Chinese Literature

Chun-mei’s mother suddenly recalled how wretched she felt the night she hung herself. Her eyes smarted and two tears rolled down her cheeks. Frightened, the boy fell silent. Chun-mei’s mother noticed that the room had become exceptionally quiet. Looking up, she found that the others had stopped talking, when, she had no idea.... They were all facing her, listening to her conversation with the Elder’s grandson. The old man sat paralyzed in his wooden armchair, tears streaming from his eyes.

Chun-mei, leaning an elbow on the edge of the table, was deep in thought, her face tight and drawn. She stood up and addressed the old man.

“Wider, if you hadn’t ordered Huan to come to the clan meeting, | don’t think she would have killed herself. You knew how cruel those meetings were!”

The old man’s face was anguished. “Yes! I regret that very much, Chun-mei! Not only her, but I was bringing you and your mother... .”

Aunt Li tugged Chun-mei by the sleeve. ‘“What’s past is past,” she interrupted. “Many people in this village have finally come to their senses! Loudmouth doesn’t dare to utter a peep now. The Bigot has gone to the village school-teacher. He wants to learn how to teach the

new texts... .”

But what particularly surprised the old man was hearing that goateed Yang Yung-huai had given a ceremonial dinner of apology to Tron Hammer and his mother. This was because, although quite young at the time Iron Hammer’s mother was so brutally used by the clan, he was already a member of the older generation, and had been compelled to occupy a seat at one corner of the Judges table.

Chun-mei exchanged a few quiet words with her mother, then cut in on her aunt’s recital to the old man. “You shouldn’t put it so generally. There are plenty of people still in a daze!”

Aunt Li laughed. “Silly wench, I’ve told you before. You can’t remove the root of a way of thinking by trying to yank it out!”

The Elder was listening woodenly, pondering. Then he abruptly rose to his feet, pushed back his armchair, and strode over to Chun-mei and her mother. To their surprise, he made them each a respectful short. bow. He had invited them today, he said, in the first place, to apologize.

“Secondly,” he went on, less formally, “when I was at the district government, I heard that Chun-mei and Hsiao-chang have already registered their marriage there. I want to congratulate you both, and give you a little something as a remembrance.”

At this point, another thought came to him, and he asked Chun-mei’s mother, “Sister, what about you? Have you registered yet?”

The question was unexpected, and Chun-mei’s mother blushed.

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