Mr. Lizard Outside the Window - Chapter 11
Chapter 11: Zigeunerweisen
As soon as Banxia entered her room, she saw the large thermos of beef bone broth on the table.
She opened the lid, inhaled the fragrant steam, and poured herself a bowlful.
The long-simmered broth was seasoned with her favorite black pepper. A small sip of the spicy, warm liquid flowed down her throat, chasing away the chill that had settled in her bones after a night by the lake.
Banxia sighed contentedly. She couldn't understand how leftover beef bones from the supermarket could be transformed into something so delicious.
Cradling the warm bowl, she curled up in the small chair by the window, pulled out the sheet music Professor Yu had given her for the competition, and began to study it as she enjoyed her meal.
Zigeunerweisen, Sarasate's "Gypsy Airs." She had practiced this piece before, and Professor Yu had criticized it relentlessly. She was surprised he had chosen it for the competition.
Banxia sipped her soup, humming the melody.
Gypsies… what does it mean to be a gypsy?
Were the people with their bundles, huddled by the lake listening to her play, gypsies? Were the young women smoking cigarettes, leaning against the bar walls, gypsies? Or were gypsies those who wandered far from home, chasing their dreams?
Tonight, the moon was hazy behind wispy clouds, casting soft shadows from the trees. The city lights twinkled in the distance, like an ethereal mirage.
The warm soup and the moonlight brought back memories of her time away from home as a student.
Her boarding school had been far from her village. Every weekend, she would squeeze onto a crowded bus, heading home.
The mountain roads were winding, and the bus was slow. It would often be dark before she was halfway there. The old bus would be packed with passengers and their live chickens and ducks, luggage piled high. As a middle school student, she would curl up in a corner, watching the shadowy scenery pass by the window.
The dark highway at night, the endless black forest on either side, the flickering lights of fireflies, the pale moonlight filtering through the clouds… she had felt like a wanderer then.
But back then, she had never truly experienced what it meant to be adrift.
No matter how late it was, when the bus finally arrived, her mother would be waiting for her at the empty station, holding a cloth-wrapped enamel pot.
Under the warm yellow streetlight, her mother would smile, open the lid of the pot, and the tempting aroma would fill the air.
"You're so late. Are you hungry? Have some hot soup."
With that bowl of soup and someone waiting for her, she had never truly been a wanderer, no matter where she was.
It wasn't until later, when both the person and the soup were gone, that she finally understood what it meant to wander.
Banxia put down the sheet music, stood by the window for a moment, then picked up her phone and made a video call. Her cousin, Ban Yonghu, nicknamed Ban Huhu, answered.
Ban Huhu had been terrified of his older cousin since childhood and still stammered slightly when speaking to her. "Sis… wh-what's up?"
"Huhu, is Grandma there? Is she asleep?"
"No, not yet. Grandma's hooked on a variety show. She's watching it right now. Hold on, I'll get her."
Banxia took her mother's surname and called her maternal grandmother "Grandma." Her white-haired grandmother, seeing her favorite granddaughter's call, put aside her show and picked up the phone, her face beaming.
"Have you been eating well, my dear granddaughter? You look thinner."
"They say university is expensive. Why are you sending me money? Don't tire yourself out. I'll tell your uncle to send it back to you."
"Honey, come and see! Xiaxia is calling!"
As Grandma said this, no one appeared behind her in the video. Instead, the camera focused on a small memorial tablet placed on the altar below statues of various deities.
Banxia smiled, turning the camera towards her dinner.
"I'm doing great, Grandma! Look at my supper! Beef bone broth and rice! See how well I'm eating? I'm almost getting fat!"
Grandma beamed. "That's good! That's good! You look much better with a little more meat on your bones."
Banxia hung up the phone and stood there for a long time, then drained the remaining soup in her bowl.
"What's wrong? Didn't you like it?" a familiar voice asked from the window. The low, otherworldly voice held a unique charm.
Banxia turned and saw Xiao Lian crawling in through the window.
The little gecko was spotlessly clean, his black scales gleaming, a faint scent of shower gel clinging to him. He perched on the windowsill, looking at her.
"What are you talking about? Thanks to Xiao Lian, I had such delicious soup I almost cried," Banxia chuckled, reaching out to lift Xiao Lian from the windowsill, holding him in her palm. "Where did you go? Did you take a shower? You're so clean and smell so nice."
Perhaps it was the warm soup, but though she was smiling, her pale eyes glistened with unshed tears.
The little gecko lay motionless in her hand, his strangely patterned eyes fixed on her, filled with unspoken concern.
Charmed by his gaze, Banxia remembered something. "Oh, by the way, I found out who our new neighbor is. He's a senior from our school. He seems a bit grumpy, so don't go near his apartment, okay? Be careful he doesn't catch you."
Xiao Lian's eyes narrowed into slits at her words.
Unfortunately, Banxia couldn't quite decipher a lizard's angry expression.
She cleared a space on the table, spread out a small cloth, placed the sulking Xiao Lian on it, and said to her only listener, "Xiao Lian, do you want to hear me play? The professor gave me a new piece, and I really want to play it now."
The little black gecko didn't reply, flicking his tail irritably on the cloth. Finally, he raised his head and sat up straight.
The melody filled the small rented room. One person, one violin, one monster.
The moon hid behind the soft clouds, casting a faint glow on the windowsill.
The song of a wanderer.
Ling Dong looked up at the girl playing the violin.
He saw a younger version of her in his mind, playing the violin in his grandfather's courtyard.
Her technique had matured, and she had grown from a child into a graceful young woman.
But she was still the same as she had always been, pursuing what resonated most deeply within her heart. Often, as she played, she seemed to forget everything else, lost in the music, adding her own interpretation and expression.
In a formal competition or concert setting, such a style might be criticized by traditional critics as unorthodox, even disrespectful to the music.
But it was precisely this kind of music that touched him, resonated with him on a profound level.
This was a true gypsy's song.
The feeling of wandering, of homelessness, of being alone in the cold—it didn't need words or tears. The pure music conveyed it all, seeping into his very bones.
In this music, he found his closest childhood companion, found the part of himself he had lost long ago.
The first class on Monday morning was Western Music History.
Pan Xuemei nudged Banxia. "What did you do? The class monitor is giving you such weird looks today."
"Is she?" Banxia checked her clothes, wondering if she had done something wrong.
She turned and leaned on Shang Xiaoyue's desk. "Hey, kind and beautiful classmate, can I copy your music history homework?"
Shang Xiaoyue, her face pale and dark circles under her eyes, glared at her for a moment, then slapped her homework onto the desk.
Banxia grabbed the homework and grinned triumphantly at Pan Xuemei. "See? You were imagining things. The class monitor is very nice to me."
Pan Xuemei shook her head, amused, and decided not to pry. "I heard Old Yu recommended you for the Collegiate Cup selection round?"
"Yeah, Old Yu is pretty awesome. First prize is 8,000, second prize is 5,000, even third prize is 2,000 yuan. And I get to play the 'Adelina' for a few days," Banxia rubbed her wrist. "I have to give it my all this time."
You're really in it for the money, aren't you? If the people who bribed him for the recommendation heard you, they'd be heartbroken.
Pan Xuemei looked at her financially motivated friend, speechless. "What about an accompanist? Have you found someone to play the piano for you?"
"Oh, an accompanist?"
"Xiaoyue asked Senior Yan Peng, a fourth-year student. Their families are old friends. Qiao Qiao hired a professional; it costs 500 yuan per rehearsal," Pan Xuemei sighed. "You haven't even found an accompanist for the selection round, and you're already dreaming about the prize money?"
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