Along the River by Adeline Yen Mah Page A

eyes are shining. “Unlike any painting before. I have a vision of the Bian River meandering down the entire length of this long, narrow scroll. We’ll sketch the boats and bridges on the water…”
    “Will you include the Hong Qiao (Rainbow Bridge) with everyone watching the boat that almost capsized?” I ask.
    “Of course we will! We’ll also put in the farms, country roads, trees, people, animals and buildings along the shore. Exactly the way it was that day,” says Gege.
    “In the market I saw shops selling wine, grain, vegetables, cookware, lanterns, musical instruments, jewellery and all sorts of other goods. Don’t forget to draw all the different people milling around: the farmhands, camel-drivers, goatherds, pig-farmers, as well as city folk such as peddlers, jugglers, beggars, monks, carpenters, scribes and fortune-tellers.” I feel more and more excited at the idea of the picture.
    “The main thing is to capture everything the way it was that day. How everyone dressed and walked must be faithfully portrayed. We’ll draw the people, animals, buildings and boats accurately and represent every image in the correct proportion,” Ah Zhao proclaims.
    “What about the wheelbarrows, sedan chairs and carriages?” Gege asks.
    “Put them all in!” Ah Zhao answers grandly.
    “Won’t the painting take months, if not years, to finish?”
    “Probably, but so what? A great work of art is worth any amount of effort and time. Done properly, this painting may even live on after we’re all dead and gone.” He looks at Gege’s expression and reassures him, “No worries, my friend. I’ll help you finish it if it’s the last thing I do… I promise!”
    “Let’s start now!” Gege cries.
    “There’s no better time than now,” Ah Zhao agrees.
    “How do we begin?”
    “I’ve got it all planned out. I have a stack of paper here. Each sheet is ten cun long and ten cun wide. And here’s a pair of scissors. Let’s begin by cutting the papers down to the same width as our roll of silk. Seven and a half cun . Now we unroll the silk and find out how many pieces of paper we need to represent the entire painting. Will you help us, Little Sister?”
    We unroll the silk scroll, place the paper on top and count the number of sheets that cover its length. The answer is sixteen. Or, to be exact, fifteen and four-fifths, just shy of sixteen.
    Ah Zhao rolls up the scroll and puts it away in his big wooden storage box by the wall. The boys begin to work in earnest. After various rough drafts on numerous sheets of paper, they decide to make the arched bridge the central focus of their picture. Next, they sketch the river meandering down the entire length from right to left.
    “Think back on that day,” Ah Zhao urges. “What did we first see when we came out of our gate?”
    “A rural scene of crop fields, tall trees, narrow muddy lanes with donkeys, camels and oxcarts plodding along, and peasants plowing their farms with the help of water buffaloes,” Gege answers.
    “Very good,” Ah Zhao says. “Let’s depict the first part of our journey on this sheet of paper and label it ‘One.’ Remember, everything in proportion! Meanwhile, Little Sister, you can help us by writing down in your notebook everything you saw that day. Start from the moment we passed through our gate at home, and continue on as we approached the city.…”
    We are so absorbed in our tasks that we don’t hear Nai Ma coming into the playroom until she’s standing immediately inside the door and calling loudly: “Little Sister! Your niang is looking for you! She wants to see you in her room right now.”
    Reluctantly, I put away my ink brush and notebook. Nai Ma is clearly anxious, and she whispers that Niang is in a very bad mood.
    I must have done something wrong, but for once I can’t think what it might be. The boys wish me luck.
    I tidy myself hastily before knocking on Niang’s door.
    “Good evening, Niang.”
    Niang’s eyes wander