Chapter 38

"Professor Lin, I believe this song should be sung by a high-pitched, elongated female voice to capture the feeling you're aiming for."

Whether it's 'snow dyes ten thousand radiant bells shaping Buddha niches' or 'in an instant, fleeting shadows and floating light reflect off palace halls, mistakenly asking what year it is today,' it's unsuitable for a male voice."

"If Master Mei..."

Meng Xiaodong realized she had spoken carelessly—Master Mei referred to Mei Lanfang, the foremost of the Four Great Dan, and also her ex-husband.

"How about this, Mr. Lin? Please wait a moment while I send for Gu Zhengqiu to sing for you—would that be acceptable? She’s currently in Xiangjiang."

"Gu Zhengqiu is a female dan role; she’s perfect for this song. But she used to perform on the island and has lived there a long time—would you mind?"

"Though she only performed on the island and had no other connections."

Lin Ran had also realized this issue—he heard Meng Xiaodong sing, and though her vocal technique was unquestionably top-tier, it still fell short of the song’s intended meaning.

Only after her explanation did he understand where the problem lay.

Peking opera performers are divided into many types; Meng Xiaodong, as a kunsheng, is a woman with a male voice—meaning she is female but sings with a completely male timbre.

Dan roles, especially nandans, are the opposite: men with female voices.

There are female dans but no male kuns, because men portraying male roles fall under the sheng category.

Meng Xiaodong mentioned Gu Zhengqiu’s background precisely because she feared misunderstanding—if Gu were to sing, it might cause complications.

Professor Lin clearly intended to remain an observer; if they brought an opera performer from the island, would it cause trouble for him—or did he have other considerations?

Meng Xiaodong had only a vague impression of this young, talented Chinese-American professor at first, but after hearing him perform 'Bi Shang Guan,' she gained new respect for his talent.

To describe him as gifted beyond measure is no exaggeration; from her perspective, this song might even have founded a new school.

It was hard to imagine a Chinese-American raised overseas could compose such a piece.

Lin Ran’s background had been widely reported in Xiangjiang media, all citing official American newspaper accounts—he grew up and studied in Europe, and rose to fame in North America.

So her consideration for him came not from flattery, but from respect for his talent—this song deserved proper treatment.

Thus, among the current dans in Xiangjiang, the most outstanding she could think of was Gu Zhengqiu.

Lin Ran ran through the possibilities in his mind and decided it was no problem—he had already accepted a visiting professorship from the escape-version Tsinghua University; having Gu Zhengqiu sing a song was trivial: "Fine."

Meng Xiaodong asked next: "Shall we reschedule another time, or shall I go fetch her right away while you wait?"

Lin Ran said: "Better to act now than wait for a lucky day."

"Very well. Please rest here for a moment, Professor Lin."

No sooner had Meng Xiaodong left than the servant approached Lin Ran: "Professor Lin, Mr. Zhang has been waiting outside for some time and hopes to meet you."

"Mr. Zhang?"

"Zhang Shizhao."

Lin Ran recalled—he had seen this name in Meng Xiaodong’s files; Zhang had come from across the river to persuade her to return.

Zhang Shizhao might sound unfamiliar, but his granddaughter is Hong Xiang; Hong Xiang’s ex-husband is the famous Chen director—the one who made 'Farewell My Concubine.'

Lin Ran immediately understood: perhaps when he sent his invitation, or when he arrived, the servant had informed Zhang of his visit.

Hence this scene.

Since arriving in Xiangjiang, he had attended only one evening banquet hosted by Xiangjiang University, spending his days teaching and nights inside the university campus.

"Let him in," Lin Ran said. He might as well let Zhang hear his carefully prepared 'Bi Shang Guan.'

"Professor Lin, I’ve long admired your reputation—I am Zhang Shizhao..." The man wore an old-fashioned long robe, exuding scholarly poise.

Zhang Shizhao was baffled: after the initial pleasantries, no matter how he hinted or directly stated his purpose, Lin Ran refused to engage—only smiled, waiting for Meng Xiaodong’s return.

He knew well: if Meng Xiaodong returned and saw him here, she’d immediately realize the servant had betrayed her, and he’d lose another ally.

But to leave now would likely expose the servant too—and he couldn’t bear to give up, for his orders were to do everything possible to persuade Lin Ran to return to the mainland.

From the mainland’s perspective, if Meng Xiaodong’s value was one, Lin Ran’s value would explode the entire scale.

Zhang Shizhao had offered the maximum within his authority: director of the Mathematics Department at Peking University, with the option to return first and decide later.

Yet Lin Ran remained impervious—neither accepting nor refusing.

Zhang Shizhao sat uneasily on the sofa, utterly confused by Lin Ran’s intentions.

Lin Ran, too, had no easy words—he had information asymmetry, yes, but that didn’t mean omniscience; he had no idea who Zhang was, whether he had multiple identities, or who the servant really was—could the servant give information to others?

He dared not speak carelessly—Xiangjiang was still too sensitive.

As Meng Xiaodong returned with Gu Zhengqiu, the four people in the parlor each harbored private thoughts.

But Gu Zhengqiu’s thoughts were likely the simplest—like Meng Xiaodong, she saw the score and immediately became enchanted, humming along involuntarily.

Upon hearing the title 'Bi Shang Guan,' Zhang Shizhao’s heart sank: 'Bi Shang Guan? So this song is his way of expressing his stance? I’ve never seen such a method of expression.'

Does 'the rich brushstrokes of the Tang Dynasty' imply the glorious history of Chinese civilization?

Does 'in an instant, fleeting shadows and floating light reflect off palace halls' suggest our ideals are like dreams and bubbles, unattainable?

What does 'where do the light dances of the Hu Xuan fade to rest?' mean?

What does 'snow dyes ten thousand radiant bells shaping Buddha niches, departing to drink feasts in dust' signify?

Does 'how can the vermilion face not mourn the lost brilliance of ancient murals?' mean the Tang Dynasty’s golden age is gone?

But the final line—'yet awaken to watch from the wall'—Zhang Shizhao understood: his stance was clear—he rejected the invitation outright.

The song’s mournful melody, rendered by Gu Zhengqiu’s voice, was utterly complete; Zhang Shizhao couldn’t recall how he left Meng Xiaodong’s home—only that his mind was filled with the lyrics, endlessly trying to decode their meaning.

Before leaving Meng Xiaodong’s home, Lin Ran instructed her and Gu Zhengqiu:

"I’ll be interviewed by Xiangjiang Radio this Friday. Please record it before then. Whether to add classical Chinese instruments to enhance the cultural flavor is entirely up to your expertise."

Then Lin Ran pulled an envelope from his suit pocket and handed it to Meng Xiaodong:

"This is payment for the orchestra or musicians—if it’s insufficient, feel free to come to the Mathematics Department at Xiangjiang University. As for your fees, I plan to offer two hundred dollars—what do you think?"