Chinese Literature

sion was cheerful, there was a reflective depth in her eyes. Chun-mei gave her the tea bowl.

“Wa, are you worried? I can’t feel easy if you’re upset.”

Her mother’s eyes flashed a smile. Though only the same faint smile she had limited herself to for many years, it was a real smile nevertheless, with none of her usual helpless bitterness.

“Tm not worried!” To Aunt Li, she said, “I didn’t want any fuss or scandal, but they’ve brought it all out into the open. As long as the government is taking charge, I’ll go along with this thing right to the gates of hell if I have to!”

Aunt Li spilled her tea dregs into the hearth. “You’re talking like those old fogies. What ‘scandal’? What you’ve been doing is perfectly honourable!”

Chun-mei’s mother blushed like a girl. As Aunt Li rose to leave, the widow told Chun-mei to light a torch for their guest. Then she got up and walked over to Aunt Li. Leaning close, she whispered:

“Ts it quiet at your house? I’d like to have a private talk with you tomorrow.”

“Do you want to meet him at my place?” Aunt Li asked softly.

The widow punched her playfully. ‘“Wretch!”

The torch lit, Chun-mei insisted on seeing her aunt home.

After both sides spent a final day of preparation, the day of the big clan meeting dawned. Except for women who had married outside the clan, no persons with surnames other than Yang were permitted to attend gatherings of this sort. Deputy mayor Wang Kai had asked permission to sit on the sidelines and listen, but Yang the Elder and his clique turned him down. Wang Kai went into conference with the administrative officer the district government had sent, then consulted with some of the progressive members of the clan, like Yang Li-chia and Aunt Li. The latter were advised to keep the meeting under control, to be calm but alert. Under no circumstances should they let things get out of hand.

The sun was hot and strong that day, drying some of the dank mustiness out of the Yang ancestral temple. The padlock had been removed and the big doors of the main building stood open.

Yang the Elder dispatched his grandson to fetch his daughter, Huan. Then, accompanied by the Bigot, he went to the temple. Several men of the younger generations were inside, sweeping. Thick dust hung in the room like a heavy mist, permeated with the oppressive odour of mildew. By the time the Bigot and Yang the Elder arrived, the dust had settled somewhat, but the stink of the mildew was stronger than ever. The canopies draped above the various ancestral shrines were so faded it was impossible to guess their original colour. The gold letters on the

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