I recorded and transcribed CC’s words under hypnosis, and will continue to do so. At the conclusion of her treatments, I will allow CC to hear Zhang Mei Lan’s story in the hope that it will give her insight into her condition, rid her of her headaches and enable her to make a total and complete recovery.
A Real Awakening
After this first hypnotherapy session, CC slept like a baby right through the night. Even better, the next day she was free from headaches for the first time since awakening from her coma.
Grandma Wu began to hope that all might be well. “Perhaps now she might start to recover and be her old self again,” she said to Dr. Allen.
“It’s certainly a good beginning,” Dr. Allen said. “But I think you should listen to this, Madame Wu.” And he played her the recording of CC talking as Mei Lan.
Grandma Wu sat and listened in silence. “I don’t understand. Has the fall damaged her brain in some way? Does she really think she is this girl Mei Lan? How does she know so much about the customs of the time?”
Dr. Allen shrugged his shoulders. “We understand so little about the workings of the mind. CC may have damaged a part of her brain called the temporal lobe during her fall. She could also be imagining all this, remembering things she has read or heard in the past.”
Grandma Wu thought for a while. “Of course, it’s also possible that CC is genuinely recalling events from a previous life. The fall might somehow have caused her to experience a real awakening and remember a past life in a way that most people cannot.”
Dr. Allen smiled. “You know that reincarnation is not believed by most Westerners.”
Grandma Wu nodded. “Just because people don’t believe in something doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”
Dr. Allen glanced at his notes. “I think we need to find the cause of CC’s obsession with that Song Dynasty painting and what she—or at least Mei Lan—is running away from. I can’t help feeling that the answers to her illness lie within that particular painting. I would like, with your permission, Madame Wu, to keep CC here and continue treating her with hypnotherapy until she recovers completely.”
Grandma Wu agreed. “The treatment you gave her yesterday certainly helped her sleep. Besides, CC is not fit enough to travel yet. I believe you have her best interests at heart, Dr. Allen, so we are in your hands.”
For the next two weeks, CC stayed at the hospital and continued her sessions with Dr. Allen. Each day she grew a little stronger and happier. Although the dreams troubled her less and less, she continued to be drawn to the Qing Ming painting. She spent hours tracing the outlines of the figures in the picture—as if they could tell her what she needed to know.
Besides administering hypnotherapy day after day, Dr. Allen worked long into the night researching the medical literature, reading pertinent articles and writing his reports. Grandma Wu, meanwhile, stayed constantly at CC’s side. She was always ready to read to CC, accompany her on walks, and play a game of wei qi (go) or chess. Finally, the day came when Dr. Allen invited CC and Grandma Wu into his office to hear his conclusions.
He began by telling CC that what she was going to hear might surprise her, but that she wasn’t to worry in any way. She was fully recovered from her fall and, by listening to the recording, she would begin to understand many of the things that had been troubling her for the last few weeks.
“Okay if we begin, CC?” he asked.
“Yes—of course,” she replied. “I can’t wait.”
Dr. Allen played the recording from their very first session together. CC listened intently while Grandma Wu watched her anxiously.
When the machine stopped playing, Dr. Allen switched it off and waited as CC struggled to make sense of what she had just heard.
“But what does it all mean … who is Mei Lan? Did I tell you any more about her?”
“Actually, this was just the very beginning, CC. It took a few sessions to come out, but Mei Lan’s story really began when her father brought home a young orphan boy to be a companion and servant to Mei Lan’s older brother. I have the whole story here in Mei Lan’s own words, and I think we should hear it from her. It will be easier for me to explain why you know so much about that painting when you hear the whole story.”
Grandma Wu held up her hand. “If we’re going to be listening to several hours of recording, may I suggest that we make CC as comfortable and relaxed as possible while listening?”
“Certainly, I will have my secretary bring in some tea. Meanwhile, please make yourself comfortable as well, Madame Wu. I suggest that CC lie on the red recliner—which is where she told me Mei Lan’s story—while you and I remain in our chairs.”
CC lay down quietly on the recliner, deep in thought, while the tea was being prepared. At last she was going to hear the whole story about that mysterious painting. Had she seen it somewhere before? Why did it look so familiar? Would the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together so she could stop worrying?
When everything was ready, the small group made a circle round the wire recorder to hear Mei Lan’s story.
Barbarian Orphan Boy
Our house has always been full of beautiful things. Besides being a high government magistrate, our father, Baba, is also a famous art connoisseur, with a collection of bronzes, jades, porcelains and paintings unequaled anywhere except in the Imperial Palace. It’s his love of art that led directly to Ah Li’s joining our household. Three years ago, when I was ten years old, Baba came across Ah Li in a jade shop on the main thoroughfare. He watched, mesmerized, as Ah Li worked on a pair of matching earrings he was carving out of a tiny piece of jade. When Baba learned that Ah Li was an orphan, toiling without wages, he pitied him and took him home to work for our family and be a companion to my brother Gege.
I can still remember the day Ah Li arrived. Baba was so excited that he sent for us as soon as he got home, to tell us about Ah Li’s amazing skill.
“I’ve never seen such talent. This boy has had no training at all. Yet he shows such wonderful understanding, as well as enormous technical ability. He’s the best jade carver I’ve ever encountered.”
I remember looking at Ah Li and thinking that he didn’t look like anyone I had ever met. Later on, I found out why this was so. Ah Li is not Han Ren (of Han origin). His ancestors came from a foreign country far away to the west. Ah Li cannot read or write but is able to create anything he fancies out of wood, bamboo, clay, jade or stone. He can also make things grow in the garden. He and Gege spend hours cutting shrubs into the shapes of tigers, monkeys, dogs and birds.
I try to help them sometimes, but Gege always shoos me away. Gege was born in the Year of the Ox, whereas Ah Li was born in the Year of the Rabbit. Although Gege is two years older, Ah Li is half a head taller and already has fine hair growing above his upper lip. He has tousled, dark brown hair, big round eyes and a prominent but crooked nose. Old Ah Wang , Baba’s number-one manservant, calls him Da Bi Zi (Big Nose).
Ah Wang has worked for us since Baba himself was a baby. He’s always scolding Ah Li for laziness. Ah Li enjoys gardening but hates cooking, doing laundry and dusting and cleaning.
Like Gege, Ah Wang was also born in the Year of the Ox, four sheng xiao cycles (forty-eight years) earlier. Like most Ox people, he is strong-willed and stubborn. Ah Wang is a foot shorter than Ah Li, with bow legs and a bald head fringed by wisps of white hair. Something’s wrong with his back because he’s unable to stand up straight, and he walks with his shoulders hunched and his head bent forward at all times. The boys don’t like him, and call him Hunchback.
Ah Li tries to avoid Ah Wang as much as possible. He spends his time tending the flowers and shrubs in the courtyards, walking around with his hands in his pockets and whistling as if he’s lord of all under Heaven. Gege often saunters into the garden to “help” Ah Li, instead of doing his homework and studying the Confucian classics.
At times, Ah Wang reports Gege’s truancy to Baba. He says Ah Li is a bad influence and will make Gege fa
il the Jin Shi (Imperial Examination). Baba usually laughs and says that Gege understands how important the examinations are and will not dishonour the Zhang family by failing. He also says that someone who carves jade as well as Ah Li must be intelligent. However, to stop Ah Wang from complaining to Niang, he forbids the boys from playing in the garden where Ah Wang can see them. So the two boys begin spending time in Ah Li’s garden shed, where he sleeps.
While they are in there, instead of memorizing Confucian sayings and composing essays, Gege and Ah Li make amazing objects such as wooden flowers, bamboo cups, paper-cuts, clay figures and stone sculptures. They laugh and joke and have so much fun that I can’t resist going there myself.
Under Ah Li’s direction, Gege and I have become willing helpers in transforming his shed into a playhouse. First we clean out the rubbish and sweep the earthen floor. Beneath the window, we erect a platform of long, wooden planks and cover it with bamboo matting to transform it into a sort of bed for sleeping, sitting or jumping. Against the wall, we build a large wooden box with a lid, for storage. Finally, we help him make a round table by placing a large slice of polished tree trunk on a flat piece of beveled stone. Outside the hut, we frame the door with two rows of bamboo trunks of equal height and roundness. We put two wooden benches facing the garden with their backs to the bamboo. Throughout the monthlong process, Ah Li directs us like a general, placing a piece of stone here, or removing a shrub there. He emphasizes over and over that space and voids are as important as flowers and trees in the creation of beauty and harmony.
We spend many happy hours creating our playhouse in the garden, but one day we look up and see Ah Wang’s beady little eyes glaring at us through the window.
“Looks like trouble ahead,” says Gege. As usual, he’s right.
Painting Lessons
Ah Wang tells Niang about us. He says that Gege is wasting time with Ah Li, and that I’m encouraging them. Niang scolds me and gives me her usual lecture—the one where she says: “Isn’t it enough that you’re rebellious, lazy, ugly and unfilial? Do you have to prevent Gege from studying as well?” Then she gives me a slap (which I was expecting) and follows it with a painful, sly pinch (which I wasn’t). The worst bit is that she tells Baba, who gets really cross. As punishment, he orders Gege to spend more time practicing his shu fa (calligraphy) so his handwriting will impress the Imperial Examiners.
The lucky part of the whole business, though, is that Baba doesn’t tell us we have to stop spending time with Ah Li. So, the next afternoon, when Ah Li has finished his chores and Gege has recited his Confucian sayings, we meet up.
“It’s just not fair,” Gege says, kicking the stone support under the table. “I’m sick of practicing my shu fa—it’s boring. I’d much rather paint pictures of objects I can see.”
“It’s all Niang’s fault,” I say. “She hates it if we have any fun at all.”
“How does she know what you do?” Ah Li asks. “She doesn’t leave her rooms often enough to find out, does she?”
“I think she pays Ah Wang to tell her exactly what’s going on in the house. A few days ago I saw him speaking to her at her door, and he was jingling coins in his pocket.”
Ah Li laughs. “I’m amazed she has to pay Ah Wang—I’m sure he’d gladly tell tales on me for nothing. Anyway, what’s so bad about learning shu fa? You’re lucky to get the chance. I’ve always wanted to learn how to read and write.”
“And you’re lucky you don’t have to do it!” Gege retorts. “But if you are so keen to learn, then I can teach you. I won’t be the best teacher, but I can show you the basics.”
Ah Li looks delighted, so I help Gege carry the four “scholars’ treasures” (wen fang si bao —ink-stick, ink-stone, brush and paper) to Ah Li’s shed, and place them on the big round table. We show Ah Li how to make fresh ink by grinding the ink-stick in water, against the ink-stone.
Gege moistens his brush with ink, and teaches Ah Li the correct way of holding the brush vertically between his third and fourth fingers. He begins with a few simple characters such as xin (heart), Tian (Heaven), ren (man) and li (strength). To our amazement, from his first stroke, Ah Li’s shu fa looks far better than Gege’s or mine, even though he has never done this before. Unlike my childish squiggles or Gege’s impatient scrawls, Ah Li’s da zi (big characters) are balanced, harmonious and imbued with emotion. For instance, the three dots and single curved line in Ah Li’s word xin (heart) appear to have emerged from his very own heart through the power and velocity of his brush.
“How did you do that?” Gege asks, impressed.
“Do what?” Ah Li replies.
“Sure you haven’t practiced calligraphy before?”
“You must be joking!”
Next morning, Gege shows Ah Li’s big characters to our tutor, Teacher Lai.
“Amazing! Full of qi (energy)! Very powerful!” says Teacher Lai. “They remind me of the shu fa of the Tang Dynasty master Liu Gong Quan who lived three hundred years ago. I’m curious to see this calligrapher’s cao shu (cursive script). Will you ask him to write three or four lines quickly, so I can compare his cursive script with his big characters?”
“He doesn’t know how to write cursive script,” Gege says. “He’s illiterate.”
“I don’t believe it!” Teacher Lai exclaims, staring at the big characters and shaking his head.
“Maybe he was the famous calligrapher Liu Gong Quan himself in his past life!” Gege jokes.
“I’ve always considered calligraphy to be a form of art and not a form of literature,” Teacher Lai says. “This proves it!”
“Therefore proving that learning Confucian classics by heart is a waste of time!” Gege proclaims.
“Unfortunately, the examiners will be testing your knowledge of Confucian literature, not your shu fa. It doesn’t do any harm, though, for you to learn to write like this. Tell me, is this man artistic?”
“One of the most artistic people I know!”
“I’d like to see one of his paintings.”
“I’ll tell him,” Gege says, winking at me.
Gege and I begin to learn shu fa from Ah Li instead of the other way round. We develop a daily routine. Immediately after breakfast, Gege and I meet Teacher Lai in the study. Being a girl, I only have to learn five new words a day. My lesson is finished in a very short time, but Gege has to spend the entire morning memorizing and interpreting the Lun Yu (Confucian Analects), a book of Confucian sayings.
Then Gege needs to write essays and practice his shu fa, and of course neither of us can wait to go to Ah Li’s shed for the fun to start. We soon progress from calligraphy to drawing the things around us. Ah Li says he’s good at shu fa because he likes to draw, and shu fa is merely another form of drawing.
“Teacher Lai would agree with you,” Gege replies. “He keeps telling me that although calligraphy and drawing are known by different names, they are one and the same.”
Gege’s drawings have always been far superior to mine. Baba says Gege is quite talented, but he needs to learn to draw what’s hidden on the inside as well as what’s obvious to everyone.
“I can’t draw at all,” I tell Ah Li.
“Are you blind?”
“No.”
“Can you see?”
“Yes.”
“If you can see, then you can draw. Everything you know originates from what you see.”
“We’re not all artistic like you,” Gege says.
“Nonsense! Xiao Jie (Little Miss) is looking at things without seeing them. What we all need to do is to look at every object with fresh eyes.”
“How do we do that?” I ask.
Ah Li suddenly turns himself upside down and stands on his head against the wall.
“Draw me the way I am. Feet up, head down. Imagine you’re meeting me for the first time and that’s how I like to position myself.”
Gege and I laugh, but we obey and draw him upside down. When we finish, Ah Li jumps back to his feet and sa
ys, “Phew! I bet you’ve never stood on your head before. Try it sometime. It’s hard work, but I made you see me with fresh eyes just now, didn’t I? How did my nose look from that direction?”
“Bigger than ever,” Gege shouts, and we laugh again.
“Did you learn anything?” Ah Li asks me.
“Yes—that I prefer to write rather than to draw, but I’d like to be able to do shu fa like yours.”
“Me too!” Gege says. “Actually, I’d give a lot to be able to do everything the way you do, Ah Li. You’re so lucky, Big Nose! I wish I could change my life for yours and have your talents.”
“Change your life to that of an orphan slave?” Ah Li looks angry for a moment. “Are you mad? Why would you want a life where you are forever ruled by others?”
Gege bangs his fist on the table. “But that’s exactly what my life is like at the moment! You have no idea how bored I am with Confucius and Mencius ! I wish those old farts would shut up, because I couldn’t care less what they said fifteen hundred years ago. I just want to paint and make things with my hands—like you. The three of us should leave and go and live by ourselves, somewhere else.”
“Oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could run away together? Go to a distant city far from here and create our own Tian Xia (Land under Heaven)!” I say dreamily, intoxicated by the very thought of it.
“Shao Ye (Young Master), Little Miss! You must never speak of things like that. Don’t even think of it!” Ah Li says in an agitated voice. “If Ah Wang or Nai Ma hear you, they will report me to your baba and niang. Ah Wang is already complaining that I’m a bad influence.”
“Let him complain!” exclaims Gege. “I hate memorizing those ancient books! And you’re to stop calling me Young Master, and my sister Little Miss. From now on, you call me Gege (Older Brother) and her Xiao Mei (Little Sister). Do you hear?”
Grasping Ah Li’s hand with his right hand and mine with his left, Gege continues, “If we can’t make a new life together, at least we can be members of the same family.”
Along the River: A Chinese Cinderella Novel Page 3