何滿子之歌

 (一)

他們說她的歌聲遠勝出谷黃鶯.
他們說百年之內, 甚至五百年之人內, 難再找到這樣的一把好聲音
他們的耳都有問題.
她獨一無二, 無人能出其右而且絕不可替代.
即使一千年, 一萬年也一樣. 後無來者.
三年前我曾聽過她的歌聲. 那時, 我只是一個普通的郎中, 因為替一個腰纏萬貫的商人治好了多年頑疾而獲邀赴宴. 宴會是為了慶祝他終於擺脫病魔好讓他又重新可以大魚大肉. 朱門酒肉臭本來就是天寶九年間帝都長安的平常事. 大唐久歷帝室中兄弟相殘, 又女主當政後, 終於再如鳳凰重生般回到好日子. 現今可算是盛世了: 大唐真的是泱泱大國, 萬國來朝: 東方島國的求學問僧, 包裹了色彩艷麗頭巾的天竺商旅行者, 從絲路玉門關進入中土的嫵媚舞姬…
能生於這盛世, 是前生修來的福吧
最少, 對我輩而言是如此.
於是, 我成了座上之一的賓客, 飲飽食醉之餘主人更安排了餘興節目: 他出錢禮聘了何滿來高歌一曲. 何滿是一名女歌者, 譽滿京師. 這宣佈馬上在賓客間引起了一陣哄動. 說實的, 我比之其他人倒處之泰然. 作為一個郎中, 我不但懸壺行醫, 亦懂得把人的五音聽覺能力經調理而提高, 而我自信我的聽覺更是比常人敏銳. 我已經聽過不下百名所謂具「天籟之音」的歌者獻藝, 大多是言過其實. 因此, 當所有目光都集中在步上樓梯的歌者時, 我只是把以崑崙玉石雕琢而成的酒杯遞向唇前.
酒杯沒有機會碰到我的唇.
令我目眩的倒不是她有傾國之色, 雖然她也絕對可以算是一名美女; 也不是因為她身上由主人提供的五彩綾羅, 也不是這華衣之下的苗條身段; 更不是她的年齡(她看來大概在破瓜之年吧), 甚至不是她帶少許栗金色的秀髮, 這在長安也已是司空慣. 我被迷著了是她的一雙同時可深探他人心底而同時可令人感到安憩的碧綠秋瞳.
我可以感覺到那眸子後的靈魂, 而它是足以顛倒眾生
即使她不發一言, 那雙眼睛已告訴我她是飽歷人生滄桑: 幼年顛沛, 如深山之腹的冰湖般孤寂, 帶著無限的哀傷, 以及難以想像的神秘.
我是完全迷著了, 酒杯離唇不及一指之隔, 我卻有如化成岩石一動也不能動. 不!, 我指的不是男女間的愛慾之念. 我早已是不惑之年, 離盡頭也不會遠了. 年青歲月中我不乏在煙花之地的輕狂, 到後來, 才覺悟這一切不過是水月鏡花.似實還空. 但這女子絕非單是皮肉之美; 她體形雖纖小, 卻在所有人眼中, 無不覺得她一顧一盼都如挾泰山般有份量. 這時四座皆寂, 連一顆針落地也應清楚可聞.
那女子由一手抱從西域引入的琵琶的老者陪同, 應該是她的父親或監護人.
當她輕移蓮步走向為她準備她的椅子時, 所有人都呆住了 她先讓那老者安頓好, 然後才就坐下向主人家微微欠身致意.
這時, 老者開口了: 「承蒙老爺賞光讓小女獻技, 老朽感恩不盡. 就請點選曲目.」
所有人都屏息以待. 眾所周知, 何滿每次以一曲為限. 每論出多少錢, 她都絕不會多唱一首. 因此, 所選的曲目就攸關重要; 所有人都有望可以聽到這名歌者以出谷黃鶯之聲獻唱耳熟能詳的妙韻.
主人家有點拿不定主意. 這也難怪, 確是很難選擇.
「唱水仙花吧.」 發聲的是躲在主人背後的小女兒.
「不!」差不多每個都覺得這太不值了.
這曲子固是耳熟能詳, 可是只堪得哄小兒入睡之用. 這豈不是大大的浪費?
誰也會唱這小調, 焉需禮聘何滿?
但在主人改變要求前, 歌者微微頷首, 老人家就撥出了三兩弦音.
於是她就唱了:

好一朵水仙花

滿座皆驚!
這聲音只應天上有!

鮮花啊落在我的家
鮮花啊落在我的家啊呀
邦有道, 民安樂  
家家齊唱太平歌, 太呀平歌

聽者無不動容.
曲子再簡單不過, 在座無人不曉.
但無人可以想像一首如此簡單的曲子從她的口中而出竟可以震撼心弦如此!
能達此者, 天下之間就只有何滿一人!
女子站了起來, 欠身致謝, 座中已是掌聲雷動久久不止.
我持杯之手卻不能自制地震抖; 酒已從杯邊濺出.


(二)

後來, 我在另一個宴會上再有機會聽何滿獻唱一曲.
之後, 她卻像人間蒸化, 從長安消失. 有人說她已賺夠了錢和年邁的父親回到故鄉; 有人說她已被一富人收為小妾, 那人並答應照顧她父親直至百年歸老; 有人說她和一名劍客情人私奔了, 兩人浪跡天涯; 甚至有人說她得了重病, 早已玉殞香消. 傳言千萬, 卻無一得到證實.
慢慢地, 何滿之名成了記憶; 她沒有被遺忘, 只是被人當作是傳奇, 就如一件驚世寶物在曇花一現後只在人們腦海中留下淡淡的憶記.
可是, 突然間, 她又出現了.
我再聽到她的歌聲.
而我暗暗為她抹冷汗.
不! 我指的不是她的歌聲不再動人. 事實上, 她的歌藝已更上一層樓.  三年前, 她的歌可以撩動心魄; 今天, 她卻可以一曲驚天!
我馬上感到她的歌唱足以令她身陷險境.
我不是普通的郎中. 三年來得上天眷顧, 我的醫術已贏得高門大族與有能力一擲千金者的信任; 朝中大臣, 不惜重資以確保明艷照人的青樓花魁, 能達天聽的宦者; 我甚至有兩次得貴妃娘娘召見問疾. 我獲賜金鯉腰牌可出入宮禁替妃嬪公主治診.
在這一切當中我也看到以前看不到的事. 世人但見盛世繁華, 我卻看到了官場的黑暗殘酷. 只要一言之失也可以帶來殺身之禍. 我看到朝中位極人臣者一夕之間殞落; 我見過令人震慄的酷刑, 我也感覺到錦繡屏風溫香軟玉外的大唐在邊陲之地已響起令人不安的悶雷.
有時, 我會在夢中驚醒, 全身冒著冷汗: 夢中我對皇上, 貴妃娘娘, 又或太子公主, 甚至她們飼養的小犬之疾束手無策! 我知道富貴可垂手而得, 也知道萬一失誤後累堪虞. 但我已沒有退路. 沒有皇上批准, 誰敢輕言致仕歸隱?
而何滿卻似對切身危機毫無察覺. 她現在已很少唱水仙花這樣的曲子了. 她唱的都是有關平頭百姓所遭遇的種種難災; 她唱的是富者連田阡陌, 貧者無立錐之地的不公; 她唱的是朱門酒肉臭, 路有凍死骨的悲慘; 她唱的是揭露為官者的貪, 為富者的不仁; 她唱的是為了妃子一笑, 一騎紅塵千里把嶺南佳果飛馬送入長安, 皇上看見貴紀貝齒啖嚐時的龍顏大悅, 而在田野被快馬踐踏的女孩雙親嚎天長哭; 她唱的是年年征戰好令葡萄與美女經玉門送入已粉黛三千的大明宮; 她唱的是絡繹不絕的征人所掀起的塵埃, 曾一度自發馴服於大唐的各民族在邊吏暴虐下的敢怒不敢言; 她唱的是農民的朝不保夕; 她唱的是鼙鼓之音在帝國邊陲已隱隱可聞…
她的歌聲為被壓迫者帶來安慰, 一般百姓聞之暗泣; 權貴聞之切齒!,
我為她的一曲一詞一字感到驚心動魄. 她絕不會以為這些都不會傳到當權者的耳中吧! 她是豁出去了, 又或她是已看得太多, 無發自效寒蟬.
這三年來她究竟怎麼了?
她是遭遇了什麼? 抑或她是看到了什麼?
有錢的人家為了避免惹禍上身當然不會再邀請她獻唱. 她不再穿著由主顧送贈的綾羅. 她只穿上素白布衣, 身上除了一根玳瑁髮釵外更無其他飾物.
當她在市集高歌時, 所有人都屏息靜聽; 他們說那時連樹上的鳥兒也會中止鳴聲彷彿牠們也想聆聽.
當權者罵她是大逆不道; 百姓稱她是「何滿子」, 那個「子」字是對有學問或有德者的尊稱. 她生活儉樸. 那些來聽她唱的人只有能力放下數枚銅錢. 她一一撿起, 並欠身致謝; 那雙碧綠的眸子中晃漾著感恩之情.
三年間, 她成熟了, 而且更艷光奪人..  如果三年前她像是萬千寵愛集一身的公主, 現在她就仿如慈悲觀音的代身.
我被她的歌聲感動得難以自持, 從懷中把一枚銀錠放下. 她卻在我轉身前阻止了我.
「我不收富人的錢!」
在她的聲調中是一絲冷意.
我卻沒有感到被冒犯.
「師傅, 這是我衷心的小小敬意. 而我的錢都是取之有道. 身為醫者, 我不單為有錢的人看病的.」
她有點驚訝, 然後她欠身致歉.
「請恕小女子無知冒犯. 但我不能收下這個. 閣下既為大夫, 可否為家父診斷?」
「令尊有不適?」
她沉默起來, 眼中是一片哀傷之色.
「如此, 請姑娘引路.」
她住在窮巷之末端, 與聽她歌唱的人為鄰.
屋子暗黑, 只有一盞孤燈. 但倒是清潔整齊.
那曾為她以琵琶伴奏的老人臥在草席上
我為他把了脈.
可是他已病入膏肓.
我把她父親病情從實以告, 她飲泣起來.
「我會開方令尊舒服一點. 我的僕人會把藥送來. 姑娘也不必難過. 畢竟生死輪迴人生難免.」
她點點頭向我致謝. 在她雙眸中是一抹哀愁, 可是我也看到她的傲骨和勇毅.
也許我當時應該向她提出忠告, 說如此下去, 她會處境不妙. 不知是什麼原因, 我卻無法啟齒. 其實也不會有什麼分別: 她一定仍會我行我素的唱下去. 從她的眼神中我知道她已決心明知山有虎, 偏向虎山行.
三天後, 老人辭世.
我匿名出錢為他辦了後事.



(三)

一個月後, 我聽到她被捕的消息.
雖然知道這是遲早的事, 我仍是有如五雷轟頂.
她會怎樣了?
我疏通了門戶, 得到的答案是: 大逆罪.
得此罪者難逃一死!
在她處刑前夕, 我泣不成眠.
翌日, 我拖著沉重的步伐前往行刑的市集.
我準備了鮮花, 一旦她歸天, 我就會把這些置於她橫屍之地. 但當我步出家門, 就赫然發現我不是唯一這樣做的人. 成千上百的人都手持鮮花向同一方向走去.

當我抵達刑場時已是人山人海. 幾經辛苦, 我才擠至前排.  五十步之外, 名動長安的何滿子一身白衣, 長髮披肩, 雙腕反縛的跪在斬刑台之中央. 在她臉上卻看不到半絲恐懼之色.
她在晨風中如朝露般清純無垢.
我心狂跳, 陣陣的絕望與痛襲向心頭.
是否真的無法把她救出生天?
我身為醫者, 以救人為天職; 而這個人我甘願以身替代
我回首望向同樣凄楚的人群. 他們眼中有哀傷, 也有憤怒.
就在那時, 我看到了一絲希望
停在遠處的一頂轎子!
它雖與一般平民百姓用的轎子無異, 但圍著轎子的八名護衛暴露了轎中人的身份; 為皇上及他的後宮診斷多年, 我當然知道轎子裡面的是誰!
當今天子嗜曲, 而且是擊鼓能手. 皇上一定是聽說了這以歌聲震動他的天下的歌手即將處刑而前來.
一個念頭閃過.
「讓她唱啊!」 我大聲道. 其他人也加入了.
士兵們緊張起來. 監斬官看來馬上要下令彈壓. 就在這時, 一個急步前來的人在他耳畔說了幾句話. 監斬官臉色大變, 急急下令讓受刑人高歌.
我內心燃起了一絲希望.
如果她可以唱, 皇上憐才, 就有可能赦她的罪. 這也不是沒有前例的. 當今就曾因讀到一首被判刑者的詩而赦了他. 而長安詩人盈千上萬, 可是只有一個何滿子!
於是他們告訴她. 她望向那傳令的人一眼, 開始唱了:

好一朵水仙花
鮮花啊落在我的家
鮮花啊落在我的家啊呀  
邦有道, 民安樂
家家齊唱太平歌, 太呀平歌

所有人都動容了.
那聲音是如此清脆, 有力, 繞樑豈止三日!
而我猜對了. 另一人跑了過來, 手中拿起一個載有荔枝的籃子
我知道這意味什麼. 這是天恩, 離赦免只一步之遙.
我們屏息以待.
她卻竟搖頭, 拒絕了.
「為什麼? 為什麼?」 我差不多叫出來了. 難道她愚笨若此, 把唯一的生路也堵死了?
然後, 我明白了.
她當然明白.
這就是她歌中指控的一騎紅塵妃子笑! 多少田野毀於運送這嶺南佳果的馬蹄下! 那女孩被踏死! 女孩母親為流逝的骨肉而灑淚! 如果她接受了, 就馬上成了共犯, 就有如吸啜那女孩的鮮血和農民的汗淚, 成為帝國邪惡的一部份!
她知道拒絕的代價, 可是她義無反顧.
「不!」 我衝前.
兩名士兵向我大喝並以長矛指向我, 但當他們看到我腰間的魚形牌時, 立即把矛尖向下行禮.
我走向那斬刑台.
「師傅, 吃一口吧. 只是一口, 我求你.」
她望向我, 微笑中搖頭.
她很固執, 亦如此勇敢.
我拒絕放棄.
「如此, 你再唱一首吧. 唱一首歌頌當今盛世. 我會為你向聖上求情.」
她望我良久. 然後, 她唱了:

「母親河育我至今
暖我心田暖我身
此生也歷苦與樂
我曾飛翔大地上看盡浮生

生如此珍貴, 死何殘忍
誰望陰司路上作亡魂?
何處是歸途?
何日見鄉親?

但我如何能見不平卻強忍
把尊嚴放下向權力呻吟
我愛這國, 我愛國人
一死何難?
但願能以一曲慰人心.」

我已淚流滿臉
她剛在自己的催命符上按下她的掌印.
當我望向那遠處時, 那轎子已失去了蹤影.
兩名兵士把我扶向在旁邊不遠處的椅子上.
我看到半裸上身的劊子手持著得頭大刀上來.
何滿子臉上沒有一點驚惶之色. 她望向圍觀的人, 深深躹躬就閉上雙眸, 把優美的頸露出就戳..
刀刃破風而來.
當她的頭落下在地上滾動一段路後停下時, 人群中發出了低沈的哀歎. 我和他們一起看到那屍身向前仆倒, 鮮血從斷頸噴出把斬刑臺都染紅了. 當劊子手把她的頭撿起示眾時, 沒有人發出一般這情形下的叫好聲. 害怕晚一點會被人群撕成碎片的劊子手馬上退了下來, 向監斬官交核了後就由他把首級梟了.
刑場立時堆放了大批的鮮花.
我們都知道我們這一生中有一件寶貴的事已逝去, 帝國的一件寶貴物件也已逝去; 帝國本身也是時日無多了. 當正義之聲被銷, 邪惡之音就會取代把基石蝕穿, 最後大廈轟然坍倒.
我已是老人, 我不希望看到它的末日. 我只祈求上蒼不要讓我長壽. 如果不肯得不到應允, 作為醫者, 我總是有辦法的.
我再不懼怕死亡.
我的心已在這一天死去.
可能有一天, 另一個盛世會來臨, 一個比現在囚禁我們的這一個更好的年代.
但即使如此, 也不會有何滿子了 她是百年, 甚至千年難一遇. 也許永遠不會再有.

(後記).

大唐的黃金歲月兩年後嘎然而止. 公元755年, 安祿山反. 接著是藩鎮割據, 外族入侵. 唐朝卻竟可以在這種情況下苟延了一百五十二年.

一聲何滿子, 雙淚落君前.

(完)

這篇原本是以英文寫的, 翻過來時為了更適合中國讀者, 有些作出了改動.

故事中的"水仙花" 是外國人較熟悉的中國歌. 唐朝時應無此曲, 暫以取用.

向來, 何滿子是何人, 眾說紛云, 只知是一歌者, 臨刑一曲, 卻不得免. 小土豆就借用就傳說編成這故事.

(2)

I heard He-man sing a second time during another banquet.
Then, she was gone, disappeared without a trace from Chang-An.
Some said she had earned enough money and had returned to her home village with her aging and ailing father; others said she was bought by a wealthy merchant who made her one of his many concubines, promising to take care of her father for all his remaining years; some said she had eloped with a lover, a swordsman, a paladin who took her round the country; some even said she had fallen ill and perhaps had died.
None of these rumors was confirmed.
In time, the name of He-man became a past memory. She was not forgotten. She was just regarded as a legend, a lost treasure that one would miss and shake one’s head in despair with no hope of recovering one day.
Then, suddenly, she made her come-back.
I listened to her sing again.
And I was so worried for her.
No, it was not that she had lost any of her singing talent and skill.
Rather, she had reached an even higher level of accomplishment.
Three years ago, everybody was touched by the beauty of her voice.
Now, her singing was stunning.
And almost immediately I realized her singing was dangerous.
I was no longer a common doctor. The gods had smiled on me during the past three years. My medical skills had earned me connections with the higher echelons: officials of the court, courtesans rivaling for privileges using their beauty and wits, powerful eunuchs who had the ear of the emperor, and twice, even the favourite one, Yang Guifei, the woman the emperor found inseparable, had used my service. I was bestowed with the golden carp medallion which I wore at my waist, a symbol of favor denied to ordinary folks and access into the palace for urgent treatments.
And I had learned much from the inside. Besides the dazzling wealth and splendor that met the eyes, I had witnessed the corruption, the cruelty, the under-current of rivalry for power, of mercilessness, of the mortal risk of dropping a seemingly innocent comment. I had witnessed the rise and fall of powerful ministers. There were quite a few executions that turned my stomach upside down and I had felt the talk of distant rumbling of discontent that hovered at four corners of the empire whispered behind silk screens.
And I had woken up sometimes, sweat all over my body, after a nightmare of a failed treatment to the emperor, to Guifei, to a prince or princess, or to one of the princesses’ puppies! I knew what wealth and glory I could reap and the dire price I might be forced to pay. And even worse, I knew there was no turning back. To quit without imperial permission was never an option.
And He-man, in her innocence seemed oblivious to the lurking danger.
She seldom sang songs like Shui Xian Hua now. Instead, she sang of great tragedies that could strike at common folks out of the blue; she sang of despaired lovers taking their lives together; she sang of the stark contrast between the squandering of the rich and powerful and the plight of the down-trodden; she sang of left-over meat rotting on golden and silver plates and the corpses of the famished poor left lying in the snow; she sang of corruption among the mandarins, the injustice of the law courts, the seizing of land from the powerless peasants by the nobles and their minions; she sang of the riders on speckled horses that brought lychee, a kind of delicacy fruit from the south of the empire to Chang-An for the pleasure of Guifei who adored it; she sang of the juicy fruit as ivory teeth sank into its translucent flesh, of the joy of the emperor seeing that his love-of-a-lifetime laugh with delight; she sang of the vacant eyes of the little girl tramped under the hooves of the riders, uncaring for what they had done as the case they carried had to reach the table of the emperor while the fruit was still fresh; she sang of the despair of the father, the shrieks of torment of the mother; she sang of non-stop drafting of soldiery for wars at the fringes of the empire, to bring in more glory, more tributes, more beautiful women to fill a palace already housing three thousand of them; she sang to rumbling of minority tribes forced to bow low, of oppressed peasants left on the brink of starvation; she sang of dangers that could threaten the empire that could terminate the years of apparent opulence and peace.
She brought comfort to the under-dogs, tears to the common people and rage to the powerful.
My heart trembled at every song she breathed out of her lips, every line, every word.
She could not be so innocent to think all these would go unreported.
Somehow, she no longer cared, or she had learned to care so much that she could no longer remain silent and complacent.
What had happened to her during the past three years?
Had she suffered so much? Or had she simply seen too much?
The rich no longer invited her to their banquets, fearing complications.
She no longer wore rich silk from adoring affluent clients.
Instead, she always dressed herself in plain white dress, with hardly any personal ornaments other than her turquoise hairpin.
When she sang in the market to a quiet audience who would stop  whatever they had been doing to listen to her. They said even the birds stopped their chippings when she sang as if they too, were eager to listen.
The powerful called her a traitor, the common people called her “He-man-ji”, the last word an honor address to a maestro.
She must be living a simple life as now the people, though appreciative, could only put down a few coins which were all they could afford. She would pick them up one by one and nodded her gratitude showing from that pair of emerald green eyes.
In three years’ time, she had grown to be more mature, more radiantly beautiful. If she had looked like a little princess three years ago, she now looked a goddess, a goddess full of mercy and compassion.
I was moved beyond words and I dug my fingers into my pocket, which was deep enough and put down a heavy tale of silver and was about to turn my back when she stopped me.
“I do not need this from the rich.”
There was a kind of coldness in her voice.
I did not feel offended.
“Maestro, I offer this as real appreciation, and my silver is honestly earned. I am a doctor and I do not only take care of those who can pay me well.” I said.
She was a bit surprised and after a while, she bowed to offer her apology.
“I misjudged you, kind Sir. But I cannot accept your silver. Since you are a doctor, can you do me a favor and take a look at my father?”
“Is he not well?”
She became quiet. There was a deep sorrow in her eyes.
“Very well, lead me to him.” I said.
Her dwelling was in a back alley, neighboring families for whom she had offered her songs.
The room was dark, with a single oil-lamp. But otherwise, it was orderly and clean.
The old man who had been playing the pipa three years ago was lying on a mattress.
I took his pulse.
There was little I could do for him.
I told her so and she sobbed silently.
“I will subscribe some medicine to help your father ease his pain. My servant would come and bring that to you. Do not be too sorrowful. It is just a cycle of life.”
She nodded and thanked me. There was sorrow in her eyes, but there was pride too. And courage.
I should have warned her of her placing herself in danger with her kind of singing. But somehow I kept my lips tight. It would hardly make any difference as she would probably go on with what she had been doing. I knew from her determined look that she knew the consequence and she would not dodge it.
Three days later, the old man died.
I secretly arranged to pay for his funeral.

(3)

I leaned of her arrest a month later.
Though I had expected it to happen sooner or later, it still gave me the shudder.
What would become of her?
I called my connections and their replies confirmed my worst fear
Treason!
The punishment was always death!
I wept for her the whole night before her execution was to take place.
When dawn broke, I reluctantly dragged my feet towards the execution ground, which was in the market place.
I had prepared some flowers, to be placed in front of her after what was to happen. Once in the street, however, I discovered I was not alone. Hundreds of people were moving in the same direction, flowers in their hands.
When I reached the place, it was nearly packed. It was with great difficulty that I managed to get to the front row. There, fifty paces or so in front of me, knelt the famous singer He-man-ji. Dressed in pure white, hair let down her back, her arms bent to have her wrists tied.
There was no fear I could detect.
She was calm in the morning air, pure as a drop of dew in her dazzling white dress.
My heart raced, pained and fell into the deepest despair.
Was it true that nothing could save her from such fate?
I was a doctor and my duty was to save life and this was a life I would be willing to give up anything to save, including my own life.
I turned around and see an equally distraught crowd. There was sorrow; there was anger and then, out in the distance, I saw a tint of hope.
A palanquin
I could recognize it even it was disguised like one used by commoners. The eight bodyguards surrounding it betrayed the identity of the one who was inside. It was not for nothing that I had served the emperor and his loved one for all these years.
The emperor was an artist himself, priding on his achievement in composing and his drum skills. He must have heard of the case and would not wish to miss attending this and not seeing for himself the singer who had shaken the base of his empire.
A thought flickered across my mind.
“Let her sing!” I shouted and it was echoed by the crowd.
The soldiers became uneasy and the mandarin who was presiding the execution was just about to order clearing the place when a runner came up to him and whispered something into his ear. The face of the mandarin paled and immediately, he gave order that the condemned was to sing one last song.
Hope flared up inside me.
If she would be allowed to sing, there was a chance the emperor, appreciative of such a rare talent, might even grant her a pardon! It was not unheard of before. He had granted pardon to much graver crime when he read a poem by a condemned man, and there were thousands of poets in Chang-An whereas there was only one He-man-ji!
The order was relayed to her. She turned her head and looked at the messenger. Finally, composing herself, she began to sing her last song:


好一朵水仙花 (What a nice Shui Xian Hua)
鮮花啊落在我的家 (Beautiful flower settling in my home)
鮮花啊落在我的家啊呀 (Beautiful flower settling in my home)
邦有道, 民安樂 (When the land is ruled justly, the people are content)
家家齊唱太平歌, 太呀平歌 (All sing in celebration of peace and bliss)

We were all stunned!
The voice was crystal, powerful and haunting.
The emperor could not fail to be touched.
And I was right. Another messenger came running, carrying a small basket and had it placed in front of her.
Even from a distance I could see what it was: a basket of lychee!
I knew what it meant. It was a sign of favor and just one step from a full pardon.
We held our breadth and waited.
She shook her head, refusing it!
“Why? Why?” I almost shouted out my disbelief. Was she so foolish, so blind to a given opportunity to save her own life?
Then, it struck me.
She fully understood the meaning.
It was the same kind of fruit she had sung against, the same kind of fruit that had cost so many acres of farmland that the peasants had tilled and toiled, only to be tramped under the hooves of the rushing riders; the same kind of fruit that the little girl lost her life for, the mother wept for. To accept it would make her a collaborator to such injustice; it would feel like sucking the blood of the dead girl, the sweat of the peasants, and becoming part of the ills of the empire!
She knew the price of refusal and she was willing to pay it!
“No!” I rushed forward.
Two soldiers shouted at me and pointed their spears at me. Then, they saw the medallion of carp and immediately bowed politely, lowering their weapons.
I ran towards the slightly raised wooden platform on which she knelt.
“Maestro, please, take a bite, a tiny bite, I implore you.”
She looked at me, smiled and once again, shook her head.
She was stubborn, and so brave!
I refused to give up.
“Then, at least sing. Sing a song, a line, in praise of the emperor. I will speak on your behalf and get you his pardon.”
She stared at me long and hard.
Then smiling, she sang.

“ Mother River, nourishing me since I was born
How I love thee tender and warm
I have life’s share of pleasure and pain.
I have travelled to Hell’s dungeon and flew on a bird’s wings.

How tempting life can be, how frightening is death
How does it feel to enter the unknown
How much I long for a safe and warm home

But tell me, how can I forget those who have been wronged?
How can I give up dignity
And bow to the strong?
I love the land, the people and leave them my songs
And hope these will sooth their sorrow after I am gone.”

I felt tears rolling down my face.
She had just sung her own death sentence.
When I looked into the distance, I found the palanquin was no more.
Two soldiers helped me to a chair at the side.
I saw the executioner, naked waist up, walked up the platform with his ugly weapon: a huge cutting sword.
He-man-ji remained calm, she looked at the crowd whom she knew loved her dearly, bowed once to thank them and then closed her eyes and offered her swan-like neck.
The blade sang.
When her head hit the ground and rolled to a stop, the crowd uttered its cries of anguish. Everyone could feel the silent anger. They, and I, witnessed the body toppled forward, blood spurting out from the truncated neck, dyeing the front part of the platform crimson red. When the head was picked up and shown to the crowd, there was no cheering. The uneasy executioner hurried backed away and after presenting it to the officiating officer, beat his retreat as if in fear of his life. Even before the head was hoisted up the prepared pole, a sea of flowers covered the place.
We all knew someone precious in our lives had died; something valuable in the empire had died, the empire was dying itself.
When the voice of justice was silenced, evil would creep in, rotting the base, changing the world we knew forever.
Being an old man, I had no wish to see how all these end.
I prayed that my remaining days would not be that many and if it was more than I could endure, well, there were always a way out for a medicine man.
I did not fear death anymore.
My heart had died on this day.
May be a new era would come one day, a happier one than the one which was imprisoning us.
But there would be no He-man-ji, not for a hundred years, or a thousand, or ten thousand.
Ever.

(Postscript)

The golden age of the Tang Empire ended two years later. In AD755, nation-wide rebellions broke out. Warlords fought imperial armies and against each other. Foreign tribes invaded the land. Millions of people were slaughtered. Somehow, the Empire lingered on for another one hundred and fifty two years, but only as a shadow of its former self.

He-man-ji was not forgotten. Many poems were written to honor her after her death. A melancholic tune was named after her and it was said that whenever this tune was played, people could not stop their tears running down. There was a story of a consort of a late Tang emperor who died of heart-breaking when she was about to sing this song in front of her husband’s deathbed before she had a chance to go to her voluntary death to accompany her husband in the next world.
There was no other singer who could come close to her since.
Perhaps, there never will be.

《何满子之歌》改编得好，很有意义。
“當她的頭落下在地上滾動一段路飢下時”，“飢”打錯了。

謝謝老蕭, 錯字已改

謝謝荒田老師

”她的歌聲為被壓迫者帶來安慰, 一般百姓聞之暗泣; 權貴聞之切齒!,“ 其实这正是小土豆的声音。上佳文章！非一般文墨可比！

謝謝文東.

荒田兄说得极对，的确是每篇都出彩，非常不容易。