Chapter Fifty-Five: The Pipa’s Song and the Hu Dance

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PS: I noticed someone mentioned the issue of musicians. In truth, the craze for music and dance was widespread in the Tang Dynasty; during banquets, it was common for both hosts and guests to play instruments, sing, and dance. This was quite different from the musicians kept in homes or the palace. Early this morning, I continue to ask for your recommendations.

Du Shiyi entered the hall unexpectedly, and at first the guests were mostly surprised. When he volunteered to present a new piece, and Dou Xiguan joyfully called for Du Lang to play at once, everyone quickly realized that this young man was known to Dou Xiguan. As the music began, its bright and graceful melody, so novel as to seem unheard of before, stirred the guests to whisper among themselves. Though Du Shiyi had not appeared in public for over two years, and had grown taller and lost his childish features, the keen-eyed among them soon recognized him.

“It’s Du Nineteen from Fan Chuan!”

“Du Nineteen from Fan Chuan? Is that the Du Nineteen who lost his talent? Wasn’t it rumored his sister took him to seek medical treatment, and his whereabouts became unknown?”

“Judging by his appearance now, he must have recovered. Truly, this is music never heard before, especially the melody... but who knows if he can still write poetry?”

Those familiar with Du Shiyi’s former reputation began to comment, while others carefully appraised the new piece, and those fond of music observed Du Shiyi’s finger movements intently. Jiang Du, who had earlier arrogantly criticized the Dou family musicians for their lack of skill, initially watched Du Shiyi with a mocking smile, but soon his expression turned focused. Though Dou Xiguan was called “uncle” by the Emperor, it was only by association, not as esteemed as Jiang Du’s own father, Jiang Jiao. Jiang Du intended to slight him, for he looked down on such ostentatious displays.

But now, Du Shiyi’s composition was not only a new piece never heard before, but his technique and rhythm were flawless!

He tapped the table lightly with his fingers while his eyes flickered with thought. After an unknown stretch of time, he heard a voice behind him.

“Jiang Fourth.”

Jiang Du turned his head slightly to see a young man with a refined face, somewhat familiar. He raised his brows, and before he could speak, the other said quietly, “That is Du Nineteen from Duling, Jingzhao, originally from Fan Chuan, once famed for his talent, but lost it to a severe illness. His sister took him to Song Mountain, where he was cured by famed physicians. Now he is a pupil of Lu Hong, the hermit on Xuanlian Peak, Song Mountain.”

“Oh?” Jiang Du’s brows rose thoughtfully, just as the music shifted from cheerful to somber. He listened intently for a moment, then withdrew his gaze from the informant and said carelessly, “I see. No wonder the music has a rustic air. Truly a new piece, and the style is unlike others. The upright pipa technique is clearly inherited from Pei Shenfu, an old skill rarely seen.”

As his appraisal was spoken, the piece reached its climax, and the whispers across the hall faded. Liu Ximing, seated just behind Jiang Du, bit his lip in frustration and murmured, “Tonight’s banquet hosted by Duke Bi, with special invitation to Master Lu, but only he came. If he lacked any skill, how could he pass Duke Bi’s test?”

“Indeed. By the way, I heard you also studied at Song Mountain—what do you think of that hermit?” Jiang Du asked casually, and Liu Ximing answered in detail by his ear, causing Jiang Du’s eyes to flicker and a subtle, playful smile to cross his face. After some time, the somber melody shifted again to a graceful tune. When the music finally ceased, someone at the banquet called out in praise, and applause erupted throughout the hall.

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At this moment, Du Shiyi rose calmly, bowed to all, and with composure said, “I now study at Xuanlian Peak under Master Lu. This pipa was assigned to me by Master Lu, and taught by Senior Brother Pei Ning. I have studied the pipa for just over a year, and am far from proficient in music. Since composing this piece, I have not practiced it thoroughly; it’s not worthy of true experts, but tonight I dared to play it, hoping to inspire others.”

Upon hearing this, a young man in white, seventeen or eighteen years old, stood up and smiled, saying, “Du Langjun, to achieve such skill in just a year is truly admirable. Your upright pipa technique differs greatly from the common traditions—who is your master? This piece, beginning with joy, then intensity, then sorrow, and finally returning to grace, is indeed a new melody. I am Wang Thirteen of Taiyuan; let me, for host and guest alike, ask its name, and beg your instruction.”

“This piece was inspired by an anecdote from the late Governor Liang’s ‘Records of Ten Routes and Four Foreign Tribes,’ and is named ‘Transformation of the Butterfly.’”

“It is indeed the Pei family’s pipa!” The young man in white, Wang Thirteen, clapped his hands with delight. “No wonder your technique is unlike anything I’ve seen or learned! If you don’t mind, when I next visit Prince Qi’s residence, I’d like to perform this piece as well. What do you say?”

He did not ask for the score, but intended to play this long piece at a noble’s house after hearing it just once, clearly indicating he had memorized it entirely. Du Shiyi was amazed, but this was not the place for astonishment, so he smiled and replied, “If your skill can spread this piece far and wide, how could I refuse such good fortune? Since there is a new melody, I dare to ask for clemency for the musicians—if Duke Dou commands, they will surely strive and deliver a new piece within days!”

Seeing Wang Thirteen support him, and their exchange drawing voices of agreement from the hall, Jiang Du did not interject; Duke Dou felt his honor restored and would no longer mind that Lu Hong had not attended. He thus nodded grandly and said, “For Du Lang’s sake, let those idle musicians be forgiven!”

With this, he clapped heavily: “Bring Ten Lang! With distinguished guests present, let us see if his Hu Dance has improved!”

Cheers erupted, and the matter of the musicians was forgotten by all, even Jiang Du, who had earlier criticized them. Of all Dou Xiguan’s children, only Dou Ten Lang was passionate about music and dance; his Hu Dance was unrivaled in the two capitals, and as a noble of the imperial clan, it was seldom seen except on festivities. Yet tonight, in his joy, Dou Xiguan invited Ten Lang to perform! Du Shiyi handed the pipa to a maid, and as he was about to take his seat at Dou Xiguan’s invitation, Wang Thirteen warmly invited him: “Du Langjun, if you don’t mind, please sit with me!”

Though not the highest seat, Wang Thirteen’s was at the front, which Du Shiyi eagerly accepted. Among tonight’s guests, many were familiar to him, but he had no wish to interact. Seeing Dou Xiguan nod without concern, he gladly sat cross-legged at Wang Thirteen’s table. When the maid poured wine, he smiled and toasted Wang Thirteen, saying quietly, “Thanks to your words, I was saved from criticism for my presumptuous performance.”

“Nonsense, if not for your righteous intervention, no one could have pleaded for those musicians before Duke Dou. The Dou family musicians are famed in both capitals. Duke Bi’s eldest son, Dou Ten Lang, cares not for officialdom, but is devoted to music and dance, beloved even by the Emperor; how could there be idle ones among the musicians? For new music, singers and dancers must match it. Tonight is not a festival, just an ordinary banquet—how could they prepare something on the spot?”

After draining his cup, Wang Thirteen saw guests discussing Dou Ten Lang’s imminent performance and lowered his voice: “I hear you and your master Lu reside at the inn in Persuasion Lane? Dou’s banquets run from dusk till dawn. After your travels, can you endure tonight?”

Sensing Wang Thirteen’s friendliness, Du Shiyi smiled wryly: “To be honest, if not for Duke Dou’s invitation, I’d have already gone to bed. But Master Lu is exhausted and resting; as his disciple, I must bear his duties, so I had to come. I hoped to leave early, but if, as you say, the banquet lasts all night, I fear I won’t last.”

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“Then let me teach you a good method,” Wang Thirteen began, but was interrupted by cheers from the rear. He whispered, “Look, Ten Lang is here!”

Du Shiyi looked up to see a youth of fifteen or sixteen stride in, wide-sleeved robe billowing—clearly Dou Ten Lang. Though not an expert, Du Shiyi knew this attire was not for the Hu Dance. As expected, Ten Lang limped to Dou Xiguan, bowed deeply, and said, “You commanded me to dance, and I dare not refuse, but I injured my leg riding this morning. If I force myself, I fear I’d make a fool of myself.” He bowed again, and seeing the guests’ disappointment, he grinned slyly, “But since I know guests most anticipate the Hu Dance, I trained several performers early on. Though I cannot dance myself tonight, I wish to let you all see it!”

“Good!”

“Quick, Ten Lang, bring them!”

Responding to the chorus, Ten Lang clapped loudly and stepped aside near Dou Xiguan’s seat. Soon, three or five servants brought in a rolled item, which they unrolled onto the floor. In moments, the polished stone floor was covered with a dazzling embroidered carpet, and a bronze plate, two feet square, was placed at the center. Once everything was arranged, several foreigners with deep-set eyes and prominent noses entered.

Among the five, the central dancer wore a pointed hat, narrow-sleeved tunic with turned collar, broad sash, the front tucked in, embroidered boots; to his right, one held cymbals, one a pipa; to his left, one had a flute, one empty-handed. After bowing deeply, the four musicians took their places at the corners of the carpet.

With a sharp clash of cymbals, the pipa and flute began, and the singer clapped and sang in a foreign tongue. Though most hosts and guests did not understand the language, the hauntingly beautiful song and the dancer’s leaps and kicks soon made them forget any barrier.

As the dance began, Du Shiyi observed: if the Hu Xuan Dance was famed for endless spinning, this Hu Teng was all about tumbling and leaping, never straying from the bronze plate. At times, the steps resembled tap dance, and when the boots struck the plate, the rhythm and sound were clear, but unlike tap, which focuses on footwork, the Hu Teng engaged hands, feet, waist, and hips—grasping sleeves, swaying head, twisting hips, raising knees and jumping. When the dancer became engrossed, his movements grew wilder, every posture—turning, arm waving, hip twisting, knee lifting—seemed on the verge of collapse, yet always magically stabilized before stepping off the plate, eliciting waves of applause and cheers.

When the piece ended, the dancer stopped, bowing deeply without a trace of breathlessness or flush. At that moment, Dou Xiguan, his face aglow, glanced at his son with satisfaction and called out with a smile, “Reward!”