Chapter 5: The Ancient Town's Night is as Picturesque as a Painting—Listening to Southern Melodies on the Red Boat of the Canal

On this day, the Wu residence in Copper Alley was adorned with lanterns and festive decorations. Madam was carefully tended during her confinement, and Master Wu instructed the servants to take good care of her.

“Master, you can rest assured. I’ll remind the kitchen to adjust the menu and work together to serve Madam during her confinement. We guarantee the young master will grow up healthy and plump,” Steward Li replied, his tone meek and respectful.

“If you serve well, there will be rewards,” Master Wu emphasized.

“Master, you can count on us.”

Having arranged everything, Master Wu headed toward his shop. The residents of the watery lanes on Hexia Street mostly ran businesses according to the trades after which the alleys were named, such as selling copperware, iron goods, lime, clothing, and other daily necessities.

The Wu family, living amidst this environment, also operated some small businesses. As their trading brought surplus profits and their standard of living improved, the Wu family began to value education, hoping their descendants might enter officialdom and bring honor to their ancestors.

Wu Cheng’en’s great-grandfather, Wu Ming, once served as an instructor at the county school of Yuyao in Shaoxing Prefecture, Zhejiang. His grandfather, Wu Zhen, served as the academic director of the county school in Renhe, Hangzhou Prefecture, Zhejiang—effectively the principal. The instructor was a rank below.

Both positions offered meager income, and the men were far from home and often displaced. When Wu Cheng’en’s father, Wu Rui, was four, his mother, Lady Liang, took him to Renhe County. Within a few months, Wu Zhen fell ill and died at his post.

Lady Liang, left with her orphaned son Wu Rui, returned to Huai’an. From then on, the Wu family’s fortune declined, until Wu Rui, though of school age, could not attend the county school and had to study in a less prestigious community school. His mother never imagined that after two generations of scholars and officials, the family would fall so low.

Yet Wu Rui was intelligent and diligent, attentive in class and hardworking in his studies. After finishing his education at the community school, the family’s financial hardship meant he could not continue his studies. At twenty, he married the daughter of the Xu family, small merchants.

The Xu family had lived for generations selling lace and thread. After the marriage, Wu Rui inherited the Xu family’s business, making a living as a small merchant.

Today, with Cheng’en’s birth, Master Wu could not stop smiling, recalling the magistrate’s earlier remarks about the literary star’s descent—it was too ridiculous, and he shook his head with a sigh: “My lord, my lord, how could my Wu family have such luck?”

But deep down, he was unwilling to resign himself. By his generation, the Wu family had declined, and officialdom was out of reach. This was why he named his son Cheng’en, hoping for imperial grace to shine upon the Wu family. Yet he knew well, what is ordained must come, what is not cannot be forced.

Master Wu could never have foreseen that his son, Wu Cheng’en, though well-versed in literature and skilled in official prose, would repeatedly fail the examinations, losing face on Hexia Street. But that is a tale for later.

At noon, the magistrate had indulged in a few extra cups, and combined with the morning’s walk through the ancient town of Hexia, he was exhausted and fell into a heavy sleep after his meal.

“Qingyu Huaiyang Restaurant” lived up to its reputation: three floors crowded with guests, and on ordinary days, reservations were impossible without booking three days in advance. Today, with the magistrate’s arrival, the owner immediately opened the reserve hall—a testament to Mr. Song’s shrewdness.

After the lunch rush, the staff finished cleaning and went home, leaving Mr. Song alone to close up and review the accounts. Though the magistrate’s meal appeared to be a loss, Mr. Song knew he had profited greatly. First, word would spread that the magistrate had dined at Qingyu Huaiyang, drawing crowds from far and wide. Second, the magistrate left a poem on the wall; regardless of its literary merit, these two facts would ensure a tidal wave of future customers.

Now, the magistrate was still napping in the guest room at the rear courtyard. Mr. Song made sure to serve him well, hoping he might return in high spirits someday, bringing even more prosperity to the restaurant. Thinking of this, Mr. Song’s eyebrows arched with satisfaction as he savored tea from his Yixing clay pot.

He did not know when fatigue overtook him, and he fell asleep at the table.

A sudden, forceful knocking startled Mr. Song awake. He rubbed his eyes, cursed himself, and shouted, “Stop knocking! I’m coming, I’m coming!”

“Mr. Song, why are you only opening the door now? Where is the magistrate?” The secretary burst in, anxious and irate.

“Sorry, Secretary, I fell asleep. The magistrate is in the rear courtyard.” Mr. Song picked up a silver ingot and slipped it into the secretary’s hand. “Please put in a good word for me in the future.”

The secretary smiled and made his way through the passage to the rear courtyard, stopping at the guest room door. After straightening his attire, he gently knocked: “Sir, sir, it’s getting late. Perhaps it’s time to return to the office.”

Receiving no reply, he knocked again and repeated himself, but still nothing. He kicked open the door to find the magistrate snoring on the bed.

Yellow wine is delicious, but hard to wake from when drunk. The secretary went forward and shook the magistrate, who slowly opened his eyes: “Where am I?”

“This is Hexia.”

“What?” The magistrate jumped up and, with the secretary’s help, quickly dressed in his official robes.

Mr. Song hurriedly brought a basin of well water. “Sir, please.”

Seeing Mr. Song, the magistrate was fully awake. “Mr. Song, Qingyu Huaiyang is worthy of its reputation. I will speak well of you. Thank you for your generous hospitality. I’ll take my leave now.”

“Sir, please. We look forward to your next visit,” Mr. Song bowed in farewell.

The sun had long since set, and dusk had fallen. The magistrate realized he had behaved somewhat improperly today. The group walked south along Huzui Street. Lanterns flickered in the alleys, illuminating every corner and brightening people’s faces.

Merchants had hung large red lanterns high above, shouting to attract travelers from north and south. Unbeknownst to them, they were nearing the southern entrance to the ancient town, the imperial dock.

The laughter and shouts of children chasing each other along the riverbank caught the magistrate’s attention. Under the faint moonlight, a swarm of fireflies fluttered toward them, twinkling in harmony with the fishing lights on the Inner Canal. Watching the lights shimmering on the water and hearing the gentle flow of the canal, the magistrate exclaimed, “What a splendid night scene!”

“Sir, please board the sedan!” The secretary snapped his folding fan shut.

“Wait, listen!” Just as the magistrate was about to step into the sedan, he paused.

The secretary fell silent, and the group followed the magistrate’s pointing finger. Sure enough, a melodious sound of the pipa floated from a red boat on the canal.

“At the head of Xunyang River, I bid farewell at night; maple leaves and reed flowers rustle in autumn. The host dismounts, the guest remains on the boat; raising wine to drink, but there’s no music. Drunkenness brings no joy, and sorrow accompanies parting; at the moment of farewell, the river bathes in moonlight. Suddenly, I hear pipa music on the water; the host forgets to return, and the guest lingers…” Inspired by the scene, the magistrate recited Bai Juyi’s timeless “Song of the Pipa.” “It has been so long since I heard music. Secretary, lead the way.”

“Yes, sir!” The secretary knew the magistrate’s mood was soaring and dared not disobey.

They walked toward the riverbank, where boats, both long convoys and solitary vessels, were moored. The red boat noticed their approach, and the boatman pushed it closer with a long pole.

At the bow, a young woman gracefully played the pipa, her rendition of “Ambush from Ten Sides” vivid and stirring.

Unable to restrain himself, the magistrate recited, “The thick strings clang like sudden rain, the fine strings whisper like private talk. Clanging and whispering, they mingle and play, like big and small pearls dropping onto a jade plate…”

The secretary quietly recited, “Seeking the source, I ask who plays; the pipa stops, she hesitates to speak. Moving the boat closer, we invite her to meet…”

To know what happens next, the tale will unfold in the following chapter.