FRAGMENT 45
Rank
Fragment: The Guzheng Classic | High Mountains and Flowing Water | Floating Through the Air
Time & Location: Spring 2000 · China World Hotel, Beijing | Casino Lisboa, Macau
Old Tong's eyes widened.
"Holy shit."
"Bai Ying."
"What are you doing here?"
He carried the warmth of his teacher.
Half an hour earlier, I had stepped through the revolving doors of the China World Hotel.
The lobby was saturated with the mood of the new millennium.
As President and Chief Executive Officer, the company I led—Macau Superfrequency Satellite Television—had virtually no reputation.
Still, like an inflatable life vest on an airplane, I had managed to blow myself up into something that looked confident.
My body wore an entirely new skin.
An international skin.
The watch was Piaget.
The suit was Zegna.
The shoes were Louis Vuitton.
The accessories followed naturally.
A Montblanc briefcase.
A Montblanc wallet.
A Montblanc notebook.
A Montblanc pen.
And, for good measure, several sprays of Giorgio Armani.
A round table stood at the center of the banquet hall.
Twenty seats.
The guzheng masterpiece *High Mountains and Flowing Water* drifted through the air.
I sat to the right of the host's seat.
Next came Xu Yanan.
Next came Gao Yong.
His promotion was imminent.
Half a step higher.
His vocal system remained deliberately tense.
The silence around him felt unnatural.
Xu Yanan had already warned me that an important guest would attend tonight.
Someone whose presence alone would endorse my company.
She was not wearing her military uniform.
Her bare arm occasionally brushed against mine.
Whether intentionally or not, I could not tell.
At exactly seven-thirty, the door opened.
A middle-aged man entered.
Nearly one meter ninety.
Before he had finished surveying the room, Xu Yanan was already on her feet.
She snapped a salute.
"Minister Tong!"
"Come on, come on."
"I'm not military."
Laughing, he strode toward the main seat.
Sat down.
Wiped his hands with a hot towel.
Then turned and saw me.
"You know each other?"
Xu Yanan had barely lifted her glass.
"Of course."
"Old friends."
His hand had already engulfed mine.
Two large hands.
Thick.
Warm.
Soft.
I placed my left hand over his.
Then borrowed a famous punchline from a crosstalk routine.
"I've missed you so much, Uncle Tong."
The affectionate exchange ended instantly.
A glance from Old Tong was enough.
Xu Yanan immediately took over.
Referring to the notes I had prepared.
Introducing each guest in turn.
At gatherings like this, people came for the spectacle.
But what truly mattered was the hierarchy.
Starting from Old Tong's left, Xu Yanan introduced everyone.
First came her close friend.
A military soprano.
Every breath originated from the dantian.
Even while seated, she maintained performance posture.
Then an oil painter.
A celebrated Kunqu performer.
A female PhD from Renmin University.
Xu Yanan stopped behind two young women.
Placed a hand on each shoulder.
"Everyone, take a look."
"These two beautiful guzheng musicians."
"So graceful."
"So lovely."
"The music you're hearing right now is exactly what they perform for senior leaders."
The slightly fuller one reminded me of Orchid.
She smiled at me.
A hint of curiosity sparkled in her eyes.
Between ruby-colored lips appeared a row of perfectly white teeth.
The tip of her tongue touched the roots of those teeth.
Producing a tiny tremor of pleasure.
Old Tong's attention never left the cup of tea before him.
His gaze seemed to resonate with the ripples on the water's surface.
I sat quietly.
Listening to the sounds within the people across the table.
Department directors.
State enterprise executives.
Bankers.
Every one of them remained composed.
None wished to attract attention.
Several familiar television experts were also present.
I privately called them "professional mouths."
They spoke more than the others.
Yet every sentence remained carefully measured.
The muscles controlling saliva and speech inside their mouths moved with more rhythm than the act of eating itself.
Ten men.
Ten women.
Perfectly balanced.
FRAGMENT 46
A Different Voice
Fragment: Controlling the Rhythm of Speech | A Frequency Deep Beneath the Earth That Belonged Only to Me
Time & Location: Spring 2000 · China World Hotel | Compound No. 7, Beijing
When it was Vice Minister Tong's turn, he exchanged pleasantries with every guest.
No one was overlooked.
No one received too much attention.
Gao Yong kept his thin lips tightly closed.
Performing admiration.
The soprano complimented the Minister's voice.
"So rich and resonant."
Old Tong smiled.
"You're the expert."
"Have some bird's nest."
"Take care of the People's Army's golden voice."
The PhD from Harbin spoke next.
Her northern accent carried the orderly logic unique to that city.
"I hope to receive your guidance."
Old Tong immediately raised his glass.
"You're the scholar."
"I'm the amateur."
"I should be learning from you."
The young opera performer and the guzheng musicians followed one after another.
The room overflowed with the atmosphere of spring.
Old Tong remained unmoved.
Like a monk.
Eyes level.
Posture steady.
Responding patiently.
Then the professor from the Academy of Fine Arts offered his observation.
"Distinguished appearance."
"Righteous bearing."
"A perfect subject for classical oil painting."
Interesting.
Everyone waited to hear how Old Tong would respond.
He smiled but said nothing.
Lowered his head.
Drank soup for seven seconds.
Picked up a slice of Wagyu beef.
Placed it carefully onto a small plate.
Only then did he answer.
"Please."
"Eat more.”
That was all.
Compound No. 7 had long been famous as a world of short men.
People joked that cleverness grew closer to the ground.
Most officials there were shorter than their counterparts in other critical departments.
Old Tong was the only cadre taller than my father.
I remembered my father once telling him that his height made him unsuitable for field intelligence work.
Too conspicuous.
So he had been trained instead within the machinery of the central apparatus.
At last Xu Yanan arrived at the real purpose of the evening.
"Minister Tong, I hope you'll support President Bai's work."
The ease vanished from his face.
He nodded gravely.
When the banquet ended, he held my hand.
"Come see me in the next few days."
"I have something to discuss."
A military salute from the guards at the compound gate startled me.
Following a secretary, I entered Old Tong's office.
He closed the door.
We talked about health.
Family.
Life.
The ordinary things people talk about when they already know the important things.
Then his tone changed.
"Bai Ying."
"Your father was my benefactor.”
He paused.
Added hot water to my teacup.
Then continued.
"I suspect life hasn't been easy for someone with your temperament."
"But your father instructed me repeatedly."
"Under no circumstances was I to allow you into this profession."
"I cannot ignore his final order."
"That's fine."
"I have no desire to spend my life trapped in this place.”
I said.
“Doing very well. I have no desire to stay cooped up here.”
“I know.” Tong chuckled. “As long as your teacher was alive, you were never allowed to leave the country. Oops. I just leaked a secret. Hahaha.”
Suddenly, it dawned on me.
It suddenly occurred to me that I had been a hostage for thirty years.
“Out there, the world's wide open for you,” Tong said, his voice carrying a rare note of certainty. “Go and do something worthwhile.”
He paused before adding:
“And if there's ever anything you need—whether it's something personal, or something the Ministry can help with—just let me know.”
I carefully controlled the rhythm of my speech.
Word by word.
"Uncle Tong."
"What I'm doing now benefits the country."
"I'll do my best."
"But if there's one thing I truly need..."
I laughed.
"It's money."
"The biggest advantage of money is safety."
"You understand that, don't you?"
For a moment he simply looked at me.
Then nodded.
"I understand."
"I'll make arrangements."
Outside, the engine of an Audi A8 was already humming softly.
I did not get into the car.
Instead, I walked alone toward the old building hidden among the trees.
The evening sun hesitated behind Longevity Hill.
Tracing the mountain's silhouette with gold.
I wasn't wearing sunglasses.
Hadn't needed them for a long time.
A flock of crows landed on a rooftop.
Watching me.
No cawing.
No sound of my father's footsteps.
No trace of Gao Yong's cold laughter.
Only wind moving across the grass.
Producing tiny sounds.
I found myself squatting down.
Listening.
Listening to a frequency deep beneath the earth.
A frequency that belonged only to me.
This place had once been my world.
