There is a tree that stands by the toll gates, whose leaves turn entirely gold mid-September. Out of curiosity, I noted down the exact date of this phenomenon happening, and each year it only deviates from the average date by two or three days. When I reached the harbour’s subway station, whether out of nostalgia or a desire to make up for missing last year’s autumn, I found myself heading towards these gates.
I do not consider myself a superstitious man, but the leaves this year are completely red. I cannot help but feel that this is a warning of some kind. By all means, a red as brilliant as this is a lucky colour in our culture, but I find I am unable to appreciate the usual sight of bright patches of colour drifting away in a slow wind. It puts me in mind of a more violent image than usual.
Not that the past year’s experiences have been unpleasant in any way. I believe that Director Hu’s decision to fire me for exactly one year has served me well. As… interesting as she can be sometimes, she is wise beyond her years. She has been kind enough to fund my travels to my old haunts, where the living still dwell alongside our ghosts.
She is right, then: we do outlive our ghosts in the end.
Now that I am back amongst the living, I will be sure to thank her. The wind is picking up where I am sitting, on a park bench, watching this city’s heart pump with its people. There is too much frost on my seat, but I find that I cannot care. All the hues of the sunset are descending on the ground, and I am glad to be home.
~~~
‘Honour her memory’, an old friend said to me, before I left for home. On any other day, I would have scoffed and called him a hypocrite, tell him, how well is it working out for him? But I have been mulling over his words, and the words of my old comrades, and I realise—I am the only one who can bring out the side of her that she has shown to me.
Which was why I decided to learn to play the erhu.
Director Hu thought I was joking when I told her about it. According to her, she’s heard a ‘rumour’ about my ‘blockheadedness’ and my inability to appreciate the art of the strings. Damned alcoholic musician. When I insisted, however, she did something quite peculiar: she patted me on the shoulder and said she was proud of me.
I will have to ask her to elaborate on that statement later.
I have heard a new orchestra has just been formed in the harbour, and surprisingly, Ganyu is part of it. Perhaps she has finally made some changes to her hectic schedule. If so, her master will be glad to hear about it. I will be in touch with her soon to get in contact with the orchestra, on the off chance that they need another erhu player. I have yet to put my skills to the test of the stage, and the chance that they will accept a nameless rookie is slim. Still, it’s worth a try.
The funeral parlour is glad to see me back home, and Meng in particular. As commendable as his improvements in his duties are, I think he prefers filing cabinets to speaking with our clients. The ferrylady is as quiet as ever, though she does appear to be experimenting with her hair. I have to remember to give her a compliment; it is not a style I prefer, but it has a certain inexplicable charm to it.
~~~
Her song remains unfinished. I do not know what I am looking for to complete it, but I know it is here in the harbour. Legends speak of a giant that cleaved apart the heavens, his body changing to become the earth that we walk on after the burden of creation caught up to him. I feel as if I have scattered parts of myself throughout this land in much the same manner, and in Liyue Harbour rests my heart.
It has changed so much in the year I left. The Qixing have built a railway that cuts through the countryside to the tea terraces of Qiaoying, and replaced the koi in the main lotus pond that rests in the heart of Yujing Terrace. Asking around has yielded no answers as to the state of the previous tenants. I hope that their lives have remained peaceful towards the end.
Third-Round Knockout has expanded its seating area, which, as beneficial as it is towards their business, does limit the amount of conversations one can listen to while idling during a lunch break. The ones that I did hear, however, did seem to share the same observation: the strange foreigner that had just moved into Baiju Guesthouse.
He’s made quite the name for himself, or so I’ve heard. On his first day here, he nearly caused multiple heart attacks for the elderly shopkeepers in the area. Spending that day doing nothing but purchasing some of the most expensive items, he managed to single-handedly cause significant changes in the stock market. Why he bought so many children’s toys is still a mystery, though some speculate that he might be trying to sell them at double the price when he returns home. Which, I suppose, is commendable. Word on the street says he is Snezhnayan, whose merchants are typically more interested in the matters of Liyue’s branch of Northland Bank.
I have yet to run into him myself, which I am certain is due to my schedule. Work is piling up nowadays, with families who pay us way too much money for us to keep their secrets. Debts, evasion, and a relentless hunter, a newcomer of the Northland Bank. However, I do not wish to press for details when they are so consumed by their grief.
I suppose that Snezhnayan man is worth looking into.
The orchestra is performing next week, and they are grateful for my inclusion. I need to remember to thank Ganyu for her glowing recommendation, if she has the time for it. It turns out that she merely adjusted her schedule to have less overtime so she could make it to practise. She said she wants to encourage Shenhe to try out something new, and she would appear hypocritical if she didn’t stick to her own advice.
Learning a piece in one week’s time is typically ill-advised, but I suppose the orchestra wished to start with a simpler piece. Less room for error, they said. I do not recall ever listening to this piece before, so this should be an interesting experience.