eyes perceive at any particular moment. He has explored the corridors of his mind and juxtaposed the image of my crippled foot with the shadow of his face, combining our separate vulnerabilities within a single framework. Along with his gift is a warning and a query: ‘!’ (Please be careful!) and ‘Are you prepared to face the world with me at your side?’