Pathway to Japanese Literature

When it came to Fang Fushan, he was counted among Beijing's wealthiest men. Among the stores he owned, there were two that were his pride and joy. One was a fur shop where various items—beginning with tigers, leopards, foxes, otters, and more—were displayed across the spacious first and second floors, and it was said that some travelers even came to see it as one of Beijing’s notable attractions. The other was a tea shop, and it was said to have a distinguished history of having once served the imperial household.

This Fang Fushan had traveled south for about forty days, and after returning home, he hosted a small banquet at his residence for around ten people. Fang Fushan enjoyed lively social interactions and frequently hosted banquets by inviting people—moreover, he could always find such pretexts—but there was something peculiar sensed about this particular invitation. According to He Yuan—who could be called the Fang family steward—the reason given was that Fang Fushan had neglected social calls during his travels, though this invitation came a full month after his return. Moreover, He Yuan added that General Lü was also expected to attend.

General Lü was Beijing’s garrison commander, but at that time, various rumors had begun circulating about him. There were whispers that he might soon be transferred to the Jinan region, along with talk of his frequent clashes with provincial government officials and plans for radical militaristic measures. Of course, these rumors were confined to hushed exchanges among particular circles—their truth remained unverified—yet whether through their influence or some other cause, a palpable unease had started permeating the general populace.

Thus, Fang Fushan’s banquet invitation left people with a distinct impression. Zhuang Taixuan, who had received the invitation, said to his son Yiqing: "I think I will decline on the grounds of physical indisposition. We have occasionally received generous gifts of fine teas from various southern regions through Mr. Fang, but lately, I find myself at odds with that man’s recent actions. However, you should go. For young people, observing and listening to various things serves as nourishment for the mind."

“In that case, I’ll go while also serving as Father’s proxy,” Yiqing replied casually. “No—if you go in your personal capacity, you cannot simultaneously act as my proxy,” said Taixuan with a thoughtful look.

Now, for Zhuang Yiqing, his friend Wang Shaosheng posed more of a concern than his father. Zhuang Taixuan nowadays did not much involve himself in worldly affairs and tended to remain at home, yet with his profound insight and moral prestige, he maintained a towering presence. Therefore, it was not strange that General Lü had been invited to the Fang household, and though Zhuang Yiqing was a young man, it was likewise no surprise that he had been invited as Taixuan’s son. But Wang Shaosheng was somewhat different. Wang Shaosheng came from a low-ranking and poor family, and the mere fact that he had formed a sworn friendship with Zhuang Yiqing alone did not constitute a reason for him to receive a deliberate invitation from the Fang household.

He said to Zhuang Yiqing in an angry tone. “I was introduced to Mr. Fang Fushan at your place, and since then I’ve only met him two or three times.” “I’m not particularly close acquaintances with him.” “To put it bluntly—whether Fang Fushan travels, returns safely from his travels, or dies in the wilderness during his trip—such matters have absolutely nothing to do with me.” “I don’t understand why I’m being invited.”

Zhuang Yiqing answered with an ambiguous smile. "So it must be a capricious invitation on a whim." "Just come and enjoy the feast." "I hear Colonel Gao Binru has also been invited." "You probably won't be seeing Colonel Gao for a while." "Since my father isn't going, there's no one to feel reserved around—the three of us can just eat, drink and chatter away as we please with Colonel Gao."

“Is Colonel Gao coming too?” “That’s right.”

“That’s odd.” “There’s nothing odd about it,” replied Zhuang Yiqing with his characteristic nonchalance. “Colonel Gao serves as General Lü’s staff officer and tactical mind—naturally he’d attend together.” Yet Wang Shaosheng’s thoughts had already diverged to weightier matters—their so-called New Humanism coterie within the broader movement. Several young intellectuals sustained their modest publication New New Literature, advocating humanism rooted not in universal consciousness but ethnic identity. Their manifesto took manifold forms: calls for social liberation intertwined with explorations of Eastern natural philosophy. Their verses denounced the Summer Palace’s gilded excesses as grotesque, extolled the Temple of Heaven’s austere altars, mourned goldfish circling Central Park’s glass prisons, and envied egrets nesting freely in the Imperial Ancestral Temple’s groves. One particularly incendiary poem depicted how the Forbidden City’s golden roofs blinded onlookers even as their shadows smothered Beijing—a thinly veiled satire against the regime. While resonating with reform-minded youth, their activities drew official scrutiny that occasionally manifested in discreet warnings. Zhuang Yiqing and Wang Shaosheng stood as the movement’s twin pillars—the former brimming with untapped literary versatility beneath his languid exterior, the latter a serious poet balancing library duties with scholarly rigor. Colonel Gao Binru completed this triad through his familial ties to the Zhuangs and consistent patronage of their cause. “Which means,” Wang concluded with narrowed eyes, “Fang Fushan’s inclusion of us three likely conceals ulterior motives.”

Zhuang Yiqing laughed. “By that logic of yours, wouldn’t such things be utterly irrelevant to us?” “Whether Fang Fushan has intentions or none at all—it’s hardly our affair.” After a prolonged silence, Zhuang Yiqing smiled faintly and spoke.

“If you’re that concerned, I could let you in on the secret—though it seems the base lies in an unexpected place. But before that, you must first decide to accept Fang Fushan’s invitation—I need you to settle that. That is the crucial issue.”

“Why?” “You’ll understand why later.” “Anyway, you’ll agree, right?”

Wang Shaosheng considered for a while before answering clearly.

“I’ll leave it to you.”

“So you’re going then?” “Yeah, I’ll go.” “Very well. …Now, there’s the matter at hand.”

Zhuang Yiqing gazed at the other man with a mocking look. “It seems Chen Huijun will also be attending the Fang household’s banquet.” “Though of course, this has nothing to do with you…” Wang Shaosheng opened his eyes wide. “The reason Chen Huijun is likely to attend is that Liu Qiuyun will be there.” Wang Shaosheng flushed slightly and his eyes lit up, but then he suddenly spoke. “Why must you phrase it in such a circuitous manner?”

“Because I respect love.”

That was a line from one of Wang Shaosheng’s poems. After uttering that line, Zhuang Yiqing smiled cheerfully, but Wang Shaosheng turned red all the way to his ears. “I do know about respecting your affections,” Zhuang Yiqing said cheerfully. “In fact, I’m already reaping its benefits. The secret I mentioned earlier lies here—I believe the source that orchestrated our joint invitation to the Fang residence resides with her.” “Because she wants to meet us.” “Well, setting that aside for now—there’s an inconvenient pretext attached.” “A secret messenger came requesting we bring that ‘toy for a new-era woman’.” “For her, this serves as a pretext to keep us bound—but for us, it becomes an obligation toward her.” “What do you think—can that be obtained urgently?” “I’ve brought the money here, but…”

Wang Shaosheng fell deep into thought.

“I think it would be best for you to hand it over to her directly…”

Wang Shaosheng remained deep in thought. Then he suddenly stood up and shouted.

“Very well. I shall fulfill my promise to her.”

Liu Qiuyun's so-called "toy" was, in fact, a small pistol.

There were various theories about Liu Qiuyun, but none were certain; she always carried about her an aura of mystery like a shadow. She was a complete orphan with no known birth family, relatives, or place of origin, and had been treated as a foster daughter under Chen Huijun’s care. According to accounts, when Chen Huijun once visited Taku, she noticed a six or seven-year-old girl minding a fruit and tobacco stall on the harbor pier. Suddenly captivated by the child’s intelligent gaze and noble-featured countenance, she found herself stopping there. Before long, an old man who appeared to be the stall’s proprietor approached and offered fruits and tobacco, but Chen Huijun shook her head and inquired about the girl.

“This child is not for sale; she is something entrusted to me…” the old man replied. Thus began negotiations over this entrusted item. According to the old man’s account, about a year earlier, the girl had been wandering alone by the harbor when a sailor found her. However, when that sailor boarded a large cargo ship to depart, he left her in the old man’s care. Now, the sailor never returned, the girl still could not remember her origins, and the old man found himself at a loss. Clinging to the faint hope that someone might come searching for her eventually, he brought her along to the harbor stall every day.

"That is why I have come to find this child," Chen Huijun reportedly said.

However, the veracity of this account remains uncertain; in any case, it appeared Chen Huijun paid the old man a considerable sum of money and took custody of the girl. That girl was Liu Qiuyun—though it remained unclear whether "Qiuyun" was a name given by the old man or the sailor or her original one—but it seemed the surname Liu was indeed taken from the old man's family name. Afterward, she came to be treated like Chen Huijun's adopted daughter and was more frequently called Chen Qiuyun. Chen Huijun avoided discussing Qiuyun's past with anyone.

Chen Huijun’s own life, too, was shrouded in many shadows. She was said to have been born in Nanjing but was exceptionally well-informed about Shanghai matters. There were theories that her deceased husband had been involved in theater-related work, and there were also theories that he had been engaged in the secondhand clothing trade. Afterward, she came to possess considerable assets and managed an antique shop, but there were various rumors whispered—that the shop had actually been entrusted to her by Fang Fushan, or that she had received it as a gift. And her long-standing relationship with Fang Fushan had become almost an open secret.

She was tall with a slender build and alert eye movements; though already around forty years old, her complexion retained youthful vitality. This city widow possessed an uncommon talent for discovering trivial errands across all social spheres—moreover, even truly insignificant matters acquired an air of lingering import when voiced by her. Thus she cultivated connections in every quarter; wherever power resided, wealth accumulated, or ambition smoldered, her presence could frequently be observed. She often frequented hotel dining rooms, and her considerable dancing skill remained common knowledge among the hotel staff. Yet to high society she remained merely a middle-class woman—somewhat unkempt and somewhat tiresome as a leisured matron.

Under Chen Huijun’s care, Liu Qiuyun spent her girlhood attending school, learned methods of makeup and cooking, and was especially instructed in vocal music. Moreover, Chen Huijun’s residence hosted many visitors of all sorts, and Qiuyun heard a wide range of conversations. When she turned seventeen, she came to live with the Zhuang family for about ten months.

Through the rare paintings and calligraphy she kept stored in the back of her shop, and through Fang Fushan as well, Chen Huijun had established connections with the Zhuang family. Then one day before Madam Zhuang, in a tone of humility as though making confession, she lamented her own precarious circumstances and mourned her past frivolous conduct. Next she brought up Liu Qiuyun—a pitiful orphan from an esteemed lineage—declaring that her heartfelt wish was to properly raise the girl, and entreated that Liu might receive cultivation for a time within the Zhuang family’s wholesome domestic environment. Then she lowered her voice and said quietly.

“If you were to assume the municipal office duties—requiring various personnel—I should like you to have Qiuyun serve as a maid.” “Moreover, by entrusting her to your care, I could remain in Shanghai with peace of mind for the time being.”

Around that time, the mayor had resigned over a certain matter, and a movement began emerging to bring forth Zhuang Taixuan—a man of esteemed virtue and public trust—as his successor. As for Chen Huijun, there were theories she had been charged with some covert political role, theories her involvement in opium smuggling had nearly been exposed, and theories intertwining both elements—yet for the time being, she was meant to remain in Shanghai. However, Zhuang Taixuan resolutely declined the mayoral post with cold detachment, while Chen Huijun’s Shanghai plans grew increasingly delayed until they quietly dissolved. Thus only Liu Qiuyun’s placement with the Zhuang family came to be realized.

Ten months later, during the season of fresh greenery, Chen Huijun and Fang Fushan set out for Mount Tai, guiding an elderly American couple who were leisurely tourists. Fang Fushan’s daughter Meizhen joined the group, and subsequently Liu Qiuyun also came to join them. When they returned from that journey, Chen Huijun suddenly developed a fever and coughed up a considerable amount of blood. She grew irritated, alternating between frequent crying and fits of anger. Taking that opportunity, Liu Qiuyun was to return from the Zhuang family to Chen Huijun.

When Liu Qiuyun first came to the Zhuang household, there was an odd dissonance between her worldly manner and what appeared to be timid reticence, while her gaze harbored a light one might call piercing. Yet she soon acclimated to the Zhuangs’ benevolent atmosphere—her demeanor acquiring vivacity, her silence giving way to purposeful speech, the sharpness in her eyes mellowing. Madam Zhuang took interest and positioned her in an ambiguous station somewhere between maid and foster daughter. Her fine features presented striking contrasts: viewed in profile, the angular chin lent an air of keen intellect; seen frontally, the rounded cheeks suggested uncommon gentleness.

“You sometimes appear to be two separate people,” Madam Zhuang would sometimes smile and gaze at Qiuyun’s face. Those two separate individuals gradually coalesced into a single person, coming to form a new-era young woman. The Zhuang family’s gentle atmosphere also accommodated the freedoms of the new era, and if Zhuang Taixuan’s lofty scholarly virtue were likened to a mountain, at its foothills the budding talents of the New New Literature group centered around Zhuang Yiqing freely stretched forth. Wang Shaosheng came nearly every Sunday, and the other young men, sometimes including women, would gather. And among those people, Liu Qiuyun too began to mingle, until she was finally counted as one of their companions.

While Liu Qiuyun loved reading New New Literature, she herself had never once written an article. Moreover, she never participated in those ideological discussions either. However, her reserved words were always underpinned by intense passion and were figurative in nature, thus serving to supplement the sensory elements often lacking in this group. From her words could be extracted several passages that appeared to have been inspired. For example, questions had been posed: Who praises the lotus flower that is beautiful only when scattering? Who knows the fragrance of the lotus bud that grows beautiful through unfurling? There was also the question: Who indeed could trample underfoot the sentimentalism scattered by the small white flowers of locust trees lining the avenue as they fluttered down upon the street? There was also the question: Who indeed could understand the symbolism of a polished lamp affixed to an old rickshaw coated in yellow dust?

The one who was most sensitive to those matters was Wang Shaosheng. Moreover, regarding her departure from the Zhuang family to return to Chen Huijun, it was also Wang Shaosheng who felt the greatest sense of loss in his heart. He wrote a poem and, cheeks flushed, showed it to Zhuang Yiqing. It was a sentiment of parting that walked the delicate line between friendship and romantic affection, concluding with "...Silence is born from respect for love."

On the Sunday afternoon before her departure, the three found time to stroll leisurely through the spacious garden. At that moment, when Zhuang Yiqing abruptly disclosed Wang Shaosheng’s poem, both Wang Shaosheng and Liu Qiuyun grew oddly silent. Thus, Zhuang Yiqing found himself compelled to sustain the conversation alone, but upon reaching the small pavilion at the pond’s center, he indicated the couplet inscribed on its pillars: “Beiming zhi Kun” [The Kun of the Northern Sea]. Pointing to its counterpart reading “Nanming zhi Peng” [The Peng of the Southern Sea], he remarked.

“People of old came up with such interesting ideas. I don’t believe for a moment in legends like the Kun of the Northern Sea or the Peng of the Southern Sea, but there’s something in their spirit worthy of trust. The building of the Great Wall and the digging of the Grand Canal were both the work of that spirit. We may scorn the Great Wall and the Grand Canal, but we have no right to ridicule the spirit behind them.” In response, Liu Qiuyun said quietly.

“In that case, you have no right to ridicule my dream either.”

"What kind of dream..." "I rode a camel along the Great Wall." "What a peculiar dream." "But when I suddenly realized, I felt terribly lonely." "I didn't have a pistol." "I truly wanted that cold, gleaming little pistol." "So what did you mean to do with it?" "I wouldn't do anything." "It would be enough simply to keep it." "If singing clocks and golden birds hopping between branches were the Empress Dowager Cixi's toys, then shouldn't a pistol be perfectly acceptable as a new-era woman's plaything?"

“A toy for a new-era woman? That’s splendid.” “Then will you give me that toy?” Zhuang Yiqing turned and looked at her face. Her tone carried an almost excessive quiet weight, and a gloomy cast had risen to her features.

Wang Shaosheng, who had been silently listening until then, suddenly spoke.

“Just what is that—a dream story or a real one?” “I don’t know myself.” And she fixed her gaze into Wang Shaosheng’s eyes. “When I return home, I’ll enter a completely different life." "But I want to remain one of your companions forever." “In such times, having an important toy… Just keeping it would become a support for my heart.”

It was both a tone that demanded consent and an expression on the verge of tears. Wang Shaosheng lowered his face.

“Let’s take it on together!” Zhuang Yiqing exclaimed.

And so everything was decided. However, its fulfillment was repeatedly postponed. A promise imbued with commemorative significance and vows for the future had to be secretly fulfilled by those directly involved. Moreover, secretly procuring what appeared to be a considerable sum proved no easy task for Zhuang Yiqing, while at that time, covertly acquiring strictly regulated items posed genuine danger for Wang Shaosheng.

Beijing’s autumn arrived abruptly as though driving out summer, and clear days continued. On the shore of the small island in Nanhai Park, people engaging in the pastime of fishing could still be seen. Beside them, slightly apart, Wang Shaosheng was leaning absently against the railing. Those fishing were a few boys and a child accompanied by a middle-aged couple. The child often had his bait taken and became flustered, and was being taught various things by his father. While watching this with a smile, the mother also held a fishing rod, but she hardly glanced at her own float. The boys silently and intently watched their floats; occasionally, at the tip of a suddenly lifted fishing rod, small fish would leap.

Wang Shaosheng remained leaning half against the railing, his eyes lowered to the faintly turbid water surface as he sank deep into thought. He did not go to the tables arranged inside the pavilion to drink tea, nor borrow a fishing rod to enjoy himself, nor was he watching the fishermen. He remained motionless for a long time, as though he had lost track of time. From a small boat shuttling between the southern shore, a small number of passengers came ashore and passed behind him several times. Among those people, there soon appeared a thin young man wearing black sunglasses. The youth came directly from the boat toward Wang Shaosheng and lightly touched his shoulder. Wang Shaosheng turned around, but as the other person continued walking straight ahead, he followed after him.

“It took a bit longer than expected,” muttered the sunglasses-wearing youth with evident displeasure.

Wang Shaosheng asked.

“And how did it go?” “Ah, well, I had to push things a bit…” As he walked, he stared intently at Wang Shaosheng.

“Please be more careful from now on. Coming to such a place looking for me, and that late at night…”

"But it was confidential business." “That’s precisely the problem. Secrets should be conducted in broad daylight, in public spaces. Lately, we’ve been drawing undue scrutiny.” “Has something occurred?” “That’s what I ought to ask you. What exactly do you intend to do with such an item?” “Well... someone requested it of me...”

“But something this small won’t be of any use—though I suppose it might make a decent toy.” “Of course it’s a toy.” “I believe it’s a toy.” Perhaps because his tone was too earnest, the Sunglasses-wearing Youth stared fixedly at Wang Shaosheng. And he laughed.

“You’re honest—that’s why I like you. ...Shall I take a guess? Either a young woman or an elderly gentleman—you’re planning to give it to one of them, aren’t you?”

Wang Shaosheng remained silent. “Did I go a bit too far?” “Oh, there’s no need to worry.”

The two came out to the shore of Zhonghai.

The Lotus Withering Pond lay bleakly, the afternoon sun shining coldly upon it. Beneath the row of large willow trees, there were no passersby.

In the shadow of one of those willow trees, the Sunglasses-wearing Youth suddenly stopped, took out a small cloth-wrapped object from inside his coat, and presented it to Wang Shaosheng.

“This is what you requested. It’s an antique, but it hasn’t been used. The parts that were slightly rusted—I polished them.”

Wang Shaosheng received it. Inside the small cloth was a cardboard box containing a small pistol with a leather sack attached. "The handling is simple, so you understand, right? There are only ten bullets. Those were actually quite troublesome." Wang Shaosheng wrapped it again in the small cloth and put it inside his coat. Then he passed twenty banknotes. "And then, how much more should I give for the rest?" "The rest... Ah, that? Since I was the one who suggested it, any amount would do—but let's make it ten notes then."

When Wang Shaosheng presented ten more banknotes, the other man received them casually but fixed his gaze intently on Wang Shaosheng from behind the sunglasses. “This concludes our business.” “Please keep your promise.” “In other words, the remaining portion completely settles the account.” “The fact that you received the matter from me, and that I procured the matter for you—all of it will be considered nonexistent.” “It’s not that you forgot—such a thing never existed.” “Is that clear?”

“Fine.” “That’s the promise.” “There was never any promise to begin with.” “There’s nothing at all.” “That’s right—there’s nothing at all.”

The Sunglasses-wearing Youth laughed brightly.

And once more, the two walked along the lakeshore following the row of willow trees.

“Next time, come when you don’t have business. I’ll treat you,” said the Sunglasses-wearing Youth. “That woman’s a bit awkward, but there’s this cute, affected girl called Xiao Suji. The house may be stingy, but its Western liquor is the best in Beijing—things you won’t even find in Tianjin. Come prepared to get drunk. Oh, this is far healthier than getting drunk on opium. But when you have business, come to my house. If someone were to come to that sort of place and be asked who that is, it could cause trouble for both you and me. In a safe house, you need to make all identities clear.”

“Then it negates the very concept of a safe house.” “Exactly—the situation’s been inverted.” “General Lü’s doing, no?” “The rumors of his coup must have proliferated considerably.” “Hence the scattering of spies.” “Those fools operate under the assumption that secrets only fester in shadows.” “We on the clandestine side preempted them—shifted operations to daylight.” “You’d adopt this stratagem too, were you planning anything.” “Incidentally—who maintains your connections?”

“Contacts… Such things don’t exist anywhere.”

“Even if you people don’t have them, the other side will send them over.” “You people had better be cautious.” “Our true allies are neither with General Lü’s faction nor with the provincial government.”

“Then where are they?” The Sunglasses-wearing Youth shot a piercing glance at Wang Shaosheng.

“If there are none, you create them.” “They can be formed right nearby.” “No—they’re already formed.” “Things should prove quite entertaining.”

Just as the row of willow trees ended, they emerged at the bridge. The Sunglasses-wearing Youth suddenly said, “Well then, I’ll take my leave here.” Wang Shaosheng watched him leave with impersonal briskness as if they were strangers, then absently walked off in the opposite direction.

At Fang Fushan’s banquet, meticulously curated dishes had indeed been prepared. While pork, duck, small birds and vegetables were ordinary enough, delicacies from Jiangsu’s marshes, Sichuan’s remote mountains, Japan’s coastal waters, and the small islands of the South Seas were arrayed upon the banquet table in succession. Yet for beverages there existed only aged rice wine, carbonated water, and cold water. He Yuan materialized at opportune moments, standing ramrod straight in a corner as he issued comprehensive instructions.

Fang Fushan’s efforts at the banquet were even more impressive than the dishes. He was short, and as he hunched over the dining table, he appeared even shorter; yet this very quality, combined with the intensity of his gaze, made one perceive him as no ordinary man. His face was elongated, swelling downward from the cheeks, with conspicuous excess flesh at both sides of the mouth and sagging skin beneath the chin that was half-buried in his collar. And he ate and drank with great speed, constantly engaging those around him in conversation. On one side was General Lü, and on the other was an elderly relative of the Fang clan, but Fang Fushan kept turning his face toward both and also called out to Colonel Gao Binru and Zhuang Yiqing, who were slightly apart. Matters of food, matters of customs, Shanghai’s Canidrome and Hai Alai, Guangdong’s African-style baths, Indian conjuring arts—merely disjointed matters that he would regale them with as travelers’ tales. And in those eyes that darted here and there, there would occasionally—betraying his gentle smile—flash a light of such profound intensity, utterly divorced from his trivial tales and belying his nearly sixty years of age, that it seemed to pierce through one’s very core.

Beside him, General Lü sat as composed as a mountain. He ate slowly, drank slowly, spoke little, and settled his bulky frame with imposing weight. Yet his long beard hung limp, his complexion dulled, and his eyes grew clouded. Rumors had spread that his opium habit had reached alarming severity. When Fang Fushan first introduced Zhuang Yiqing and Wang Shaosheng, the general merely blinked twice or thrice, scarcely glancing at their faces as he muttered his reply.

“I had heard about you all beforehand.” “I had thought you all were always wearing Western clothes.” Zhuang Yiqing wore an ambiguous smile and answered respectfully. “I too had thought Your Excellency was always wearing military uniform.” After a brief pause following those words, General Lü suddenly burst into loud, booming laughter. Colonel Gao Binru, who stood nearby, briefly furrowed his brows. Wang Shaosheng looked up at General Lü’s face as if startled. General Lü triumphantly repeated his raucous laughter once more.

Wearing civilian clothes made General Lü appear either oddly shrewd or even foolish.

At the dining table, General Lü let out another similarly booming laugh. When the conversation turned to food, he uncharacteristically continued speaking and recounted an incident he claimed to have experienced in Taiyuan. It was during a famine year. While drinking at a restaurant there with several comrades, two or three human toenails had emerged from a plate of pork stew. "Since everyone was drunk," he said, "they took delight in putting those nails into their wine cups and toasting."

After that story, when there was a brief lull in conversation, General Lü let out a booming laugh.

Then, from a seat slightly apart, Chen Huijun’s voice could be heard. “My! How skilled you are at storytelling, Your Excellency.” General Lü laughed boisterously once again. Chen Huijun was already speaking to Mrs. Fang nearby. “On an octopus’s legs, there are many of those round, suctioning things, you see. “There was a house in Shanghai that would take just those suckers, dry and harden them, pass them off as special vines from the interior, and have American sailors eat them. “They were thriving tremendously.”

Mrs. Fang simply nodded and listened. Fang Meizhen, the daughter seated at the same table with schoolgirl-like liveliness, was whispering something to Liu Qiuyun. Only Chen Huijun, alone among the women, contributed remarks to the central topics of the entire gathering. Chen Huijun’s presence was conspicuous. Her relationship with Fang Fushan seemed to have been publicly acknowledged even by Mrs. Fang, but setting that aside, her social conduct—with its nimble eye movements and pale, translucent skin devoid of ruddiness—lacked dignity but commanded attention. She frequently addressed Gao Binru. Gao Binru gave only brief replies and mainly conversed with his neighbor Zhuang Yiqing. He had some knowledge of both classical and modern literature.

Wang Shaosheng hardly spoke. He occasionally looked toward Liu Qiuyun. Liu Qiuyun remained quiet and demure, but when she raised her face and met Wang Shaosheng’s gaze, she immediately lowered her eyes again. And so the banquet lasting over four hours proceeded without incident until Fang Fushan suddenly turned to General Lü and began discussing music—a subject neither seemed to possess any understanding of—concluding that among all vocal music forms, Peking Opera remained supreme. He then called out to Chen Huijun and, with utterly natural casualness, requested whether they might be permitted to hear Ms. Liu Qiuyun sing briefly. Chen Huijun smiled and whispered something to Liu Qiuyun. Strangely enough, Liu Qiuyun immediately stood up. Fang Meizhen gazed at her with astonished eyes.

Liu Qiuyun tensed her slightly pale face and stifled all expression like stone. And she said: “Since I am not a geisha, I only know a few trifling pieces, but…”

Her voice seemed to catch; then, turning sideways and fixing her eyes on empty space, she began to sing in a low voice. It was a well-known song—a slow, sorrowful melody from the Peking opera *Silang Visits His Mother*, in which Silang sings of longing for his mother. The song, ill-suited to the banquet, initially seemed like deliberate irony, but ultimately left a profound impression. Her voice gradually swelled, becoming beautifully poignant. The gem of her hair ornament quivered minutely behind her ear. The sharpness of her jawline that stood out in profile seemed to show an earnest sentiment, and the softness of her cheeks seemed to show a gentle sorrow; together, they combined to intensify the song’s melody of maternal longing.

With Wang Shaosheng merely keeping his face lowered and Chen Huijun merely gauging the room's mood, the guests held their breath and fixed their eyes on Liu Qiuyun. General Lü's eyes alone took on a vivid hue at that moment. She seemed to throw her entire being into the song alone, but upon finishing, once again stifled her expression and gave a slight nod before briskly entering the next room as if fleeing.

Fang Meizhen immediately stood up and followed after her. Sighs and murmurs of admiration escaped. A middle-aged woman among the guests wiped away tears. And with Liu Qiuyun and Fang Meizhen not returning, the dining table was conveniently abandoned.

In a corner of the next hall, a mahjong group formed. The elderly man who had been seated next to Fang Fushan joined Mrs. Fang, Chen Huijun, and the middle-aged woman who had wiped away tears after the song.

Since Wang Shaosheng seemed to have gone out alone toward the garden, Zhuang Yiqing and Gao Binru went together to that area to see.

It was a clear autumn night, and the stars shone beautifully. In the wide garden without a pond, there were numerous plantings and placed stones, and atop an artificial hill, a single lamp glowed faintly in the small pavilion.

Gao Binru stretched his arms upward and then spoke in a tone of cold criticism.

“There was one thing missing from tonight’s banquet.” “What would that be?”

“That your father couldn’t attend.” “It seems my father hasn’t been very fond of the people here lately.” “That’s only natural.” “However, from the perspective of the people here, your father should have been the most important guest.”

“Why?”

Gao Binru turned toward Zhuang Yiqing, took in his genuinely puzzled look, and then said.

“Consider this. With Zhuang Taixuan’s prestige, the Fang Fushan family’s wealth, and—though I don’t know how you yourselves feel about it—the vanguard of the youth intelligentsia represented by Zhuang Yiqing and Wang Shaosheng; add to that this Gao Binru as General Lü’s strategist (though it feels odd to say so myself), along with Chen Huijun preening as society’s star attraction, and Liu Qiuyun who shows promise of extraordinary talent—with all that combined, it’s hardly unreasonable to think one could stage a grand spectacle in Beijing.”

“Is General Lü thinking such things?” “No, he’s not thinking at all. Though he’s being dragged into it—”

“Then who is thinking about it? Is it Fang Fushan?” “Fang Fushan is what you might call the facilitator. The planning apparently lies with Chen Huijun. Anyway, those two make a good combination.” “And are you involved in this too?” “If I were involved, I’d handle it more skillfully. Making Liu Qiuyun sing like that was pitiable—I wouldn’t bungle things so badly. I am nothing more than a bystander.”

“A bystander… Is that really acceptable?” “I despise you!” “Nonsense—contempt should be saved for the final act.” “There are moments when one should simply enjoy watching events unfold.” “But understand—I want you all to exercise restraint.” “You must exercise restraint.” “It was fortunate your father couldn’t attend tonight.” “Does Father know about such things?” “He wouldn’t know.” “But you mustn’t let it slip carelessly.” “A secret between you and me alone.”

“Of course.” “But… we’d thought it was Liu Qiuyun alone who had invited Wang Shaosheng and me.” “Why’s that?” “She was part of our group too...”

“But after Liu Qiuyun returned to Chen Huijun’s side, she must have changed quite a bit. Moreover, even if Liu were to propose something, whether to adopt it remains entirely Chen Huijun’s prerogative. As her foster parent, Chen holds absolute power over her.” “Do you condone this?”

“It’s a matter of fact. Third-party denials are of no use whatsoever to the parties involved.” “That’s terribly cold of you.” “Being cold regarding women’s issues is my deliberate stance. Women are rather dangerous, you see.”

And Gao Binru laughed heartily.

At that moment, after having made a circuit of the garden and being about to return to the hall, they encountered Wang Shaosheng leaning against one of the outer corridor's pillars, as motionless as a statue set against it.

Wang Shaosheng did not relax his meditative stern expression in the slightest and said to Zhuang Yiqing as if hurling the words. “It’s done.”

“I see,” answered Zhuang Yiqing. Mindful of Gao Binru’s presence, the two said nothing more after that, but they had clearly understood it concerned the pistol matter.

Wang Shaosheng still did not seem to have fully regained his composure.—He had fled the room alone, driven by some unbearable emotion, and leaned against a pillar in the outer corridor, but when what felt like a long time had passed, Liu Qiuyun stole forward with silent footsteps and rushed to his side. She gazed at Wang Shaosheng’s face and murmured, “The thing we promised….” Wang Shaosheng took out the wrapped pistol from his inner pocket. Liu Qiuyun received it and tucked it into her bosom. And she said.

“Will you believe… all of me?” “I believe,” answered Wang Shaosheng. Liu Qiuyun extended one hand. Wang Shaosheng gripped her hand tightly. And in the dim light, Liu Qiuyun’s eyes gradually grew larger, filled with an uncanny glow, and to Wang Shaosheng, they seemed to grow even larger and deeper. He was beginning to drown in those eyes. At that very moment, Liu Qiuyun let go and left like the wind. The vision-like impression of that moment was so intensely vivid that Wang Shaosheng, having lost all self-awareness, remained motionless against the pillar for what felt like an eternity.

Gao Binru briefly observed Wang Shaosheng’s condition and glanced in Zhuang Yiqing’s direction, but without saying a word, he took the lead and entered the room.

A mahjong group was playing leisurely.

In another corner, surrounded by rosewood furniture pieces, celadon ornaments, red-lacquered couplet boards, and fur carpets, General Lü and Fang Fushan were drinking and talking. The figures of Liu Qiuyun and Fang Meizhen were nowhere to be seen.

Gao Binru went straight toward General Lü, took a cigarette in hand, and said: “According to Your Excellency’s theory that those with robust stomachs possess greater courage, it seems we young people are rather deficient in valor.” General Lü stroked his beard while laughing. From somewhere, He Yuan had materialized unnoticed and held out a lit match to Gao Binru’s cigarette.

A day later, in the afternoon, Liu Qiuyun suddenly visited the Zhuang residence. She had come under the pretext of visiting the Honorable Zhuang due to his reported poor health, but it was clear this was nothing more than an excuse. When Zhuang Taixuan clearly stated that regarding Fang Fushan’s invitation, his health had been fine but there had been some inconvenience preventing his attendance, Liu Qiuyun made clear that she understood the matter well without offering any reply on the subject.

Zhuang Taixuan and his wife received her with gentle smiles, and she too maintained a calm demeanor. Zhuang Yiqing offered a brief greeting and then went out somewhere. When Madame Zhuang inquired about the banquet at Fang Fushan’s residence, Liu Qiuyun herself brought up the matter of that song.

“As General Lü was particularly fond of theatrical songs, I had been requested since the previous day to sing something beautiful.” “This left me feeling rather ashamed, so in retaliation, instead of a beautiful song, I sang him a sorrowful one.” “What did you sing?” “The folk ballad from ‘Silang Visits His Mother.’” Zhuang Taixuan gazed at her with eyes brimming with compassion. Madame Zhuang spoke in a consoling manner. “Yet you remember such pieces remarkably well.”

“I am usually taught them.”

And she spoke about her singing teacher. It was an elderly teacher from the drama school who came to teach once a week. He praised Liu Qiuyun’s voice extravagantly and assured her that if she became an actress, she would undoubtedly succeed. However, since Chen Huijun would absolutely not consent to enrolling her in the drama school, he had given up on that. But thereafter, he insisted that one could not truly sing a song without knowing the play it came from, and during lessons, he would always demonstrate the play’s gestures himself. The reason was that Chen Huijun, for some reason, while having Liu Qiuyun learn theatrical songs, never permitted her to watch plays and did not allow her to visit theaters even once.

There was an interesting incident concerning that singing teacher. On one occasion, during a conversation between just Chen Huijun and him [the teacher], the theory that ingesting powdered pearls would make one’s complexion most beautiful was recalled. The teacher insisted this was true, asserted that there were even famous actors who practiced it, and then urged Chen Huijun to try it without fail. Chen Huijun seemed genuinely intrigued, consulting various people about the efficacy of powdered pearls and relaying their opinions to Liu Qiuyun for discussion. Then Liu Qiuyun said.

“The singing teacher must have many pearls he’s eager to sell,” she said. “Let’s buy them for him.” With those words, the pearl powder theory evaporated. Hearing this, Zhuang Taixuan laughed with hearty amusement while Madame Zhuang narrowed her eyes in measured approval. Yet according to Liu Qiuyun herself, even this minor act of sarcasm traced back to lessons learned from Zhuang Taixuan. Years earlier, when the mayor had visited Zhuang Taixuan—who’d once been considered for that very office—to discuss strategies for Beijing’s prosperity and methods for attracting global tourists to historic landmarks, the scholar had offered an unexpected response. “If discerning connoisseurs prefer Wutasi Temple’s ancient pagoda and Yuanmingyuan’s ruins over the Forbidden City or Summer Palace,” he’d declared, “then surely our city walls would delight them most splendidly after the entire capital becomes ruins.” This ironic vision of an “entire city ruins” had subsequently become a favored talking point among New New Literature circles.

Being reminded of that by Liu Qiuyun，Zhuang Taixuan and Madame Zhuang exchanged glances and smiled.

And Liu Qiuyun, seeming to behave affectionately toward Zhuang Taixuan and his wife amid the congenial and relaxed atmosphere, suddenly directed a sorrowful gaze at Madame Zhuang.

“Since returning home, I’ve had scarcely any opportunity for embroidery.” “And so….” And so, she wished to offer her apologies. When she was at the Zhuang residence, she had learned embroidery from Madame Zhuang and had shown rapid progress, but upon returning home, she had promised that someday she would complete an exquisite floral and avian piece to show her. She explained that she wished to ask forgiveness, as she herself had become uncertain whether she could ever fulfill that promise, or if it might remain unfulfilled forever.

“Oh, such things don’t matter at all. You’re worrying about such trivial things, aren’t you?” said Madame Zhuang.

Even so, Liu Qiuyun had a sad look in her eyes. And this time, Madame Zhuang had to do all the talking.

At that moment, Zhuang Yiqing came rushing in.

“Ms. Liu Qiuyun—we’ll be borrowing her for a moment.” “Wang Shaosheng is also here.” “We need to discuss matters concerning New New Literature.” “My, what is this, so abruptly…” Madame Zhuang chided. “Ha ha ha, perhaps conversations between young people are more interesting,” said Zhuang Taixuan. And so Zhuang Yiqing urged the silently downcast Liu Qiuyun to leave the room and head out toward the garden.

On the garden bench, Wang Shaosheng sat with his arms crossed and head bowed. He had come from the library after receiving an urgent summons from Zhuang Yiqing. When he caught sight of Liu Qiuyun, he stood stiffly, bowed slightly, and remained silent. Liu Qiuyun also remained silent. “How was it? Did you like it?” Zhuang Yiqing said abruptly. “What do you mean?” “That… the toy.” “Yes, it’s lovely. Today, I have come to express my thanks for it.”

“But you managed to come alone though.” Liu Qiuyun made an ambiguous expression. “We were worried, you know… somehow concerned…”

Zhuang Yiqing affected a cheerful tone but then trailed off.

And the three of them walked across the spacious garden in silence. After a while, Liu Qiuyun glanced furtively at Wang Shaosheng and suddenly spoke. "I may go on a journey." "Huh? A journey…?" Zhuang Yiqing asked. "Yes, the dream of riding a camel along the Great Wall... that may indeed come true. But… I’ve already received the toy… and there’s nothing left to feel lonely or worried about…."

There was something in that deliberate tone that hovered ambiguously between sincerity and jest.

“It’s another dream story, isn’t it? If it were true, we could go with you.” “I still can’t tell whether it’s a dream or reality.”

“That’s why it’s like a dream story.” Once again, their words ceased. A silence that seemed to lay bare how all their previous words had been some manner of pretense continued for a long while, and the two arrived at the pond. At that moment, Liu Qiuyun came to a halt and, with a look of such tension it could be called anguish, declared resolutely: “That evening, I sang a song. Today, I wanted to sing once more.”

Leaving the two men hesitating to respond behind, she ascended to the small pavilion in the middle of the pond. From the small pavilion bearing the couplet "The Kun of the Northern Sea, the Peng of the Southern Sea," one could see, in the distance, the White Lama Tower atop the hill in Beihai Park. Zhuang Taixuan did not particularly care for that view and had once suggested planting trees to block the prospect, but due to opposition from his wife and Yiqing, it had been left as it was. At that distant White Tower, Liu Qiuyun gazed intently for some time.

In the clear autumn sky, the White Tower now appeared to float like an illusion. Liu Qiuyun fixed her gaze upon it and quietly began to sing. The lyrics of that song have not been clearly preserved. It was something created by Liu Qiuyun—artless yet pure, said to be imbued with a vein of crystalline clarity. It envisioned the White Tower as a figment of the mind—grieving yet rejoicing that it remained unpainted in blue, red, or purple; wishing it might stay thus forever; resolving to depart silently while honoring affection through reverence. The final line had unmistakably been drawn from Wang Shaosheng's poetry.

The melody was simple, but her voice was beautifully clear. At that moment she wore no hair ornaments and her clothes were simple; her figure gazing at the distant White Tower carried a purity removed from urban clamor—a vision perfectly suited to the song.

There was a crispness throughout the autumn air.

Even after the song ended, she did not move for a while. Zhuang Yiqing and Wang Shaosheng, seemingly struck by the crispness, approached in silence. And when she turned around and the three of them faced one another, all three naturally smiled in a sort of dazed ecstasy.

A servant carrying a rosewood tea tray was seen emerging from behind a large Taihu stone. Liu Qiuyun suddenly dashed off in that direction and, just as she used to do at the Zhuang household, took the maid’s tea tray and carried it over. After saying she would fetch some sweets, she left.

Zhuang Yiqing and Wang Shaosheng waited in quiet contemplation for her to return. However, she had already bid farewell to Zhuang Taixuan and his wife and departed.

From late that night into the following morning, news of General Lü’s sudden death spread throughout the city. It was said to be a sudden death from cerebral hemorrhage, but a shadow of suspicion lingered, and an uneasy, ominous atmosphere thickened. Amidst this, Colonel Gao Binru had firmly controlled the military and quelled signs of urban unrest—executed so skillfully that rumors even arose suggesting preparations had been made before the incident. Not only that, but Gao Binru set aside about an hour of that turbulent time to visit the Zhuang residence and informed the anguished Zhuang Yiqing and Wang Shaosheng of the incident’s truth. Moreover, since his visit to the Zhuang residence had been conducted publicly, it eventually served to calm the minds of those around them.

On the night of the incident, Liu Qiuyun visited General Lü's quarters accompanied by Chen Huijun. Colonel Gao Binru greeted them in military uniform; Chen Huijun promptly took her leave, and then the two were left alone.

“You’ve made your decision, then,” said Gao Binru.

“I resolved myself long ago,” answered Liu Qiuyun. According to Gao Binru’s explanation, this resolution meant undertaking a special mission. He said the following: “When circumstances undergo great transformation and public sentiment wavers, the influence wielded by a young beautiful woman’s voice surpasses all imagination.” “Those who move through society know this well, but military men appear largely ignorant of it—few have ever exploited this.” “Yet General Lü seems to have attempted adopting this very method.” And he gave a wry smile.

Now, Gao Binru and Liu Qiuyun sat facing each other and spent some time in this manner.

“The only condition is that you absolutely keep it secret.” “You do understand, right?” “I understand.”

After that brief exchange, they moved on to aimless topics—light literary discussions and talk of fruits. She had styled her hair in the same manner as at Fang Fushan’s banquet, adorned with hair ornaments; only her pale blue kimono, while the same in hue, had its silk changed to satin. And it became apparent that she harbored some firm resolve within, relying on it to maintain a seemingly gentle exterior. When Gao Binru discerned that resolve-like quality within her, he simultaneously noticed she had concealed something in her breast—likely a small pistol. However, he feigned ignorance.

He explained: “A young woman’s chest should be left untouched without laying hands on it. At least, that’s my policy.” After about thirty minutes had passed, General Lü finished his urgent tasks and became free. Gao Binru announced Liu Qiuyun’s arrival. General Lü shot a sharp glance but immediately softened his expression and stroked his long beard.

General Lü changed into civilian clothes and received Liu Qiuyun in his private chamber. On the central table was laid out a late-night meal, on a corner table were spread maps and documents, and on the small stand beside the sofa lay opium smoking paraphernalia.

Gao Binru had other business to attend to and went out for about two hours. Upon returning, he inquired about General Lü’s condition but was informed that the chamber’s door remained closed. Therefore, Gao Binru set about organizing the documents.

A considerable amount of time passed.

At that moment came a muffled explosion—as if wrapped in something soft—and what sounded like a scream. When he listened intently, there came again, this time unmistakably, the report of an explosion.

He stood up and went to General Lü's private chamber with measured steps, attempting to open the door only to find it locked. Abruptly quickening his pace, he circled around to the courtyard, grasped the window frame, and when it opened effortlessly, vaulted into the room.

General Lü lay face down, drenched in blood. Liu Qiuyun stood cold and rigid as stone with a pistol in her hand, aiming steadily at Gao Binru.

“Stop.” “You won’t hit me.” “You’ll just end up hurting yourself instead.”

Having spoken in a calm tone, Gao Binru advanced toward her and forcibly seated her in the chair. She fell as if collapsing.

“What’s wrong?” She stared fixedly at Gao Binru, yet spoke in a voice of strange beauty.

“As compensation for revealing the secret… he demanded my chastity.”

“Understood,” answered Gao Binru.

And he examined General Lü’s wound.

He explained and offered a brief defense of General Lü. “When involving women in secret plans, depending on the counterpart, even demanding their bodies is considered the safest path. It’s simply that General Lü lacked the discernment to judge people’s true nature.” General Lü had already stopped breathing. It appeared he had been shot with a pistol pressed against his flank; then, after collapsing, he received another shot to the chest from behind. It was unclear which had been the fatal wound.

The late-night meal had not been touched at all, and a small amount of alcohol had been drunk. Maps and other documents were spread out. And it seemed opium had been smoked, for the paraphernalia was in disarray.

Gao Binru did not interrogate Liu Qiuyun about anything. He had her put on a military coat, left her holding the pistol, and under the driver-soldier’s guard with his instructions, sent her to a certain location in Tianjin. Swift handling was required. Gao Binru immediately glossed over General Lü’s sudden death from cerebral hemorrhage and, working through the night, single-handedly consolidated military command. The following day saw a public procession supporting General Gao Binru’s ascension, which Gao himself promptly disbanded. It was a strangely orderly demonstration—at its head stood the sunglasses-wearing youth who had met Wang Shaosheng at South Sea Park days prior. No further incidents occurred as the entire city settled under Gao Binru’s authority. That rumors spread about pre-incident preparations seemed only natural.

There were two regrettable matters. The first concerned Liu Qiuyun’s whereabouts; while being transported to Tianjin, she completely vanished into the darkness when the car briefly broke down. The other concerned the lyrics of the song she had sung in the Zhuang family's garden; however much Zhuang Yiqing and Wang Shaosheng traced their memories and strained their intellects to reconstruct them, they could obtain nothing but distant approximations of that time's impression. The two of them attached the title "Song of the White Tower" to the original lyrics and are said to have long cherished the memory of Liu Qiuyun. Her whereabouts have ultimately remained unknown.