The performance of A New Mulan was a tremendous success.
At the end, Qin Siyu sat onstage plucking the pipa while a female international student from the university, playing Mulan, spoke of her ideals.
She declared, “In a crisis like this! When freedom and dignity are threatened, when family and friends are in danger, when our country and our people face disaster, I too want to defend freedom and dignity! I too want to protect my family and friends! I too want to save our nation and its people!”
Her voice trembled, probably because she was thinking of the condition of her own country.
The pipa rang out with resounding force. Its taut strings seemed to tear through the air, each note shaking the soul like a war drum. Smoke rose from battlefields, thunder rolled in, heroic figures emerged amid swords and warhorses.
Then the heroine surrendered her ideals in grief, and the melody became quiet and subtle, half lament and half sob. The pipa’s voice began to break, sometimes struggling up for a moment to release a cry from the chest, one or two notes before being pressed back beneath the water. Those sounds were soft and muffled, yet they carried on, as though trying with all their strength to shout but unable to make themselves heard, sobbing sometimes a little higher, sometimes a little lower.
But when “Mulan” finally left the stage, the instruments changed key and the music suddenly shot free of its restraints like arrows! The melody surged, as though shaft after shaft were flying across time toward the audience, magnificent and grand.
A New Mulan ended, and applause erupted from the audience.
The women understood especially well what the story was trying to say, and what they themselves should do now.
The student playing Mulan returned from the stage, and everyone took their bows together.
The later performances included serious and lighthearted pieces alike, and both performers and audience enjoyed themselves thoroughly.
It was an unforgettable Lunar New Year in the Year of the Rooster.
* * *
Qin Siyu always took his promises seriously.
School did not close for Lunar New Year. Qin Siyu borrowed a book of scores from Mei Lanfang’s performances from the library, then went back to Chinatown on the fourth day of the new year, a Sunday. He selected two of the finest passages and asked his teachers to guide him.
He went home to see his parents and grandmother as well.
During the meal, his father, Qin Sanfu, was once again envying wealthy people. “Wu Mengxian, the restaurant owner, has a gold bar sitting in his house!”
“Huh?” Qin Siyu said. “You even know that?”
Qin Sanfu looked smug. “I know exactly who has what in their house! If there’s something I want to know, there’s nothing I can’t find out!”
Qin Siyu wondered aloud, “How did America manage to fight the last Great War without taking you along?”
After teasing him, Qin Siyu offered some comfort. “I bet he’s never eaten lobster, but you have.”
“Bah!” Qin Sanfu grumbled about white people again. “It tastes terrible.”
Qin Siyu smiled, then noticed the brand-new money tree his parents had placed by the front door for New Year. “The egg foo young at Wu Mengxian’s restaurant really is delicious. It’s only right that he has a gold bar. If even Wu Mengxian can’t live well, what hope does anyone else have?”
His mother, Lin Xiangmei, sighed instead. “What a shame about Wu Mengxian’s eldest daughter. What was she thinking, getting herself a white boyfriend? What white man would ever genuinely care about her? They’re only playing around. Once the novelty wears off, they disappear!”
Qin Sanfu sighed too. “Of course they’re only playing around. She’ll never be able to marry now. Chinese men won’t want her.”
“The law doesn’t even let them marry.” Lin Xiangmei sighed again. “That gives those white men a perfect excuse to have their fun and then abandon the girls. Such a decent girl, what was she thinking?! Hasn’t she seen what’s happened to the other girls in Chinatown? They always think they’re the exception!” There had been far too many such incidents in Chinatown.
Elio’s Notes: California law at the time barred marriages between white people and people classified as “Mongolian,” a racial category applied to Chinese people. Those marriage restrictions were struck down by the California Supreme Court in 1948. Source: Perez v. Sharp (1948).
Grandmother Jin Fanglian was very hard of hearing. She simply lowered her eyes and ate her tofu soup.
Qin Siyu practiced for a week. By the tenth day of the new year, he finally felt prepared, so he called Aston. Aston invited him to visit an acquaintance’s house the following day.
The man lived in a wealthy neighborhood too, up in Pacific Heights. Most of the mansions on Nob Hill had been destroyed in the great earthquake. Afterward, many of the wealthy had moved to the better-situated Pacific Heights.
Carrying his pipa, Qin Siyu took a ferry and then a streetcar, attracting many curious glances along the way.
After getting off near Nob Hill, he followed the address to his destination.
There was something on the ground ahead, but with the pipa in his arms Qin Siyu couldn’t see it. He tripped, nearly sprawled facedown, and stumbled several steps before regaining his balance.
“…” Qin Siyu glanced at the object. Holding his pipa with one arm, he crouched stiffly and felt around with his other hand until he found the brick. He stood, carried it to a corner, and threw it away.
After that, anxious about his pipa, he watched every step with extreme care.
When he turned his head, Aston was watching him.
Expressionless.
Today Qin Siyu wore a linen shirt and looked casually relaxed.
“Morning, Master~” Qin Siyu said.
“…” Aston replied, “It’s not morning. It’s almost noon. He has other matters to attend to this afternoon, so he could only arrange for us to meet at midday. I’m sorry.”
Qin Siyu asked, “Why not earlier?”
Aston glanced at him. “We all have to go to church.”
“…Right,” Qin Siyu said.
Of course. They were all Christians.
Aston’s acquaintance was a mild-tempered elderly man named Robert. Qin Siyu didn’t know his surname, but when he entered the house he noticed a photograph of Robert and Roosevelt on a cabinet in the foyer.
The people in Aston’s circle really were important figures.
One of Robert’s butlers came to hang up their coats.
Qin Siyu was the guest of honor today, so the butler attended to his coat first.
Qin Siyu removed his overcoat, revealing a gray shirt beneath. The fabric was admittedly poor quality, and by now the shirt had lost its shape, clinging around his flexible waist.
The butler took his overcoat and then went over to Aston.
Aston kept his eyes on Qin Siyu as he slowly removed his own coat and handed it to the butler.
His movements were refined and elegant, gradually revealing broad shoulders, a full chest, and a strong waist.
He was tall and upright, and the shirt beneath his coat was still perfectly crisp, right down to the collar. It had naturally been made to measure and fit him precisely.
He lowered his eyes and gave both cuffs a little tug. The gemstones set in them were large and bright.
“…” Qin Siyu looked away.
Robert’s butler carried both their overcoats to the cloakroom off the entrance hall and hung them on a rail.
There were actually two cloakrooms, one for men and one for women. Both their coats were taken together to the men’s cloakroom.
The two garments hung side by side on the rail, and Qin Siyu glanced over.
His coat was in front and Aston’s behind it.
Noticing Qin Siyu looking that way, Aston glanced over too. A few seconds later, he went into the sitting room.
A large rug covered the center of the room. Qin Siyu couldn’t tell what kind of fur it was, but it was long and soft. Refreshments had already been set out on the coffee table. Qin Siyu removed his shoes and stepped onto the rug in socks that had been mended.
The patch was shaped like a star.
When he sat on the sofa, his trouser legs naturally rode up a little, exposing his ankles. They were clean and pale, slender and delicate.
They’d probably look even smaller if held in a hand, Aston thought.
Aston did not choose the sofa. He went straight to the sitting room’s floor-to-ceiling window and looked down at the sea, glittering gold beneath the light.
Robert welcomed Qin Siyu and thanked him. “I saw one of Mr. Mei’s Peking opera performances in San Francisco. I loved it, and it left a deep impression. I loved the accompaniment as well, but Western instruments never quite produce the right feeling. Fortunately, Kingsley told me he had a friend who could help—”
“It’s only a small favor,” Qin Siyu said. “I’m just worried my skills aren’t good enough and I won’t play well.”
Robert laughed heartily. “I’m not a particularly demanding man, actually.”
Aston said nothing. He needed a favor from Robert in business, so he had brought Qin Siyu today to please him. But from what little Aston knew of Qin Siyu, there was no chance he’d be insufficiently skilled at anything he seriously studied. He was extraordinarily diligent.
Robert had even prepared a gift to thank Qin Siyu for coming. Realizing it must be expensive, Qin Siyu tried to return it. “Sir, there’s really no need. Your friend has already helped me quite a few times. I simply want to repay him a little, if I can.”
“Then let’s have lunch,” Robert said without insisting. “We can begin afterward.”
They had been chatting for some time, and the servants were already serving food in the dining room beside the sitting room.
Qin Siyu considered it. “I ate a little before I came. I’ll be playing the pipa shortly, and I don’t want to eat too much and affect my performance.”
“Very well,” Robert said, still not pressing him. “Make yourself at home, then.”
By the time Aston had finished lunch, Qin Siyu was no longer sitting on the sofa.
Aston looked around and found him beside a table in the breakfast room near the kitchen, eyes lowered and head propped on one hand, apparently reviewing the music in his mind.
Something strange had been fastened to the nails of his right hand.
On closer inspection, they were artificial nails.
Qin Siyu possessed a complete, high-quality set of pipa picks made from ox horn. An elder from the Cantonese opera troupe had given them to him before leaving for Hong Kong, and Qin Siyu had already fastened them in place.
Because he was reviewing the score in his head, Qin Siyu sat with his eyes lowered and his head supported by his hand, while the fingers bearing those picks occasionally twitched.
The movements were very small, just the faintest sudden motions.
His fingers were strong, yet long and slender.
Aston watched for several seconds, then called, “Sean.”
Qin Siyu was too absorbed in the score to notice him.
Seeing how intent Qin Siyu was, Aston did not want to startle him and possibly affect his performance for Robert. He went to the table instead, reached out, rested several long fingers lightly beneath Qin Siyu’s chin, and gently lifted his face.
“…” Being summoned that way didn’t frighten Qin Siyu. He raised his eyes. “Hmm?”
As Qin Siyu’s vocal cords vibrated, Aston felt a momentary tingling in the hand that was holding up his chin.
The outer corners of Qin Siyu’s eyes slanted upward, his pupils deep black.
One standing and one sitting, they met each other’s gaze beside the sunlit breakfast table. For a moment their eyes seemed to twine together. Qin Siyu thought Aston’s eyes resembled the sky outside, or the sea, clean and clear. Aston said evenly, “Robert’s ready.”
“All right,” Qin Siyu said. “I was just going over the music.”
“I guessed.” Aston offered him a glass of warm water. “Would you like some?”
His fingers were very long, and his nails had been trimmed perfectly smooth.
“Thank you.” Qin Siyu took the glass with his dominant hand. Because the ox-horn picks were fastened to his fingernails, he could only pinch it between his thumb and index finger, keeping the other three fingers spread apart. As he took his hand back, one of those fingers inadvertently scraped the back of Aston’s hand.
The unexpected scrape sent an instant of prickling sensation across Aston’s hand.
Robert was interested in the artificial nails as well. He came over to ask about them, and Qin Siyu showed him his picks. Aston took the glass back to the kitchen. When he returned, Qin Siyu was showing Robert the thin calluses on his fingertips.
“Kingsley,” Robert called casually, “come feel these calluses. They’re in slightly different places from a violinist’s. Perhaps playing this instrument involves a larger area of friction. These calluses seem to need to grow a little bigger.”
“…” Aston came over, took the tips of Qin Siyu’s two fingers, rubbed them lightly, and looked up again.
His eyelashes were golden. When he raised them, Qin Siyu’s heart missed a beat. That blue was extraordinarily beautiful, deep and pale in different places, like the clear blue sea beyond the window in the sunlight.