Free The Mystery of the Song Dynasty Painting by Adeline Yen Mah Page B

about: tightrope-walkers, pole acts, jugglers, clowns, fortune-tellers, actors and professional storytellers are all surrounded by dense crowds. We walk past a barber shop and see a bearded man being shaved with a sharp, curved knife. Down the street a well-muscled army officer is testing the suppleness of a crossbow at an archery stall. Next to him, illiterate farmers wait patiently for a public scribe to write their letters for a fee.
    We mingle with shoppers, beggars, monks asking for alms, and families out on holiday. I can’t help laughing at a bare-bottomed little boy who’s trying to climb into a peddler’s basket. A sign on the basket proclaims that the peddler can cure diseases of cows and horses, as well as children! Many people are dressed in their best holiday clothes, with elaborate headgear. It’s so noisy we can hardly hear one another speak. Suddenly a loud bang startles me, but Ah Zhao says it’s just a firecracker. I’m fascinated by all the different shops and restaurants, hotels, temples, official buildings and private residences, ranging from modest dwellings to grand mansions with meticulously maintained yards.
    Gege and Ah Zhao walk on either side of me to make sure that I don’t get lost in the crowd. As we stroll along the riverbank, towards the Longevity Gardens, the crowds thin out a little and I see hundreds of paper kites, shaped like birds and butterflies, flying in the wind. Some are tied to long poles wrapped in colourful silk banners, all bearing the characters Qing Ming Feng Zheng Jie (Qing Ming Kite Festival).
    The Longevity Gardens turn out to be a large, empty field on a raised plateau overlooking the river on one side, and plots of vegetables and wheat on the other. The best thing about the grounds is the panoramic view of the city of Bian Liang. The three of us stand at the edge of the plateau, with Gege in the middle. He drapes his arms affectionately round our shoulders.
    ‘When we get home,’ Gege says, ‘I’m going to paint a picture of this great scene, exactly as it is at this moment. I’ll remember how it looks right now and never let go of the image. Will you help me do this, Big Nose?’
    ‘Of course – we’ll do it together! We need to make the river the centrepiece of your painting. Be sure to remember the direction of the sun; we’ll put in sunshine and shadows where we see them now.’
    ‘How do you draw sunshine?’
    ‘When you draw dark shadows, the spaces you leave blank will be sunshine.’
    ‘Brilliant! We’ll name the painting Along the River at Qing Ming . It will preserve a slice of Bian Liang city life, during Emperor Huizong’s reign, for our grandchildren and our great-great-grandchildren.’
    ‘There’s something mysterious about this river, isn’t there?’ I muse.
    ‘I know,’ Ah Zhao agrees. ‘Where does it begin and where does it end? I want to follow it to its source and find out.’
    ‘And I want something to eat,’ Gege says, bringing us back to earth.
    At the edge of the field are stands selling hot and cold drinks, noodles, dumplings and steamed buns. Gege buys us each a bun. I bite into the fluffy, light exterior, waiting for the meat and the hot, savoury juices to run over my tongue. It tastes so good that I ask for another, but I can’t finish it, so the boys share it.
    We pass a large stall piled high with kites of different shapes and sizes, each more colourful than the next. Some are tied to poles so that they billow in the wind. Most are made of paper, but a few are silk. I can’t resist touching one shaped like a bird with orange-and-yellow wings, green tail and blue body.
    ‘This kite is yours for only eight coppers,’ the toothless old kite merchant says to me. ‘Today is a perfect day for kite-flying. Neither too hot nor too cold. Nice breeze blowing, but not too strong. See the leaves rustling in the treetops, and the flags flying on that big boat over there? All indicators of good kite-flying weather. On top