The Pei-Pa

Lee Kok Liang

Originally published in Melbourne University Magazine, July 1950.

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The pei-pa cracked out harshly, like a racking cough, while the man moved slowly around the tables. He wore a blue-sack dress, much frayed along the edges. His fingers, long slim talons, twitched nervously across the strings, feeling out melodies of the ancient world. Bare-footed, he shuffled forward, stooping forth to place small packets of dried melon seeds on tables before the guests, pocketing them back, with a sigh, when heads shook dissent. All this while the pei-pa sputtered out a few disjointed notes. He was moving to the right with an air of despondency, when a shout from the rear brought forth a happy, hopeful gleam in his tired eyes.

"Hey, you, come here and strum us a song. You'll get something. We are lucky at the mahjong game today. It's time for celebration."

The fat man with swollen cheeks roared this out. Perspiration trickled down the sides of his face. One of his legs was drawn up and clamped comfortably down on the edge of the chair, while a fat gold ring on his middle finger glittered when he raised a cup of tea or when he cracked a melon seed between his yellowish teeth. A thin fellow sat beside him.

"What shall I play, sir? Romance, tragedy, something about San Peh and Eng Tai, or the ditties of the Han dynasty?"

The man with the pei-pa walked up and placed two packets of melon seeds, one before the fat man and the other in front of the thin fellow. He adjusted the strings and gripped the pei-pa more firmly now that he had a customer.

"Nonsense, old man. You are a fool. Who wants to hear that nowadays? We must be modern. Play something new. Do you know any of those tunes of the foreign devils?"

The fat man snorted. The thin fellow beside him suddenly drew up his spidery legs and looked hard at the pei-pa man. Turning to his fat companion, he remarked:

"I don't think he knows anything. He's a damn fool. Should have been in the grave ages ago. Still, I would like to have some amusement. Would you? There's no harm in asking him. Say old devil, know any modern songs? The kind those half-naked hussies used to cry out in the picture theatres. Strum me something so that I can remember those half-naked hussies."

The thin fellow took out a cigarette, lit it while he squatted on the chair, half-curled up, with his sharp face propped between his clenched knees, and waited.

The man stood silent for a moment with his pei-pa dangling from his right hand, his brows knitted as if he were in deep thought. He did not know many modern tunes of the foreign devils, but he managed to learn a few for occasions such as this. One had to know some new things if one intended to make a living, he thought. Poor Tsi-char, his son, with tiny pinched face, funny wrinkled belly, and querulous coughs in the night, had he any chance to survive in this modern world? The pei-pa man mused as he settled the instrument against his body. He did not like the looks of these two fellows. He rather preferred those poor students who loved to hear any melody he might strum out. Anyway, the thin fellow had already eaten the melon seeds. It was funny the way that man stared at him. Well, he might as well strum out a tune or two he had learnt. His lips quivered into an affected smile as he addressed his audience.

"I might be an old fool. But still you know, sirs, I am able to play some modern tunes. You see, I happened to learn them from a few youths in our village. Anyway, here it is."

The pei-pa emitted a few high-pitched twangs as his hand began to move over the belly of the instrument. His fingers no longer rested languorously on the strings. They leapt about with queer jerks. At times four of them set tight on the strings, while the others flashed down across the other end. At times they raced one another feverishly down the neck of the pei-pa. Queer notes they were, something unfamiliar from the ancient pei-pa; yet something that sounded strung and vital. The man shifted his body slightly, gripped the instrument harder. His eyes were no longer tired. He did not know why. But, somehow, he was much affected when he strummed this tune. Not in the same way as when he played those gentle, ancient ditties, either. Was he too old? Was he useless? he wondered. His heart pounded, for here, he felt, he was no more a useless derelict; he could at least achieve something which was new. Modern, modern, modern, boomed out his pei-pa. Such were his thoughts. He noticed that the other guests twisted their faces in his direction. The fat man fidgeted in his seat. But the thin fellow still remained in the same hunched position. Seeing the flash of the gold ring as the fat man raised his hand, he at once stopped playing.

"Say, old fool, that is not what we want. We want something modern. Something those half-naked hussies on the screen used to coo out. You know those tunes? Some of them sounded like the sensuous ditty which narrated the ungowning of Yang Kue-fei at her bath. Something which will remind us of perfumes and white legs. Not that type you just strummed. Do you think so, Tu-hsi?"

The fat man addressed the last few words to his companion. The thin fellow still stared at the pei-pa man. Still remaining hunched, he replied:

"Yes, it's not the thing we want. And besides, it sounded too familiar; something, I would say, like the paeans of Yo Fei, when he called the country up to arms. I must admit it sounded like a foreign song, too. Where did you learn it, old fool? Never knew you could strum such a tune."

The thin fellow raised his eyebrows slightly and stared at the man in front of him. The pei-pa man loosened his hold on the instrument. He noticed that the thin fellow still looked at him steadily. Funny sort of a person, he thought, never moved his eyes; maybe he was a fish before he was re-born; more like a lobster, though, curling himself on the chair.

"Well, sir, I learned it from a soldier. Such a young chap. We, that is my wife and myself, found him crawling in a ditch beside our field. Horribly cut up he was, after the skirmish near our village. My wife took him in, though we could ill afford it. Not enough rice left nowadays, you know. He had bad wounds on both arms and cried out at night. Later, you know, his fingers became stiff. Fine fellow he was. Said he always yearned to learn to play a pei-pa. Now he could not. He taught me a few new tunes. He loved the one I just played."

"What type of a soldier is he, anyway? Oh, that does not matter; you are a damn fool, you know. Fancy trying to praise a dirty soldier. What use is he? Eating your rice. And teaching you that silly tune." the thin fellow sneered.

"Yes, indeed, he is a silly ass," the fat man interjected. "We wanted to be reminded of those half-naked hussies. After all, we had a good hand at the mahjong table. It will be grand to celebrate in a modern way. Modern tunes. Modern girls. Ah, that is life. Say, why don't our girls go farther? They have cut their hair short now. It would be wonderful if they could dress themselves up like those half-naked hussies in the picture theatres, don't you think so? White shoulders and nice manners, eh? There will be no need for us to visit Ah Qua's house frequently then. Ah Qua is such a damn scoundrel. Fancy charging us ten silver dollars higher for that new one today. Says she is still fresh as a chicken. Says she comes from a family of scholars. However. she's not so satisfying as the old hens, don't you think so, Tu-hsir?”

The fat man spoke heatedly, wobbling his cheeks. He turned to his companion, but finding no response there, he addressed himself again to the man with the pei-pa.

"Say, silly old fool. Don't you wish our girls were like that? How would you feel if your precious daughter dressed in such a manner? By the way, speaking confidentially, have you a daughter?"

The gold ring flashed, and the fat man wiped his cheeks with his bare hand. There was a sharp crack as his teeth crushed upon the melon seed.

The pei-pa man stirred his left foot uneasily. Why should he be reminded of Chu Choo, today of all days? The tune, the soldier, and Chu Choo; it is funny. He forced himself to look at the fat man, and noticed the heavy, oily cheeks. Some time ago, he thought, a cheek, fresh and young, was wet in his house. It was not sweat that oozed out then; the cheeks were wet with what the ancients called jaded drops. Yes, Chu Choo wept and tried to hide her face, when he entered her cubicle that night. Yes, Chu Choo was an obedient daughter. He pitied her. But what could he do? Tsi-char, the jewelled one, was coughing badly now. Chu Choo could fetch a good price. Then, perhaps, Tsi-char could get some good medicine. Besides, Chu Choo might have a better life entertaining guests, he thought. But he was worried. He did not know what to say to the young soldier. No doubt he had gone away, but he had promised to come back again soon. And Chu Choo would then be gone.

"Say, silly old fool. Are you dreaming? I ask you have you a daughter. Answer rue, old rascal."

The fat man leant forward from his seat, spat out the words impatiently, and the thin fellow still stared. The pei-pa man looked at them.

"What has that got to do with you? Do you want to hear any more tunes and ditties, sir? If not, I have other business to do. Will you please pay up?"

"Pay up? For what?" the fat man jeered. "Why, that dirty ditty of yours makes my tummy ache."

The thin fellow still stared; then suddenly his lips began to move violently, as if he was murmuring, under his breath, vicious curses. The fat man turned round and looked at him with some surprise.

"Say, what's going on? Have you gone mad? Why do you shake your lips so furiously? Has your mother's melon seed gone into your sore tooth?"

But the thin fellow still continued to behave in this manner for some time; then, calming himself, he replied:

"I am not mad. The only thing I hate most is to be cheated." “You cheated? Why, you have the best brains in the province. Remember how you hid the 'black gold' in the body of that dead baby and carried him across the border as your child? It was great fun. Why, you are smart. I do not know how I could get along without you."

The fat man hastily consoled his companion. The gold ring glittered and there was the crunch of the melon seed. Still the other's lips moved rapidly; and his eyes glowered fixedly at the man standing before him. Without turning his head, he replied:

"Yes, 1 am sure you cannot do without me. But that does not matter. You know . . ."

"Know what?" the fat man asked.

"Why, our friend here hasn't answered your question yet." "What question?"

"The one about his precious daughter."

"Oh, yes, I forgot. Say, old fool, have you a daughter? And don't stand there dumb like a wooden cock. Answer me."

"Tell him if he does not answer, we shall not pay him."

He switched the pei-pa from his left hand to the right. Of all their mother's stubborn asses, why should they persist in asking him about Chu Choo? he thought. Still, there was no harm in answering the question. He had to please his customers; especially after that thin fellow had that violent fit a moment ago.

"Well, I had one. But she is gone."

"Dead, old fool? What did you feed her with? Mud?"

The fat man mocked. The gold ring flashed again. The thin fellow still stared.

"No. But she is gone. I cannot tell you."

"Can you describe her to me?" the thin fellow chipped in.

The pei-pa man pushed his left hand far into the pocket and fingered the packets of melon seeds. Why should the thin fellow want to know about Chu Choo's appearance? He hesitated.

"Might not she have a cut under her chin, and a pink mole on the side of her neck?" the thin fellow put in quietly.

"Why, how do you know? That sounds like her," the pei-pa man blurted out. How did that thin fellow know? Was he an agent for the police? Why, he took care that Chu Choo should be disposed of several miles away from the village. Had she run away? That ungrateful daughter of her mother; to think she could do such a thing; after all, he had brought her up. Where could he get the money to refund if he should be approached? These thoughts whirled in his mind, leaving him numbed and undecided.

"Say, isn't that the one we had at Ah Qua's house?" the fat man remarked. "Cost us ten silver dollars extra too. And so reluctant. If she were not from high birth, as Ah Qua had guaranteed, I would not pay more than fifty cents. By the way, what has that got to do with the silly fool here?"

The thin fellow made a sign to the fat man, pulled him very near to his chair, and started to point to the face of the man standing in front, murmuring:

"I'll show you. See what I mean. I have been watching that dog all the time. You can see clearer from this side. Notice the similarity of the features, though that dastard's face is already wrinkled. And to think we paid ten extra silver dollars. Are we not cheated, I ask you?"

"Of all the dirty mothers' sons! Ah Qua! Wait till I have him by the neck, tear his vitals out. To think of it, we have been cheated!" the fat man exploded.

He decided not to wait any longer. Not while the thin fellow was acting so queerly, and murmuring, too. He gripped the pei-pa harder; well, he had to go. But not before he got his payment. He would need that to buy some herbs for Tsi-char's cough. So he said:

"Do you want to hear any more tunes, sirs? If not, will you please pay me?"

The fat man, who had been leaning against his companion, snapped back into his former position like a catapult. Sweat oozed from his cheeks, and his ugly teeth revealed themselves in uneven rows as he shouted.

"Pay you for what? That dirty song? We asked those for which the half-naked hussies sang. Not your silly one. Besides, we have overpaid you, ten silver dollars extra, you dastard!"

"Overpaid me, sirs? Why, I haven't received a cent from you."

"Ask that mother's daughter of yours," the thin fellow snapped out.

The man loosened his hold on the pei-pa and looked at them in bewilderment. Were they mad? Or were they trying to cheat him out of those two packets of melon seeds? He would not allow himself to be cheated. He was an honest man. At least if he did not get paid for the tune, he might, in all fairness, ask them to pay for those melon seeds.

"Sirs, I do not know what you are talking about. But if you don't want to hear any more tunes, and do not wish to pay for the tune I strummed, then please pay for the melon seeds. You have eaten them, haven't you? Look here, gentlemen," he cried, turning to the guests at the other tables, "I have played for them a modern song. They have eaten my melon seeds. And now they refuse to pay me anything. Is that fair? Is that justice? I ask you, gentlemen."

"Why, you son of a bitch." The gold ring flashed . . . and before he knew, the pei-pa was swept from his grasp. There was a heavy crunch as it struck the floor. It exploded like a cracked melon seed. He turned upon the fat man, but he noticed that the thin fellow, still glowering at him, was holding a short thick staff. It was no use asking for payment now. They looked determined and angry. There was a pain in his heart as he bent down for the pei-pa. He had picked up two pieces of the broken instrument when a student, blue-clad, pale and consumptive-looking, who had just come in, strode over to the other side of the room, picked up the third piece, and handed it to him, saying:

"Old fellow, here's the last one. How did it get broken? Anyway, you can mend it. Broken things can be rebuilt, you know. Why, tomorrow I shall even hear you playing again some of those lovely tunes which I like so much—something that is strong and vital, something that is full of hope. So don't you worry, old fellow."

It seemed funny. The voice had a familiar ring in it. As if the young soldier with stiff fingers was again speaking to him. Well he would mend the pei-pa as soon as he got home. Then he might he able to play more new tunes.