Shortlisted
The Old Man’s Song
Gabriel Wan
urning back to look at his cottage for one last time, I felt tears threatening to escape. Never once had I
thought that there might be a story like this behind his song; behind the legendary Great Wall.
grass, and th
,
Group 3: Fiction, Maryknoll Convent School Secondary Section
* * *
I inhaled deeply, breathing in the crisp mountain air. It was laced with the sweet scent of fresh
e almost imperceptible calming aroma of little wild flowers. A zephyr made an idle attempt to
threaten me, but the sun was warm on my skin. Taking in the ravishing landscape, I walked up to the gates of a
tiny cottage.
T
I was assigned to cover a special story about the Great Wall for the magazine I was working for, and after
several months of searching, I had finally made arrangements to meet an inhabitant of this remote little village
in the mountainside near the county of Laiyuan, in the Hebei province. It had been a strenuous journey, but it
was proved to be worthwhile in the end.
Raising my arm slightly when I reached the old wooden door that was barely hanging from its hinges, I
knocked softly on the door after a brief moment of hesitation.
There was no answer.
I made another futile attempt, and then leaned forward to press my ear against the door, straining to pick up
any tell-tale sounds of movement from within. It was only until then that I discerned a soft tune accompanying
the blithe chirping of the birds, wafted along the wind towards me from a distance. Enamoured by the peculiar,
strangely enticing melody, I subconsciously headed towards the source of it.
After a few minutes of walking, a queer sight came into view. On a small wooden stool next to a pile of
rubble, sat a bony old man playing an erhu. His eyes were closed and his forehead crinkled in concentration.
Approaching him gingerly, I sat down on the grass a safe distance away from him, and – completely
mesmerised – listened intently as he played.
The music was like nothing I had ever heard before. It was beautiful and dulcet at first, singing of love and
pulchritude. The birds joined in, and even the leaves and flowers seemed to dance along in the soft summer
breeze. Yet, towards the middle, the delicacy and joy was slowly replaced by anguish and distress. The song of
love transformed into a song of woe, crying out in melancholy.
Even as the piece drew to a close, the old man still remained oblivious that I was watching him. He simply
sat there, gently caressing his erhu with a distant look in his eyes. Driven by my habitual curiosity, I decided to
go up and talk to him.
‘
You play really well,’ I said timorously, unsure of where to begin.
‘
You’re too generous with your words, young lady,’ he murmured, and gave a wistful chortle.
‘
What is the song about?’
‘
It’s a long tale. In some way, it’s about the Great Wall.’
‘
I’ve always thought that a song about the Great Wall would be more… melodramatic,’ I commented,
assuming that he was trying to praise the acclaimed history of the Great Wall. ‘Your piece sounded more like an
elegy to me.’
‘
It is one, as a matter of fact.’
Noticing my puzzled expression, he gave me a weary smile. ‘Are you in the mood for a story?’
* * *
‘
I have been living in this village my entire life. Until just a few decades ago, a section of the Great Wall
used to lie right here,’ he motioned at the pile of rubble. ‘It wasn’t just a wall – it was the children’s playground,
the adults’ meeting place, and our grandparents’ favourite napping spot.’
He paused, smiling to himself as he recalled some childhood memories.
‘
What happened?’ I asked eagerly, urging him to continue.
‘
Patience, young lady,’ he chuckled softly. ‘That’s the problem with youngsters these days – you forget that
it’s a virtue.
‘
It was 1967, a lovely early August afternoon like today. Little puffs of white clouds scattered across skies
that were as blue as sapphires, and a sea of wild flowers adorned the endless carpet of green grass as tiny red,
purple and yellow dots. Despite that, it was a dark time for many. It was a year after the Cultural Revolution had
started.