Pats Little Shrike's Tail - Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Due to a low-grade fever, Shen Qingyi wasn’t in good spirits all day. Coupled with the sudden drop in temperature, the sky was gloomy, and it looked like it was going to rain. It finally started to drizzle as night approached.

Shan Ling was sleeping in its cage at the time. Its soft, fluffy nest was extremely comfortable, and all it could hear was the sound of raindrops hitting the window.

A drop in temperature follows an autumn rain. The wind howled with the rain, like a gloomy beast.

Shan Ling looked out the window. Shen Qingyi’s apartment was on a high floor, and on a clear day, she could see the park and the lake in the distance. But now, because of the fog, she could only vaguely make out the shapes.

Shen Qingyi also heard the rain. She came out of the study, closed the bathroom and kitchen windows, and finally walked to the balcony to check the windows there.

“Cheep cheep.”

Shan Ling stood up and stretched. It then flew out of the open cage door and landed on Shen Qingyi’s shoulder.

“Awake now?” Shen Qingyi gently stroked Shan Ling’s head. Seeing that the balcony windows were all closed properly, she took Shan Ling back to the study to continue working.

Although she was sick today, the client’s work still had to be done. So, a lamp was lit on the desk in the study, and the book, Old Stories of Longcheng, lay quietly there.

Shen Qingyi placed Shan Ling on a nearby tissue box. This was its exclusive rest area.

There was still warm tea in the steaming cup. Shen Qingyi liked things with flavor and wasn’t a big fan of plain water, so she always had various tea bags and coffee at home. Today, she had brewed a pot of pre-Qingming Longjing tea.

The mellow, fragrant aroma was quite pleasant. The long tea leaves floated up and down in the glass cup. This kind of tea was very durable, perfect for brewing and drinking slowly while working.

There were also tea leaves grown in Shanque Village, so Shan Ling stared at the tea in a daze.

She had to admit, after being away for so long, she was starting to miss home.

Shen Qingyi took a sip of tea and saw that the little chubby bird seemed a bit listless. Thinking it was caused by the drop in temperature, she took out a new, unused towel from a nearby shelf and placed it under the little bird’s feet.

“Are you cold?” Shen Qingyi said softly. “The temperature will drop again tomorrow. If you still feel cold, don’t go back to the cage. Just sleep on the towel.”

Hearing that it didn’t have to go back to the cage, Shan Ling’s spirits lifted. She rubbed against Shen Qingyi’s finger, thinking she would wait a bit longer until the time was right to tell Shen Qingyi that she was a little spirit.

Shen Qingyi soothed her little chubby bird and went back to her work.

Because she wasn’t feeling well, Shen Qingyi kept getting sleepy. The tea in her cup was soon gone, so she had to get up to boil water in the kitchen to make a new pot.

When Shen Qingyi returned with the freshly brewed tea, she saw Shan Ling standing in front of the book, Old Stories of Longcheng, looking at the content with great concentration.

Shen Qingyi didn’t find it strange. Instead, she couldn’t help but smile softly. She walked over and asked, “Can you understand it? You really are like a person.”

Shan Ling protested with two ‘cheeps,’ then stayed put and continued looking at the book.

Shen Qingyi was also tired, so she just watched the show. As she drank her tea, she looked at Shan Ling, and the more she looked, the more she found her little chubby bird adorable. Not only was its appearance pleasant, but it also had a good temperament and, most importantly, was very clingy, seemingly not wanting to be separated from her for a moment.

In Shen Qingyi’s twenty-plus years of life, very few living beings had been willing to get close to her. Not to mention her own relatives, even the stray cats and dogs in the neighborhood weren’t very affectionate with her.

Looking at Shan Ling’s round little body, Shen Qingyi leaned sideways on her chair, resting her head on one hand. “Only you are willing to stay with me like this.”

“Cheep?”

Shan Ling looked back at her in confusion, then hopped over, raised its head, and said to her: I feel like I’ve seen the content of this book somewhere.

But when she thought about it carefully, she couldn’t remember where. However, Shan Ling was certain she had read this book before.

The two pages Shen Qingyi was currently restoring told the story of a man named Mr. Chen. He was looking at his ruined house, and his neighbors were surprised by his arrival, telling him about all the changes over the years.

The text was all about how during the time Mr. Chen was abroad, there was a war, and his wife and children died in the fighting. But Mr. Chen didn’t seem to be in much pain. Instead, he told his neighbors, “This has nothing to do with me anymore.”

Shen Qingyi couldn’t understand Shan Ling’s words, but she inexplicably wanted to tell her about the book’s content.

She had no friends or close family. She might be alone her entire life, and she had long grown used to this kind of life, yet she still longed to talk to someone.

And this little chubby bird in front of her seemed to be the best choice.

It was a bird with a lifespan of only 5-10 years. No matter how you looked at it, it would pass before she did, so Shen Qingyi didn’t feel guilty.

She slowly reached out, passed over Shan Ling’s head, and turned to the first page of Old Stories of Longcheng.

“This book was written during the Republic of China era. The client told me that only about a hundred copies were published, and this might be the only one left.” Shen Qingyi stroked the aged paper and said to Shan Ling, “It tells the story of a man.”

Old Stories of Longcheng wrote it like this.

Mr. Chen was born into a scholarly family with a solid financial background. After he became an adult, he married a beautiful and virtuous wife and had a baby boy.

In that era, the Chen family was a well-known merchant family in the area. In addition to their cloth and grain business, the most important thing was that their ancestors had been high-ranking officials in the court. So, Mr. Chen, who was only in his twenties, was one of the wealthiest young men in the city.

From every perspective, Mr. Chen’s life was very fulfilling. The first 20 chapters of the book talked about Mr. Chen’s luxurious life and his happy and harmonious family, until that day.

On the night of his son’s one-month celebration, Mr. Chen suddenly said that he wanted to study abroad to learn music.

His family thought it was just a passing whim. In that era, there were already many foreigners in big cities—British, French, and Germans. Several foreign churches had even been built. Older people called them “foreign devils,” while young people thought they were elegant and romantic.

Mr. Chen was one of those who yearned for romance.

He had originally studied classical books and traditional essays, but after being exposed to new things, he began to long for the world outside his country’s borders. So Mr. Chen began to struggle. Despite his family’s unanimous opposition, he resolutely packed his bags and left the home he had been born and raised in for over two decades.

Mr. Chen left the country with a British man he had met in China and enrolled in the Royal College of Music in the UK. He communicated with his classmates in broken English, and he didn’t mind being occasionally excluded. What he yearned for was music, not the company of his fellow students. And in what he considered the most beautiful country, he met the most beautiful person, who would later become his wife.

The beautiful young woman didn’t dislike Mr. Chen for being a foreigner. They exchanged vows in a church and got married.

In the story, Mr. Chen said that his wife was the person who understood him best in the world. He compared his wife to the muse, and their relationship to that of the ancient musicians Bo Ya and Zi Qi, saying they were the most perfect companions in this world.

At this point, Old Stories of Longcheng was halfway through.

Mr. Chen’s life in the UK was very happy and fulfilling. He had a beautiful and virtuous wife, a career he loved, and even a child on the way. But then, he received a telegram that had been passed from hand to hand and learned from various media reports that war had broken out in his homeland.

“You should go back to your hometown to see. Your parents, wife, and child are there. You must go back.”

“I will not go back. My life in the UK is very fulfilling. That place will turn into a wasteland sooner or later. I have no reason to go back.”

This is what Mr. Chen told his friend who had come to the UK: “You shouldn’t go back either. We can both live a good life here.”

His friend was shocked by this and never had any contact with him again.

The flames of war were spreading everywhere at that time. His wife’s family was considered a local capitalist, so their lives were still decent. After his wife gave birth to their child, Mr. Chen looked at the mixed-race child and suddenly thought of his own son, whom he had abandoned when the baby was just a month old.

The world was very chaotic then. Mr. Chen also lost his job and lived a muddled life in his wife’s family’s home. He missed his wife and child in his home country. He would read the newspaper every day, looking for traces of them, but each time, he was disappointed because his former homeland had been occupied, and perhaps his wife and child had died in the enemy’s artillery fire.

Many years passed. His wife was still as beautiful as when he first met her, and Mr. Chen’s son had also grown up. But one day, he suddenly told his wife, “I love you, but I can’t stay like this anymore. My talent and music cannot be confined to this small country. I want to travel the world and let everyone hear my voice.”

Perhaps out of guilt towards his family, Mr. Chen’s first stop was his hometown. From the words of his neighbors, Mr. Chen learned that his family, wife, and child had died in the war, and their remains could not be found.

“This has nothing to do with me anymore.”

Mr. Chen said to his neighbors, and also seemingly to himself: “I will leave this place. There is no one who can make me stay. This is the beginning, but it will never be my end.”

The story ended with Mr. Chen’s death on a ship bound for the United States. Before he died, he was clutching a musical score in his hand.

It was Mr. Chen’s last work, and its name was The Greatest Melody.

Support