Light From Uncommon Stars(104)

After all, the sun is a star, and stars do what they do, and planets and comets and various pieces of this and that may spin around them like moths around flame.

Somewhere, a group of beings like her were zipping around looking for things to kill. Somewhere, a group of beings like her were fighting over some sort of planet or another. Somewhere, a group of beings like her were running from a dying galaxy.

And in front of her, a group of beings like her were fighting over a two-day-old donut.

Lan tried to suppress her emotions. She had donuts to sell, a stargate to build, a family to protect. But she did not want to lose this person, this music she had just started listening to, and fallen in love with—not now, not so soon.

“Lan, are you okay?”

Lan said nothing.

“Lan?” Shizuka moved closer to her. Lan pushed away.

“So, Shizuka. February fifteenth.”

“Um, you mean Katrina’s competition? Actually, she’s improving extremely quickly. In fact, she might even—”

“Stop it! Just … stop it. You know what I mean.”

Shizuka turned to the west. The blood-gold sunset faded into dusk.

“How did you find out?”

“There’s a reason I’m the captain,” Lan said without irony.

Shizuka wrapped Lan’s arm around herself.

“I wish I could play music for you. But I can’t.”

“I know,” Lan said.

“But I can hum, if you like.”

Lan closed her eyes. It was the most beautiful music Lan had heard.

“Bartók?” Lan ventured.

“No. Something my student taught me.”

Autumn would turn to winter, and back to spring, and work its way around again. Yet in three months, this would all be over.

The field lights came on. Badminton and table tennis players began making their way to the gym.

“I can’t let it happen, you know,” Lan said.

Even though that was impossible, Shizuka nodded and leaned her head upon Lan’s shoulder.

One, two, then three stars could be seen in the never-quite-dark hometown sky.

Shizuka felt Lan shiver.

“I think maybe it’s time to go,” she said.

“Yes.”

“I’ll get you back to the shop.”

Lan shook her head.

“They will be fine. I would rather go home with you.”





FEBRUARY,





ONCE AGAIN





34


It was the night before the Golden Friendship Violin Competition.

The event was sold out. The musicians and judges were accounted for, and Golden Friendship Pavilion was in perfect order. The Leonida Stradivarius seemed to give an almost heavenly glow within its exquisite climate-controlled display case.

Mr. Daniel Kar-Ching Tso, CEO of Xinhua Phoenix Investment Bank, let himself admire his creation. Beneath the soon-to-be-iconic Baccarat crystal chandeliers, the vaulting foyer juxtaposed venerated Hebei limestone, first used over fourteen hundred years ago for the legendary Anji bridge, with luminous Carrara marble, immortalized in the works of Michelangelo Buonarroti himself. Mr. Tso chose these stones to invoke the strength and permanence of the human achievement.

The main music hall was inspired by both those at the Boston Symphony and Vienna’s Musikverein. The rear wall was dominated by a majestic pipe organ, custom-made in Austria by Rieger Orgelbau. Yet, although the hall was steeped in history, leading acousticians had been employed to enhance the hall’s classic shape through computer modeling and sound wave tracking. Precisely angled and textured surfaces introduced subtle, yet dynamic adjustments to the tone.

Furthermore, rather than follow a more subdued European palette, Mr. Tso had chosen a brighter, more auspicious red and gold color scheme. Gryphons and cherubs were replaced with Imperial dragons, phoenixes, and qilin.

And in place of marble caryatids of maidens and muses, jadeite pillars embodied the form of the benevolent Kuan Yin.

Soon Mr. Tso would allow the first photographers and journalists inside. They would stand under the arching ceilings and marvel at the luxurious materials. They would reference the economic and cultural might of China and XPIB. They would gasp at the Leonida Stradivarius.

And, most of all, they would wonder how much all this cost.

Of course they would ask such things. But they would all miss the point, wouldn’t they?

For now, Mr. Tso glanced at his priceless violin, in his beautiful new hall. These were more than things. These were vessels to be launched into time, beyond mere West and East, to bring myths and gods to the world to come.



* * *



It was the night before the Golden Friendship Violin Competition.

Aunty Floresta and Edwin were making cake donuts. Unlike the alchemy of yeast donuts, cake donuts were supposedly straightforward, provided one used fresh ingredients and clean oil. However, neither of them was completely satisfied with the current recipe.

One day, they were going to address this. In fact, they would have been discussing this now, were something else not on their minds.

“Aunty, where’s Shirley?”

“She’s with the captain.”

“Still?”

Floresta nodded.

“Is she okay? Mother, I mean. She’s not okay, is she?”