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Chapter Text

Chapter I.

Growing up I was not the easiest child to raise, I was fun-loving, mischievous, and my belly was always empty. My mom forbade me from eating anything from Donghuamen night market, said the place had questionable hygiene and it’d give me collywobbles. Of course, I never listened to any of that. I saved up some pocket money on my own, so that by the evening I’d be able to sneak out of the house to buy bean jellies, lǘdagunr (1), barbecued squids, and all that good stuff.

Coming home with a mouthful of grease wasn’t as fun, my mom would grab the feather duster and chase me around the house for a good beating. But I wasn’t scared, not the slightest, I even became pro enough to eat my good stuff while running from the beating stick. 

It was at times like this that I’d dash into the deep ends of the alley, my hasty yet jaunty footsteps echoing throughout the narrow Cuzhang Hutong (2). I’d summon someone from inside the innermost oakwood doors with white copper door knockers by yelling “Liuye! Liuye!”, and that very special someone would come and open the doors for me. I’d slip behind those doors, as if entering a zone of protection. Sighing in total relief, I’d finally look up to him and say:

“Liuye if you were any slower my mom would’ve skinned me alive!!”

I could still hear my mom cursing outside of those doors, “you spoiled little brat”, “little piglet”; probably wanted it to be heard by the whole district. Peeking through the doors while covering my ears, I watched her stomp her way back home.

Liuye with his hands tied to his back, retorted in leisured amusement: “I should’ve taken my time, leave your mother to discipline you little glutton.”

No way Liuye was actually going to let that happen. He turned and strolled around the old locust tree in his courtyard, beneath the tree on the stone table sat some bamboo dimsum basket. He lifted the lid and asked: “Gingered crisp fritters and fried sugar ears (3), want some?”

Of course I’d want some, I ain’t gonna be called a piglet for nothing right?

And Li u ye, f l uttering his p addl e fan, would watch m e gobble down h is e n tire t able with a beam. 

I always thought that Liuye was a living saint. I didn’t know what Liuye’s name was, only that he goes by “Liudi”, and that ever since I was born I’ve been calling him Liuye like all the other kids in the neighbourhood. 

Liuye was fifty or sixty something years-old, technically a senior citizen, yet his physique and posture was just so upright even with his height. His shirt was always ironed and tucked in without a single wrinkle. One could never associate him with senility, he was always looking hale and hearty — and by that I meant he was unrivaled when it came to arm wrestling. I wholeheartedly praised him, even crowned him as “Peking Ironman”, and “The one and only Light of Beijing City” (4). 

Liuye was always living the honourable life, ran his own arts and crafts store, knew a bit of everything, and you’d always see his signature pair of gold rimmed glasses resting on his prominent nose-bridge. He always spoke to others in a gentle manner, especially so with his textbook mellow-tuned Beijing dialect (5). Other than the missing pinkie of his right hand, he’d be the walking definition of flawless. 

No, that’s not quite right either. I’ve seen him getting into a fight this one time. It was the Beijing Olympics back in 2008, and everyone was working hard for the slogans of “promoting good citizenship” and “building a harmonious society together”.  Liuye was one of the city’s volunteers, and he’d always bump into some of the uncultured swines, you know, the incorrigible ones that spit or dump their cigarette butts on the streets in broad daylight. Liuye got so mad at them that his face darkened and even squeezed out a Dongbei accent (5), his rant went something like this: “Look at ya gross and yobbish fellas, watch me kick ya heads open, crush ya pighead of a brain, and twatch y’all drool and kneel and bounce ya way outta here bawling for ya MAMAs!! HA!! I knocked ya out or something??”

As the saying goes “monkey see, monkey do”. In just three days I was already running amok in my Kindergarten class, starting beef with everyone—— “WHATCHA LOOKIN’ AT!!” always does the job in Dongbei (6). 

Speaking of Kindergarten, I was starting to read a little, and was being taught English by Mrs Lu. The other day I dropped by Liuye’s place and saw the “name” inscribed on his notebook  —— 6D, to only then realize that Liuye was always “6D” and not the “Liudi” I thought he was. 

I stuck up my thumb to him, showing off the newest trendy slangs I learnt in the meantime: “That is such a f*cking dope name!”

“Fancy h u h?” Liuye g rinned wit h sq u in t y eyes, the next s econd his paddle fan landed o ve r m y head for a rather gentle whack :   “Watch your language kiddo.”

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Annotations

(1) Lǘdagunr = 驴打滚 (literal translation being “donkey rolling”), glutinous sweet bean flour rolls, a traditional Beijing pastry/dessert

(2) Hutong = 胡同, narrow alleys typical of northern Chinese cities, especially Beijing. Cuzhang Hutong was a real residential alley in Beijing which was likely demolished to make way for new roads and buildings. More recently though, many hutongs have been designated as protected, in an attempt to preserve this aspect of Chinese cultural history

(3) Fried sugar ears = 糖耳朵, a fried sugared cake with appearance resembling an ear, a traditional Beijing pastry/dessert

(5) Beijing dialect = 北京话 (Beijinghua), the “prestige dialect” of Mandarin spoken in the urban Beijing (capital city of China), also the phonological basis of Standard Chinese language (Mandarin/Putonghua). To some, the Beijing dialect sounds like someone “talking with a mouthful of marbles”, with distinctive pronunciation and specifically the employment of the iconic rhotic suffix “-r”/ “-er”. 

• E.g. pronouncing Jiayuan’s name in our Beijing dialect would be 张嘉元儿 (Zhāng Jiāyuán-er) instead of just Zhang Jiayuan. The “er” is key.
• Zhou Keyu was born in the U.S but his family is from Beijing.

(6) Dongbei dialect = 东北话 (Dongbeihua). 东北 (Dongbei) = Northeastern China. The Dongbei dialect has a unique appeal that can’t quite be found in other Chinese dialects, mainly in its ability to give a comical glow up to any daily mundane conversations. Just like the Dongbei folks, the Dongbei dialect is full of warmth and very straightforward, but can also start you a fistfight within seconds.

• An iconic “provocative conversation” being “你瞅啥 Nǐ chǒu shá?” “瞅你咋地 Chǒu nǐ zǎ dì?”, which would be the exchange of “whatcha lookin’ at” / “what’s wrong with lookin’ at ya” -- and then you fight!
• Zhang Jiayuan is from Yingkou, Liaoning (part of the Northeastern provinces). 

Chapter II.

For as long as I’ve known him Liuye had always been one finger short. I’ve only heard people say that he suffered something “big” in the 60s. 

No way I knew what it was, but I was quick when it came to spreading rumours. In order to establish myself in elementary school, I daunted all the kids in my class into thinking that my Liuye was a ferocious gang leader — “If any of you bully me, I’ll tell Liuye to come tie you up and throw you into the Yongding river! To feed all those hungry fish!”

Liuye though, wasn’t aware of the fact that I was flaunting around with his name. Summer came along, and all the crickets screeching in the alley made the heat even more unbearable. I sprawled myself across the floor, panting with my dangling tongue like a melting pug. Liuye was in the kitchen brewing sour plum soup (2) as a summer heat relief (1) for me. 

The old Beijing folks had their unique way with making authentic sour plum soup, said to be of a recipe passed down from the royal kitchens of the Qing palace. Liuye always made it the delicate and complicated way,  boiling the sour plums with dried hawthorn berries, tangerine peels, licorice roots and a bunch of stuff. After the boiling mixture settled, Liuye would add rose sugar to it as a final touch before serving it over ice. And here’s this thing he always did, he’d clap the bingzhan’er (3) together — two little brass bowls, one on top, the other on the bottom, they click together and percuss to a tinkling, ringing clatter. That’s how I know that the sour plum soup is ready without him yelling from the other room. 

But I was rather rebellious, I wanted nothing else but iced mung bean milk (4). 

Liuye said there’s only sour plum soup in this household, and that I can get lost if I want anything else. 

And so I got lost —— and got myself lost in the storage room at the back of the courtyard, scavenger hunting for the small cooler fan Liuye promised to be “somewhere back there”. There was a subtle interlayer in the cabinet, I reached my hand inside and felt the tip of something thin and rigid.

It was my first time seeing such an old photo, a yellowing instant film of two young men that stood beside each other. One of them I do know, ten something years-old Liuye, definitely back in his salad days and radiating youthful vibrancy. The other one too was a strikingly handsome young lad — handsome enough for a fledgling chick (me), who just developed her sense for beauty, to know that this is the kind of guy I’ll be going out with when I’m old enough. 

Liuye slowly walked in with an enamel bowl, I knew he filled it with mung bean milk like I wanted. Upon seeing the photo he halted for a bit, but soon enough smiled and placed the bowl on the table. He pointed at the other figure in the photo and asked: “Isn’t he photogenic? He always looked good on camera.”

I nodded and said: “Both of you look great! Like two young poplar trees” (5). 

Somehow this phrase popped into my head randomly, “cute together”, I thought of it as a compliment and let it slip out of my mouth without a second thought. 

“ You two look cute together !”

Liuye smiled.

I pointed at the initials at the bottom of the photo and asked what OO X 6D meant —  "Is the other guy named [Circle Circle] or [Ring Ring]”?

“It’s [ Yuan Yuan ].” Liuye corrected me. 

Dinner was on Liuye, he took me out for a much anticipated eat-out day. Toasted mini cornbreads, sesame toasted minced meat pies, steamed silver rolls and fried butter cakes were some of my favorite Beijing classics to look forward to. Yet Liuye said that all the grease I craved for would heave up my “inner fire” (6), and so he dragged me across the street of all my favourite restaurants and sat us down at a vegetarian place… even forced me to drink up on some Kuding tea to cleanse my inner heat.... and all that grease.

On the way back he bought ice cream for us. The summer heat was still very much unswerving, making us fume in sweat. The two of us squatted over the corner of the alley, taking turns with our scoop and we finished the whole tub just like that.

The elderlies I knew never liked to have ice cream or anything cold, but Liuye was always different, he’d be buying all these colourful ice creams that came in all these different flavours. There were times when I was sick or having collywobbles, and he’d sit right in front of me eating —— obviously to tempt me—— but most of the time he’d just let me join him. 

But I didn’t quite enjoy the ice cream that day. Something was weighing on my mind. 

I turned and said, “Liuye, even if I do get bullied by my classmates in the future, you don’t have to throw them into the river to feed the fish.”

Liuye: Huh?

I said,  “I saw everything already, Liuye, please come clean and leave the gang you work for.”

Liuye: Huh?

I sighed, “Forget it, You’ll always be my Liuye no matter what.”

Liuye: What the heck was that? 

It’d be fair to say I lost my head for a moment, completely forgetting how kind and personable Liuye was to everyone, and only dwelled on my dramatized theories of his missing little finger. 

But you really can’t blame me for being dubious, any one who sees “that” would find it very questionable.

—— There was something else I discovered before finding that photo. A small, narrow-necked blue porcelain vase. You could hear some faint wobbles from the dusted antique, and after a few shakes you’d see a slip of paper falling out from its mouth.

From the aged, ripped slip of paper tinted with bloodstains, one could faintly read the following from the blurred scribbles —- “I guarantee ….” “Shall not … collude with….” “Shall not revolt….” And I couldn’t make out the rest of it.  

There were definitely other slips still lurking in there. I could hear it. Shame that the neck of the vase was too narrow, the one I got was like a lucky draw. 

Looking at it, I got scared. I was so invested in the “rumours" I made up to scare my classmates that it even got into my head —- that Liuye was indeed a gang leader roaming the underworld, and this was some papers of guarantee a former rival gangster wrote while Liuye pointed a gun at his head. 

But what did that even matter to me? Like I said, no matter what he was like and what he’d done, he’ll always be my Liuye.

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(1) Summer heat = 暑 (shǔ), a Traditional Chinese Medicine concept characterized by sweltering summer heat outside, which then attacks the individual's inside to make one fall ill. 

(2) Sour plum soup = 酸梅汤 (suān méi tāng), a traditional Chinese beverage made from smoked plums, rock sugar, and other ingredients such as sweet osmanthus — one of the classic summer drinks as a major heat relief, to “clear summer heat”

(3) Bingzhan’er = 冰盏儿 (bīng zhǎn’er), litera“ice bowls”, and they are indeed two little brass bowls, put one on top, the other on the bottom, they click together and percuss to a tinkling, ringing clatter — the street carts that sell cool summer drinks and ice would always have one of these as classic non-verbal “street cries”.

(4) Mung bean milk = 豆汁儿 (dòu zhī’er), a Beijing classic, a fermented soy milk like drink that’s sour with a distinctive egg-like smell. 

       - P.S. I was born and raised in Beijing and till this day I have no freaking clue why people could even tolerate the smell of mung bean milk

(5) Poplar trees = 小白杨（xiǎo bái yáng）, planted by the millions in Chairman Mao’s day as a quick and cheap way to bring greenery to landscapes across China. There was a time that the best compliment for a young lad would be “a young poplar”, seen as a symbol of courage, victory, youthfulness, especially if they were a new recruit or a young soldier. 

(6) “Elevate inner fire” = 上火 (shang huo), another Traditional Chinese Medicine concept that involves an imbalance in Yin/Yang energy which cause a rise in internal fire, causing a disturbance of internal energy hence negative health effects on the body e.g. sore throat and restlessness. Food and drinks such as Kuding tea, chrysanthemum tea and cucumbers could help relieve shanghuo and tone down the inner fire. 

Chapter III.  

I did return to that little porcelain vase some time later with “treasure hunting” in mind, tried shaking it as if shaking a box of lottery balls, but hadn’t been able to get another lucky draw since. 

After years of spring we’ve welcomed back with the swallows, the heralds of spring, and I’ve somewhat successfully grown up, grown up to be a girl with principled nonconformity. 

It was also during middle school that I had my first crush on a boy in my class. With our school assembly performances on the calendar,  I borrowed a wooden guitar from a classmate and signed myself up before actually practicing, hoping to become the new superstar overnight as well as to successfully capture his heart with my soulful performance.

This one day I sat beside the stone lions that guarded Liuye’s doors, and I started fiddling with the guitar. Apparently it was such a disturbance that the neighbours would cover their ears when they passed me by and yell “keep playing if you’re looking for some whacking!” I was immersed in my own world of music, with the unwavering stance that the uncultured residents of Cuzhang Hutong didn’t deserve to listen to my jumbled, cacophonous chords. 

My jumbled cacophony definitely woke Liuye up from his afternoon nap. He came to open the door with his paddle fan and saw the guitar in my hands. 

Liuye stared at it as he stood petrified, eyes suddenly turning bloodshot, as if seeing some kind of dreadful scourge.

I said “ Liuye come listen to me play, if this isn't the sound of heave——”

I didn’t even get to finish saying “heaven” before Liuye slammed the door shut.

It was my turn to stand petrified by the doors —— No matter what kind of mischief I’ve done in the past Liuye would always accept it with a smile, why was he so angry today?

I thought to myself, a bit hurt — was my guitar really THAT bad?

Thankfully the biggest in me was my tenacity. From then until sunset, I had been practicing that guitar non-stop by Liuye’s doors, I didn’t even go home for dinner when my mom called. 

By nine or so pm, as the damned mosquitoes gave me the seventh bite on my legs, I heard the sound of the oakwood doors creaking open. Liuye sighed and said: “Kiddo, you hit the wrong note.”

I hopped up in utter surprise: “Liuye!! Who would’ve thought that you played music yourself!”

Liuye snorted bitterly and said, “what is there to talk about, what sane person would be playing music!”

With his four fingers, Liuye taught me chord by chord a pop song from years back, called “Sorry I Love You” (1), and said that any guy would be touched to tears by this song. 

On the second day  Liuye saw me all upset and asked me what happened. I said that the guy I was into was indeed touched, even inspired by my performance. He straight up turned around and asked the school belle out — “You know… the prettiest girl in the entire school.”

Liuye bursted out laughing, and without a second thought bought me the priciest ice cream from the alleys supermarket. He said that if there’s bitterness in my heart, I should at least have something sweet. 

Looking back now I can’t remember whether it was vanilla or chocolate, but I do remember asking Liuye, “was your heart ever this bitter?” 

Liuye said no .

“Liar,” I said, “why else would you crave ice creams so much.”

Liuye  stopped talking after that.

It was later on in the years when I realized that … of course Liuye had bitterness in his heart, so much bitterness. But that tinge of sweetness from the past, that tinge of sweetness his heart clung on to was enough to get him through anything.

I changed up the subject considerately after that moment of silence, said I also wanted rice cake from Yang’s, cheese rolls from Wei’s, roasted sesame buns from Ruibinlou (2)— and that we should even tour Wangfujing and Shichahai (3) for all the mouth-watering street foods they have. 

Liuye ruffled my hair and said, “And you wonder why that boy wasn’t hitting (weren’t interested in)  on you.”

And so I howled my heart and soul out, the entirety of Cuzhang Hutong will remember that there was a heartbroken lone wolf dumped by love that night. 

(1) “Sorry I love you” = 对不起我爱你（duì bù qǐ wǒ ài nǐ）, a pop song by 1983 Combo (twins Longfei and Longze) from 2005. It was adapted and rearranged from Mika Nakashima’s famous Yuki No Hana (雪の华). 

(2) Yang’s rice cakes (年糕杨, nián gāo yáng), Wei’s cheese rolls (奶酪魏, nǎi lào wèi) and Ruibinlou’s roasted sesame buns(瑞宾楼火烧) were all some of Beijing’s time-honoured -- meaning the old and famous local brands --- of eat-out places. 

(3) Wangfujing (王府井, meaning “Prince's Mansion Well') and Shichahai (什刹海, meaning “The Lake of Temples”) Street are famous pedestrianized snack streets of Beijing in Dongcheng District. If any of you were to ever visit Beijing after the pandemic then yes, be sure to note them down as your go-to places.