-by Lin Sihuan (Qing Dynasty)
In the capital, there was a master of kouji – the art of vocal mimicry (also translate to oral imitation).
During a grand banquet for guests, an eight-foot screen was set up in the northeast corner of the main hall. Behind it sat the performer with only a table, a chair, a fan, and a wooden clapper. The guests gathered around in a circle.
After a brief moment, they heard a single tap of the clapper from behind the screen – and instantly, the entire room fell silent; no one dared make a sound.
From afar came the bark of a dog in a deep alley. Then a woman startled awake, yawning and stretching, while her husband mumbled in his sleep. Soon their baby woke and began to wail loudly. The husband also awoke. The mother soothed the child, offering her breast; the baby cried while nursing, and she gently patted and hummed to calm him. Then their older child woke up and started chattering incessantly.
At that moment, all these sounds erupted together: the mother patting the baby, her soft humming, the infant’s cries at the breast, the elder child’s groggy muttering, and the father scolding the older boy – all perfectly synchronized and astonishingly lifelike. Every guest stretched their necks, turned their eyes sideways, smiled, and silently marveled, thinking it “absolutely miraculous.”
Soon after, the husband began snoring. The mother’s patting grew slower and gradually stopped. Faintly, they heard the rustling of a mouse, a pot tipping over, and the woman coughing in her sleep. The guests visibly relaxed and slowly sat upright again.
Suddenly, someone shouted, “Fire!”
The husband jumped up shouting; the wife screamed too. Both children burst into tears. In an instant, hundreds – thousands – of people were yelling, thousands of children crying, thousands of dogs barking. Amid it all came the crashing of collapsing beams, crackling flames, howling wind, and countless cries for help; the grunting of people dragging houses, the chaos of looting, the splashing of water being thrown – all happening at once.
Every conceivable sound of a fire emergency was present – nothing was missing. Even if a person had a hundred hands, each with a hundred fingers, they couldn’t point to every source; even with a hundred mouths and a hundred tongues, they couldn’t name each sound.
All the guests turned pale, leapt from their seats, rolled up their sleeves, bared their arms, and trembled so violently they nearly fled in panic.
Thentap! – one sharp clap of the clapper.
Instantly, all sounds ceased.
When the screen was removed, there sat just one man – with a table, a chair, a fan, and a clapper.
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