Jin Xiao Yi Tan - Volume 1 Chapter 10
Sweet Grass, Emerald Skies’ (芳草碧云天) could possibly be an allusion to the poems ‘Farewell Song’ 送别 (although the phrase here is ‘fragrant (sweet) green grass joins the sky’, there’s a mention of willow trees and a flute) and ‘Sumuzhe – Emerald Skies’ 苏幕遮 -碧云天 (although they are separate in the same stanza)
Farewell Song (I’m only giving the first stanza because the original poem was just that)
Outside the long pavilion, along the ancient route, fragrant green grass joins the sky
The evening wind caressing willow trees, the sound of the flute piercing the heart, sunset over mountains beyond mountains.
At the brink of the sky, at the corners of the earth, my familiar friends wander in loneliness and far from home,
One more ladle of wine to conclude the little happiness that remains; don’t have any sad dreams tonight.
(Also I’m not certain if this is just a coincidence, but the ‘tonight’ in the last line of the above poem is written今宵 jin xiao, which is also in the title of this series)
One of the translations to the Sumuzhe poem is:
emerald clouds above
and yellow leaves below
over autumn-tinted waves
cold, green mists grow
the sun slants over the hills, the waves blend with the sky
unfeeling grass grows sweet
beyond the mountains high
a homesick heart
lost in thoughts deep
only sweet dreams
each night can retain me in sleep
don’t lean alone on rails when the bright moon appears
wine in sad bowels
would turn into nostalgic tears
Kotodama is a Japanese myth/belief that there is a power that dwells within words, koto being ‘word’ and dama being ‘spirit/soul’. Kotodama can supposedly affect objects, and influence the environment, body, mind, and soul.
Originally posted on RBKTR Translations.
Author: Four Feet (四隻腳).
Translated by: Yujuan.
I looked at Jiuye who had somehow appeared in astonishment.
Jiuye smiled and gave a light ‘Shh’, pulling me out from the backdoor of the courtyard.
“Ah Ye, you, how did you know where to find me?”
Just I spoke those words, a mass of black fluff jumped out from the underbrush, bouncing onto my shoulder.
“The yingyao brought me here, it can sense its master’s smell.”
Jiuye reprimanded lightly, “Honestly, you suddenly disappeared for an entire night and day, and you even turned off your phone, Ah Bao said he wasn’t sure where you had gone, I thought you had been captured by a yaoguai.”
As he said that, he smiled faintly, then turned his gaze to Xiao Xue behind me.
Xiao Xue seemed to be a little afraid, her eyes filled with reverence towards Jiuye. She dropped her gaze, using a tone of beseechment to say softly, “I wish to ask you to save that girl, please.”
She bowed respectfully to Jiuye.
I opened my mouth, stunned, a cat spirit who had practiced to her ninth tail was bowing to Jiuye? Why?
Jiuye’s expression was unsympathetic instead, not saying anything.
Xiao Xue said urgently, “I am willing to give up eight tails in exchange.”
Jiuye smiled slightly, saying, “Is it really worth the trouble, you have already attained nine tails, immortality can be achieved after you gain another tail.”
Xiao Xue bit her lip, saying, “That girl saved me once, I want to help her.”
Jiuye shook his head, saying, “I’m sorry, I might be powerless to do anything about this matter.”
I pulled on him hurriedly, pleading, “Ah Ye, why don’t you help Xiao Xue, on the fact that she knows to repay her gratitude, help her, alright?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to help her, it’s that I can’t.” Jiuye looked at that house enveloped in darkness, saying slowly, “Because that family doesn’t exist in the first place.”
“Doesn’t exist?”
Xiao Xue and I froze for a moment, not understanding what he meant.
Jiuye did not explain immediately, instead asking a question completely unrelated to the matter. He said, “Do you know a type of folk art form, called the willow flute?”
I frowned in thought, shaking my head, “Never heard of it before.”
“Mm, it’s normal for you not to know of it, because this type of folk art form, is now no longer extant.” Jiuye narrowed his eyes slightly to glance at the distant night sky, saying unhurriedly, “The willow flute is made from blades of the willow tree, manufactured into a type of special leaf flute. The different sizes and thickness of the leaves can produce different pitches. Those who use the flute will usually play a section of the willow flute song, sing a section of a tale, and the cadence of the piece and the story will complement one another. If it is played well, sung well, it will cause those hearing it become enchanted.
“A folk art form like this that involves singing while playing was extremely popular for a time during the early stages of the Republic of China, where the one willow flute song most appealing to the masses was called ‘Sweet Grass, Emerald Skies’. It was a time when no matter which gender, old or young, anyone would know how to hum or sing a few phrases, it could even be considered a classic piece of the year. But unfortunately, this piece was just too age-old, the difficulty of playing such piece was too high, so it was not circulated through the times.”
“Oh? ‘Sweet Grass, Emerald Skies’…”
I repeated, asking curiously, “What is this story about?”
Jiuye smiled, saying, “It is a poignant tale of romance. It is of a rich man named Mei, who had a legal wife and seven mistresses. Those seven mistresses each gave birth to seven sons, yet only the legal wife had no heir, until after many years had passed did she birth a daughter, whose name was Qiuyin.
“As a child that was born late, and as the only daughter, Qiuyin was regarded as a pearl in the rich man’s palm. She was especially doted on, which caused envy to grow in those seven mistresses’ hearts. When Qiuyin was seven years old, the rich man’s legal wife died of an accident during a journey, leaving behind her little daughter all by herself. The seven mistresses from then on used Qiuyin as a servant girl to order around, making things difficult for her in all aspects.
“Luckily, a servant’s son would always silently lend help to her. Those two were childhood friends, growing up together. That servant’s son was called He Jiaming.”
“He Jiaming? Mei Qiuyin? Jiaming… Qiuyin…”
Xiao Xue and I exchanged glances.
Wasn’t that the girl who had committed suicide, and the youth who had died of poison?
Before I could raise my question, Jiuye spoke, “In ‘Sweet Grass, Emerald Skies’, the most famous section, also the climax of the song, was when Qiuyin was eighteen years old, she was fancied by a bossy and domineering warlord, who wanted to take her in as a concubine. Qiuyin was unwilling, and so the warlord promised the seven mistresses official posts to their sons.
“The seven mistresses forced Qiuyin to marry, but on the night before the marriage, He Jiaming decided to elope with Qiuyin, and the two of them agreed to meet at nine. Not expecting the information to be leaked, a mistress’ son poured rat poison in He Jiaming’s tea, who died of the poison, and Quiyin also committed suicide for love.”
The story concluded, Xiao Xue and I were struck still.
This storyline was the exact same situation in the courtyard!
W-what was up with this? That was just all a play?
But the huge courtyard before my eyes, and the people inside the house, existed genuinely and scrupulously!
After a moment’s silence, Xiao Xue said with deep realization, “Could it be, kotodama?”
Jiuye nodded and said, “That’s right, it’s kotodama.”
“Kotodama? What is kotodama?”
I looked at both of them blankly.
“Kotodama, to put it briefly, is the power of language.” Jiuye walked forward slowly, saying, “Language, is a skill that separates the humans from other animals, its history can be traced ten million years back. Over the years of baptism and hammering into shape, the language of humans has become increasingly spiritual. The more a language passes through the mouths and ears of the people, the more powerful it becomes.
“Have you ever heard of the phrase ‘a lie repeated a thousand times become truth’? Actually, it is not the lies themselves that have become real, but because many people have said it that causes the power of the Kotodama to become too strong, at last causing a definite form to emerge. For instance, certain demons and ghosts who do not actually exist at first, but because their tales have been told since ancient times, the people who believe in it have increased, they become actually existent, forming shape. This, is the power of kotodama.”
Jiuye said all this in one breath, I had only understood half of it. What I could barely get out of it was that the huge courtyard before my eyes, and the people in the house, everything, was just an act that only existed within a song. Because this act had been popular for a time, the people passing down the song had increased, so everything within the act had gradually formed from the borrowed power of Kotodama.
I couldn’t help but be a little astonished, looking at Jiuye in amazement, saying, “From what you say, the willow flute song has been popular since the early stages of the Republic of China, doesn’t this mean that this family had already appeared during that period? In this past hundred years, have they been repeating the same play every day and night?”
Xiao Xue said ruefully, “Perhaps you may be right.”
“Then… do they have to act on ceaselessly for eternity?” I pressed on.
Jiuye smiled faintly, saying, “They won’t. When the last performer who plays how to play ‘Sweet Grass, Emerald Skies’ passes away, this should be the end of the show.”
He patted me, speaking, “Don’t overthink it, let’s return.”
I nodded my head, and as I followed Jiuye forwards, I couldn’t help but turn back, once more glancing at that huge courtyard enveloped by the boundless night. At this very moment, who knew which part of the play was being acted out?
Xiao Xue did not return with us, instead turning back into a white cat, lightly leaping onto the walls. She looked at me once, then jumped into the courtyard. Perhaps, she wanted to accompany that girl once more?
*
After that, I was busy catching up with my draft for a period of time.
Xiao Xue seemed to have vanished, no longer showing up. There were times Ah Bao would take up a long feather to lie in wait beside the window, but was never able to wait until she appeared, and could only chase after the yingyao.
Jiuye was still living in an idle and comfortable life as ever, almost like a retired old man who stood aloof from worldly affairs, fond of leaning against the sofa every day, basking under the sun, reading his books, drinking his tea.
I would occasionally lift my head up while writing my draft, looking at that handsome face bathing in that golden sunlight, distractedly feeling a sort of misperception, as if I had known that guy for a very very long time, so long as if we were good brothers who had stuck together through thick and thin in my previous life…
Every time this feeling surfaced in my thoughts, I would perplexingly have a headache, and could only put them to the side, not thinking of anything, not pondering on anything, only then would the headache ease a little.
Just like this, a month had passed.
That evening, after eating dinner, I idled my time away lying before the screen of my laptop skimming through the web, and unexpectedly saw an unremarkably brief obituary on a news site, the deceased on the obituary was called Mao Yuanhua, who had lived a long life of a hundred and three years.
The reason why I would take note of this obituary was because of this elderly man’s title, he was called— The last inheritor of China’s willow flute song.
The afternoon of the next day, following the route from memory, I returned once more to that large compound, but on that vast and obscure wilderness, that old building had vanished from the face of the earth.
As expected, that play, had finally dropped its curtain.
For some reason, I felt myself release a sigh of relief.
But, as a classical story that was so popular that it was known everywhere in the city, I was reluctant to let it vanish without a trace, so I decided to write down the story of ‘Sweet Grass, Emerald Skies’, letting more people see it.
In order to gather the complete materials, three days later, I visited one of Mao Yuanhua’s direct grandson.
He was Mao Yuanhua’s daughter’s son, around sixty years old this year, and once he heard that I wanted to know more about ‘Sweet Grass, Emerald Skies’, he spoke a lot to me, even taking out a thick notebook from Mao Yuanhua’s remnants, the notebook covered full of newspaper clippings from that year.
I held the notebook in my hands, flipping through every page to take a look, gaze sweeping through every piece of old yellowed newspaper, yet it suddenly fixed itself on a photograph.
I frowned uncertainly, lowering my head to take a closer look.
That was a black-and-white photograph that had been taken on July 1937, the location was placed in a teahouse. Right ahead the teahouse was a stage, the person on the stage was using a willow flute to play the willow flute song, a full house under the stage.
What shocked me was, I saw a familiar face in that photo!
It was a young man in his twenties, wearing a cheongsam, sitting in the first row below the stage, a teacup in his hands. There was a harmless and lukewarm smile on his elegant features.
This person… Wasn’t this person Jiuye?
My heart was overwhelmed with shock, I was entirely frozen on the scene.
