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I Play the Suona for Ghosts
墨書 Inktalez
Aside from eating, drinking, and sleeping, I desperately played the Suona wherever I went, which annoyed everyone around me and forced me to search for a place to rent.
For the sake of commission, the Real Estate Agent was bold enough to suggest, "There's a property development in the North Suburb where the rent is as cheap as Chinese Cabbage this season. The best part is that no one will complain about you disturbing the peace. The downside is that there’s no property management, it’s quite remote, and there are very few people around..."
I followed him there, and while the young man went to the restroom, the Duty Elder quietly asked me, "Did you get scammed renting here, Girl?"
I was puzzled.
"Did he tell you about the residents here?"
"He assured me that no one would report me for disturbing the peace." I gestured with my Suona.
"Well, he didn't lie," the elder said helplessly.
"Then why do I see that no one maintains the greenery in our community? The fallen leaves are not cleaned up; where are the cleaners and security? I don’t even see any residents!"
"You're looking at the only living person here!"
"Are you trying to scare me? I'm not afraid."
"I've lived over fifty years; why would I be playing games with a young girl?" Seeing that the Real Estate Agent still hadn't come out, the elder dramatically declared, "The houses here are all used by owners to store Ashes!"
"Really!" Seeing my surprise, he finally felt proud for once. "How could it be fake?"
"That's great!" I jumped up and waved at the approaching Real Estate Agent. "Hurry up, let’s sign the contract!"
The wrinkles on the elder's face smoothed out as he opened his mouth wide in disbelief. "Girl, have you lost your mind?"
But this place really suited me.
I happily signed a one-year Lease on my phone and paid six months' rent upfront.
The elder tossed out a remark: "You've got something wrong in your head!" before sulking back to his duty room.
Once everything was settled, the Real Estate Agent hurriedly drove away, fearing I might change my mind.
I familiarized myself with my new home: there was only one entrance to the entire community, and the elder and I were the only two living beings here.
Above me, lush green trees cast thick shadows that blocked out all sunlight; the birds perched on branches were black and sang only one tune: ah—!
In this Sweltering Heat season, it felt surprisingly cool here.
The Underground Garage door was tightly shut; I went down to take a look. It was as empty as a threshing ground from my childhood in the countryside—no cars, no electricity, no lights. In the shadows lurked creatures larger than mice but smaller than cats with glowing eyes darting about, along with snakes slithering through.
Let me tell you about myself.
In those days, my grandfather's Suona echoed throughout the countryside, earning him the title of Suona King. Whenever there was a funeral in the village, families would invite my grandfather to play. Whether it was "Weeping at the Fifth Watch," "Single Blossom," or "Grand Funeral," he could play any piece that would bring listeners to tears, perfectly setting the mournful atmosphere.
When he was seventy-three, despite being frail and barely hanging on, he refused to close his eyes. I hurried back home from the Provincial Art School, and my grandfather first turned his eyes to me, then glanced at the various Intangible Cultural Heritage plaques displayed on the Eight Immortals table opposite him. Finally, his gaze settled on the Suona beside him, as he struggled to pass down this treasured instrument that had accompanied him throughout his life.
I understood my grandfather's intentions. Kneeling with the Suona in my hands, I looked up only to find that he had passed away.
My Suona came from my grandfather's teachings. At the Provincial Art School, I majored in Instrumental Performance with a focus on the Suona. The department head, Xiao Huairen, a renowned Suona master, held me in high regard. After hearing my grandfather play "Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix," he immediately asked his son, my classmate Xiao Bing, to kneel before my grandfather and said, "Old Master, I've spent half my life studying and still cannot compare to you. My son is unworthy; I hope he can learn under your esteemed name!"
My grandfather smiled gently and replied, "What does it matter about kneeling? As long as the child is willing to learn, I will teach him just as I taught Ni Ni."
He looked at us both with satisfaction and added, "Our craft requires something... what you cultured folks often refer to as..."
Inheritance.
Every winter and summer break, Xiao Bing would stay at my house so we could listen to my grandfather explain and demonstrate breath control, finger techniques, glissando, tremolo... My grandfather spoke in dialects while I translated into Mandarin for Xiao Bing.
During a school arts performance, Director Xiao insisted that I perform. My rendition of "Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix" received thunderous applause. At the provincial university arts festival, Xiao Bing's performance of "Hundred Birds Paying Homage to the Phoenix" was a great success; photos of his performance even made it into the official newspaper of the Provincial Committee of the Communist Youth League, as well as our school’s newspaper and evening paper.
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