ACOUSTIC METADATA

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• TIMESTAMP: Spring, 2005

• LOCATION: Beijing Party School / Jesuit Cemetery

• SUBJECT: Deputy Minister Tong / Tian Xiaoning

• ACOUSTIC DATA: Groove friction (Wind on Latin inscriptions), Flaking texture of history

 

 

Old Tong’s calls always pulse from Compound No. 7 with surgical timing. “Deputy Minister Tong, what are your instructions?”

 

He asked if the high-level internal reports (Neican) were ready. It was Old Tong who announced my appointment as Editor-in-Chief of Xi-Yuan magazine. A protégé of my father, he has looked after me since our reunion. This monthly publication, dedicated to interpreting national security policy, is a privileged medium that bypasses the noise and transmits directly to the central power core.

 

The editorial office is housed in a row of chilled, ancient buildings on the Beijing Party School campus. Grey bricks and green tiles—austere and elegant. The ground is saturated with the dead: Matteo Ricci, Adam Schall von Bell, Ferdinand Verbiest. I enjoy taking guests to sit on the ground before these Jesuit tombstones.

 

As we smoke and drink tea, the smoke curls over the Latin inscriptions carved in marble. The frequency produced by the wind hitting those grooves has a brittle, flaking texture—the sound of history peeling off.

 

“Chief Editor Bai, I am Tian Xiaoning. Tian as in field, Xiao as in dawn, Ning as in Lang Shining (Giuseppe Castiglione).”

 

He wore a faded camo jacket that clashed violently with his maroon sweater. His self-introduction was a three-layered progression: the simplicity of life, the clarity of heaven and earth, and the weight of history. I am no stranger to the scholar’s ego. 

 

For a long time, 90% of China’s publications belonged to a single publisher named “The Party.”