Chapter 48 Invitation
That evening, Mai Sui treated everyone to a large dinner. Hang Liumei was delighted to see the watch on Mai Sui's wrist. This was a blessing in disguise, as it brought her son and daughter-in-law closer.
Compared to yesterday's exhibition, today's was even more packed with visitors. I wonder where Mai Sui and her colleagues managed to find so many representative works by artists. There were reproductions of murals like "Celestial Music," "Flying Lotus Apsaras," "Rebounding Pipa," and "The Deer King's Birth Story." There were also creative reproductions, like "Huxuan Dance." There were also works by artists who, after visiting the Mogao and Kizil Grottoes, adapted mural techniques into their own unique styles.
Hang Liumei took Xiaomai and Pu Zhihe for a walk, treating them like a lesson. She immediately recognized the two paintings on the first wall around the corner as the work of Chang Shuhong, the former director of the Mogao Grottoes, who had returned from studying in France and resolutely went to protect the national treasures.
One is his 1952 oil painting, "The Temple Fair at Mogao Grottoes." The nine-story building is nestled behind a cloud-like grove of poplar trees, and in front of the trees is a bustling market. Every year on the eighth day of the fourth lunar month, the area surrounding the Mogao Grottoes is like this: thatched huts are erected, horse-drawn carriages are brought in, and visitors gather to eat, drink, and laugh.
Another painting he copied was "Prince Sattva Sacrificing His Life to Feed a Tiger." This is one of Dunhuang's most famous Jataka paintings, depicting the stories of Sakyamuni's good deeds in his previous lives before he attained Buddhahood. Hang Liumei had once explained this mural to Lao Jiang, a newcomer.
On the adjacent wall are three works by the Japanese painter Mamoru Koga, a painter Hang Liumei is familiar with.
In 1958, the director of the institute brought a collection of Dunhuang murals to Tokyo for an exhibition. At the time, Mamoru Koga was just an 18-year-old apprentice. His life was forever changed after he visited the "China Dunhuang Art Exhibition." Over the next decade, Koga created a series of paintings inspired by his vision of distant Dunhuang, establishing a strong presence in the Japanese art world. He finally visited Dunhuang in person in 1979.
It was during his visit to the Mogao Grottoes that he realized the striking resemblance between the murals in the Kondo Hall of Horyu-ji Temple, which he had spent a whole year copying, and those in Cave 220. The murals in Cave 220 were just the beginning; the Mogao Grottoes were the most fantastical treasure an artist could ever encounter. The old director treated the exotic painter, who had traveled from afar, to sheep from Sanwei Mountain and fish from Crescent Moon Lake, and the two promised to meet again.
In later years, Koga Mamoru tirelessly returned to Dunhuang, eventually founding a new school of painting and making numerous donations to the Dunhuang Research Institute. Today, Koga is considered one of Japan's leading painters. The works on display today, "Brahma Bell," "Nirvana," and "Avalokitesvara," are three of his most iconic works from his later years. If nothing unexpected happens, these three paintings will also command the highest prices at this auction.
Putting the two paintings together reminded Hang Liumei of the scene when the old director and several predecessors were invited to visit Japan in the 1980s.
The old director was once the most famous Chinese student at the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris. As fate would have it, he became the first generation guardian of Dunhuang.
Hang Liumei and the others had all seen the photos of the old director taken in France. He was full of vigor and vitality, dressed in a striped suit and square-toed leather shoes, standing in front of a white picket fence, with a small French-style building behind him, just like someone in a movie. At the time, everyone said that if anyone didn't know what "dignified and elegant in a suit and tie" meant, they could just look at the old director's old photos.
However, the old director himself had become weathered in Dunhuang, and even many new colleagues initially regarded his predecessors as farmers in the surrounding area. When they met them for the first time in Mogao Grottoes, these newcomers would remind the old people not to smoke pipes or touch or damage the murals.
Planting trees to control sand, maintaining and repairing, and copying archaeological artifacts—every task had to be started from scratch by the old director and his scattered team. The turbulent times meant no one cared about this corner of the northwest. When he first arrived at the Mogao Grottoes, many of the caves were even buried under the sand. With no money, no people, not even paper, pens, or paint, they gritted their teeth and waited for successors like Hang Liumei.
There was a song at the time that went, "Leaving Jiayuguan, my eyes are wet with tears. Looking ahead, I see the Gobi Desert; behind, I see the gates of hell." The pain felt is beyond words. Life in Dunhuang felt isolated, and his suits had long been put away. When he finally donned his finery after so many years, he had almost forgotten how to tie a tie.
On the day of departure for the visit to Japan, the seniors squeezed into the dusty car wearing outdated and ill-fitting suits. Hang Liumei watched them leave excitedly, and suddenly thought of the photo of the old director when he was young, and a trace of sadness came over her.
For some reason, she felt the same emotion again. The old director had come to Dunhuang for art, but it was also to preserve it that he devoted all his energy to the institute. Ultimately, he only copied a handful of his beloved Dunhuang murals. Without these burdens, he could have captured his lifelong obsession with Dunhuang in his own work.
Now he rests in Sanwei Mountain, forever watching over the Mogao Grottoes he loved so much.
With a sigh, Hang Liumei said, "Let's go, let's go," and turned to leave.
Before another painting stood a couple of well-dressed people, especially the middle-aged woman in the lead. Her dress looked identical to Xiuchun's, except she wore off-white, while Xiuchun wore pink. The two had different auras. Add to that the white pearls around her neck and her narrowed eyes, smiling, and nodding expression, and Hang Liumei thought she resembled a noblewoman from a Japanese drama.
There were two young men beside her, one responsible for explaining and the other for translating. After listening carefully, I found that she was really Japanese.
One of the young men was saying, "This painting is called a caisson, and it has four layers. The center is a lotus with thirty-three petals, the second layer is flames, and the outermost layer is another circle of lotus leaves. These patterns are all abstract."
Looking at the painting they were facing, Hang Liumei couldn't help but interrupt: "Sorry to interrupt, but these are not lotus leaves."
Before Xiaomai and Pu Zhihe could hold her back, the three men heard her and turned to look at her. Hang Liumei walked up and pointed at the painting, explaining, "Although this painting is called 'Lotus Flying Algae Ceiling,' it doesn't mean it only has lotus flowers and lotus leaves. The outermost circle, which looks like a leaf split in half, is a honeysuckle pattern. The honeysuckle pattern evolved from the honeysuckle flower, which never withers in winter. Our ancients liked these meanings and used them in paintings. This is one of the most common patterns in Dunhuang murals."
Seeing that the translator was still stunned, Hang Liumei urged him: "You can translate for this lady."
Seeing the other person's expression of sudden realization, Hang Liumei added with lingering interest, "The caisson was originally the atrium of ancient Chinese architecture, often painted with aquatic plants for both decorative purposes and to auspiciously prevent fires. The Dunhuang caisson is actually a funnel-shaped cave ceiling decoration, also called a caisson because it resembles a caisson in an architecture." Since you're a foreigner, I'll briefly explain the context.
Hang Liumei didn't understand Japanese, so she couldn't tell him whether he'd conveyed the message correctly or not. She was about to leave when the translator said, "Teacher Hashimoto, thank you very much for your guidance. You must be an expert on Dunhuang art. I'd like to ask you about someone."
After he finished speaking, Mr. Hashimoto took out a picture album and opened it. Everyone saw a painting of "Twelve-tone Thunder Drum" with the signature next to it - Hang Liumei!
Even Hang Liumei herself laughed: "Distant in the horizon, yet close at hand, this is my painting! But this painting was sold to a Japanese collector by my daughter-in-law. How did it end up in your album? Could it be that you were the one who bought it back then?"
Honestly, Hang Liumei hadn't seen this painting in over a decade. It was inspired by a fragment of a Western Wei Dynasty mural in Cave 249. The Thunder God occupies the center of the painting, a figure with a human body and a beast's head, wings sprouting from his flanks. Twelve blue drums surround him. He soars into the air, and when he strikes the drums, the "Twelve-Tone Thunder God Drums" spin. He then uses his hands and feet to strike the drums in the four directions, east, south, west, and north, so that the thunder echoes across the mountains and rivers.
Hang Liumei has always loved this image. Among the serene and solemn Buddhas and Bodhisattvas, these detailed characters are lively, interesting, and full of imagination. She has copied the Fengbo and Yushi who control the wind and rain, the Tianlongbabu who listen to the Dharma, and even the wild buffalo, wild boar, and mouse.
Just then, Mai Sui came over quickly from the other side and said, "Mom, hey? You guys already know each other? I was planning a surprise for you! Let me introduce you. This is Professor Hashimoto Miko from Tokyo University of the Arts. She's always loved Dunhuang art. Your paintings were donated to their university's art museum, and she's always wanted to meet you in person. And since she's attending this exhibition, I urge you to come over so you two can meet."
After saying that, Mai Sui smiled and looked at Professor Hashimoto, then slowed down her speech and told Hang Liumei that she had something very important to tell her this time, and they would sit down and talk slowly while eating.
"Let me go to Japan?" Hang Liumei repeated this in surprise at the evening banquet after hearing the translator say this.
At the dinner table earlier, Professor Hashimoto had first asked Hang Liumei about her reasons for going to Dunhuang and her life there. Hang Liumei then recounted her journey from volunteering to getting married and having children in Dunhuang. Hashimoto then asked about Hang Liumei's work, explaining that she had participated in numerous solo and multi-person copying projects, from the Mogao Grottoes to the Yulin Grottoes. She spoke with a familiarity.
Hashimoto Miko's eyes lit up when she heard this, and she finally couldn't help but tell her the reason for her visit: she wanted to invite Hang Liumei to be a visiting scholar. This wasn't a sudden idea; she had come all the way here specifically for Hang Liumei. Unexpectedly, they'd run into each other by chance at the art exhibition. This must be what the Chinese call fate.
This news was so sudden that Hang Liumei couldn't believe it for a moment. She silently repeated that she wanted to invite me to Japan.
There were indeed several opportunities to visit abroad back then, and Hang Liumei had long wanted to go to Britain, France, the United States, and Russia to see the murals, silk paintings, and scriptures that were brought overseas. She also had the opportunity to go to Japan.
In the early 1990s, the Dunhuang Cultural Relics Research Institute was renamed the Dunhuang Academy. The then director of the institute approached Hang Liumei about a possible visit to Japan, and he wanted her, who was already a key figure in the Art Research Department, to go.
Hang Liumei's first instinct was to go, but she quickly dismissed the idea. She was leading a group of young people in copying the "Amitabha Sutra Transformation" from Cave 220. The "Three Holy Ones of the Western Paradise"—Amitabha, Avalokitesvara, and Mahasthamaprapta—delivered a sutra, surrounded by attendants and auspicious pagodas. This was the earliest and most magnificent Pure Land Transformation at Mogao Grottoes, and even Koga no Mamoru was struck by this mural upon his arrival.
Hang Liumei didn't dare slack off. Teacher Gong had already left for Hong Kong, and many of her predecessors had retired. The institute urgently needed to train a group of new people who could shoulder the responsibility. If she left at this time, the copying work would definitely come to a standstill. More importantly, the young people's hearts would be restless with the coming and going of their mentors. Without calmness, they could not paint well.
Her son, Jiang Yunyi, was about to take the college entrance exam. Even though he wasn't a student, he still had to take it seriously. She had already let him go out and suffered a few years ago. If she wasn't there for this important event in her son's life, even if he didn't blame her, she would feel even more guilty towards him.
Hang Liumei told Lao Jiang about this matter. Lao Jiang strongly supported her to go to Japan, but Hang Liumei herself resolutely refused.
Unexpectedly, this opportunity came to her again, and this time Hang Liumei had no reason to refuse.
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