(1)
This is a story about a musician called BoYa, he lived around 380 BC in ancient China. He played zither with extraordinary excellent skill and he was very well known at his time. He was even revered as “God of Zither”. The famous Chinese philosopher XunZi wrote: when BoYa plays zither, horses would stop eating grass, lifted up their head to listen to and to be enchanted by his miraculous music. (source:“伯牙鼓琴，而六马仰秣”- 《劝学》荀子)
If he is living in this century, I try to imagine what could be the equivalent scenario to this kind of surreal situation. It might be: the ticket of his concert sold out at the minute when the box office open. He might already get tired of full house and standing ovation. His encore programme would almost double the duration of his concert programme, but the audience still can’t get enough of his music. When the audience were leaving the concert hall, they have to sob for the wonderful music has come to an end.
However, when the crowd left, he wondered: do they really understand what have I played?
He felt slightly sad, but he would soon comfort himself with this kind of thought: Who else can be called “God of zither”? I should not request too much. Not being understood is painful, even so, it is just the fate of being “God of zither”.
When the pain attacked him, he fought back the pain with spending more energy and time into the art of zither playing. The next jet to a new place and the excitement of the next concert would be helpful to numb the pain too. In short, he accepted his fate of not being understood. But that was before he met ZiQi.
(2)
One autumn, BoYa retreated himself in the mountains by the river. Full moon shone brightly, he was so saturated in the nature and felt like playing zither. In the middle of playing, suddenly a string break off. His six sense told him, there was someone eavesdropping his music.
“Please show yourself!” BoYa said.
“Sir, please don’t be suspicious. I am just a woodcutter, and when I passed by here, I heard you playing the music and it sounded so wonderful, so I couldn’t help but stand here and listen.” The woodcutter said.
“You said the music was wonderful, do you actually know what am I playing?” BoYa finally asked the question that he longed to ask but was never bothered to ask.
“I lives among the mountains and the music I have just heard reminds me of the majesty of the high mountains.”
BoYa was so shocked by the answer the woodcutter gave, because it was exactly what he was thinking when playing the zither. He was so overjoyed and invited the woodcutter to have a drink with him and to talk more about music. When BoYa was not drinking, he was playing zither.
“The water flowing gracefully is the music I just heard.” The woodcutter said.
Of all things and of all places, BoYa met someone who know what was he playing in this wild mountain. He was so overwhelmed by the feeling of his music was truly known by someone. Later BoYa found out the woodcutter name was ZiQi. ZiQi also overwhelmed by how BoYa can fabulously and delicately present the marvelous surrounding with music. They talk about music for the whole night. At last, they decided to become blood brothers. And before BoYa left the place, they agreed to meet again at the very same place, on the very same day, in next year.
(3)
A year later, the long awaited day has come. BoYa showed up at the same place at the same time as he had promised, but ZiQi was not there. He played zither while waiting for ZiQi, but the waiting was all in vain. As the sun went down and raised again, BoYa saw an old man walked by, he asked the old man if he know ZiQi?
The old man was sighing in grief :”the deathly disease has taken the young man’s life untimely. We are actually very near to his grave, his last will was to be buried here, so that he can listen to his brother’s music when he come again.”
This piece of information came like the bolt from the blue. The old man pointed out where the grave stood and walked away. BoYa reread the name on the grave stone and did not want to believe his eyes. He was so saddened, meanwhile he positioned his zither in front ZiQi’s grave and played music.
The cloud, the waterfall, the tree, the birds, the animal, the insect and everything stop all their activities to listen to BoYa. The whole universe seems to knew that the performance was going to be inimitable art.
The zither sounded like the majesty high mountains and gracefully flowing water and ultimately the last tone ceased.
“I’m playing this for you, your favourite music, do you hear me?” BoYa asked.
The cloud dare not to move, the waterfall held its breath, the tree warned its leaves not to fall and make noise at this moment.
“Come, my brother, let us talk of music again!” BoYa continued.
The birds shook their head, animals looked crestfallen, insects turned their back because they could not stand this sad scenery any more longer.
“Let us talk of music again as once in Autumn, under the full moon, do you remember?”
The whole universe was occupied by silence. And this silence followed by a loud violent crash. The zither crushed at the rock and fall into thousand tiny pieces.
“The only one who truly know my music is no longer alive, to whom shall I play this zither?” he mouthed those words with gravely sadness.
What a tragedy! He lost both his friend and his zither. I guess ZiQi would rather BoYa keep his zither, keep playing music and may be think of him occasionally.
To remember this moving melancholy story, people give a name to this kind of friendship, and this name/ noun is still widely used today. The noun is – 知音zhi yin .
知zhi = know
音yin= music
When “zhi” and “yin” be together, it describes the someone that we can communicate with soul and mind and at spiritual level.