With the meal finished and the fireworks watched, I told everyone to head off to rest. I also announced that they would have another three days off, which was met with a great cheer. I had the two men carrying my sedan chair go rest as well, while I walked off on a cane I had made for myself, bringing along my flute—something I had crafted myself just a few days prior. Amidst the loud chatter of the crowd, I quietly made my way to my small cabin, climbed up onto the roof, and looked up at the starry sky. I softly recited that classic children's poem: "The bright moonlight before my bed, suspected to be frost upon the ground. I raise my head to view the bright moon, then lower it, thinking of my hometown." I wondered if my mother far away was doing well; she was my only remaining attachment in this world, and the only person who had ever treated me with unconditional kindness.
With such feelings weighing on my heart, I began to play a ubiquitous song from my past life: "Only Mom is Good in This World." Perhaps I was too absorbed in the playing, or perhaps my genuine emotions just spilled over, but the sound of my flute slowly drifted out into the night. The first to be drawn in were the two sisters. They were much like me, souls sharing the same tragic fate; while their mother was dead, my mother was still alive, yet we were separated by vast distances. My tune stirred up painful memories of their past, and they gradually drew closer.
Seeing the sisters move, several other g…
Chapter 41