I could feel my face had lost all human color at that moment. Luckily, Sun Fatty was there. Bringing him back to my hometown was clearly the smartest decision I made.
Sun Fatty's performing talent was fully unleashed. He clapped his hands, laughing heartily until he nearly fell backward, making my grandpa and the others laugh dumbfounded.
"Corruption? Haha, that's hilarious! Old man, you really know how to joke," Sun Fatty feigned holding back his laughter, pursing his lips as he said to my grandpa, "Old man, let me tell you the truth. This longevity peach looks scary, but it's actually not worth much. It's one of the unclaimed contraband items seized a few months ago during a smuggling bust. We have a rule internally: if such items go unclaimed for a period, we hold a small internal auction to deal with them."
Pointing to the golden longevity peach on the table, he continued, "This peach looks big, but it's hollow inside and not very heavy. Also, since Director Shen wanted to buy it as a birthday gift, no one else competed with him, so the price naturally became cheaper. This golden peach is only worth about ten thousand yuan (≈ USD 1,400)."
"Oh." The room suddenly stirred with chatter, everyone buzzing about how nice it was to be a big official who could buy such bargains. One distant cousin even pulled me aside and said,
"Nephew, if there's another chance for cheap stuff like this, could you help me grab one or two? Don't worry, I won't shortchange you. You name the price, and your big brother will bring it to you later."
As soon as he said that, all the Shens in the room surrounded me, all wanting to help bid on some gold jewelry. I was immediately flustered, repeatedly explaining that chances like this don't come often — I was just lucky this time.
"Everyone shut up!" Grandpa shouted loudly. The room instantly fell silent.
"Are you here to celebrate a birthday or to seek bargains? If you want to stay, then stay properly. If you want to take advantage, then get out of here!" Grandpa, as clan head, wasn't joking — no one dared to answer back. They all lowered their heads awkwardly.
Grandpa wanted to scold some more, but someone called from the yard, "Old Master Shen, Director Gan's car has arrived at the village entrance. The village chief says we should go welcome him!" Our county magistrate's surname is Gan, full name Gan Daye. He used to be the head of the county militia, and he helped me with my enlistment paperwork years ago. We hadn't met for years, and now Minister Gan had become County Magistrate Gan.
Upon hearing this, Grandpa gathered the old and young inside and outside the house to go greet the county magistrate at the village entrance. I wanted to go out with them to get some fresh air, but Sun Fatty stopped me, saying,
"Don't get confused. I'm the Director, two ranks higher than him. The rule is you stay here with me and wait for him to come see me."
So, Sun Fatty and I sat by the kang bench, drinking tea and cracking sunflower seeds, chatting happily. Suddenly, noisy sounds came from the yard. The curtain at the door was lifted, and Grandpa and Third Uncle led the slightly balding fifty-something County Magistrate Gan inside.
Gan didn't expect there to be two people sitting on the kang. When he saw me and Sun Fatty, he was stunned. After all these years, he apparently had no impression of me anymore. But after looking at the police ranks on our shoulders, his expression became even more surprised.
Before he could speak, Sun Fatty cut in,
"You must be County Magistrate Gan. Please have a seat, don't be shy."
Gan's secretary, sharp as ever, had quietly inquired earlier in the yard about who else was coming to celebrate the birthday. Now, he whispered a few words in Gan's ear. Gan chuckled and walked over to the kang, saying,
"You must be Director Sun and Director Shen. The county wasn't prepared for your arrival, so we're truly neglectful hosts." Then he extended his hand.
I followed Sun Fatty's example and shook Gan's hand politely, saying,
"County Magistrate Gan, there's no need to be so formal. Sun, Director Sun is accompanying me back to my hometown just to pay respects to the old birthday star, not for official business. You're too courteous."
Fatty Sun also exchanged a few polite words. As they chatted casually, the county magistrate Gan's secretary came over with a smile and said, "The boat opera is about to begin, and the old birthday man is nearly here. Shouldn't we head down to the riverbank?"
The boat opera was something I remembered from my childhood, having heard my grandfather talk about it a few times. That was more than two hundred years ago, during the peak period of the Qing dynasty. Back then, our area was considered outside the official border — the homeland of the Manchu Eight Banners' ancestral territory. Our entire Qinghe County was the royal estate of Prince Yishen, the eighth son of Emperor Qianlong, named Yongxuan.
Being a prince's royal estate meant that everything produced in Qinghe County didn't need to pay taxes to the imperial court but only tribute to the prince. From then on, everyone in Qinghe County was considered a family servant of Prince Yishen (except for us Shens, who had migrated here from Shandong at the end of the Qing dynasty).
Though we became servants, we were still servants of a prince, which was somewhat honorable. Moreover, even high-ranking court officials had to call themselves "your servant" when addressing the emperor and his royal brothers. That was the court etiquette, and it wasn't shameful.
That said, Prince Yishen was relatively benevolent compared to his brothers. He only demanded a 30% share of the usual harvest as tribute. And every festival, when sending gifts to the prince's mansion, the prince's rewards often exceeded the tribute sent.
At that time, the four great Huiju troupes had just arrived in Beijing and created a new national art form — Peking opera. Prince Yishen was an avid fan of Peking opera. His mansion kept several troupes, and whenever a famous actor came to perform, the prince was always sure to attend, sometimes even stepping on stage to sing a few lines himself for fun. Because of this, Emperor Qianlong scolded him many times. But the prince would obediently behave for a few days and then revert to his old ways.
Later, Emperor Qianlong decided to "out of sight, out of mind," and sent Prince Yishen to his royal estate for a year, officially saying it was for "quiet study."
A few days after arriving at the estate, the prince coincidentally came upon an old man celebrating his 100th birthday. When the prince went to join the celebration, he suddenly had an idea. At that time, a royal decree had been issued to emulate the emperor's grand centenarian banquet. The prince wanted to hold a hundred-day opera performance at the estate in honor of the centenarian, singing every day for a hundred days in accordance with the old man's age.
When the prince gave the order, the surrounding government officials eagerly offered suggestions. Finally, a "niu lu" (a Manchu official rank, not a cattle herder) at the estate proposed a practical idea. Since it was already the hot season of "伏" (dog days of summer), if they sang continuously for a hundred days, not only the performers but even the audience would find it unbearable. Instead, why not move the stage to a boat on the nearby Qing River? Every evening at sunset, they would light lamps on the boat and perform the boat opera.
The prince was delighted and spent a lot of silver to commission craftsmen to build the opera boat overnight, while sending people to invite famous Peking opera stars from Beijing and Tianjin. A month later, once the stars had arrived and the boat was finished, the performance began.
On opening day, the entire hundred-mile radius was buzzing with excitement. Over ten thousand people came. Fortunately, the river stage was spacious enough to accommodate the crowds. Spectators came and went in waves, and famous actors took turns performing. They sang continuously for a hundred days, letting the prince indulge in his opera obsession. Shortly after, the prince was summoned back to Beijing.
Before leaving, the prince issued a royal decree: whenever a centenarian appeared at the estate again, they would hold another hundred-day boat opera performance, modeled after that event, to show Emperor Qianlong's benevolent love for his people. Unfortunately, although the decree was issued, that hundred-day opera became a legend. After that event, no one at the estate ever lived to a hundred again (there were nearly a hundred people who reached 99, but none crossed the century mark).
When my great-granduncle celebrated his 100th birthday, there was talk of holding a hundred-day opera, but because the funds fell short, they only invited the county's "Errenzhuan" (a local folk duet performance) troupe for one night.
Today is my great-granduncle's 111th birthday. He originally didn't expect any grand plans, but it just so happened the county was developing a Qing River tourism project. Our county magistrate Gan Daye decided to organize a hundred-day opera for my great-granduncle. But since the county budget couldn't support a full hundred days, they compromised. Instead of one day per year of age, they counted one day per year after the hundred mark — so it's called the hundred-day boat opera but would only last about ten days. Sadly, no one expected this boat opera to be a tragedy from start to finish.