Chinese Literature

were commemorated by sacrifices and prayers. No one cleaned this building, or looked after it. Abandoned to the rats and the sparrows, to the dust and the spider webs, it stank to high heaven of mildew and damp. An earthen wall, surrounding the compound, had collapsed in several places. Through some openings, paths had already been worn smooth.

It was through one of these breaches that Chun-mei left the compound. She shut her eyes tight, opened them again, then groped her way through a dark thicket. On the other side was a barren slope, and beyond that a stretch of bushes and brambles extending all the way to the top of the hill. At the halfway point stood a big cedar, rearing up among the bushes like an old man surrounded by a flock of children. Here, Chun-mei stopped. Straight down the slope was the big open flat that served as the village market-place. Seating herself on a boulder beneath the tree, she could see torches, in groups of three and four, crossing the flat into the village. A few single torches were sailing like stars through the paddy fields.

Gradually, the torch lights disappeared into the darkness. Chun-mei raised her head and gazed at the star-filled sky. But she wasn’t looking at the stars, she was thinking hard—How can a girl say what I want to tell Hsiao-chang. ... She shivered. These early spring nights were really cold.

Probably about one incense-stick later, Hsiao-chang finally arrived. He apologized, explaining that one of their schoolmates had gotten hold of him, and had insisted on seeing him all the way home.

“All right, sit here.” Chun-mei slid over to give him half the surface of the boulder. “Do you know why I’ve asked you to come at this hour of the night?”

“JT... don’t know... .”

They had grown up together. When they were small, gathering firewood, cutting grass, picking wild herbs, “playing house’ with mud pie “food”—they were always inseparable, like a pair of young swallows. When they were a little older, they fell victims to the identical “fate”both were forced to work in the house of the same landlord. As comrades in distress, they grew even closer and looked after each other through thick and thin. After liberation, they went through land reform together, and helped form mutual-aid teams among the local peasants. Now in their early twenties, not only was the quiet flowering in their hearts becoming more apparent, but Hsiao-chang had been trying desperately to gather enough courage to speak up. Yet now, when Chun-mei gave him this opening, he couldn’t come out with it.

The girl turned to face him. In the bright starlight, she could see his head thrown slightly back; beneath his upswept eyebrows, his eyes were staring at her—thoughtfully, questioningly.

Chun-mei’s heart leaped. She wanted to ayoid that piercing gaze.