Chinese Literature

big horizontal plaque which hung in the centre of the hall were in better condition—not only the large motto of “Eternally Just,’ but even the smaller inscription proclaiming the date of the temple’s erection could still be distinguished. Yang the Elder, moving his lips, read both the big letters and the small with the relish of one savouring a well-aged and tasty morsel for which he had been craving a long time.

“You take charge of the cleaning,” he instructed the Bigot. “I want to look around first. Tl be right back.”

As he stepped through the temple doorway, he found a woman with a waist like a water snake barring his path. In spite of her patched clothing, she spoke in the affected accents of the idle rich.

“Unele, dear uncle, the soul of your nephew still hasn’t entered the ancestral temple! No matter what the past, after all he was a son of the Yang family. You simply must do something about this!”

She was the concubine of the late landlord Yang Li-chai, and she gave the Elder quite a shock. A brutal tyrant of a landlord who had been executed for his crimes—should his tablet be enshrined in the temple or not? There had never been any problems like this before liberation. According to ancient custom, as long as the family of the deceased paid the “entrance fee” and had the proper ceremonies conducted, the tablet of any Yang could be installed in the temple.

‘Dear uncle, we may be poor, but I’d pawn my last stitch to raise the money so that the dear departed can rest in peace!” Forcing a sob, she dabbed her eyes delicately.

The Elder stood puzzled. He noticed that several people were watching them, glaring hatefully at this slinky witch. The landlord’s lifetime of cruelty came back to the Elder’s mind with a rush. He spat.

“Get out! We can’t bother with you today!”

To end the conversation, he turned and walked rapidly away along the steps. Near the wing which had been converted into the night school, a fierce-looking fellow came rushing out of the temple’s ante-room.

“Do you want any bamboo switches? I cut a whole bunch of them!”

This was the brother of the former Kuomintang township boss. . He was a minor bandit, at liberty but under surveillance.

With a cold stare, the Elder brushed past him and strode out of the compound through a breach in the wall. He walked around in a grove of trees for a few minutes, then sat down on a rock in the shade.

The Elder was very confused. Closing his eyes, he automatically put the mouthpiece of the empty hookah to his lips and sucked reflectively. He could hear the voices of many people on their way to the temple, but he paid them little heed. Some time later, from the sapling-covered slope off to the right, came the sound of laughter. Opening his eyes a slit, he saw three people going up the path—Wang Kai, Hsiao-chang, and a third person he couldn’t see clearly, but who was dressed in the simple blue uniform of a government worker. After they had disappeared, his line