This blind couple always plays the erhu at the bus stop near the hospital, regardless of the season, whether the bus stop is crowded or not.
I wait for my bus here every day after work, and gradually became familiar with them, chatting with them during the waiting time. On rainy days or scorching hot days, no matter how I persuade them, they refuse to sit on the bench under the shelter, insisting on leaving the seats for those who have worked all day…
When they talk about others, they always add the word “good”: good person, good child, good elderly lady… Initially, I found this a bit awkward, thinking they did it to gain more sympathy and get more coins. But over time, I realized that the “good” they added to the titles came from the heart.
They look to be in their 40s. The husband is completely blind and always plays the erhu with complete concentration, with a humble smile on his face. His wife sits beside him with her head slightly lowered, a worn but meticulously cleaned enamel tea mug placed on the ground in front of her.
Whenever someone puts money in the tea mug, she lifts her head and says “thank you” in a heavy rural accent. Sometimes, mischievous kids would tease her, pretending to put money in the mug repeatedly, making her say “thank you” over and over again. People around would shoo the kids away, and she seemed to understand what was happening, but she never got angry, just smiled and lowered her head again.
Because I often chat with them while waiting for the bus, I know that the wife has some light perception in her eyes, but she can’t clearly see whether the hands reaching into the mug are putting money or not. So, as long as she vaguely sees a shadow reaching out, she says “thank you” with deep gratitude.
Once, she asked me a bit shyly if her husband’s erhu playing sounded good. To be honest, since he hadn’t received any professional training, his playing was quite ordinary, with a limited repertoire. But playing the erhu for them is just a means of livelihood, so there’s no need to judge it by professional standards. So, I told a white lie: “It’s very good.”
She opened her misty eyes wide: “Really?”
I said, “Really.”
She smiled with a face full of appreciation: “Even though he can’t see, his ears are very good. As long as he hears a tune a few times, he can play it quite accurately.” Then, she hesitantly asked if she could trouble me with something. As she spoke, she picked up the tea mug and started feeling out coins one by one: “If it’s convenient, could you help me buy a tape of erhu masterpieces?” She said that people might be tired of the few tunes they play, and buying a tape would allow her husband to practice new ones, so as not to let down those who put money into the mug.
Her words touched my heart. I always thought that as long as the erhu sound caught people’s attention and made them put money in the mug, the quality of the playing didn’t matter. After all, the listeners were always busy commuters, no one stopped to listen carefully to their performance.
This blind couple must understand that no one blames or criticizes them for not playing the erhu excellently, but they don’t want the erhu to be a simple tool for begging. They strive to do better because this is their only way to thank the world’s kindness.
I felt ashamed for reducing their erhu playing to a mechanical begging sound.
When I didn’t respond for a long time, she felt a bit embarrassed and said she knew city people are very busy and apologized for making such a request. I hurriedly explained that wasn’t the case; I was just thinking that I had many erhu tapes at home, and since cassette players were out of fashion, I was wondering how to deal with them. If they didn’t mind, I could bring them some next time. She was overjoyed and thanked me repeatedly.
That evening, we chatted for a long time. When we talked about their life, she said they felt very fortunate. She was grateful to have married her husband, allowing her to see the world outside the village; grateful that her husband was a kind person who cared for her and their children, always taking on household chores; grateful that her husband had a skill, so they didn’t have to starve or freeze; grateful for the many kind people in the world, without whom their few tunes couldn’t support their son’s education. As she spoke, she picked up the tea mug and felt the coins inside: “You see, our tea mug is filled with the world’s goodness.”
She expressed so many “gratefuls” as if they had received the best blessings from heaven. I couldn’t help but feel deeply moved. For them, the world was a chaotic darkness, yet they could touch all the goodness of the world through a worn tea mug. If those of us with healthy vision were less numb to the beauty in life, perhaps there wouldn’t be so much disappointment and complaint.
That evening, I went to the record store and bought a few erhu tapes. Fearing she would know they were newly bought, I deliberately removed the shrink wrap and brought them to her the next day on my way to work.
About ten days later, her husband started to play those new tunes hesitantly. Although the tunes were somewhat fragmented, they were the most beautiful tunes I had ever heard because they carried a sincere love for the world, coming from two hearts that were poor but never complained.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
