Chapter 76: Fang Chang'an's Community Opera

"No, I haven't," Peng Shuyu shook her head and sighed. "I just didn't expect that at your age, watching television would lead you to think about so many things. No wonder your Uncle Shen and Teacher Cheng are always praising you."

Although Fang Changan's behavior was impressive, he was still a child; the old woman didn't treat the matter too seriously, so her surprise revealed a slight inconsistency in her words. If Shen Chengyan and Cheng Mengfei ever praised Fang Changan in front of his parents, what would they praise him for? Their conversation at lunch about Lu Xun would surely come up, so she couldn't possibly be unaware of which book Fang Changan had borrowed.

Still, asking questions just to make conversation is common enough.

Fang Changan spoke a little more now, smiling shyly. "I've liked imagining things since I was small."

"It's a good thing to use your mind," the old woman affirmed. The housekeeper brought over three cups of tea on a tray, placing one in front of each of them.

Fang Changan reached out to take his cup, but the housekeeper warned, "It's hot," and set it down on the table in front of him first. With his hand still extended, Fang Changan hesitated, uncertain whether he should take the cup or not. In the end, he drew back his hand and said, "Thank you, Auntie."

The old woman watched all this, then smiled and asked, "What do your parents do? Would you like to tell Grandma?"

Here, "Grandma" was simply a polite term.

Fang Changan replied, "My parents are both farmers. We have three children in the family, and we mainly earn money by growing watermelons and selling wheat and things like that. But watermelons didn't do well this year, and the price was low, so we didn't make any money. My dad is getting ready to go out and find work."

The old woman nodded. Children this age might usually know nothing about the family's income, but coming from a poor family and being precocious, it wasn't strange for him to speak this way. It only reinforced her impression of him as thoughtful and observant.

Someone who is thoughtful must also be observant.

She asked again, "What about your grandparents? Or other relatives—are they all farmers too?"

This was what she truly cared about.

"Yes," Fang Changan nodded. "But my grandfather also teaches—he used to be the principal of our village elementary school. My uncle teaches at No. 2 Middle School—he teaches physics in the eighth and ninth grades."

The old woman seemed to think for a moment when she heard this, then asked, "I think I've heard of a physics teacher at No. 2 Middle School with a very high reputation. He's published quite a few articles, and his last name is also Fang—Fang... Fang..."

Fang Changan ventured, "Fang Luguo?"

"I believe that's him." The old woman nodded, watching Fang Changan with a searching look.

Fang Changan smiled, "That's my uncle."

The old woman smiled too. "So your family is quite scholarly after all."

Fang Changan only smiled and didn't reply.

Shen Mo sat quietly beside them, watching Fang Changan and her grandmother question each other as if checking household records. She blinked and didn't manage to join in. She picked up her cup of tea, found it too hot, set it down, and pursed her lips to blow on it. The scent of tea drifted in the air.

She carefully tilted the cup, blew at the tea leaves, and took a tiny sip.

Setting the cup upright again, the tea rippled softly, and the leaves floated and stretched as they sank to the bottom. The little girl seemed to notice this for the first time, eyes wide with wonder.

"Don't just talk—drink your tea," Peng Shuyu said with a smile, lifting her own cup, gently blowing on it, and taking a small sip.

Fang Changan imitated her, but worried about overdoing it, he didn't try to pretend he was unfamiliar with tea. The old woman observed him, then asked, "Do you drink tea often?"

"We only have one tin of tea at home, and it's probably been there for two or three years. My parents don't usually drink tea." Fang Changan shook his head, a little embarrassed. "I've tried it a few times, but it never tasted as fragrant as this."

"If you like it, I'll give you a tin to take home later," the old woman said with a smile.

"No need," said Fang Changan. "It's not convenient at school."

The old woman nodded, still smiling. "Then come often. When you've finished reading all the books at Teacher Cheng's house, there are many more at Grandma's. You can read them slowly."

Fang Changan glanced at her for confirmation, then smiled sincerely. "Thank you, Grandma."

After another sip of tea, the old woman smiled and said, "If you're eager to read, you can go upstairs. If not, would you keep Grandma company a little longer?"

Fang Changan had no real choice. He smiled. "I'm not in a hurry."

She smiled as well, and asked, "Which do you like more—Fortress Besieged or Lu Xun's works?"

Fang Changan thought for a moment. "Lu Xun."

"Oh?" The old woman sounded a little surprised. "Why?"

Because if he said he liked Fortress Besieged, people might suspect him of having early romantic inclinations! Fang Changan joked inwardly, but said, "I think Fortress Besieged isn't as interesting as Lu Xun, and I relate to Lu Xun more."

"Oh?" Peng Shuyu was intrigued. It was rare to hear anyone say Lu Xun was interesting—especially a twelve-year-old child. "Tell me, what do you find interesting?"

Fang Changan considered. "For example, there's a story called Village Opera. It's about Lu Xun as a child going with other village kids to watch an opera. It's fun."

Peng Shuyu smiled. "That story will be in your textbooks later. Go on."

Fang Changan continued, "The group of children went to the opera, found it dull, and on the way back by boat, they stole beans growing on the riverbank to eat. One of the fields belonged to the leader of the group; when asked whose beans to steal, he checked and said, 'Let's take mine—they grow best.'"

Shen Mo couldn't help but laugh, her eyes curving into crescents. "Really? I want to read it too."

Peng Shuyu smiled, patted her granddaughter's head, and chided gently, "Read if you want, but don't interrupt. Let him finish."

Shen Mo pouted and lay her head on her grandmother's lap, her bright eyes fixed on Fang Changan, as if listening to a story.

Fang Changan went on, "Later, the other kids thought it wasn't fair to steal only from his field, so they stole from a bunch of fields, then cooked the beans on the boat."

Shen Mo's eyes widened. "How do you cook beans on a boat?"

Fang Changan explained, "Lu Xun was from Shaoxing, in the Jiangnan water region. People often lived on boats, especially in those days, so they'd have pots and stoves."

The little girl nodded, and Fang Changan continued, "The next day, the families whose beans were stolen found out. But they weren't angry—because Lu Xun said the beans were delicious, they were grateful and even brought beans to Lu Xun's house as a gift."

"At the end of the story, Lu Xun says that no beans he ever ate at home tasted as good as the ones they stole that night, and none he ate afterward ever matched them."

He glanced at Peng Shuyu, a little embarrassed. "At home, I've actually stolen things from the fields with my brother and other kids I know—beans, sweet potatoes, corn, and peanuts."

"Really?" Shen Mo interjected again, her eyes sparkling with excitement, as if she wished she could go with him to steal treats herself.

Peng Shuyu didn't scold him. She only looked amused and understanding, nodding. "So you feel a sense of resonance?"

"Yes, yes!" Fang Changan nodded to Shen Mo first, then answered her grandmother. "I haven't done it often, which makes it more memorable. We stole a lot of food, dug a pit in the wild, gathered branches and leaves to make a fire, and roasted them. We were small, the wind was strong, so the food was half-cooked, but it tasted wonderful."

"Later, when we cooked at home, we'd roast sweet potatoes in the stove. My parents helped too, and that tasted good, but it was never as good as the half-cooked ones we stole and roasted together that day."

"If you judge just by taste, the properly roasted ones are definitely better. But for some reason, the memory left behind is that the stolen ones tasted best."

"Lu Xun and his friends were all children too, and they cooked on a boat. The conditions and the skills of the people cooking were surely not as good as Lu Xun's mother or their housemaid."

"So, if you're just talking about the taste, I doubt those beans the children cooked that night were really so delicious. But, like me, because of the atmosphere, the memory, even the beans became delicious."

Peng Shuyu nodded thoughtfully. "Anything else?"

Fang Changan hesitated, thinking for a moment, then said, "The reaction of Grandpa Liu Yi, whose beans were stolen, made me a bit uncomfortable."

"Oh?" Peng Shuyu, a lover of books herself, had read Village Opera but hadn't paid much attention to Grandpa Liu Yi. She smiled, "Tell me more."

"My family grows beans too—not broad beans, but the feelings of farmers are much the same. It's normal for children to steal things to eat; even if they're caught, most adults don’t mind too much, though some will scold. If you take too much, or, as in the story, trample the crops, even the kindest people will feel bad and give you a talking-to."

"In the story, Grandpa Liu Yi said many beans were trampled and ruined; at first, he scolded the culprits—a kind of lecture. Lu Xun only wrote a line about it. Then Shuangxi said it was for Lu Xun to eat. When Grandpa Liu Yi saw Lu Xun, he bowed to him and said it was only right to treat him; then he asked if the beans were good. Lu Xun said yes, and Grandpa Liu Yi became very grateful, praising Lu Xun as a learned youth who knew good beans, and said he'd pick more to send to Lu Xun's home."

Fang Changan finished in one breath, paused, then added, "He grew beans to sell, and had just returned from selling some. He was ready to settle accounts with Shuangxi and the others for stealing, probably just to say a few words. But after learning it was for Lu Xun, he instead praised Lu Xun, said he had good taste, and picked beans to give to Lu Xun’s family."

"If this story is included in the textbook, the teacher might interpret Grandpa Liu Yi as kind and friendly. But I think..." he hesitated before continuing, "maybe Grandpa Liu Yi really was happy to hear Lu Xun praise his beans, so he let it go and even gave more. Or maybe... he didn't dare be angry, so no matter what Lu Xun said, he would praise him and bring beans to his family."

Fang Changan looked at Peng Shuyu. "Because Lu Xun was the young master, his family was rich, different from the other kids. That's why he could go to school, and when he came, everyone had to treat him."

"Just like in My Old Home, when Runtu grew up and called him 'Master.'"

"If the old days had continued, Shuangxi, Ah Fa, and the others who treated Lu Xun to beans would have grown up and needed to sell beans to support their families. If Lu Xun’s child came, and some kids treated him to stolen beans, they would still praise him, saying he was knowledgeable, had good taste, and ate well!"

"And then pick more beans to send to Lu Xun's family for the master and mistress to enjoy."

In the early autumn afternoon, the boy’s tender voice fell silent in the living room, and a hush settled over them. Peng Shuyu looked at the young, earnest boy before her and was speechless for quite some time.

—

The narrators in My Old Home and Village Opera aren’t necessarily Lu Xun himself, but since the protagonist is of Lu Xun’s age, it is more reasonable for the character to treat him as Lu Xun directly. The text does not elaborate on this to avoid possible confusion.