Mr. Lizard Outside the Window - Chapter 23
Chapter 23: A Girl's Heart
Banxia slept in a little on Saturday morning.
Outside, the morning mist swirled, birds chirped, and insects buzzed. Banxia's dreams were also hazy, filled with the laughter of children.
She was playing a game of pretend with her childhood friends in a misty forest. A hero rescuing a princess.
"The princess has been captured by the evil dragon! We have to rescue her! Whoever saves the princess gets to marry her!"
Little Banxia was the first to jump up. "I'll be the hero!"
Her friends chimed in, "I'll be the king!"
"I'll be the dragon!"
"But who will be the princess?"
The princess, of course, had to be the prettiest one.
So, the most handsome boy, his clothes the cleanest, was pushed forward. They placed a crown of flowers on his head. "Xiao Lian, wait here! I'll defeat the dragon and come back to marry you!"
Young Banxia, holding his hand, made a solemn promise to the blushing boy.
Her friends, brandishing their toy swords, scattered into the misty forest, disappearing into the fog.
Then, Banxia saw the rainy bamboo grove.
Hesitantly, she parted the bamboo stalks and walked forward, seeing the rain-soaked figure in the depths of the grove.
This time, he didn't protest, just lay among the green bamboo leaves, his hands covering his face, his breath coming in slow, shallow gasps.
Banxia slowly approached him, crouched down, and gently took hold of his pale, rain-soaked ankle.
She woke with a start, her heart pounding, her mouth dry.
She pressed a hand to her racing heart, wondering what kind of strange dream she had just had.
After calming down, she quietly got out of bed, heated up some breakfast, and put her dirty clothes, along with Xiao Lian's pajamas, in the wash.
The clean, wet clothes hung outside the window, dripping water.
On the table, a bowl of smooth douhua sat in a savory, spicy beef broth, topped with minced garlic and chopped scallions. Banxia took a spoonful, the tender douhua melting in her mouth, the rich broth coating her tongue. Life felt perfect.
A ray of sunlight broke through the morning mist, illuminating the table.
Banxia felt a warmth spread through her chest, a fleeting sense of belonging, of having a home.
Had she been alone for so long that she had suppressed this childish longing for a home?
After breakfast, she crouched beside Xiao Lian's terrarium, watching him sleep in the sunlight.
The little black gecko slowly stirred.
His tail twitched, his tiny claws flexed, and he rolled over, his eyes fluttering open. He saw Banxia and nuzzled his cold head against her finger.
Then, fully awake, realizing he was nuzzling her finger, he sat up abruptly.
Banxia could almost see a blush on his dark skin.
"Want to hear me practice?" she asked. Even without going to the school's practice rooms, she was still in the habit of practicing every morning.
She set up her music stand, took out her violin, and placed Xiao Lian on the table, at eye level. "I'm thinking of trying the Tchaikovsky concerto."
"The class monitor's performance at the selection round was amazing. Her style was so sharp and precise, so aloof and elegant. She really made it her own," Banxia played a few bars, then stopped, frowning. "I've practiced this piece before, but I can't seem to find the right way to express it."
She looked at the little gecko. "Xiao Lian, have you heard the Tchaikovsky concerto? What do you think of it?"
Though she was talking to Xiao Lian, she wasn't really expecting a response. It was more like she was thinking aloud.
To her surprise, Xiao Lian, sitting upright on the table, thought for a moment, then replied, "I think it sounds like…a girl in love."
Banxia: "A girl?"
"The melody…it's like a young woman, head over heels for someone. One moment, her heart flutters with joy when he's near. The next, she's tossing and turning at night, heartbroken by his indifference, his forgetfulness."
The little black gecko, sitting in the morning sun, earnestly sharing his musical interpretation, looked incredibly endearing. Banxia, picturing the bearded Russian composer, couldn't quite reconcile the image with Xiao Lian's description of a lovesick girl.
"That's…a unique perspective," she said, picking up her violin, trying to capture that feeling. "You know a lot about music, Xiao Lian. Are you a big fan of Tchaikovsky?"
"He happens to be my favorite composer," Xiao Lian paused. "He actually studied law before pursuing music. He didn't enter the conservatory until he was twenty, giving up a comfortable career to follow his passion."
Banxia felt a pang of inadequacy.
Though she was a music student, she had mostly slept through her Western Music History classes, relying on copied notes. Now, listening to Xiao Lian's insightful commentary, she felt a twinge of shame.
"I've read many of Tchaikovsky's letters. He was a very sensitive and emotional person. He even described his lover's fingers in a letter to his brother," Xiao Lian continued, sharing his admiration for the composer. "He saw the world with such delicate sensitivity. He poured all his emotions into his music. To me, this concerto is a tender, heartfelt expression of love."
As he spoke, his gaze fell on Banxia's fingers holding the bow.
Her slender fingers, pale against the dark wood of the violin, her fingertips tinged with pink, seemed to glow in the morning light.
He suddenly felt his heart skip a beat and quickly looked away.
He remembered a line from one of Tchaikovsky's letters, written over a century ago: "She has such small, delicate, beautiful hands. When her fingers touch the piano keys, even a discordant note sounds… precious."
That afternoon, Professor Yu Anguo invited Banxia to his home for a private lesson.
His wife greeted her warmly at the door, offering her a pair of soft slippers.
"The Tchaikovsky concerto?" Yu Anguo sat on the living room sofa, tapping the sheet music with his baton, his expression serious. "When you don't know how to express a piece of music, start by understanding the composer. Let me test you. What can you tell me about Tchaikovsky's personality, his life, and the background of this concerto?"
Having already received a crash course that morning, Banxia cleared her throat and sat up straight. "Tchaikovsky studied law until he was twenty. Then, he entered the Saint Petersburg Conservatory. His music is lyrical and emotional. I also know all the gossip about his love life, and I've even read some of his letters."
"Hmm, you've been paying attention in your music history class," Yu Anguo nodded, impressed. "Play it for me."
Banxia lifted her violin. As she was about to play the first note, she remembered Xiao Lian's words: "Like a girl in love, her heart fluttering with uncertainty."
What does it feel like to be in love? To have your heart flutter?
An image flashed through her mind: the pale ankle she had held in the misty bamboo grove. Her heart skipped a beat.
In the kitchen, Professor Yu's wife, busy preparing dinner, heard the violin music.
The music began light and playful, like whispered secrets between childhood friends on a summer afternoon.
Then, it shifted, becoming more melancholic, like hesitant footsteps searching for something lost in the cold, dark night.
And then, a sudden shift again, a joyful reunion, like savoring a warm bowl of sweet porridge, filled with happiness and contentment.
Professor Yu's wife paused in her cooking, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "These young people, so full of life!"
In the living room, Professor Yu poured himself a cup of tea, inhaled the delicate aroma, and took a slow sip.
The music ended, the final notes lingering amidst the scent of tea and cooking food.
Yu Anguo put down his teacup and, after a long pause, clicked his tongue. "You…you're a complex one, Banxia. I don't quite know how to assess you."
"You look so unassuming, but there's a… a wildness in your music, a constant surprise, like you're always about to unleash something unexpected."
His wife, also a violin professor, brought a plate of sliced fruit and placed it on the coffee table. "Her playing reminds me of someone," she said, smiling.
Yu Anguo thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. "You're right! Now that you mention it, I hear it too! The same wild abandon, the same unrestrained passion, like that maestro."
Banxia's smile faded. "I am myself. My music is my own. It's not like anyone else's," she said quietly, her words measured.
Yu Anguo, still basking in the afterglow of the music, didn't notice the shift in her tone. He pointed at her, chuckling. "Such audacity! You don't even know who we're talking about, and you dare to disagree?"
"She's different," his wife said gently. "She has her own style. Her music has a certain sincerity, a purity of heart that is rare and precious."
After Banxia left,
Yu Anguo looked at his wife, amused. "That's unusual. You rarely offer such high praise. What's gotten into you?"
His wife, clearing the fruit plate, said, "I don't know. Every time she plays, no matter the piece, there's a certain… sadness in her music, a poignant quality that touches my heart. She's so young, yet her musical expression is so mature, so insightful, as if she's lived many lifetimes."
Yu Anguo put down his teacup and sighed. "She's had a difficult life. But sometimes, I think… a gemstone needs to be polished by hardship to truly shine."
THE PROFESSOR AND HIS WIFEEEEE
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