The Bamboo Flute

by Huina Zheng

When Yu opened the birthday present from her husband Ming, the smile froze on her face.

It was a bamboo flute inset with two jade rings at both ends, which could prevent scratches and would beautify the musical instrument. The top of the flute was engraved with a poem by Li Bai, one of the two most prominent figures in the flourishing of Chinese poetry in the Tang dynasty, and a red Chinese knot was tied under it.

“I know we should save money for the down payment on the flat, but when I saw this exquisite instrument, I thought you would be happy to have it.”

Yu still didn’t speak, and Ming added, “This is the only expensive gift I’ve given you in the five years we’ve been together. Please don’t be mad.”

“I like it. Thank you.” She forced a smile.

Ming sighed in relief and said, “I hope playing this flute can bring you happiness.”

Looking at Ming’s sunny smile, Yu felt her heart grow heavier.

* * *

Yu first encountered the bamboo flute in her 8th-grade music class. When the teacher played the instrument, melodies floated in the air, and Yu was suddenly immersed in a sea of notes splashing a beam of blue moonlight. Her heart floated in the light when the beautiful rhythm danced in her ears: high, low, melodious, passionate.

The fluting was as pure as any bamboo leaf swaying in the wind. She wanted to become an amateur player using the flute to convey emotions. However, because of the approaching high school entrance examination, the music class was canceled and replaced with a math class in 9th grade.

Years passed, and Yu had almost forgotten the bamboo flute. Until three months ago, when she saw the heroine in white gauze playing a bamboo flute in the breeze in a TV series. Yu traveled through time and space; she was surrounded by bamboo forests, and the scent of grass and flowers filled the air. She decided to relearn this traditional Chinese instrument.

She planned to follow the instructional videos and practice when she had time; she set no goals, gave herself no pressure, and wanted only to enjoy her love of the bamboo flute. But after she received Ming’s gift, panic and anxiety often overwhelmed her.

Ming sensed the change in her. When she played the instrument, the corners of her mouth no longer turned up; her expression was replaced by a frown.

After doing some Internet research, Yu realized that if she wanted to be able to play contemporary music on Ming’s birthday eight months hence, she would need to practice at least two hours a day. If she didn’t do her best, she would fail Ming.

After practicing continuously for a month, her fingers were cramping and shaking, and every joint was sore, which needed to be relieved by warm water every day. Her mother’s growling voice would thunder in her ear whenever she wanted to rest:

“If you can’t win first place in the watercolor painting competition, you will waste the 200 yuan I paid for each class.

“If you can’t get an A in the English test, you will waste my hard-earned money paid to the foreign teacher.

“If you can’t get a perfect score in swimming, you will waste the expensive one-to-one lessons I paid for.”

Her mother was right. She must live up to her husband’s expectations.

Playing the bamboo flute no longer brought Yu happiness; she wondered if the Chinese knot could bring her good luck or happiness. She just wanted to work toward mastering the instrument so that she could play Ming a beautiful piece in return for his expensive and beautiful gift.

* * *

Noticing Yu’s increasing anxiety, Ming often accompanied her, massaging her wrists and fingers while chatting. “You don’t have to be good at playing to be worthy of this bamboo flute.”

“But this is the gift you chose for me.”

“It’s already yours. It won’t sprout wings and fly away just because you’re not concert-ready.”

“What if I can only play very simple nursery rhymes a year later?”

“I just want you to enjoy playing this bamboo flute, and I really don’t care if you reach a professional level or not. Besides, I like children’s songs. I can sing ‘Two Tigers’ while you play the instrument.” Ming began to hum the tune of the children’s song.

Yu, amused by his off-key harmony, laughed.

Whenever Yu began to suffer from anxiety and self-doubt, Ming would tell her that she did not need to be excellent to be worthy of love. Even when she didn’t improve after a month of playing, Ming would smile and tell her how much he enjoyed listening to her fluting.

When Yu struggled to improve small sections of the song, she would recall Ming’s encouragement: “I like your fluting; it surrounds me with your feelings.” Slowly, Yu found her love for the bamboo flute again and began to enjoy every minute of practicing without worrying about whether she had made progress according to her schedule.

One night, when Yu played “You’re Everything to Me” for Ming, she immersed herself in the melodies, thinking of moments of her life with Ming: when she fought, he would make up; when she cried, he would comfort her; when she was down, he would cheer her up.

After the song, she said, “I once hoped I could play this song beautifully on your birthday to express my gratitude, but you showed me it was more important that I enjoy it. Thank you for accepting me, seeing the good in me, and loving me.”

She continued practicing the bamboo flute. She might never play as beautifully as her music teacher did, but she didn’t mind, because she finally had someone who loved her unconditionally. She stood on the balcony, happily playing the flute like a spirited musician, the Chinese knot gently swaying in the breeze.