Chapter 125: Chapter 112: Fawning Kitten and Spirit Fox Moon Worship Technique

Grandfather’s erhu was quite old. The soundbox had come unglued and cracked, and the Python Skin that originally covered it was now soft and loose, with small tears. During the heavy snows, Li Xiang had brought over a couple of small wild boars. His grandfather thought the boar hide would be perfect, so he’d skinned one, treated the hide, and let it dry. Now, he was ready to stretch it over the instrument.

Upon hearing this, Li Xiang said, "Grandfather, I have some cowhide at home. How about I go back and get it for you?"

Grandfather waved his hands dismissively. "No, no, this boar hide is perfectly fine. The skin from a small wild boar is lighter and softer, which produces a purer tone. The sound from cowhide is too deep."

"Oh, I see." Since his grandfather insisted, Li Xiang dropped the subject and started helping him stretch the new hide.

Different skins naturally produce different tones; it all comes down to personal preference. Wild Python Skin is actually the best, but it was impossible to get a piece that large nowadays. The "Spicy Strips" Li Xiang had caught before were all too small to cover an erhu’s soundbox.

After they finished stretching the wild boar hide, they gave the erhu a try but found the sound quality was poor. Grandfather inspected it and determined the main issue was the remaining cracks in the soundbox. He had tried gluing them shut earlier, but it was clear the repair hadn’t held.

The soundbox of Grandfather’s erhu seemed to be made of rosewood, which was an excellent material, but the instrument was just too old. With signs of damage from both insects and rodents, it was time for a replacement.

"I have some Red Fir Wood at home. I’ll go get some for you."

This time, Li Xiang didn’t take no for an answer and headed home.

He had Golden Rattan Wood as well, but it was too light to be suitable for an erhu. Red Fir Wood was harder and heavier; it was incredibly durable and offered far better resonance.

Moreover, Red Fir Wood had a crisp, metallic ring when tapped, unlike the dull thud of many other woods. An erhu made from a wood that sounded muffled would never be a high-Tier instrument.

Li Xiang had Red Fir Wood in his system’s inventory, but it wouldn’t do to perform an act of Creation Out of Thin Air. To play it safe, he made the trip back home, sawed off two large sections of the wood, and, after a moment’s thought, grabbed a piece of dried cowhide to bring to his grandfather as well.

His grandfather was a fan of all traditional instruments. While cowhide might make an erhu’s tone a bit too deep, it was perfect for making drums. Li Xiang remembered staying at his grandparents’ house during school holidays as a child; his grandfather had even made a small waist drum for a shaman from one of the ethnic minorities.

The reason Li Xiang had succeeded in making a drum on his first try was not just because he’d looked up tutorials online; he had also picked up the basics by watching his grandfather as a child. Plus, as an Extraordinary Being, he was naturally quite skilled with his hands.

When Grandfather saw the fine Red Fir Wood and cowhide Li Xiang had brought, he was overjoyed—even happier than when he’d gotten new clothes.

Making an erhu wasn’t actually that complicated. Grandfather was an old hand at it and had all the necessary tools at home. Li Xiang helped out, learning the craft as he went. At noon, Grandmother returned to make lunch. After they ate, the grandfather-grandson duo got back to work. Grandmother, apparently not yet done with her social rounds, changed her clothes and headed out again.

Around three in the afternoon, the brand-new, wild-boar-hide erhu was finished!

The hide from the small wild boar might not be very durable, but that didn’t matter. ’There will be plenty of wild boars in the future,’ Li Xiang thought. ’We can just replace it then.’

The grain of the Red Fir Wood was beautiful. Grandfather slowly sanded it with fine-grit sandpaper, polishing it to a shine. He explained that an erhu doesn’t need to be lacquered. The neck could get a light coat of clear varnish, but for the soundbox, all it needed was a bit of wax now and then, or even some of the snake oil ointment people used in winter to prevent their hands and feet from chapping.

Some brands of this snake oil ointment were incredibly cheap, just a few bucks a tube. The main ingredient was glycerin, with maybe a tiny bit of actual snake oil. In any case, people in the countryside weren’t so particular about such things, and an erhu wasn’t considered an especially valuable instrument.

The snake oil ointment was mainly for treating the wild boar hide, keeping it smooth and supple to ensure the tone remained mellow and pleasant.

The little wild boar never got such treatment when it was alive. Getting a coat of human-grade snake oil ointment in death was a pretty good deal.

Grandfather played a rendition of *Moon Reflected in Two Springs*, followed by the classic *Burial of Flowers*. The music was hauntingly beautiful and melancholic, like a sorrowful plea. Li Xiang tapped out the rhythm beside him, amazed. ’Grandfather is a true folk artist,’ he thought. ’His erhu skills are easily on par with the performers you see on TV. He could totally go busking in the big city.’

Just then, Grandmother returned and couldn’t resist complaining, "The New Year is almost here, and you’re playing such a depressing tune. Is that any way to bring good luck?"

Grandfather immediately changed his tune, switching to a piece called "Spring River Reverie." Although it was much more cheerful, it still carried an undercurrent of sorrow.

After all, the erhu only has two strings. They are like the sun and moon—forever bound together, always in sight of each other, yet never able to embrace. No matter what is played, the music carries an inescapable air of melancholy.

Li Xiang suggested, "How about ’Dance of the Golden Serpent’ or ’Horse Race’!"

Grandfather was happy to oblige. He took a moment to get into character, then began to play.

Now *that* was a passionate and energetic tune, and much more pleasant to the ear.

He spent the rest of the afternoon with his grandfather. When it was time to make dinner, he lent Grandmother a hand, washing vegetables, feeding firewood into the stove, and chatting with them both. He even roasted a fragrant sweet potato for his little cousin. Naturally, he stayed and ate dinner at his grandparents’ house, and by the time he left, the sky was already dark.

His grandparents had a lot of chestnuts, so they sent Li Xiang off with a large bag. Grandfather also gave him two recently made bamboo flutes, telling him they were just little trinkets to play with. Li Xiang graciously accepted them.