Chapter 108: The Sound of the Zither

That night, Zhang Yue and Huang Haoyi stayed at an inn in the town. Although they were traveling with Wu Anshi, both Zhang and Huang had insisted on booking their own lodgings. For one thing, Wu Anshi was traveling with female family members, making it highly inconvenient for them to stay together. For another, it was a matter of scholarly integrity; they were not mere retainers supported by the Wu family, and they found it improper to accept free room and board. On this point, both men easily reached a consensus.

They were now in Quzhou. Huang Haoyi selected an inn marked by a winnowing basket sign. Zhang Yue was familiar with such establishments; before his own family’s shop had been burned down, it had been a "winnowing basket inn" as well. These inns provided only rooms and basic cooking utensils, requiring guests to handle everything else themselves. They were the most economical choice, which showed that Huang Haoyi was quite good at managing his expenses.

After setting down their luggage, Zhang Yue paid the porter and sent him away. He then settled the room fee and had the inn’s servant fill Tang Jiu’s wine gourd. They bought some food and wine, while Huang Haoyi’s attendant set about cooking rice. While dining in the common hall, Tang Jiu inquired with some merchants about the situation on the road. The merchants insisted that the routes were peaceful and that there was no talk of unrest. Huang Haoyi, however, looked unconvinced. Though the meal was plentiful, there was not enough rice for anyone to feel full.

After the meal, feeling a bit apologetic, Huang Haoyi invited Zhang Yue to his room to light a lamp and study for a while. Zhang Yue agreed, but after about an hour of reading, he said he was sleepy and returned to his room to rest. This left Huang Haoyi greatly astonished. Were scholars not supposed to study with their hair tied to the rafters or piercing their thighs with awls? Even he, a candidate for the imperial examinations, was not so lazy. Huang Haoyi sighed repeatedly, eventually forcing himself to stay awake until the third watch.

However, Huang Haoyi did not sleep well that night. Wu Anshi’s words from earlier in the day played on his mind, and the thoughts of delicate jade-like feet and the techniques for refining essence into energy lingered. Having been raised with strict family rules, he had rarely even looked a woman in the eye, save for his relatives. Yet, after hearing Wu Anshi describe such pleasures, his imagination ran wild; lacking any real knowledge of carnal matters, his thoughts turned somewhat absurd.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, Huang Haoyi heard footsteps. He got up and saw that the merchants they had spoken to earlier—dressed in white robes and black caps—were leaving the inn in the middle of the night, headed toward an unknown destination. This unnerved him greatly. He checked the hallway several times throughout the night to ensure there was no danger, yet he only heard the sound of snoring like thunder coming from Zhang Yue’s room.

The next morning, having barely slept, Huang Haoyi checked the kitchen and found the men had already departed. He hurried to Zhang Yue’s room, pounded on the door, and recounted the bizarre events to a groggy Zhang Yue, insisting the inn was very strange. Zhang Yue was confused, but seeing Tang Jiu’s calm demeanor, he asked, "What do you make of these people, Jiulang?"

Huang Haoyi looked at Tang Jiu, thinking to himself, *He is just a common soldier, why is Zhang Yue so respectful toward him?*

Tang Jiu, who had been drinking from his gourd since waking, replied indifferently, "It’s nothing. They are just 'vegetarians who serve demons.' They have no malicious intent. As long as we leave them alone, we won't invite trouble."

*Vegetarians who serve demons?* Zhang Yue thought back. It was true—when those merchants ate yesterday, their table was filled with vegetarian dishes, and they did not drink wine.

Before leaving Fujian, Zhang Yue had always wondered why the Liangzhe Circuit—the wealthiest region in the Song Dynasty—was said to be unstable. Did people not rebel only when they were starving? Why would there be uprisings in such a land of fish and rice?

It was only now that it occurred to him: the Fang La rebellion, the greatest peasant uprising of the two Song dynasties, had indeed taken place in the Liangzhe Circuit. Long before that, these "vegetarian" folk organizations had been everywhere in the Jiangnan region. Why? As the saying went, "The harsh laws of antiquity are fully perfected in this dynasty." The taxes of the Song were extremely heavy, especially in the prosperous Jiangnan. The common people used religion as a pretext to band together against the authorities.

In Jin Yong’s novels, the term "vegetarian who serves demons" was used to describe the Ming Cult. In reality, in Jiangnan, most folk organizations were labeled as such. As the government exploited the land and the people could no longer survive, they sought refuge in these religious groups. The authorities used the term to stigmatize these organizations. It was only natural; the government detested such unauthorized associations, but rather than reflecting on its own conduct, it chose to suppress them by force. Once the people were driven to become rebels and the government could no longer contain them, the imperial court would offer high ranks and generous stipends to induce their surrender. The genius of *Water Margin* lay in its depiction of this surrender—a peasant uprising where the "surrender faction" helped the imperial court suppress the "rebel faction."

Having reached this conclusion, Zhang Yue felt relieved. He secretly admired Tang Jiu, thinking that when traveling far from home, having such an experienced person by one’s side was essential. His brother had truly been very thoughtful in this regard. As he finished his thought, Tang Jiu took another large gulp of wine.

Huang Haoyi, on the other hand, was somewhat displeased. He felt that since Tang Jiu knew who those people were, he should have warned him, sparing him a night of unnecessary terror. Thinking of his exhaustion, Huang Haoyi realized the road ahead would be miserable. He had no choice but to spend his own money to hire a donkey for the journey.

The group cooked a meal and eventually met up with Wu Anshi’s party to head north. After several days, they arrived in Quzhou. The Wu family had already arranged boats to travel along the Qu River toward Hangzhou. The Wu family had over two hundred people and had hired five boats; there was plenty of spare room, so they arranged for Zhang Yue and Huang Haoyi to board one of them. The two were delighted; chartering a boat to Hangzhou was expensive and difficult to manage at short notice. They felt it was a stroke of good fortune. They tried to offer payment, but Wu Anshi refused. The two decided they would simply visit the Wu family in Bianjing later with valuable gifts.

The Qu River, also known as the Qujiang, was the waterway connecting Jiangxi and Zhejiang. At that time, Fujian was still quite underdeveloped; the ports of Ershibadu and Qinghu did not rise to prominence until the Southern Song. Thus, for Fujianese to travel to Hangzhou by water, they had to rely on the Qu River. The upper reaches of the river were rich in bamboo and timber, which were rafted down to the Qiantang River and then to Hangzhou for sale. The boats would then return with rice. In addition to this trade, the river was busy with fruit, salt, and handicraft transport.

However, it was currently the dry season, and ships coming from upstream were stalled at the Quzhou wharf. A pontoon bridge blocked the middle of the river, connected by iron chains. Many vessels were stuck in the middle of the stream, unable to pass, and the travelers could only sit on their boats in frustration. A few scholars sat at the prows of their boats, drinking and composing poetry amidst the river breeze, displaying great refinement. Other boats were tied to the shore, where people sought entertainment. The taverns and wine shops along the banks were crowded and lively.

As night fell, the stars dimmed and the moon set. Gradually, the river was dotted with fishing lights, reflecting the countless lanterns from the shore. Watching this from the bank, feeling the river breeze, a sudden wave of homesickness washed over Zhang Yue. He had only been away for a few days, yet he was already longing for home.

Zhang Yue sighed deeply and was about to head back to the inn when he suddenly heard the sound of a zither. He followed the sound and saw a three-story building overlooking the water, topped with a pavilion. The music was coming from there. In the cold night, the notes were initially clear and icy, but as one listened longer, they evoked the serene image of a hermit in a feather cloak fishing upon the river.

Suddenly, a few high-pitched notes rang out, like startled egrets flapping their wings over a riverbank. The melody turned graceful, as if wandering into the countryside, human warmth, and natural wilderness, yet tinged with the hidden melancholy of a young woman. Zhang Yue was mesmerized. The music flowed through his heart like water, soothing his loneliness. Many travelers stopped beneath the building to listen. Unnoticed, the sound of the river waves rose and fell, and the fishing lights on the banks flickered.

The music stopped. Zhang Yue and the others felt a sense of loss, hoping for another melody, but none came. Zhang Yue left with a sigh of regret.

Up on the terrace, Madam Fan sighed to the young woman known as the Seventeenth Miss, who had just finished playing: "Hearing this piece reminds me of when I was a simple maiden, then grew into the daughter of an official, and now, the mistress of a household. Is this how our lives as women are destined to pass?"

"Isn't that how it is for everyone?" the Seventeenth Miss replied. She walked to the railing and looked out at the river. Her gaze caught a glimpse of a young man standing not far away.

"Seventeenth, you are still unmarried, so you do not feel it as deeply," Madam Fan said. "Besides, I haven't heard you play in a long time. What inspired you today?"

The Seventeenth Miss took a handkerchief from her maid to wipe her hands. "Just testing my touch to pass the time on this journey."

"You know, in the past, it was harder than anything to get you to play a single tune."

"If Father hadn't insisted that all the Wu daughters be proficient in the zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting, I would never have bothered to learn. After learning, I realized the beauty of it, but it was just for my own amusement. Three years ago, when Father insisted I play to entertain guests, I disliked performing for others and stopped playing altogether."

"That was because a Prince was visiting; Father had to show respect. I always wanted to learn, but I lacked the opportunity when I was young, and it was too late by the time Father became an official. I heard that Master Guo, who taught the ladies of Bianjing, was most dedicated to you, saying your talent and intuition were worthy of inheriting his mantle."

The Seventeenth Miss smiled faintly. "Is that so? He never told me that."

As they spoke, a voice rose from below: "Who is playing the zither in the pavilion? Could you please play another piece!"

Madam Fan laughed. "Seventeenth, look at you. You don't play at all, but the moment you do, you attract an audience."

The Seventeenth Miss turned away from the railing, blushing slightly. She glanced back and saw that the young man had already left. Madam Fan was surprised; she had never seen the Seventeenth Miss show such shyness. "Shall we play another?" she asked.

"The mood is gone," the Seventeenth Miss replied. "Let's go back."

The next day, the boats set off across the river. Wu Anshi presented his credentials to the port officials, who, upon hearing that he was a nephew of the Vice Chancellor, did not dare to delay them in the slightest. The boats were cleared to pass immediately. They traveled along the Qu River, then to the Qiantang, and continued their journey toward Hangzhou.