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墨書 Inktalez
The next day, Qiluo Ling and Xu Xiaoya took Subway Line 2 to Jing'an Road.
After getting off the subway, Qiluo Ling looked bewildered, as if she had entered a maze, unable to distinguish between north, south, east, and west. She could only silently follow Xu Xiaoya.
Once they exited the subway station, Xu Xiaoya asked a staff member how to get to the street where the French Restaurant was located. The staff member informed them that they would need to take a few more bus stops to reach that place.
So, they walked to the bus station and boarded a bus heading towards that street.
After twenty minutes, the bus arrived at the final stop, which was where the street was located. The street was beautiful, lined with shady French Sycamores and exquisite villas on both sides.
After getting off the bus, they asked a few locals for directions and walked for another ten minutes. They crossed an east-west street and turned left at the second intersection, arriving at the French Restaurant they were looking for.
It was a two-story white building facing the street, topped with a white pointed roof. All the walls were white, and there was a long white fence in front of the building. In front of the fence was a long flower bed filled with vibrant flowers and greenery. At the far right of the flower bed stood a large sign: Fountain French Restaurant.
They pushed open the white fence and walked in. A middle-aged woman dressed in a brown coat, black A-line skirt, and high-heeled boots came out from the first-floor restaurant, smiling at them. Her light yellow fluffy curls moved gracefully as she walked, giving her an elegant demeanor.
She must be the boss of the restaurant, they thought as they approached her.
"Hello! Would you like to dine here?"
"No, we actually want to inquire about someone."
"Oh, please come in then."
Upon entering the restaurant, it felt as if they had stepped into a magnificent palace. The decor of the restaurant was romantic and elegant, exuding French charm everywhere.
Qiluo Ling noticed an old black piano against the wall.
Qiluo Ling couldn't help but walk up to the piano, gently placing her hand on its surface, a sense of familiarity washing over her. She didn't understand how this familiar feeling arose, just as familiar notes invaded her mind.
"Excuse me, this piano..."
"This piano has been here for a long time, and no one has touched it," Middle-Aged Woman replied.
"How long has it been here?"
"I don't know either; my grandmother has run this shop, and it has always been here."
"Is your grandmother named Song Ying?"
"Yes."
"She is the person we are looking for."
Middle-Aged Woman looked at her in surprise: "What do you need to see her for?"
"We want to inquire about someone."
"Oh, that's unfortunate. She has gone to church for an event these past couple of days and is not home right now," Middle-Aged Woman said. "She will be back tomorrow morning. Leave your phone number, and I will notify you then."
Qiluo Ling left her phone number with the Middle-Aged Woman, who then gazed deeply at the black piano for a moment before leaving the French Restaurant.
The next day at a quarter past nine in the morning, the Middle-Aged Woman called to say that the grandmother had returned and agreed to meet them.
Although the elderly lady was over ninety years old, she appeared spirited, with bright eyes and sharp hearing. Her silver hair was neatly combed back, and her eyes were deeply set. She looked very kind, with wrinkles on her face resembling a chrysanthemum. She wore a light-colored patterned cardigan.
When the elderly lady saw Qiluo Ling, she seemed a bit surprised, her gaze lingering on her for quite some time.
"Hello, do you know someone with the surname Dun who stayed in Shanghai, a Korean Descendant?" Qiluo Ling asked.
The elderly lady stared at her without blinking and did not speak. Qiluo Ling thought she had not expressed herself clearly and continued, "I'm sorry, I don't know her full name; I only know her surname is Dun."
At that moment, the elderly lady spoke up: "I did know a Dun woman who was a Korean Descendant a long time ago."
"Where did she live?"
"Are you looking for her?"
"Yes, where is she?"
"She has long since passed away."
"Passed away?"
"She was ten years older than me, so she should be over a hundred years old by now. Unfortunately, she passed away when she was very young."
"What was the cause of her death?"
"She died from excessive bleeding after giving birth to her daughter."
"Oh, where is her daughter now?"
"I don't know; it seems her friend took her away."
"Did she have a husband?"
"Yes, she was pregnant when World War II ended, and her husband was eager to return to Poland to handle family affairs."
"Was her husband Polish?"
"Yes, he was a Polish Jew living in Shanghai."
"What happened next?"
"At that time, he promised to take care of everything and return to Shanghai to pick her up, but when he came back to Shanghai, he found that his wife had already passed away and the child was missing. When he tried to search for his child, the Liberation War had already begun, and people were in a state of panic, so he hurried back to Poland and never returned."
"What happened to his child?"
"Just now I mentioned that the girl was taken away by a friend of his wife."
"Why was the child given to her friend? Doesn't she have any family?"
"When they escaped to Shanghai, her family had worked for the Provisional Government of the Republic of Korea at that time; some sacrificed their lives, while others died from illness."
"That's unfortunate. Did her entire family pass away?"
"Yes, she once told me that her family has faced misfortune for generations, and there are very few of them left. I heard that the entire family was cursed over a hundred years ago."
"What kind of curse?"
"She remained silent."
"Well then, old man, you must be quite familiar with this woman, right?"
The old man gazed out the window, his eyes distant and lost in thought, as if frozen in that distant time.
Finally, the old man nodded.
"Does she also have that butterfly mark on her arm?"
Qiluo Ling rolled up the sleeve of her right arm, revealing the red Butterfly Birthmark.
The old lady showed a look of surprise again, but she shook her head and said, "That woman doesn't have it on her arm, but her husband, that Jew, does have this birthmark on his right arm."
"Is it that Jew from Poland?"
"Yes."
"Wait a moment, I’ll go upstairs to get something." The old lady went upstairs and brought down a thick photo album. Due to the passage of time, many of the black and white photos had yellowed and even blurred.
She put on her reading glasses, flipped through a few pages of the album, and pointed at Qiluo Ling. In those pictures, there was a beautiful young woman and a slender foreign young man. They both appeared to be in their twenties; the woman had a sweet expression while the man smiled calmly, exuding an innate artistic melancholy. Among them were two photos of the young man playing the piano.
Qiluo Ling was astonished to discover that, in terms of appearance, the man resembled the young Jewish man she had seen in her dreams after the accident.
"His name is Ebenezer, from a musical family in Poland. When he was in Shanghai, he mainly made a living by teaching piano. He once taught me as well. Every weekend he would go to Moses Church in Huangpu District to perform ceremonial music and choir music."
"Have you ever heard him play a special piece called 'Devil's Sorrow'?"
The old man thought for a moment, shook his head, and finally pointed to an old piano in the corner of the restaurant, saying, "This piano was left by him; he taught me how to play right here."
Qiluo Ling walked over to the silent piano, gently placing her hand on it, feeling as if it were a living being. It breathed; with each light touch of her hand, its breath became rapid, as if it were encountering a loved one.
She stood quietly in front of the piano for a while before finally bidding farewell to the old man and leaving the French restaurant.
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