Free Along the River by Adeline Yen Mah Page A

through the gate,” says one musician to another, “but pedestrians get in for free during the Qing Ming Festival.”
    Gege taps the musician on his arm to get his attention. “Where will you be performing?”
    “At the Longevity Gardens. There’s going to be a kite-flying competition this afternoon. You three should come and join the fun. It’s only half a li upriver to your left. We’re going to have a hot and noisy party.”
    “When do the city gates close?” I ask.
    “At sundown.”
    “Don’t worry about that,” Ah Zhao interrupts. “You’ll hear the drums.”
    “Drums?” I ask. “What drums?”
    “See the ornate guardhouse standing atop the city gates?” the musician says. “There’s a bell as well as a drum in that guardhouse. The bell is rung at sunrise every morning, when the city gates open, and the drum is beaten at sundown every evening, to warn you the gates are about to close.”
    “How many bells and drums are there altogether?”
    “The city wall has twelve separate gates,” Ah Zhao says, “but I’m not sure whether each gate has a bell and drum in its guardhouse.”
    “Don’t worry,” the musician says. “Unless you’re deaf, you’re bound to hear the drums at sundown. You’ll know when to get out.”
     
     
    Inside the walled city there are even more people milling about: tightrope-walkers, pole acts, jugglers, clowns, fortunetellers, actors and professional storytellers are all surrounded by dense crowds. We walk past a barbershop 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, toward 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 colorful 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 around 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 centerpiece 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