Han Tong had a fiery temper, yet his son turned out to be a hunchback. He could not carry a load. He could bar…
Han Tong had a fiery temper, yet his son turned out to be a hunchback.
He could not carry a load. He could barely lift a thing. He could not draw a bow, and after only a few steps, he was already out of breath.
Since he could not wield a blade, he might as well take this instead.
Wenbo, a close friend and fellow official, pressed a flute into the boy's hand. He said the boy had an ear for music and learned quickly.
Han Tong scoffed. "What use is singing and playing?"
Wenbo paused, then said, "Useful. In Southern Tang, there is a place called Velvet Shade. With song and dance, it has listened to the hearts of all under heaven."
When Shouliang left for the south, he was still coughing badly.
Wenbo was always praising his flute, saying it sounded like music from heaven.
Han Tong was a soldier and knew nothing about music. Maybe he truly could not hear the difference, or maybe he was simply too busy to stop and listen.
He thought that when the war was over and peace returned, he would finally have time to hear that sickly boy stand in the yard and play a full tune for him.
Then he could finally find out what sort of "great gift" Wenbo had been talking about all along.