The Mystery of the Song Dynasty Painting (14 page)

‘
Cu ju
(football)!’ Gege exclaims, in great excitement, and races ahead. When Ah Zhao and I finally catch up, he’s already among the players, chasing after a large, brown leather ball.

Two young men approach us with friendly smiles as we watch the ball being kicked from player to player.

‘Ever played
cu ju
before?’

‘No,’ Ah Zhao says. ‘How do you play?’

‘Easy. You can touch the ball with any part of your body except your hands. See those two posts in the middle of the field with netting between them? That’s the goal. We divide the players into two teams by giving you red or black headbands with numbers on them. Red team scores one point if a Red player kicks the ball into the goal facing the Red side of the field. Same goes for Black. Everyone aims to score as many points as possible while preventing the other side from scoring.’

‘How much does it cost to play?’

‘We charge a small fee. But why don’t you start playing first, so we can observe you? If you’re talented, we might even ask you to join our organization and pay you for playing!’

‘That will be the day!’ Ah Zhao says, laughing and turning to me. ‘Feel like trying?’

I’m sorely tempted, but I can’t run fast so I shake my head.

‘Are girls allowed to play?’ Ah Zhao asks.

‘Of course they are! During the Tang Dynasty, there was a seventeen-year-old girl who was so talented she beat a team made up of army soldiers. If you feel like playing, just signal us.’

Meanwhile, Gege is darting about wearing a Red headband with the number
shi er
(twelve) on his forehead. A scoreboard on top of the goal-posts shows the score tied at one all. A tall and lanky lad, wearing Black number
ba
(eight), takes the ball near midfield and fires from long range. The stocky goalkeeper, Red number
wu
(five), blocks the shot and kicks it out to Red number twelve (Gege!), who chases it down and passes it to Red number
san
(three). Number three handles the ball nimbly backwards and forwards between his feet, gets behind the Black defence and fires a shot that rebounds off the Black team’s goalpost. The entire Red team groans with disappointment.

‘From the way he kicks the ball, I think your brother must have played
cu ju
before,’ Ah Zhao says.

‘But where?’

‘There are many
cu ju
fields like this throughout Bian Liang. I even saw one in the backyard at Commissioner Ye’s house.’

‘How long do you think Gege will play?’

‘I won’t be surprised if he’s here until sundown. Let him enjoy himself. I’ll tell the organizers that we’ll wait for him at the riverbank below.’

The weather grows even hotter as we saunter down the plateau towards the river. Snatches of music drift towards us, mingled with shouts and peals of laughter. We meander down a grassy slope and enter a narrow stone passageway flanked by feathery maples, lush flowering shrubs and towering bamboos. Below us, a green meadow stretches all the way to the river. A gravelled walkway shaded by graceful willows runs along the riverbank. Nestled within the blue-green haze of leafy willow branches is a little wooden bench flanked by two pear trees ablaze with fragrant yellow flowers.

Ah Zhao leads me to the bench and signals me to sit.

‘What about you?’ I ask.

‘That’s not for the likes of me,’ he says with a hint of darkness. ‘You’re the boss and I’m the slave. Let’s remember this at all times.’

He picks up a flat stone from the path and throws it towards the water with such force that it skims the surface three times before it sinks. I wonder what has happened to change his mood.

‘It’s so beautiful and tranquil here. Why isn’t anyone around?’

‘Maybe they don’t know about it.’

‘How lucky we are!’

‘Are we?’ he asks moodily, staring into the distance. After a while, he walks towards the water and climbs onto a little barge moored there. Sitting at the edge, he removes his shoes, puts his feet into the cool river and begins to hum a strange tune.

It suddenly strikes me that he’s handsome, despite his crooked nose. Starting with his height, his muscled frame, his light skin, his curly black hair, his long-lashed, deep-set eyes and ending with his nose… I think of his nickname, Big Nose, and say to myself, ‘His nose isn’t really big. It’s tall rather than big.
’

‘Why are you staring at me?’

His question catches me off-guard. I lower my eyes, but I know my face must be turning red.

‘I’m just thinking that your nose is tall rather than big. Your nickname should be
Gao Bi Zi
(Tall Nose), not
Da Bi Zi
(Big Nose).’

‘Am I really that different from everyone else? Why give me a nickname at all? Don’t I eat, drink and breathe just like you? Are we that dissimilar?’

‘Of course not! Actually, I was thinking that your face is more interesting than mine. Or Gege’s. It’s more three-dimensional.’

‘Interesting!’ He spits out the word with loathing. ‘Interesting indeed. Am I an animal in a zoo? To be gawked at and compared to human beings?’

‘Why are you getting angry?’

He looks away, and for a while he says nothing. Then I see tears coursing down his cheeks and I realize he’s crying.

Something comes over me. Even though he’s tall and strong, at that moment he looks like a little lost boy and I think of him alone in the world with nobody to turn to. Without thinking, I climb onto the barge, sit down next to him, take off my shoes and dangle my bare feet in the river. The cool water feels delicious against my skin as I wriggle my toes. Neither of us says anything for a while. A million thoughts race through my mind.

‘Why are the toes in your right foot so crooked?’ His question makes me jump. Instinctively, I bend my foot back to hide my ugly toes.

‘Did you have an accident?’ he persists.

‘No, I did not.’

‘Are your crooked toes the reason why you wouldn’t play
cu ju
just now?’

‘How did you know?’

‘I know, that’s all…’

There’s a long silence. Then I say, ‘Can you and I truly be friends?’

‘Not if you don’t tell me anything about yourself. Besides, are you sure you want to be friends with someone like me? A servant?’

‘Yes! You’re the smartest person I know.’

‘Friends don’t have secrets from one another.’

‘I agree… but there’s a lot I don’t know about you.’

‘That’s because there’s nothing to tell.’

‘Oh sorry – what was that about friends not having secrets…?’

‘I’m serious. What is there to tell? I’m an orphan. My father was a barbarian who couldn’t read or write. My mother died the same day I was born.’

‘Where are you from?’

‘You mean, where am I
really
from. My father’s parents were Jews. My grandfather’s name used to be Levy, but he changed it to Li after they moved here. When he was a little boy, my father travelled across the desert with my grandparents, to come to China. He used to tell me about the vastness of the desert… the sand dunes stretching on and on as far as the eye could see… the searing sun during the day and the black, freezing nights… the miraculous sunsets and fantastic sunrises… the terrifying forays into the nothingness to search for water… the endless silence… They came from a foreign country far away to the west,
tian xia zhi bian yuan
(at the edge of civilization). My grandparents disowned my father after he married my Chinese mother. Throughout his life, my father felt that he didn’t belong here… or anywhere. Sometimes, I feel that I need to search for the places where my father lived before he came to China. I have this strong desire to travel, to retrieve my lost heritage.’