From the Old Country: Stories and Sketches of China and Taiwan

First draft completed in summer 1960. The author died on August 4, 1960, in the midst of revising the manuscript. First published in October 1960 in Zhong Lihe, Yu 雨 (Rain [and other writings]), Taibei: Zhong Lihe yizhu chuban weiyuanhui (Committee for the publication of the posthumous works of Zhong Lihe).

“It’s going to rain!” they said when they looked at the sky.

The sky was gloomy and somber, and gradually getting more so. From early afternoon dark clouds began to congregate toward the northwest. In less than two hours they had piled up into a great black mass. The cloud clusters hung down low, almost kissing the tops of the hills beneath. Thunder rumbled continually, but very low, as though the sound were coming from a great distance.

The clouds hung lower still, and even more menacingly. The sky was so black it looked as if a thick layer of ink had been flung over it.

Suddenly the thunder stopped. Great, big, heavy drops of rain began to fall, making one hole after another in the light, powdery earth of people’s yards and on the roads. Everywhere wisps of steam rose up from the ground.

“It’s raining! It’s raining!” The farmers cried out for joy, wide grins on their faces, their kindly eyes gleaming.

But no sooner did the rain start to fall than the wind began to blow. It blew fiercely, madly, gust after gust, rumbling across the fields like great heavy footsteps. Suddenly with a whoosh the rice sprouts and the astragalus¹ were bowed almost to the ground, where they stayed for a long time before lifting up their heads again.

Gradually the dark clouds dispersed, until finally they had taken the rain away with them.

When the farmers came out to take a look, they found only a very thin, damp crust covering the earth, which turned to powder when poked with a toe. The earth underneath was a fine powder as before, and when you picked up a handful it was burning hot to the touch. Disappointment rose up in their faces.

The wind kept blowing. Slowly the clouds parted, revealing the blue sky.

The sun came out again.

And the wind stopped.

Huang Jinde had just completed an inspection tour of his land, ending up back in the shade of the hibiscus tree at the head of the fields. He sat down and lit a cigarette. The leaves of the hibiscus were really big, really round, really thick, and densely layered in the canopy. Beneath them were deep shade and a cool, pleasant breeze, creating the finest place hereabouts for the farmers to rest when tired and thirsty from work. Down from the tree there was a branch of the main irrigation ditch, but now it was dried up and neglected, resembling the backbone of a dead king-ratsnake.

Take one step out from the shade of the tree and you were in the world of the sun: under its roasting rays a semi-desert landscape spread out. Half of the fields had already been planted out with rice sprouts; some of the other half hadn’t even been plowed yet, and even the fields that had been plowed were covered in drought-hardy weeds. Where rice had been planted out, the leaves of the sprouts had already turned brown and the tips had turned a burnt reddish color, because there was no water for irrigation. At their roots the earth was cracked like a tortoise shell and gradually turning white. Clearly, another fortnight without rain and the paddy would wither and die.

The land Huang Jinde farmed lay just below the hibiscus tree. He rented it from a local man named Fu. Originally it was 1.1 jia,² but he only farmed seven tenths, having made over the other four tenths to Xu Longxiang’s widow. Now all of it was “375 Land”—“Land to the Tiller” land.³ An irrigation ditch drawing water from the branch ditch lay before him at an angle. This was the boundary between his fields and hers, with his portion on this side and hers on the other. Of his seven tenths only four had been planted with rice; there hadn’t been any water for planting the other three. Now, more than three months later, his remaining rice seedlings were still huddled together in the seedbeds, gasping for breath.

In Longxiang’s widow’s fields not a single rice sprout had been planted out.

The unplanted fields were a wilderness; those already planted were thirsty. Jinde was worried about both. The browned leaves of the paddy made his frown almost into a knot on his brow.

Another farmer walked into the shade cast by the tree.

“Damn it!” the man said, as he sat down on a flat stone and lit a cigarette. “Another false alarm.”

Jinde didn’t reply. Only after they had smoked silently for a while did he look up and say: “A-Xing, I heard the temples are planning to hold masses for rain. Is it true?”

“That’s what they’re saying. Maybe they will. Last night the Kings spoke; they had instructions for everybody.”

“The Temple of Goodness and Enlightenment?”

“No, the Ping’an Gong.”

“What did the gods say?”

“What did they say? They said they expect everyone to do some good deeds.”

Jinde’s eyes opened wide, and he sniffed vigorously. “What? As if we usually go round committing murder and arson?” He exhaled some tobacco smoke, noisily, as if in anger. “What else did they say?”

Jinde shut up and smoked his cigarette, and both men’s gazes automatically fell on the fields before them. The sunshine reflected from the fields was so dazzling it hurt their eyes.

Longxiang’s widow was in her fields. The weeds had grown very tall and were basking in the sunshine, apparently thoroughly enjoying life. Off to the south someone was spraying pesticide, the cylinder on his back flashing in the sun. The pump lever stuck up high above his head like an outstretched arm. He held the spray pipe in his right hand, while the left repeatedly reached up to pull on the pump lever, producing a dull metallic clanking. The unmistakable nauseating stench of endrin fumes drifted on the breeze over to the two men.

“Jinde,” said A-Xing. “Have you heard about Sister Longxiang’s land?”

“No,” replied Jinde, pricking up his ears. “What about it?”

“Well, what I hear is they’re going to return it to the landlord.”

“Well that’s strange. That’s 375 Land.”

“So what if it’s 375 Land? The landlord just needs to give the tenant a bit of money.”

“Mm, hmm,” Jinde nodded. “Who’s the buyer?”

“As if you didn’t know. And I hear the middleman is Youfu.”

“So it’s him up to no good again.” Jinde spoke almost as if in soliloquy. “He’s always going behind my back.”

A-Xing looked at him and smiled.

Jinde threw down his cigarette end, picked up his bamboo hat, and put it on. The two men walked out from the shade and continued their conversation as they walked into town.

When they got to town they went their separate ways.

Jinde didn’t know if what A-Xing said about Longxiang’s widow’s land was accurate. But he couldn’t easily put the matter aside, because to him it was an affair of honor and duty.

Xu Longxiang had been his blood brother. During the Second World War the two of them had been conscripted together into the Japanese army as porters. They had served at the front line in the South Pacific. Once, their column had been attacked and Jinde had been shot in the shoulder. When he had lost so much blood that he grew faint and confused, Xu Longxiang put him on his back, and in this way they escaped. Longxiang had saved his life. With the injury to his shoulder it was often too painful for Jinde to carry his load. Again, Xu Longxiang came to his rescue by taking some of Jinde’s load as well as his own. Longxiang had really looked out for him. Later, being the same age, they swore same-year blood brotherhood.

In the last stages of the war the Japanese went from one defeat to the next, and units became detached and dispersed, everyone fleeing for his own life. One day Xu Longxiang injured his leg. Jinde helped him along as they fled into the mountains. After a few days of flight the wound on Longxiang’s leg became infected, then it got worse, and eventually it was in such a bad state that he couldn’t move the leg an inch.

“Leave me,” he said. He knew there was no hope. “I’m not going to get out of this.”

Jinde knew that he spoke the truth, and although he could hardly bear it, in the end he set him down at the foot of a coconut palm. He picked several coconuts for him and gave him a bottle of water and a knife.

“When your leg’s better you can take your time finding your own way back,” he said. “Perhaps there are still units coming up from behind who’ll find you.”

Longxiang cut a lock of his hair and entrusted it to Jinde, along with his watch, a ring, and so on, to take back to Taiwan for his family. In particular he asked Jinde, as his blood brother, to be sure to look after his family. Jinde swore to do so and begged him not to worry. And so they parted.

After Japan surrendered Jinde was repatriated. Xu Longxiang was still missing, but there seemed little doubt that he had become a part of the soil of Mindanao. Now, fifteen years later, Jinde still often thought of his blood brother and comrade-in-arms, and he felt very sad. Now once more a vision of Longxiang appeared before him: leaning against the trunk of the coconut palm, looking at him piteously with sorrow in his eyes, just before they parted.

“Blood Brother, please take care of my family.”

It niggled with Jinde that a few years after Longxiang’s “death” his wife took up with none other than the Tang Youfu he and A-Xing had just mentioned. In Jinde’s eyes, given his kindness to her and her children on his blood brother’s behalf, no other man had any business coming out of the woodwork—no wonder he wasn’t happy about it. He felt as if he had been tricked—taken for a fool. The guy always seemed to be lurking around her—in and out of the shadows like a ghost, or like a cangue⁴ hung around her neck that even stopped her breathing freely. Through the woman that guy had become the true master of everything that went on in her household. The original order of things had been broken. But Jinde had no say in any of this; he had to pretend not to see.

Luckily Longxiang’s two boys, Tusheng and Huosheng, were already grown up; Tusheng was married, and so was their sister. In this way the onus on Jinde was already somewhat lightened. These days he hardly had any dealings with the family, unless there was some particular business that needed discussing. He hoped the two brothers would take proper care of everything.

Jinde reached home and went into the hall, where he hung his bamboo hat on a nail on the wall.

“Pa!” It was his daughter, Yunying, coming out from her room. “Where’ve you been?”

Jinde wiped his upper lip with his palm, then used the back of his hand to wipe it again. “Is there a problem?”

“Ma says if you’ve got the time, why don’t you repair the pig sty? It’s almost falling down.”

“Who says I’m not repairing it? I’ve just been to look at the rice sprouts.” He didn’t look at his daughter as he spoke but busied himself pouring a cup of cold tea from the pot.

“Pa,” the girl said with a smile. “You wouldn’t have been over to Uncle A-San’s tobacco shed, now, would you?”

“Who says I was?” Jinde looked up now, glaring with big, round eyes. “And anyway, what if I did go there?”

“Nobody’s accusing you, Pa.” Now she was smiling even more pleasantly and her voice was even softer. “But I think it’s best you don’t go there; Ma will only get angry.”

“Huh! Your ma! Oh, your ma!” Jinde was getting a bit angry, but he kept it under control. Altering his tone, he said, “You’re just like your ma, bossing me about!”

“Pa,” she said, pouting now and stamping her little feet. “You’re talking nonsense again. Who’s bossing you!”

Jinde didn’t respond, but he had softened by now. He wiped his mouth several times, alternating his palm and the back of his hand and each time wiping them off on his trousers. He looked a bit like a satisfied cat as he performed these actions.

Strangely enough, Jinde couldn’t get along with his wife, and things weren’t much better with his sons, but he had a lot of time for Yunying. When he was with her he lost all his backbone and became like a candle in a flame: her every smile or frown could mold him into almost any shape she wanted.

He finished his cup of cold tea, stood up, and prepared to go out.

“Pa,” his daughter looked at him in surprise. “Where are you going now?”

“I’ve got some things to do. I need to go to a couple of places in town. Is that a problem?”

“Ma was asking if you had cut some of Uncle Dingrui’s bamboo.”

“I did cut some bamboo. I’ll be needing some to fix the pig sty. But it wasn’t his bamboo I cut. Who says it was?”

“Ma says Uncle Dingrui’s really angry. He says it was his bamboo you cut the other day.”

“It was my own I cut—it’s nothing to do with him!”

And with that he left the hall.

“No, Pa, he says you crossed onto his land when you were cutting the bamboo.”

“Hogwash !” Out in the yard Jinde stopped and turned back to his daughter. “You tell him to survey the land. If the bamboo was his I’ll pay compensation.”

Huang Jinde was a short man, not quite five foot six, but he was powerfully built. He dressed in black from head to toe, and his hair was black too, so that with his bright red face he looked remarkably like a locomotive, power in every inch. He had big, thick eyebrows, and although his eyes were small they looked really big and round when he glared at you, like a bird’s eyes. His nose was very fleshy and always running, so that often while he was speaking he would be wiping his nose at the same time: first with one hand then with the other, and wiping them on his trousers in between wipes. Both his neck and his arms were short and thick, with big veins sticking out, and his hands were very hairy. If he was angry, or when he was talking excitedly, his neck got even thicker and you could clearly see each tendon straining under the skin. Meanwhile his arms would be gesticulating wildly in the air.

Jinde’s mother died when he was four, and then when he was in the fourth grade his father died too. He and his little sister were taken in by his uncle. When he finished school he worked as his uncle’s oxherd. Not until he was sixteen or seventeen did his uncle get him a job on a farm as a long-term laborer, and he was twenty-eight before he was married into a family named Lin. Marrying into his wife’s family rather than taking a wife into his own deeply injured his self-esteem, profoundly affecting both his career and his emotional and intellectual life. He felt it as a huge blot on his reputation, a blot that was imprinted on his spine and could never be expunged. It was like the placard that criminals used to have strapped to their backs in olden times: no matter where he went it would forever prevent him holding his head up high. Now, with his father-in-law and mother-in-law both dead, he should by rights be the head of the family. But he was so in name only; the one who held the real power was his wife, not him.

Although they had produced quite a brood of children, Jinde and his wife hardly spoke a word to one another. Even when there was something in particular to discuss, their conversations were nothing more than (1) a question, followed by (2) an answer. If it got to (3), well (3) was the start of an argument. The end was sure to be unhappy for both parties: the woman would nurse her wrath to keep it warm while Jinde turned to drink and gambling.

Apart from all that, however, on the whole he was a happy man, filled with self-confidence. He was a tough guy, straight and upright, loyal and true; if you couldn’t earn his respect, he’d rather die than give in to you. In his eyes the concept of “no can do” was very hard to understand. To him there was nothing in this great wide world that was worthy of a man’s fear or subjection. When he was an army porter, his Japanese squad leader had boxed his ears over some trifle. He had almost killed the man, and narrowly escaped military prison.

When he thought about what his daughter had just said, Jinde couldn’t help feeling angry, but the anger immediately subsided, and off he went toward West Street perfectly content with the world. When he got to his favorite haunt, the bantiao⁵ restaurant by the town clock, some men inside called out to him in greeting. Almost all of them were gambling buddies of his. None of them were eating—they were only gossiping.

“I haven’t got time,” he said as he sat down at their table. “I’ll come again tonight.”

“Who said anything about gambling?” said a man with a long thin face whose name was Xinfa. “Jinde, do you want to buy some land? I’ll sell you mine.”

“Twenty thousand per jia?” said Jinde, half-serious, half-joking.

“Make it fifty thousand and you’re on.”

“What do you need money for?”

“Gambling,” cracked Xinfa, but in the next moment he frowned and spoke despondently: “These days I’m crying out for cash. We haven’t even enough to buy cooking oil. And damn it, every day my woman just goes on and on at me. It really gets on my nerves.”

“Today I saw Youfu sitting in the legal clerks’ office,” said another man. “I reckon he’s about to rake in another heap.”

“A middleman’s commission isn’t that easily come by,” put in another man. “I reckon it’s six months or so since he made a fee.”

Suddenly Jinde had an idea. All joking aside, he asked this man: “Do you know whose land he’s brokering?”

“Who cares whose land it is?” replied the man offhandedly.

Jinde rose and walked out of the restaurant.

“What’s your hurry?” someone called after him. “Stay and have a chat.”

He crossed Mid Street and then went along an alley to Back Street, where his blood brother Xu Longxiang’s house stood.

Neither Longxiang’s widow nor her elder son, Tusheng, was at home. Just as he was turning to leave, Tusheng came home, and so he turned again and went back inside with him.

Tusheng politely invited Jinde to take a seat in the hall and poured him a cup of tea.

“You haven’t visited for quite a while, Sworn-uncle,” Tusheng said, standing beside the table. “Is there something particular today?”

“Nothing much,” said Jinde. “Do I need a special reason?”

As he spoke he was sizing up the young man with his eyes. Tusheng was very tall, but his face was sallow and his eyes dull and lifeless, making him look like a simpleton. He was staring nervously now at the floor, then at the ceiling, as though he found himself in an unfamiliar place and not his own home. His overall demeanor appeared fearful and troubled.

Looking at the young man, Jinde hesitated, but eventually he spoke.

“Tusheng,” he said. “I hear you’re going to return that land of yours to the owner. Is that right?”

As he’d suspected, Tusheng knew nothing about it.

“Well, then,” Jinde asked. “Where’s your ma?”

“She’s gone out.”

Jinde stood up. The young man annoyed him, but at the same time he found him pitiful. Remembering his blood brother, he could not contain a sigh.

“Tusheng,” he said kindly. “Young men should have a bit more vim, be a bit more on the ball. Just being a good worker isn’t enough; an ox will always be a better worker than a man. You should take more care about your own family’s affairs. Do you understand?”

When Huang Yunying arrived at Lizhuang Western Tailors and Dressmakers, a girl dressed in a white blouse and black skirt greeted her with these words. Yunying’s face darkened, and she said unhappily, “Has he gone?”

“Did he say anything?”

“He said he’d be back after work.”

Yunying said nothing, but took out her scissors and measuring tape and began to work.

The girl in the white shirt looked up from the material she was working on and added with a smile, “I’d say Zhengang’s really interested in you. Why do you ignore him?”

“Huh!” snorted Yunying as she worked the scissors. “He’s as sticky as toffee, and just as sickly too!”

Several of the girls laughed at this.

“Everybody knows where Yunying’s heart lies!” said one of them, sitting at her sewing machine.

Yunying looked up from her work and said, “What would you know about my heart?”

“You have a sweetheart!” said the girl at the sewing machine.

“Nonsense!” said Yunying. Embarrassed, she tried to stare down the other girl, but at the same time she couldn’t hide a certain complacency in her face that suggested she was actually happy for them to know she had a sweetheart.

“You deny it? Perhaps you won’t be happy until I’ve told everyone his name, is that it?”

“Hah!” scoffed the girl in the white shirt. “Who needs you to announce anything? Everybody knows his name—Huosheng, hah!”

“You mean that boy who works at TTL?”⁶ piped up another girl. “I saw him with Yunying at the picture house the other day. He’s dead good-looking!”

“When are we going to get a piece of your wedding cake, Yunying?” said the sewing machine girl. “We can’t wait.”

“What pests you all are!” cried Yunying. “Do me a favor and shut up.”

The girls only laughed harder.

Toward evening Yunying tore a strip off a piece of paper and quickly wrote a few words on it in pencil while no one was looking. When she had finished she folded the paper up very small, picked up her handbag, and made to leave the tailor’s.

Just at that moment a girl wearing a striped dress happened to be leaving the shop, pushing a bicycle. Without a word Yunying handed her the piece of paper. Without a word the girl took the paper, stuffed it in her handbag, got on her bike, and rode off.

The streets of the town seethed with the hectic bustle that precedes nightfall; all around, smoke was rising from the kitchen chimneys of out-of-town farmhouses. An evening mist had descended, and the last rays of the setting sun lent a mauve sheen to the distant hills.

The asphalt road was crowded with cars, motorcycles, bicycles, and scurrying pedestrians. Yunying’s long strides soon took her into a narrow lane leading into Front Street. This was a narrow, old street surfaced with grit and gravel. Here there were no vehicles of any kind, no noise, no smell of gasoline in the air. There were only quiet and tranquility.

Yunying slowed her pace to a sedate walk. Her body felt light and her legs strong: young life surged inside her like a spring tide. When she thought of the banter among the girls at the tailor’s during the day, a smile rose once more to the corners of her lips. She thought the other girls ridiculous. But what they had said was true. She did indeed have a sweetheart, and his name was just as they had said: Huosheng. He did work at TTL. And she had arranged to meet him this evening at Twin Peaks Ice Parlor.

When her thoughts reached this point, the smile rose up to her lips again.

Huosheng was Xu Longxiang’s younger son, and Yunying had known him for thirteen or fourteen years, since they were only six or seven. At the time, the war had just ended and Taiwan had reverted to Mainland rule. The countryside still bore the scars of neglect and chaos. The farmers were setting about rebuilding from the ruins, putting their land back to rights. When Huang Jinde came back from overseas he rented a big parcel of land from the Fus and made over four of the eleven tenths to Huosheng’s mother.

From that time on Yunying and Huosheng saw each other all the time. They were innocent children and knew nothing of social strictures. The shade under the Taiwan hibiscus was their playground. While the grownups were busy working out in the fields in the heat of the sun, they would be under the tree playing with stones, playing hide and seek, or climbing the tree. If it was a busy season in the fields the two families would picnic together in the crisp, cool shade. The grownups would be laughing and joking, and the children would be more excited than ever. Those were really happy times. The sound of joyful laughter washed away the heat they were suffering along with any worries that they had. Above their heads the hibiscus leaves and branches would rustle from time to time and sway gently in the wind, as though the tree itself was also in a happy mood.

One time, in the fourth month, the two families were harvesting the winter rice. It was a Sunday, so the children had no school. The sky was blue as far as the eye could see, a light fresh breeze was blowing, wildflowers were blooming abundantly on the banks of the ditches, and bees were flying busily above them. All over the fields were people at work, while the sprightly song of the hulling machine could be heard all around.

Under the hibiscus the children were playing “getting married.” Yunying took the part of the bride, and Huosheng was the groom. They had woven a veil out of grass stalks and hibiscus sprouts and made a big “bridal spray” from hibiscus blooms and wildflowers. The groom had a single hibiscus flower on his chest. But what was to be the bride’s conveyance? This was a problem. Bridal sedans were out of fashion, and anyway our bride was against them on principle. But they didn’t have an automobile, so what could they do? In the end they had to settle for two of the boys linking hands to make a sedan for the bride. At first Yunying absolutely refused, but finally she gave in under pressure from the others and sat down in the “sedan,” wearing the veil and holding her bouquet. The sedan went round in three circles before delivering her to Huosheng. So that was that.

“Let the bridegroom knock on the door of the sedan!” intoned the matchmaker solemnly. Then: “It is time for the bride to enter her new home!”

Huosheng symbolically tapped Yunying three times on the head with a twig they pretended was a fan. The bride alighted from her sedan. Next the little couple knelt shoulder to shoulder in front of a stone to “do obeisance to the ancestors,” and when that was finished they turned around and “did obeisance to Heaven and Earth.”

Throughout this “ceremony” Yunying held her head low, a picture of shyness; Huosheng, too, had suddenly gone all awkward and dumb, every bit the panic-stricken bridegroom. Still, the two of them happily went along with the performance, never hesitating or hanging back.

Later, after the evening meal, Yunying accidentally slid down a bank into a ditch. Luckily the water was only up to her calves. Some of the others put up a clamor, teasing Huosheng: “Hey! Your wife’s fallen in the ditch! Come on, quickly get in there and help her out!”

These words let the cat out of the bag. The “newlyweds” both flushed scarlet with embarrassment. Huosheng stood at the top of the bank, blinking and hesitating; Yunying climbed up the bank as quick as she could and rushed off to hide.

Everybody bellowed with laughter at the sight; the grownups in particular couldn’t stop laughing….

Yunying thought about the past as she walked. She also kept worrying she might bump into Zhengang. When she reached Back Street she finally felt safe and slowed her pace. Ahead were fields and farms; as she crossed a little bridge her home came in sight.

They had just finished eating when Zhengang appeared in the front doorway. Both physically robust and very self-assured, this young man worked in the Registry at the Town Hall. His limbs were strong and vigorous, like a basketball player. Today he was wearing a white shirt with a stiff, starched collar, gray serge trousers, and leather shoes. His father, one of the richest men in the district, owned a general store and a hardware store. His mother and Yunying’s mother called each other “sister”; their relationship was actually quite distant but still passed for kinship hereabouts. So Zhengang addressed Yunying’s father, Huang Jinde, as “Uncle” and her mother as “Auntie.” Yunying’s feelings about these terms of address were like her feelings for the boy himself: a vague distaste.

“Uncle! Auntie!” Zhengang called out as he entered, just like one of the family.

Jinde responded coolly, but his wife was all smiles as she rose to meet the lad.

“Aha! Zhengang,” she said. “It’s been quite a while since we’ve seen you here.”

“Recently we’ve been checking the register household by household. We’re run off our feet.”

“Is that so? I thought you’d forgotten your old auntie.” Zhengang gave a laugh.

“There’s a good movie on tonight at the old theater,” he said. “I’d like to take you all to see it. Yunying, just now I went to your shop, but they said you’d already gone home.”

Yunying kept her head low and smiled but did not reply.

“I suppose it’s a foreign movie?” Jinde’s wife screwed up her eyes as she spoke. “I won’t understand it. I like movies from Taiwan.”

“It’ll have Chinese subtitles. I can read them out to you in Hakka.” Beseechingly, earnestly he turned his gaze to Yunying and said: “You’re free tonight, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Chen.” Startled, Yunying spoke hurriedly. “I’m not free tonight.”

“Really?” Zhengang didn’t know whether to believe her or not.

“Yes, really,” said Yunying in all seriousness. “A friend of mine from the shop asked me to go round to hers tonight to cut some material for a dress.”

“Can’t you do that tomorrow?” Yunying’s mother came to Zhengang’s aid.

“No! I promised her. I’m sorry, Mr. Chen,” said Yunying, smiling sweetly. “Perhaps another day.”

“Oh, what a pity,” said Zhengang, disappointment showing in his face. “It’s a really good movie.”

“Another day, then, Zhengang,” Yunying’s mother said consolingly. “And anyway I don’t like foreign movies.”

Zhengang stayed a little longer, before going away with his tail between his legs.

Yunying went in to her own room to do her hair and face in the mirror.

She had a lovely slim figure, a heart-shaped face with a tiny mouth like a cherry, and perfect teeth. Her eyes were like deep crystal-clear ponds, with near-black irises; when they moved a cold gleam flashed in every direction, sharp enough to pierce the heart of whomever she chose—like daggers. Few young men would not suffer palpitations and lose their composure if they found themselves the object of that gaze.

Yunying applied neither powder nor mascara, because she knew that Huosheng preferred her as nature intended. She merely adjusted her hair with her fingers and put on a floral dress with a white Peter Pan collar.

She walked to the small ice parlor on the east side of the school. Just as she reached the door a youth came out, a handsome young man with a bright lively light in his eyes. The life and ardor of youth beamed out of him.

“Where shall we go?” asked Yunying.

“Let’s go to the pictures,” said Huosheng. “There’s a good movie on tonight.”

Yunying seemed agitated, as if they were having an argument. Huosheng looked at her in surprise, obviously confused.

“It’s too hot to be indoors,” explained Yunying, making as if nothing was the matter. “Let’s just walk around outside.”

They met two girls from the tailor’s who were on their way to the picture house. Each of them looked at Huosheng in surprise—their gazes were bold, even rude—and asked Yunying was she not going to see the movie? When Huosheng wasn’t looking they pulled faces at her, but Yunying ignored them.

Avoiding the busy parts of town, they walked along streets that were mostly deserted. Here the street lamps were few and far between, and so it was dim as well as quiet. They came to a street with a stream along one side. Bamboo was growing on both banks. Across the stream the farmland began.

“I really don’t like the way the girls from your shop look at me,” said Huosheng as they walked. “The other day when I went there looking for you—you weren’t at work that day—they all stared at me like something was wrong.”

“Don’t go there again.”

“I’m not afraid of them staring.”

“No, but you should hear their mouths.”

“Do they talk about me?”

“That’s strange. Do they know me?”

“What do they say about me?”

“They’re really maddening.”

Yunying didn’t answer Huosheng’s question directly, but he could pretty much imagine what they would say. Yunying’s expression confirmed what he imagined, so he changed his tone: “You shouldn’t pay them any attention.”

“I don’t pay them any attention, but it’s embarrassing.”

Yunying lowered her head and avoided his eyes as she spoke.

Later they started talking about the private lives of the girls at the tailor’s: their families, love lives, marriages, and the way they dressed and made themselves up. Several of them were recently married, and were using the sewing machines in the shop to get free lessons in making up and sewing fabrics. These girls provided Yunying with plenty of romantic and dramatic material for conversation. She chattered happily and with relish. Huosheng listened attentively.

“There’s a girl called Qiuju,” she said. “Every day she comes to work, but instead of learning how to sew like the others, all she does is put her head in her hands on the sewing bench and cry.”

Huosheng nodded slightly to indicate that he was listening.

“She has a sweetheart and the two of them have sworn to marry none other, but her parents say the boy’s family is poor: they’re forcing her to marry someone else. She’ll be married in another fortnight.”

“Why doesn’t she resist?” Huosheng interjected.

“She is resisting! She’s been crying for days now, and not eating, but her parents won’t listen. Everyone at the shop is totally on her side: some of them are urging her to elope, others tell her to go to the Women’s Association.”

“How old is she?”

“Twenty. That’s old enough for her to make her own decisions, isn’t it?”

“Uh-huh,” Huosheng was getting interested. “And what does she say?”

“She doesn’t say anything, just cries all the harder. It’s pathetic.” Yunying was disappointed, sad, and indignant all at once.

“How can there still be parents like that in this day and age?” sighed Huosheng. “Really, it’s too bad.”

“Well, she should have a bit more guts herself.”

“So you think they’re too weak, do you?”

“Yeah. They should just take off.”

“If it were you,” said Huosheng, ardently looking her straight in the eye, “is that what you’d do?”

Yunying didn’t answer, but from her eyes there shone two piercing beams of light that could not be mistaken.

They had reached a small, low bridge, beyond which the farmland began; this was Yunying’s road home. They sat on the parapet for a while, then went their separate ways.

There was no change in the weather: it was very hot, and every day at nine or ten o’clock the sky would fill with gray rainclouds, which then gradually grew thicker and denser. The sun shone down on them from above, neither bright nor dark but murky and dim. The heat was oppressive; the uncertain light played tricks on the nervous system, making people irritable and ill-at-ease.

Straight after midday the gray clouds would pile up even higher and then spread out to cover the sky more evenly. Some of them were distinguishable as separate clouds, and these began to come lower and lower.

Then the wind would begin to blow. It blew fiercely and wildly, blasting this way and that across the fields, along the streets and through the woods, howling angrily. It tore up piles of dead and dying leaves from the trees as if it were plucking out stray pieces of wadding from a quilt. Now and then it created a miniature tornado, whirling from all sides round and round a focal point. Sand and grit, dust and leaves were sucked up and went floating high, high, and far into the distance. The heavens were thrown into a yellow, turbid chaos, while the sun grew even dimmer.

At night no moon or stars were visible, except for a few flecks of stars seen fitfully through the clouds, but they too were very dim, like underpowered lightbulbs.

Halfway through the night the heat slowly began to lessen. The air gradually grew cooler, and the dust dropped back down from the sky. Little by little the sky turned from dim as ditchwater to clear as a bell. Then it went to crystal-clear, pure and pristine; and finally it was all over deep, deep blue again.

The moon and the stars came out again.

Next morning brought the return of the big, red ball of the sun, and so it all began again.

The paddy, the sweet potatoes, and even the astragalus were getting yellower, browner, and more shriveled every day. The cracks in the earth were increasing in number, width, depth, and whiteness. There wasn’t a drop for watering, and the farmers were at their wits’ end. There was no more need for fighting among themselves over water supplies; there wasn’t even any need to check their fields.

In the fields not yet planted there was no longer any point in doing so; the leafy things in the paddy that had been planted just huddled together in the field, gasping, withering, and dying.

Even drinking water had become a problem in town. Because of the drop in water levels the flow of water from the cistern inlets was now as thin as a little boy’s stream of pee. When the sun was at its hottest and highest in the sky, the flow would dry up completely and people had to climb into the cistern and scoop up water from the bottom. Squatting there, it took them half an hour to fill a bucket, half a ladle at a time. At every cistern in town there were long lines day and night. And from those lines there frequently arose the raucous din of disputes over the water—arguments, swearing, fighting, howling, weeping, and the shrill cries of women.

One evening, when the Huangs were at table, they suddenly heard the sound of gongs being beaten in the town. Several fields lay between their home and the town, so they could hear the gongs but not what the gong beaters were crying. The eldest of Yunying’s younger brothers went to see what was going on; when he came back he reported that it was an announcement from the Ping’an Gong: the whole town was to say five days of prayers for rain, and during the period of prayers everyone in the entire township must fast. No meat could be eaten and no animals slaughtered or butchered.

“Too late!” said Huang Jinde with feeling. “The paddy’s already burned dry; it’ll be no use, even if the prayers do produce rain.”

His wife snorted and said unhappily: “Maybe you aren’t going to do any planting, but others surely will!”

He glared at her but said nothing.

Then she asked: “That summons from the Town Hall today: what do they want you for?”

“That was from the Township Arbitration Commission. Luo Dingrui has put in a complaint against me.”

“What’s his complaint?”

“It’s about that bamboo, isn’t it! Damn him, I should complain about him, not the other way around.”

“If you didn’t cut his bamboo, why would he complain?”

“If I cut his, whose did he cut? You’ll see, when the day comes I’m sure going to make him look stupid.”

That night the sky was very turbid, with only two or three stars blinking weakly. The sky and the earth seemed to form a huge furnace. Whatever you touched was roasting hot, and the heat just kept rising from the ground.

Yunying finished putting away the dishes, took off her apron, and was getting ready to go out when her mother called to her: “Going out again?”

“A friend at work invited me to the pictures,” said Yunying.

“You’re always going to the pictures,” said her mother with a stern look. “A girl like you, always gadding about town, aren’t you afraid of gossip?”

Her daughter smiled. “I won’t be late.”

“You’ll chop the sweet potato leaves for the pigs first, then you can go. I don’t have time to do it.”

It took Yunying hours to finish chopping the pig greens; as soon as it was done she threw down the chopping knife and ran out.

Huosheng was still waiting for her in the ice parlor.

“Have you been waiting really long?” asked Yunying apologetically. He only smiled.

And so they set off to walk on the edge of town and stroll among the fields. Through the hazy night air Yunying saw many dark shapes to the west of them, heading north. They were people heading for The Temple of Goodness and Enlightenment.

“Let’s go to the Temple of Goodness and take a look,” said Yunying.

“Last night my brother and I stood in line all night,” said Huosheng as they walked on, following a small farm road leading toward the foot of the hills. “It was dawn before we managed to get a couple of buckets of water.”

“How come the two of you had to do it? What about your sister-in-law?”

“The baby’s ill.”

“You won’t be doing it again tonight, will you?”

“Well then, you’d better go get some sleep.”

“I’m alright.”

“Take care you don’t get sick,” Yunying said with concern, turning to look at him. “Lots of people are falling ill.”

“That’s because of this abnormal weather, isn’t it?”

From the direction of the temple they heard the sound of gongs and drums, accompanied by the clamor of people’s voices, but the latter was very low and distant and sometimes completely drowned out by the percussion.

“Saying their prayers!” said Huosheng.

“Probably some of them are saying prayers for the sick,” said Yunying.

“Perhaps they’re praying for rain.”

At the roadside some of the fields had been planted out with rice, but there was no water for the sprouts to stand in, and they were all bowing their heads, motionless. The other fields bore only weeds.

Suddenly Yunying thought of something. She looked up.

“A few days ago,” she said, “I heard my pa talking about your land. They said you were going to return it to the landlord to be sold on. Is that true?”

“Return the land?” asked Huosheng, baffled. “Surely not? Our fields are 375 Land.”

“Haven’t you heard anything about it?”

“No. I’d better ask.”

“Yes, you’d better. My pa’s very unhappy about it. He says you’re being really stupid.”

By now they had reached the temple. They walked inside.

“I’ve heard that our fields are to be returned to the landlord,” he said. “Is it true?”

Huosheng was taken aback. He had actually thought the rumor might be false, but now here was the proof; he couldn’t help feeling indignant, and also a little flustered.

“Why should we return the land?” he asked.

“It’s Ma’s idea,” said his brother, scratching his ears in confusion.

Once again Huosheng was taken aback. He couldn’t help being amazed at his brother for being so calm and offhand about a matter almost of life-and-death importance to their whole family. The more he thought about it the angrier he became. He just stared and stared at Tusheng.

“And do you agree to returning the land?” he said, after a long silence.

“I dunno,” replied Tusheng in the same dull tone.

“How can Ma be so stupid? If we give back our fields what will we farm?”

Tusheng looked displeased. After brooding for a moment he answered: “It’s Youfu who wants her to do it,” he said, keeping his eyes on the floor. “If we return the land, the landlord will give us some money.”

At the name “Youfu” Huosheng clammed right up. A faint expression of pain and resentment rose up to his face.

“But it’s 375 Land, the landlord can’t just take it back; he’s not allowed, don’t you know that?”

“Today I went with the landlord to the legal clerks’ office; the land clerk told us to make an application to the Land Rents Commission to apply for arbitration; then when it comes to arbitration the landlord will make a statement saying we are four seasons behind in rent, which means he can take back the land. The commission will ask us if it’s true, and then all we have to say is ‘Yes!’”

“Do we really owe four seasons’ rent?” asked Huosheng in alarm.

“So why should we say we do?”

“The legal clerks say if we don’t say so the landlord won’t be able to repossess the land.”

“So we’re colluding with the landlord to distort the facts?”

“How much is the landlord giving us?”

“Ten thousand yuan.”

“Have you submitted the application yet?”

“Ma’s being so dumb; you’re all really dumb!” Huosheng cried furiously, jumping up. “I’m going to see Ma. I’m against what you’re doing—you should be against it too; we’ve just got to nip this whole thing in the bud.”

As he spoke Huosheng was already on his way to his mother’s room.

“Ma, I’ve just been talking to Tusheng,” he said as soon as he found his mother, with no beating about the bush. “I don’t understand why you want to return our land to Fu.”

His mother seemed unsure of herself and ill-at-ease. She stared blankly at her son’s face for some time. He seemed worked up and was clearly on edge. From his expression she could see that he already knew everything from Tusheng, so at least she was saved the bother of explaining it to him.

“If we return our fields to the landlord,” said the young man, “what will we farm ourselves?”

“We still have our own two-tenths to farm, don’t we?”

“What good is two-tenths to a farming family?”

“Huosheng,” she said, looking at her son. “It’s not that I want to return the land. There’s nothing else I can do. Can you guess who wants to buy the land? It’s Luo Dingrui.”

“That’s right, Luo Dingrui,” said his mother. “You know full well that when Tusheng was getting married we didn’t have enough money, so we borrowed five thousand yuan from Luo, with our two-tenths of a jia as security. The due date for repaying the loan is long past now, and he’s pressing us for it. He says if we don’t have the money he’ll have the land auctioned to settle the matter. Several times I’ve asked people to speak up for us, to get us another couple of months. Recently Luo sent someone to tell us the landlord is interested in selling the 375 Land to him; all we need to do is ask Fu to repossess the land from us. Luo says if we do that he won’t ask us to repay the five thousand, in fact he’ll give us another five thousand—that’s ten thousand altogether, and he’s not asking for any interest.”

“We don’t need his ten thousand.”

“Right! We don’t need his money, but we can’t not return the money we owe him, don’t you see?”

“All we need is to fatten a few pigs and we’ll have enough to repay him.”

The young man spoke rudely. His mother smiled bitterly.

“Huosheng, don’t you think I’d rather repay his money than return our land? But think about it seriously: how are we going to return the money?”

Huosheng was stuck for words.

“This is what we’ve been told to do,” said his mother. “They say if we do this we’ll actually do quite well out of it.”

“Ma, you always believe other people’s nonsense,” Huosheng said angrily. “Whatever they say you obey—you’re like grass bending in the wind.”

When Huosheng had talked about repaying the debt with a few pigs he had spoken out of anger, without thinking it through. As soon as he’d said it he felt sorry and somewhat ashamed, but when he heard his mother talking about “them,” he couldn’t help getting angry again. He realized who “they” were: “they” meant Tang Youfu, the last name in the world he wanted to hear. Of course he didn’t need his mother to tell him, he knew there must be someone in the background putting her up to all this, and he knew perfectly well who that someone was. However, in general he was a very dutiful son, so although just now in a moment of anger he had talked back to his mother, this was partly a way of venting the negative feelings bottled up inside him. Once more, as soon as the words were out he regretted it.

For his mother’s part, she was perfectly clear that the “other people” Huosheng spoke of were none other than her own “they.” Like a prisoner hearing her own death sentence pronounced, she was immediately beset with feelings of despair and pain, and her face turned pale.

Huosheng stood up. He was remorseful and angry with himself. He tried several times to ask for forgiveness, but the words would not come. Silently he walked out of his mother’s room.

The following evening, when he and Yunying were together again, she could see the depression and anger in his face.

As before, they were walking along dimly lit, unfrequented streets. Neither of them spoke. Yunying tried a few times to lift the stifling atmosphere but without success. They hadn’t been walking for long when Huosheng said he had to go and stand in line for water, so he saw her home.

The Arbitration Commission met at the Town Hall. The Sun Yat-sen Room was transformed into a temporary courtroom by the setting up of a dozen or so long tables and chairs, stools, and benches for thirty people; between sessions the furniture was simply removed.

When Huang Jinde entered, there were only six commissioners and a dozen or so parties to arbitration, but as arbitration got under way another two commissioners and some more people involved in cases arrived. The eight commissioners sat in high-backed rattan armchairs at a row of long tables; in the middle of the row was an especially large chair with an extra-high back, in which sat an old gentleman of over sixty. This was the chairman, a man named Lai. His white eyebrows were very long, like an insect’s feelers; they quivered whenever he spoke. His eyes were very small and his face gleamed red. He wore a white hip-length cotton overshirt with cloth fastenings. On his left was another old man of much the same age, who wore glasses and had a very dignified demeanor. The other commissioners were all younger men between thirty and fifty.

In front of the long tables were several rows of benches where the twenty or thirty people involved in cases sat themselves down without ceremony. Most of them were not much interested in anyone’s case but their own, and so when they were not personally involved they would turn round in their seats and chat with people they knew; this meant that when arbitration was going on the commissioners and parties to the case would have to raise their voices. Sometimes there would be a call to order. It was only when a case involving members of opposite sexes was being investigated that everyone’s attention would be aroused. Excitement and curiosity would show on their faces as they stared open-mouthed and listened with great appreciation to the words of the commission and the parties involved.

The first case was an application for medical compensation. The applicant was Li A-Gou, and the respondent Li Tianzeng. Li A-Gou said that his son had suffered grievous bodily harm at the hands of Li Tianzeng’s son in a dispute over water and had been hospitalized for a full month. He had spent altogether five thousand yuan and demanded compensation in full. However, the hospital receipts that he held amounted to only eight hundred yuan. When a commissioner asked him how the other four thousand two hundred yuan had been spent, Li A-Gou gave a dozen incidences of expenditure, including travel costs, caregivers’ expenses, manpower loss during his son’s injury, and so on and so forth.

“If he hadn’t been injured would he have been working?” asked the chairman. “We’re in the middle of a drought, there’s no work to be done in the fields: everybody’s idle.”

“He could’ve gone logging,” said A-Gou.

“Oh no, that won’t do,” the chairman quickly put him right. “That’s against the law.”

In this case the arbitration fell because of the disparity between the sums sought and offered.

The next case concerned the intent to divorce of a couple who had been married less than three months. In a trice the entire hall fell silent. All eyes focused on the parties to the case, especially the young woman. She wore a peach-colored blouse, black trousers, gold rings, golden buttons, and a gold bracelet—she gleamed and sparkled from head to toe: very much the bewitching new bride.

The chairman asked her why she was applying for divorce.

The young woman rose to answer. At first she came over as rather shy, but she spoke clearly and didn’t beat about the bush.

“His whole family maltreated me,” she said.

Before she had even finished speaking an old woman suddenly sprang up from a corner and began yelling at her. This was the mother-in-law. The commissioners gestured at her and asked her to speak quietly, saying this was no place to have a row: everyone must wait his turn to speak. But it was no use. So the young wife turned round to face her mother-in-law and loudly defended herself. The two women were equally formidable, equally ferocious, equally sharp-tongued and foul-mouthed; truly it was an encounter between worthy rivals. The proceedings descended into chaos. The commissioners could only sit back in their chairs, completely stumped. A few times, when the ferocity of the exchange between the two women seemed to lessen somewhat, there was an attempt at recommencing the arbitration. But every time, after no more than a few exchanges, the women started quarreling again as if the commission wasn’t there at all. The waves of noise created by the women’s cursing and their onlookers’ hearty laughter almost brought the walls of the Sun Yat-sen Hall crashing down.

This whole time, the young husband sat at his mother’s side, a dumb spectator at the women’s “debate,” not showing any reaction.

There was no doubting that the husband’s physiological state was an important contributing factor in the case.

Comparing his almost idiotic appearance to the young woman’s vigor and fortitude, one of the commissioners shook his head and turned to the man beside him. “That’s a real feisty mare,” he said quietly. “She needs an able rider; that husband of hers ain’t up to it.”

Arbitration failed in this case, as in the previous one.

Next it was their turn: Huang Jinde versus Luo Dingrui.

Luo Dingrui only turned up half an hour before the case was called. All the commissioners were very polite toward him, rising halfway out of their chairs to greet him. One of them moved a rattan chair in front of the rows of benches for him to sit in. He accepted this honor without demur and sat himself down, as if he were not one of the parties to a case but rather some kind of juror.

Luo was a man in his fifties, and his hair was already gray and white. He was very plump, and the tails of his eyebrows fell to the corners of his eyes to give them the shape of tadpoles. His lips were very fleshy, but the lower one drooped, lending a base, mean expression to his otherwise noble appearance. He was rural gentry, a leading figure in local society. Many people showed him respect to his face but behind his back they spat in contempt when his name was mentioned. During the Japanese Occupation he had held important office in the Town Council’s militia department. With such great power in his hands he had become a truly great figure in this township. What he said went, and none could touch him in his magnificence. After Japan surrendered, when those who had been unfairly or wrongly conscripted returned from the battlefield or from Japan’s colonies, they went fully armed looking for Luo. Some said they wouldn’t stop till they’d butchered this “running dog.” So Luo ran off to hide out in Taipei and Tainan for a few years. He didn’t dare come back until the hatred had dampened down.

The chairman first cleared his throat a few times, and then did his best to put on a smiling face. Rubbing his hands together, he looked first at one of the two parties to the case, then at the other, then back again…. Trying to speak as moderately and peaceably as possible, he first asked Luo Dingrui to explain the reasons for his complaint. When Luo had finished the chairman turned to Huang Jinde, again rubbing his hands together as he spoke: “Just now Mr. Luo said you cut some of his bamboo. I expect you didn’t notice the boundary, it was a mistake, wasn’t it?”

“No, I didn’t make any mistake,” said Jinde categorically.

Now Luo Dingrui spoke again: “That other time when you cut bamboo I thought, well, we’re all friends here, so I paid it no heed. But now you’ve done it again: that’s really very unreasonable of you.”

Sitting back in his chair with his palms pressed together, he looked at no one, but conveyed a most magnanimous air.

Jinde turned to face him. His eyes glared, big and round, as he solemnly asked: “Hey, are you certain the bamboo I cut was yours?”

“If it weren’t mine, would I say a word?”

“Did you get a surveyor in?”

“It’s been surveyed in the past.”

Huang Jinde leapt to his feet. He cupped his crotch in both hands and made to fling it in Luo’s face.

“Pah!” he spat. “You’re like my ****!”

The entire hall went into shock; in an instant a solemn hush filled the air.

“Mr. Huang, Mr. Huang,” the chairman began waving his hands to stop him. “This isn’t a place for brawling. Whatever is to be said, let’s discuss it properly.”

But Jinde’s fury knew no limits. He was gnashing his teeth, his eyes were bulging out of his head, and with his right forefinger he kept stabbing at his opponent’s forehead, swearing viciously. On his temples and his neck every single one of his blue veins stood out fit to burst.

“Luo Dingrui,” Jinde was burning all over. “What did you say? I cut your bamboo? You’re like my ****!” Again he made to fling his nether parts in Luo’s face. “It was my own bamboo I cut. Even if I crossed the boundary, that would’ve been publicly owned bamboo, not Luo Dingrui’s, so what are you so smug about? If I did cut a few lengths of public bamboo to repair my pigsty, that’s no big deal. Even if I broke the law, I’m only a petty thief. But you, Luo Dingrui, you’ve stolen whole big truckloads of publicly owned timber, truck after truck. Do you think I don’t know? I’m asking you, what happened to all those trees on the land I rent from the Forestry Bureau? Who felled them? Huh! You might fool others, but Huang Jinde won’t be made a fool of. If the law takes a petty thief like me, I’ll get three days inside at most. But for a great brigand like you, it’ll be a year at the very least. If you don’t believe me, just try it!”

Although Jinde spoke very quickly, there was no mistaking what he said. His words poured out like water from a bucket, and the quicker he needed to speak, the more Japanese he mixed in with his rudimentary Mandarin. Every phrase was clear and forceful, as if it would strike the ground with a ringing sound, or as if it would bounce. As he spoke his head, nose, and lips twisted to one side and his eyes started from his head. His whole person emitted a ferocious force, cowing his adversary. When he finished speaking he closed his mouth tightly: his lips were stretched thin and his eyes were fixed on the ground in front of him, blinking sternly. These facial contortions lent a further power of conviction to his words. This Huang Jinde was clearly even more vigorous and expressive than the Huang Jinde who made the speech.

The atmosphere in the meeting room became very tense. Everyone was riveted by Huang Jinde’s performance; they wore the expressions of people who had just licked an ice cream on a sweltering day. A similar expression could even be glimpsed on the faces of some of the younger commissioners, try to hide it as they might.

Again the chairman waved his arms in an attempt to stop Huang Jinde, but to no avail.

“Think about it,” Jinde began again. “How many people did you bully and humiliate in the time of the Japanese? If you hadn’t scuttled off pretty damn quick after the Surrender, I for one would’ve cut off your head, or at least cut off your heels, do you know that? Yet you still have the nerve to go on living? Don’t you understand shame? Huh?!”

At first Luo Dingrui tried several times to interrupt, but he was overawed by his opponent’s powerful performance. And anyway he couldn’t get a word in edgeways. All he could do was sit in his rattan chair, smiling superciliously from time to time, maintaining the serenity of the wise. Before long, however, the serenity disappeared: his face gradually changed color, and large drops of sweat began to pour from his adipose face.

“Enough, Mr. Huang,” the chairman gestured to Jinde to stop. “Let’s not bring up matters of the past.”

“Haha! It may be ‘enough’ for him, but I won’t be forgetting.”

Jinde cocked his head to one side, drew his lips tightly closed, and then added: “You won’t accept my words. So sue me! I’ll be waiting.” He stood up. “I don’t have any more time now, excuse me!”

With a parting wave toward the commissioners, Huang Jinde swaggered out of Sun Yat-sen Hall.

That evening Chen Zhengang came again to invite Yunying to the movies. When he said it was a Taiwanese movie her mother was delighted and immediately accepted the invitation. Yunying had wanted to refuse, but because she had turned him down last time it seemed rude to do so again tonight. It was really very awkward.

She sat in a daze at her mirror by the window, uncertain what to do. Only after her mother had chivied her several times did she come out of her room, listlessly. Later at the picture house she couldn’t keep her mind on the movie; she just kept thinking about Huosheng waiting forlornly for her in the ice parlor. She was sure he would have got fed up waiting—perhaps by now he would already have left and gone home. Or perhaps he would be wandering the streets alone. Oh! How lonely it must be for him, how solitary and bleak!

These thoughts made her as anxious as an ant in a hot wok; she was desperate to get away. Normally at the movies she felt the picture went by very quickly: it always seemed that she had no sooner taken her seat than the movie was over. But tonight she found the picture agonizingly long. On and on it went, scene after scene after never-ending scene. It seemed an eternity before the lights finally went up. She breathed a sigh of relief.

As they left the picture house Zhengang suggested a bite to eat. Yunying’s mother was inclined to go along with this, but Yunying hurriedly said she had left something at a friend’s house and had to go and fetch it. She left them and rushed off toward the ice parlor beside the school. But when she got there she was told Huosheng had left half an hour earlier.

Next day at noon Yunying finished work early and went to the TTL offices in the west part of town to wait for Huosheng in the arcade next door. She hadn’t been standing there very long when he arrived.

“I guess you waited an awful long time last night?” she asked apologetically.

“Two hours,” said Huosheng.

“Are you angry with me?” she asked. Then she told him that her mother had asked her to do something last night, and that when she finished what she had to do and went to the ice parlor, he had already left.

Huosheng seemed to believe her and made no comment.

Yunying was relieved.

Huosheng suggested they have a meal together and then visit the Ping’an Gong afterward. Yunying gladly agreed, which made Huosheng very happy.

The Ping’an Gong was not far to the east of the TTL office, past a gurgling river on the banks of which large green bamboos cast their dense shade. An altar had earlier been set up on the square in front of the temple and now an offering table stood in front of it. Above on the altar sat the gods—the Three Mountain Kings and the Bodhisattva Guanyin; below on the offering table were pure sacrifices, including fruit and candy. Incense smoke billowed up from the burner, pungent roiling clouds spreading far and near.

A few of the oldest men of the town knelt in the front row, dressed from head to toe in mourning; behind them and to either side knelt many more townsmen, every one of them bareheaded under the fierce sun. They knelt there with eyes half-closed, their faces brightly flushed to the tips of their ears. Drops of sweat the size of soybeans dripped down like rain from their skulls, their temples, and their necks. A sense of determination was written in their brows, kneaded in with a tragic heroism and reverence. It gave their faces an expression that was both hard and soft, humble yet stubborn. Their desire was that the naked, childlike innocence of their hearts would move Heaven and that their sincerity would move the gods to dispense sweet dew: give a little moisture to their parched fields. If Heaven did not receive their prayers, they were prepared to fall down with heatstroke where they knelt, to let the gods see how cruel and pitiless they were.

But Heaven seemed to be deliberately playing tricks on the suffering people. The last couple of days it had called in its black clouds and now the sky was an endless sheet of bright blue. The fierce ball of the sun spewed flame on the earth below, burning up everything. Everything either absorbed or reflected the fire, and even the wind was hot. The very air that people breathed was like hot water.

Some people surreptitiously looked up at the color of the sky; some of them were cursing.

The sound of chanting rose.

Somebody sprinkled a few drops of water on the earth.

Some people stood up, brushed down their clothes, and left without a word. No doubt these were people with things to do. Their places were immediately taken by even more people.

Women dressed in traditional smocks had for once turned down the sleeves to their full length and untucked the bottom hem from their belts.⁷

People spoke as little as possible, and at that only in very low voices. At the slightest hint of blasphemy or offense against good order, however, they would immediately express the utmost indignation in the sternest of rebukes.

A man on a bicycle rode past at the edge of the square. His offense was that he was wearing his bamboo hat. Angry roars rose up from among the crowd: “Hey! Hey!! Get the hat off!”

The man seemed not to hear, or perhaps he heard but didn’t realize it was himself that they addressed. He paid not a bit of attention.

“Hey!” the angry roars rose up again, now even louder. “Didn’t you hear? Are you deaf? Get your hat off!”

The man stopped. Now it seemed he had heard, but didn’t understand what it was about. He stood there, baffled, looking at the crowd, not knowing what to do. Obviously he was not from around here and didn’t know that prayers for rain were being said.

A few men darted out from the crowd, roughly snatched the hat from the man’s head and chucked it on the ground.

“Damn you, are you deaf? Are you blind?” Several voices roared at once.

The man flared up. He put his bike on its stand and went to grab the man who had flung down his hat. Just then an old man parted the crowd and stepped into the circle.

“Hey, Mister,” said the old man, all smiles. “Don’t be angry. We’re praying for rain here.”

Many voices rose up all around:

“Send him flying!”

The masses were now agitated, ready to explode at any moment.

The man realized the situation and was overawed by the menace of the crowd. Meekly he picked up his hat, hung it on his handlebar, and walked away.

After that, in similar circumstances, they seized two umbrellas and countless hats.

The people had become volatile and irascible. The fierce sun continued to inflame the mood further. Their eyes were full of blood and shone with a fearful light; they were like a pack of hungry wolves.

“Is the rain mass over now?” asked Yunying.

“Yes,” said Huosheng.

Following the crowd they made their way to the altar, where each lit an incense stick, bowed in prayer, and planted the sticks in the burner. As they were squeezing out through the crush they saw Huang Jinde. Yunying, walking in front, saw him first.

“Pa, are you burning incense too?”

Yunying’s expression was somewhat unnatural and her voice sounded a bit strange, but Huang Jinde didn’t detect this. He grunted a vague greeting.

Then he saw a young man appear from behind his daughter’s back.

“Hello, Sworn-uncle,” Huosheng said politely.

“Ah, Huosheng, you here too,” was all Jinde said, rather coolly.

He’d always been fond of this young man for his intelligence and lively spirit, and he’d been pleased for his blood brother that he had a worthy heir, but right now he had a troubled feeling when he saw Huosheng.

Jinde and the two young people parted after a few words of conversation. Jinde had only gone a few steps, however, when something occurred to him. He turned back toward Huosheng to ask: “Is your ma at home?” But Huosheng and Yunying had already been swallowed up by the crowd.

Two hours later Jinde arrived at the bantiao restaurant by the clock. Inside, the stoves had not been lit, the kitchen was cold and quiet, and the owner, A-Geng, was in the middle of a lazy yawn. Three men were idly chatting at the table on the left by the wall, Li A-Xing among them. Jinde said hello.

“Not open today?” he asked the owner.

“It’s the fast,” the owner replied sluggishly.

“Do restaurants have to observe the fast too?” Jinde was rather surprised.

“There’s no meat, so we’ve no choice.”

“Aren’t you fasting?”

“Fasting, my ass!” said Jinde coarsely, wiping his mouth with his palm. “But the last couple of days the wife’s set on fasting this, fasting that; it’s playing hell with my stomach. I’m dying for a proper meal.”

A-Geng laughed. “Aren’t you going to the Ping’an Gong?”

“Been already! But not to pray for rain—just to see the fun.”

“Ah, everybody’s there, kneeling and kowtowing. All the old folks, even the mayor’s father.”

“What a parcel of fools.” Jinde lit a cigarette. “Kneeling … as if kneeling could bring down rain! Huh, damn tricksters!”

With that he rose and went over to the table by the wall.

“A-Xing,” he said. “Is Longxiang’s widow really going to return that land to the landlord?”

“Of course,” said Li A-Xing. “They’ve already submitted their application for arbitration.”

“Do you know who it is that wants to buy the land?”

Jinde stopped short. Luo Dingrui! Him again! Why does he always have to cause trouble for me?

“He’s bought several pieces of land,” added Li A-Xing. “And each time he’s used this same method.”

“It’s against the law.”

“He’s been very successful.”

“When’s the arbitration hearing?”

“Must be pretty soon now.”

“You say Youfu’s the middleman?”

“That’s right. He’s in for a pretty packet.”

When Jinde left the restaurant he went straight to Longxiang’s house at the eastern edge of town. The widow wasn’t home, neither was Tusheng. Next, threading his way among the houses, Jinde came to Uncle A-San’s tobacco shed. In the upstairs room he found two card games in progress. At one of them he saw Tang Youfu.

He sat and watched the game silently until it was over.

“Downstairs,” he said to Youfu. “I want a word with you.”

Youfu stood and followed him downstairs.

Youfu was middle-aged, average height, with thick eyebrows, a heavy beard, and a large nose. His eyes were constantly darting this way and that, as if there were always something on his mind. When he smiled, his eyes gleamed with a sly cunning.

When they got downstairs the two men stood facing one another. Youfu seemed already to have guessed what was on Jinde’s mind, so he was mentally prepared. His face was alert with determination to deal with whatever was to come. His cunning showed in his eyes. He seemed to hold Huang Jinde in no special esteem.

“What’ve you got to say?” he asked haughtily.

Jinde made no reply and merely glared at Youfu. It was perfectly clear to him that Youfu’s attitude was unfriendly, and he detected a certain tone of provocation in his voice.

He glared at Youfu again.

“I just want a word with you,” he began. “I’m telling you, Youfu, I’m not happy about you colluding with Luo Dingrui to cheat that woman. For a long time now you’ve been feathering your nest at others’ expense; enough now, you should stop. That land is the only livelihood they have left. You should let it be.” He curled his lip and glowered at Youfu, his eyes flashing with venom. “That’s all I have to say—you’d best mark it well.”

He had said his piece without pausing for breath, giving Youfu no chance to interrupt. When he was finished, not caring whether Youfu had any rejoinder, he turned and walked out of the tobacco shed without a backward glance.

She and Huosheng had been sitting shoulder to shoulder, so that she had been in a state of excitement from the very start. They sat very close, pressed tightly together, with only an armrest between them. From their shoulders to their feet they were stuck like glue, so that she felt a constant stream of heat coming from Huosheng’s body and entering her own, spreading through her, making her breath come faster.

On the silver screen they’d seen the protracted leave-taking of a pair of lovers: in a garden under the starlight they clung to each other and hugged and kissed for ages. At this point Yunying had involuntarily leaned closer to Huosheng, her woman’s heart beating as though it would burst out of her chest, and the blood surging up to the crown of her head. Her consciousness became blurred, and she fell into an absentminded, dazed state. Her eyes took nothing in, and her ears heard only a dull buzzing. Not until Huosheng said loudly, “Let’s go,” did she come to herself. Her cheeks were still ablaze.

She felt very embarrassed. She sneaked a look at Huosheng. There was a strange light in his eyes, but he appeared very calm, as though nothing had happened.

As they walked out onto the porch of the picture house, Yunying glimpsed a young man wearing a stiff-collared white shirt and gray serge trousers. It was Chen Zhengang. She thought of hiding behind a pillar, but it was too late.

“Oh, Miss Huang,” he said. “Here for the movie?”

He also greeted Huosheng, but rather stiffly. His eyes were cold, you might even say hostile.

“Is the movie over?” he said, turning to Yunying again.

Yunying said yes and hurried off. She felt that Zhengang’s attitude toward her this evening was rather unusual: she sensed a certain disaffection mingling with his intimate manner; his eyes seemed very polite and at the same time very impolite. His eyes and his attitude made her feel uneasy, troubled. Even when she had walked a good way off, she still felt the pressure of Zhengang’s gaze on her back, like cold water pouring down her spine.

Coming onto the main street Huosheng suggested going for a cold drink or an ice, but Yunying said she was worried her mother would be cross if she were late and insisted on going home.

Huosheng walked her home. As they left the town behind, the lights grew fewer and further between and the sounds of the streets receded behind them. They had reached the seclusion and tranquility of the suburbs. Their two shapes dissolved into the shadows and all that could be heard was the scuff-scuffing sound of their feet.

When they reached the little bridge they sat down side by side on the parapet.

There were wispy rain clouds in the sky and a layer of dust in the air. The dust had not yet all fallen to ground, but it was spread very thin, allowing the gibbous moon and countless glittering stars to be seen, and their light to penetrate to the earth. The night was not gloomy, but soft and warm.

On the land there were a few lights thinly scattered all around, complementing the glow of moon and stars.

At any time the human world is beautiful, lovely, and full of tender feeling—and how much more so for a pair of lovers!

When she recalled the passionate scene in the movie Yunying’s heart began drumming again. The blood rose up to her face and she involuntarily leaned in closer to Huosheng. Suddenly she felt her hands being taken in another pair of hands, her body being taken in a pair of arms and pressed against another body, and her mouth being subjected to a warm, sweet weight. In no way did she resist. This was exactly what she had inwardly been hoping for. She closed her eyes and gladly accepted it all.

The first kiss between lovers is an overwhelming, somersaulting joy. They kissed for a very long time. They kissed and kissed again and again. In this kiss they forgot themselves, forgot their troubles, forgot the world, and everything! They wanted to sink into this intoxication forever, never to sober up.

Some time passed before Yunying finally pulled away and broke the silence.

“Do you remember the girl I mentioned before?” she asked.

“Qiuju. From the tailor’s.”

“Oh. What about her?”

“She killed herself.”

“Huh?!” Huosheng was shocked.

Then he added, “How did she do it?”

“We’re all really upset.”

“But how stupid she was! Did she really have to die?”

Yunying sighed softly. “When a woman can’t see a way out that’s what she’ll do.”

“That’s so wrong-headed.”

After that the pair fell silent, each sunk in their own thoughts.

Now and then footsteps went past on Back Street, not far from the little bridge. As of one mind, without a word, Yunying and Huosheng stood and walked into the farmland.

“Yunying,” said Huosheng as they walked. “These days I can’t stop thinking it would be best to get away from this place, to go out into the world.”

“Where to?” Yunying hastily asked.

“Kaohsiung, or Taipei.”

Yunying became more agitated. “Why?”

“Well, I find it hard to say why, but I just keep having these thoughts.”

“You’d dump me here?”

“No! It’s precisely because of us that I’m thinking about it.”

“I don’t understand you.”

“I have a foreboding. I feel that our future holds many ordeals; things won’t be smooth for us. Your father always used to like me a lot, but I know he’s not going to like me anymore now.”

Huosheng spoke with great certainty, as if he had given these matters deep and thorough thought.

Yunying didn’t agree at all.

“It’s true—he won’t like me anymore,” said Huosheng, a trace of pain flashing across his face. “Anyway, that’s my foreboding.”

“You’re being too sensitive.”

“Absolutely not. Yunying, I know I’m right about this. And your mother won’t like me either. I know it.” Again, Huosheng spoke with conviction. “Think about it. I’m only a minor clerk at TTL, with only a few hundred yuan a month, and no money in the family. Would they let us marry?”

“And so,” Yunying retorted unhappily, “you’re going to Kaohsiung? You’re going to dump me here?”

“No!” Huosheng cried, beseechingly. “Let me finish.”

“Don’t bother.” Yunying spoke crisply. “I’ve got just one thing to say to you: no matter how many reasons you can give, you just can’t go!”

Huosheng fell silent, feeling that nothing he could say could change her mind.

“I’m afraid!” cried Yunying. “Don’t leave me! If you leave me I’m finished.”

“Yunying,” cried Huosheng in vexation.

“Don’t say it.” Yunying wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

All the way to Yunying’s house the pair said not another word. Huosheng stood outside and watched her go through the front door before turning and walking off.

He felt exceedingly troubled, exceedingly remorseful.

“I jimmied the door,” said Jinde, smiling.

“Were you playing all night again?”

Suddenly, the restaurateur lowered his voice and said mysteriously: “I’ve got some good stuff.”

Going into the kitchen, he opened a drawer and brought out a selection of delicacies, including pig’s trotters, kidneys, and liver, to show Jinde.

“See! Have a couple of trotters? Or will it be kidneys?”

“Oh! Good God Almighty!” Jinde’s eyes were boggling. “That really is good stuff! Where did you get hold of it?”

The stove was already lit. Water was seething in the pot and steam was rising above it.

“So you’re back in business, A-Geng.”

“What the hell! If they want to pray for rain let ’em go and pray, but I need to sell my bantiao. If they ask me how I can just go ahead and sell meat I’ll say I don’t have any land to farm: selling bantiao is my livelihood, if I stay closed any longer my whole family will go hungry. Let the rain prayers say their rain prayers, let businessmen run their businesses! Isn’t that right, Jinde?”

“That’s right!”

“So I went outside the township to get some meat.” A-Geng was cutting meat as he spoke. “In town everybody’s fasting, no meat for them: fine! But if I get customers from outside and I don’t have any meat, how will that look? After all, this isn’t a monastery I’m running, it’s a bantiao shop.”

The two men laughed heartily.

“I know you don’t mind either way,” said A-Geng. “You don’t believe in all that mumbo-jumbo.”

“Seems you’re not much of a believer either!”

A-Geng placed a platter of sliced pig’s trotter on the table, then brought a half-bottle of rice wine, a cup and a pair of chopsticks, and finally a saucer of soy sauce with crushed garlic.

“Me?” he said as he was arranging all this. “I have faith. But I still have to sell meat. Praying for rain and selling meat—I have to do both!”

Again the pair laughed loudly.

At the sight of the meat and drink on the table saliva was welling up in Jinde’s mouth. Not wasting a moment more, he grabbed the chopsticks, picked up a large piece of meat, and stuffed it in his mouth.

“Hai!” he sighed as he chewed. “I’ve been so damn hungry.”

Jinde had only just returned home from the restaurant when a woman came looking for him.

“Ahah! Sister Qingshou,” Jinde exclaimed cheerfully. “What fair wind has blown you here today? Do you have some business with me?”

“If I didn’t have business I wouldn’t dare to come disturb you.” Sister Qingshou wiped the betel nut juice from her chin and went on, all smiles, “I’m here to make a match for your daughter. Where’s Sister Jinde?”

“What’s she doing?”

“Feeding the pigs. My daughter’s a tad young to be thinking of marriage, ain’t she?”

“Oh, no. Do you know how old she is?”

“Um, seventeen?” Jinde replied uncertainly.

“Oh! What a clueless father you are! Your daughter’s nineteen already.”

“So, you know better than me!” Jinde said, raising his eyebrows and staring at her.

“Hee-hee, of course I know,” Sister Qingshou chuckled with glee. “In this town I know it all: the ages of the daughters in every family, their looks, their education…. Otherwise, what sort of matchmaker would I be?”

“So you know what school my daughter went to?”

“That’s easy! She graduated from the local junior high, didn’t she?” Jinde laughed out loud.

After a pause, he asked, “What family is this you’re making a match for?”

“A good family,” said Sister Qingshou, calmly taking her time. “They have a general store and a hardware shop; the boy works in the Town Hall.”

“Haha, come right out with it; don’t give me riddles!”

“Chen Qichang’s son.”

“That’s right, he’s the one!” cried Sister Qingshou exultantly, giving her chin another wipe. “A pretty good match, wouldn’t you say? As for the boy: he’s clever, educated, and has a good job. And the family: they have money, they have land, they have shops: all year round they have ‘dry fuel and white rice, plenty of salt and ample vinegar’—they don’t have to worry about a thing. Your family and theirs are perfectly matched, just right to be joined by marriage.”

“How old is Zhengang?”

“How come the son of a wealthy family is still single at twenty-two?”

“Don’t you know? It’s the wealthy families that find it difficult to get brides! Their boys have high standards: they might see any number of girls and never see one they like.”

“So he likes Yunying?”

“Oh yes. Marriage is something that can’t be forced.”

“Did the Chen family ask you to come?”

“That they did, Brother Jinde.”

“Alright then!” Jinde wanted to end the conversation. “Go and see Yunying and her ma. I have nothing against it. As long as mother and daughter are happy, it’s fine by me.”

After the woman had gone Jinde lit a cigarette and walked outside. By now it was quite late in the afternoon. The earth in the fields on both sides of the lane was scored deep with “tortoiseshell” cracks; the rice plants were covered in a layer of yellow dust.

Just then a farmer stepped up onto the lane from one of the fields.

“What does that look like to you?” he said, raising his chin and pointing to the south with his pursed lips. “Rain?”

Jinde looked in the direction indicated. He saw a dark, swirling body slowly but steadily traveling toward them at a constant speed. It was broad, deep, and tall, covering the sky and the land. As far as the eye could see it was swallowing up the ridge of hills, the villages, and the bamboo groves on the plain, wiping out everything on the ground. Wherever it went, everything disappeared; all that remained was a vast sea, dark and gray, like primordial chaos. But amid the darkness there was a hint of turbid yellow, and its swirling seemed not to go from the top down, but from the bottom up. Jinde could see that it was tumbling within itself, whirling and spinning round and round.

“Do you hear anything?” Jinde asked, after watching for well over ten minutes.

“I can’t hear anything,” said the farmer.

“It’s dust,” said Jinde.

“I thought so too!” said the farmer, deeply disappointed.

As they spoke, the dust-laden wind reached the air above the town, and in another moment it began swirling all around them. Heaven and earth vanished before their eyes.

When Jinde went back indoors Sister Qingshou had already left.

The next person to arrive was Longxiang’s widow.

Jinde sat upright in his chair in welcome and said, “Hello, Swornsister!”

After the greetings, the woman sat down on a low stool against the wall.

Jinde’s wife handed her a cup of tea.

“It’s so rare that we get a visit from you, Sworn-sister,” she said with a smile.

“That’s certainly true,” said the woman. “I’m so busy every day of the year, I can never get away to spend some time with Blood Brother and Sworn-sister. It’s awful. I heard that Blood Brother came looking for me twice in the last few days, but I wasn’t at home. So I made this trip specially to find out what I can do to help you.”

Jinde seemed to hear dishonesty and hypocrisy in the woman’s tone and sensed that she was up to no good. He felt uncomfortable, but he did his best to put on a smiling face.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Sworn-sister,” he said genially. “It’s about something I heard somewhere. People are saying you’re going to return that rented land to the landlord so that he can sell it. I hope it’s not true. Perhaps someone with a grudge against you is spreading the rumor to make you look bad.”

“Actually it is true, Blood Brother. And Huosheng is angry with me because of it. This is how it is: when Tusheng was getting married I was short of cash and borrowed five thousand yuan from Luo Dingrui, with my own two tenths of land as security. By now the repayment date is long past and I’ve nothing to give him, so I thought, if the landlord agrees and if Luo Dingrui is willing, I’ll let him have the other four tenths. After all, that land wasn’t originally in our family, so there’s no shame in selling it.”

“So Luo Dingrui wants land?” Jinde looked sharply at the woman.

“Oh, no! Why should he want land? It’s me asking him to take it off our hands. He has plenty of land, far too much to farm himself.” As she spoke she was looking down at the palms of her hands. “He said, ‘I don’t want land, I want money. As soon as you can pay me back I’ll return the land to you.’ But where am I going to get such a large sum of money!”

Jinde listened in silence and without comment, all the while fixing the woman’s face with unmoving eyes. But she kept her head down, avoiding his eyes, and just kept examining her hands.

“Those six tenths that we farm: you know yourself that after the rent’s paid we only just make enough to survive, no matter how hard we work all year long. We don’t have the capital to go into pig farming. Whichever way you reckon it up, there’s no way I can return the five thousand. It was you, Blood Brother, who were kind enough to get us those four tenths of a jia. You took pity on us for our lack of land. When Longxiang didn’t return from the South Seas”—here the rims of her eyes turned red—“he left us behind: mother and children, the weak and the small. We were lucky to have you constantly looking out for us, and my whole family will always be grateful. It seems to me that with you being Longxiang’s sworn blood brother, who else but you should I turn to? So that’s why I swallowed my shame to come and ask you for help. You’ve helped us before, so please finish what you started! Blood Brother, I’m asking you to help us one more time. You have a tobacco shed, so a few thousand yuan is nothing to you. I must have committed sins in a past life, that my husband should die so young, leaving me behind, a mere woman. For nearly twenty years I’ve been carrying such a huge burden on these weak shoulders….”

The woman began to sob and could say no more. She wiped her eyes again and again on her sleeve.

“Oh! Sworn-sister, but we’re like starving men pretending to be well-fed: times are hard for us too,” said Jinde’s wife, who had been sitting silently to one side all along. “We only have a few tenths more than you to farm. As for the tobacco shed, we only make enough to pay for our own labor, and sometimes, if the crop doesn’t grow well, we even make a loss.”

“Ah, Sworn-sister,” Longxiang’s widow looked up, “what convincing excuses you make! But at any rate you’ve got a lot more options than a poor widow like me. If only you’d be willing to help me out … you could get four or five thousand with just a nod here or a wink there—easy!”

“I wasn’t making excuses, Sworn-sister. Our families are connected, so if we could help you, why wouldn’t we? It’s just that we don’t have the means! Please don’t be offended!”

The woman stood and gave a few cold laughs.

“The truth is you aren’t willing to help,” she said. “I can see I needn’t trouble myself any further. At least Longxiang won’t be able to blame me, when his own sworn blood brother stands by and watches his widow sell the land. If there’s blame, let him blame himself for dying so young. Otherwise, I …” She burst out crying in great sobs. “I … a poor … widow …”

Wiping her eyes with her sleeves, she walked haltingly toward the door, and was soon gone.

Beside himself with rage, Jinde raised a fist and brought it down with a crash on the table!

“Pei!” he spat. “You dirty bitch! What do you take me for? Think you can play your tricks on me too?”

The more he thought about it the angrier he got. Clearly her actions were a kind of threat or warning to him. He thought it must be the handiwork of Tang Youfu again, that he was using this as a way to mock him, make him a laughing stock. He wondered why he hadn’t given that woman a few slaps just now, instead of letting her saunter on out the front door like that. “Hmph!”

Meanwhile his wife was smiling bitterly, her face taut with fury. “Well, you sure gave her a rod for your own back! You get involved in someone else’s affairs and then it’s you she comes to asking for money. So why didn’t you give her the money just now? Your own ‘swornsister,’ ain’t she?!”

Jinde ignored her, except for a dirty look as he walked out.

When he came back Yunying was home. As he passed her window he saw her at her mirror, fixing her hair.

“Yunying!” he called as he went past. “Come here!”

He sat in a bamboo chair smoking, his face looking utterly despondent, apparently deep in thought as he stared into space. When Yunying came in he didn’t alter his posture at all, but motioned with his eyes for her to sit. The air in the room was stuffy; even before her father spoke Yunying was alarmed by the strangeness of the atmosphere.

“Yunying,” said her father, removing the cigarette from his lips. “For a long time now I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I kept forgetting. I’ve been told that you are often with Huosheng. I didn’t really believe it, but now I have to. I’m giving you a warning: from now on you’d better not have so much to do with him. I’m not saying Huosheng is good or bad, it’s just that I don’t like that family of his. That whole family, male and female alike, they’re all spineless good-for-nothings. They’re rotten through and through—there’s no helping them.

“And another thing: it seems to me you’re incapable of staying put in this house; you’re always running off into town. What sort of behavior is that for a girl of your age? From now on I want to see less of that: I want you to spend more time at home. Do you hear? Alright then, that’s all I had to say. Your ma had a visitor today: perhaps in a bit she’ll have something to say to you.”

Yunying just stood there looking at the floor, twisting the hem of her clothing. From start to finish she didn’t dare say a word. When her father was done she went back to her room.

“No going out tonight,” her father flung after her by way of an afterthought. “Got it?”

After the evening meal Huosheng went out and made his way to their usual meeting place—the little ice parlor—to wait for Yunying. He ordered a bowl of shaved ice topped with fruit, and went to sit in a corner. He waited for a very long time. He’d finished his ice and it was long past the time Yunying usually arrived, but there was still no sign of her.

He started to get anxious. He sat uselessly for another half-hour, then left and walked off toward the suburb where Yunying’s home was.

On the way he tried and failed to think why Yunying might not have come. Although they didn’t necessarily meet every day, today he had the strangest feeling: he felt she had had no reason not to come. At the back of this thought Huosheng had a rationale: their meeting yesterday evening hadn’t been very happy, and he had ended by making her angry. He hadn’t been able to get this out of his mind all day, and his desire to see Yunying again had grown all the more urgent.

He deeply regretted upsetting her, but he hoped she would eventually understand his dilemma. He wasn’t being selfish, and was thinking only of their future together. However, in his motivation for leaving, once you took away the element of dissatisfaction with the status quo and with his family, he hadn’t really worked out just how much of it was purely concerned with what was to become of them as a couple. Just as Yunying feared, perhaps his leaving would really be the end of their relationship. There was always that possibility.

His family had long been a headache for him. His stupid, incompetent brother lacked the ability to manage the family; as for his mother, it wasn’t his place as her son to interfere, nor would he have felt comfortable doing so, but her decline could be seen on a daily basis. To Huosheng, the family was a cause of impatience and disgust. Only at the office or in Yunying’s company could he take pleasure in life.

He had been hoping to meet Yunying on the road, but had no such luck. Before long he was standing only twenty meters from her house. Lights were shining brightly inside, and seeing their glow gave him a warm feeling, but he didn’t dare go in. He stayed outside, pacing to and fro and looking on from afar. Standing in the road, he looked at the lights with yearning, particularly looking out for any movement in the room below the central hall. That was Yunying’s room. She had told him so herself. But the door to that room stayed still and closed. He didn’t see anyone come or go through it. He didn’t know if Yunying was in there or not. Although the motionless, peaceful lamplight gave him a pleasant, tender feeling, it had no information to reveal.

As he walked up and down in the lane, his heart went from its earlier feelings of expectation to an intense anxiety, and from anxiety to vexation, until finally his thoughts turned to blame.

“Surely she can’t still be angry?” This became his central thought, and circling this question all kinds of other things occurred to him.

Just at that moment he heard a woman’s hysterical shrieking coming from inside.

“If they want to give the land back to the landlord that’s their business, there’s no call for you to go interfering.” It was Yunying’s mother’s voice. No doubt husband and wife were arguing again. “I must have burned the incense upside down in a former life, to end up with a disaster like you for a husband: neglecting your own affairs to go poking your nose in other people’s business.”

Huosheng was taken aback, and the color drained from his face. Not daring to listen to any more, he turned and hurried away.

That night Huosheng was very troubled, so upset that he hardly closed his eyes. Next day he was still out of sorts as he went to work.

That evening when they met again Huosheng noticed that Yunying was frowning all the time. She seemed depressed and had little to say except to answer his questions, which she did as simply as possible.

They loitered for a while on the secluded back streets and the lanes among the fields on the edge of town, and when they came to the little bridge they sat down on its parapet once more.

“Are you still angry with me?” asked Huosheng gently.

“I’m not angry,” said Yunying.

“Well, are you unhappy?”

Huosheng stretched out an arm, put it around her shoulders, and turned her face toward him with his other hand. Once again he advanced his own face toward hers. Yunying meekly accepted his kisses. But when Huosheng was about to kiss her for a second time he suddenly noticed the sparkle of tears in her eyes.

“Yunying, are you crying?” he asked in concern.

Yunying said nothing, and Huosheng grew uneasy.

“What’s the matter?” he asked her again. “Has somebody done something …?”

Still she made no reply. Before long, they stood up and Huosheng took her home.

Next day after breakfast Yunying’s mother told her not to go to work, saying that Zhengang was going to take her on a day out to Kaohsiung.

“I won’t go!” she said.

“You’re shy?” said her mother with a smile.

“I don’t like him.”

At first her mother thought she was saying this out of embarrassment, but gradually she stopped smiling and looked her daughter up and down doubtfully. Now she felt that this was nothing to do with shyness, and that Yunying was simply stating what she felt.

“Yunying,” said her mother gently, remaining patient. “Surely there’s nothing wrong with Zhengang?”

“There’s nothing wrong with him at all.”

“Well then, you …?”

“I just don’t like him.” Yunying spoke bluntly.

“So you won’t marry him, is that it?”

Yunying made no reply.

“Hey, come on, will you or won’t you?”

Still Yunying wouldn’t answer. She went into her room and picked up her bag, ready to go to work.

“Stay where you are!” It was a stern command.

Mother and daughter were now locked in a stalemate.

Yunying stood in the doorway and thought for a moment. Finally she turned and went back into her room and bolted the door. She went to bed and stayed there until well after noon, not even getting up for lunch.

At first her mother stood outside her window and angrily alternated scolding and persuasion. Later she went quiet, as if she had softened. Later still she began to call Yunying’s name warmly and kindly, spoke with her, and asked to her to come and eat. Yunying ignored her throughout. Finally her mother came again to call her to table, but soon fell silent. Yunying turned and peeked out the window. She had thought her mother had left, but there she was still standing under the window, like a shadow. She stood there for ages before walking off. As she left, Yunying thought she heard her heave a sigh.

After her mother had left, her father came.

“Yunying. Yunying.”

Her father’s voice was full of amiability and mildness, but also carried a somewhat imperative tone, so that she was forced to get up and open the door.

“Yunying.” He turned the chair round and sat at her desk with his back to the window. His face wore an expression of friendliness laced with dignity. “Why won’t you come and eat with us? Do you plan to starve yourself to death?”

Yunying bowed her head, saying nothing. When she did look up, her father saw that her eyes were rimmed red and shone with a strange light.

“Silly girl,” he said kindly. “If you don’t like him, well, that’s that. There’s no need to get yourself into such a state about it. Come on, come and eat! You don’t have to go to work today.”

After her father had left Yunying quickly fixed her hair, got changed, and went into town. She had a bite to eat in a small restaurant, and then dropped in at the tailor’s to make her excuses to the boss.

Chen Zhengang came to visit that evening. At first he appeared ill at ease, but soon he became as poised and natural as usual. No one mentioned the marriage proposal.

Zhengang said that the new theater was showing The Butterfly Lovers tonight: it was one of the better Hokkienese movies and was enjoying an excellent box office around Taiwan. When Yunying’s mother heard this she immediately agreed to go. Yunying went along with the others, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. By now her mind was absolutely clear: no matter what they might try, she would just say “No!” But for the time being she didn’t want to fall out with her mother, and so she had to try and humor her when she could, compromising in small things in order to achieve her big plan.

At the end of the movie they were among the last to leave the picture house. As they reached the street, if Yunying had paid attention to the arcade on her right she would have noticed someone suddenly darting out of sight into the shadows, then staying there and watching their movements. This person didn’t emerge from the shadows until they had gone out of sight. His face deathly white, he staggered off like a drunken man.

Next day Yunying went back to work. She had only just put her things aside and sat down when a girl named Zheng took her to a back room where no one was around. She told Yunying she had seen Huosheng last night and he had been asking about her.

“How did he seem?” asked Yunying urgently.

“Very worked up.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him you hadn’t been at work.”

“Did he ask anything else?”

“And you didn’t tell him anything else?”

“No.” At this an uneasy expression stole over Zheng’s face, as if she had done something to be ashamed of. Yunying didn’t notice.

An hour later, Yunying walked to the soda fountain on the corner of the street where the TTL offices were. She told a child who worked in the place to go to TTL and ask Huosheng to come and meet her.

The boy returned in less than ten minutes and said that Huosheng wasn’t coming.

“He says he doesn’t have time!” he said.

“Didn’t you tell him who gave you the message?”

Yunying didn’t believe this.

She told the boy to go again and told him very clearly and firmly that he absolutely must give the message to Huosheng personally, and tell him that it came from her.

This time when the boy returned Huosheng was walking behind him.

Not having seen her lover for two days, and especially after the upset that had occurred since they last met, Yunying couldn’t help feeling a bittersweet sadness along with the surge of affection. This feeling almost caused her eyes to grow red-rimmed without her knowing it. Her heart burned for the warmth and comfort Huosheng could give her, which would be worth the pain she had suffered for him. But when her eyes met Huosheng’s eyes, the strange light in them gave her a slight jolt. His eyes were cool and distant; this was far from what she had been looking forward to.

Huosheng sat down opposite her without a word. His whole attitude was cool and distant, as if she were a stranger to him.

Yunying’s smile froze on her lips. She looked at Huosheng apprehensively.

After the waiter had placed two portions of ice cream on the table, he went out into the arcade, moved a hard wooden chair against a pillar, and sat down to watch the goings-on in the street.

They were the only people in the place. Huosheng lit a cigarette and smoked it leisurely. In the two days since he had seen her he felt Yunying had lost a little weight and grown a little paler, but these signs of sorrow had in no way diminished her radiance. On the contrary they lent added gentleness and subtlety to her beauty. He found himself more moved than ever by her charm.

Finally, he blew out a mouthful of smoke and said, “Congratulations on your lucrative marriage.”

Yunying couldn’t believe her ears. “What did you say?”

“I was congratulating you,” said Huosheng with a bitter laugh. “Soon you’ll be the wife of a wealthy man.”

“Who told you so?”

Yunying watched Huosheng’s face closely, but he was casually looking in another direction.

“Naturally I know your news. You can’t hide a flame in a paper parcel!”

“Huosheng.” Yunying’s voice was beseeching. “Are you angry with me?”

“Haha, what a very strange idea! Why should I be angry? It’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s perfectly clear to me. You’re angry with me and you’re deliberately trying to get me angry.”

“That’s just your oversensitivity.”

“Please, Huosheng. Please.” Yunying was pleading in all seriousness now, and she didn’t seek to hide her sorrow. “Don’t talk like that, please. Have you any idea what I’ve been going through?”

Now at least Huosheng stopped speaking. He shut up and silently smoked, but his face still bore a bitter, sneering expression.

“I’ll tell you honestly,” Yunying went on. “A couple of days ago someone did make an offer of marriage….”

“Come on, out with it. Be plainer; it’s Zhengang, isn’t it?”

“That’s good,” Huosheng laughed bitterly again. “Zhengang has plenty of money. You should say yes.”

“Huosheng!” Yunying could hardly contain herself.

Huosheng fell silent.

“Please don’t tease me. I’m trying to discuss this seriously with you.”

“Hmm, and who says I’m not being serious? Doesn’t Zhengang have plenty of money?”

Yunying was furious. All at once the flames of rage she had been damping down flared up, setting her whole body on fire. Her face changed color and she faintly felt the inside of her throat begin to spasm. She had never expected Huosheng to be so incredibly unreasonable, deliberately saying things to make her angry.

“What are you playing at?” she said, in high agitation but doing her best to keep her voice down. “They came with a marriage proposal, my mother’s pressing me to accept, but I won’t. I’ve been so upset these past two days that I haven’t eaten a thing. And now I come here to see you and not only do you not comfort me, instead you actually say things to anger me. What: if someone asks me to marry him, is that my fault? Could I have prevented him making the proposal? Don’t you think you should have found out if I accepted him or not before you got angry with me? What’s gotten into you?”

The more she spoke the more difficult it was to keep her grief inside, and by now the tears were trickling down her cheeks.

“Ahah! If you turned him down,” Huosheng was as stubborn as ever, “then how come you went to the movies with him? Do you think I’m stupid?”

Yunying tried to hide her surprise. She didn’t understand how Huosheng could know everything; it was as if he had magic powers. Huosheng’s persistence in shutting himself off emotionally and his refusal to rethink his attitude only added a layer of heartbreak on top of Yunying’s indignation. She pressed her handkerchief to her eyes.

“Huosheng! Huosheng!” she cried out in anguish.

She rose to her feet. But still she didn’t want to leave with things as they stood. And so she sat down again.

“I went to the movies with him because I simply had no choice. Anyway I wasn’t alone with him—my mother was with us. There’s nothing for you to be jealous about. For the sake of you and me, sometimes I have to go along with things and be polite to him. You don’t understand how hard it is for me, and yet you just take out your temper on me. If you keep pushing me, maybe I will accept him, and then what will you do?”

Drying her eyes she stood once more and smoothed down the front of her dress.

The waiter sitting in the arcade seemed to have noticed something out of the ordinary. Looking surprised and curious he walked in and stood to one side, gazing at them.

Yunying closed her mouth tightly and left without saying goodbye.

Then Huosheng got up too and silently left the soda fountain.

Huosheng felt as if he were walking in a dream; everything around him was covered by an unreal film of shadow, appearing misty, illusory, and bizarre. He walked back to TTL. Everything there was just as always, but now he saw it all through the strange shadow. He sat down listlessly.

By now he had completely calmed down and was in a frame of mind that gave him ample scope to analyze his behavior. He couldn’t help feeling pain at his unreasonable and spiteful conduct. He truly didn’t understand why he had been so willfully brutal. It was unforgivable: not even his death could atone for this crime. He realized that he had hurt Yunying deeply, and that the resulting damage to their relationship was frightening. When he thought of this he felt so remorseful that he almost wanted to dash his head against the wall. “If someone asks me to marry him, is that my fault?” Yunying’s words had assumed a colossal weight that pressed down on his heart.

That night as he lay in bed the remorse he had felt during the day surged up into his heart once more and grew ever sharper. He tossed and turned, racked with regret and despair. He longed to go immediately to Yunying, to kneel before her and beg her to punish him as she saw fit. He would willingly accept any torment in exchange for her forgiveness. He was afraid that he had made her so angry she might refuse ever to see him again. What would he do if she left him? Could he carry on as normal without her? No! He must not lose her! Life without her—he was afraid even to think of it. He simply had to go and beg her forgiveness, and if she wouldn’t forgive him, then let her see him die there on the spot. No matter what, he had to win back her heart.

Next day in the office he kept thinking about how to get to see her. Suddenly, the boy from the soda fountain on the corner came looking for him again.

Huosheng was so happy his heart seemed about to burst. Without stopping to enquire more closely who had sent the boy, he rushed out of TTL.

He was beside himself with joy when he reached the soda fountain, but there was no sign of Yunying. Instead he saw Huang Jinde sitting alone and smoking at a table by the wall. Seeing Huosheng come in, he smiled and nodded amiably in his direction.

Huosheng was so astounded that he almost forgot the proper greeting.

“Hello, Sworn-uncle,” he said after a dazed moment.

“Ah, Huosheng,” said Jinde, sitting up straight. “Are you very busy?”

“That’s good. Have a seat.”

Jinde ordered two ice creams.

“Huosheng, you may speak plainly.” Jinde sat with his head leaning forward, one hand resting on the edge of the table holding a cigarette. “What do you think of your blood uncle’s character?”

This question was so abrupt and out of the blue that Huosheng had not the first clue how to answer. He was speechless.

“Alright! Let me ask you again,” said Jinde. “How have I treated your family? Have I been considerate?”

“I’ve always been grateful to you, Sworn-uncle!” said Huosheng, very respectfully.

The young man’s answer seemed to please Jinde. His head swayed a couple of times, and he blew out a mouthful of smoke in satisfaction.

“Your father and I took an oath as blood brothers,” he continued. “By rights that makes you my nephew, so I am very sorry to have to tell you that I hope you won’t get too friendly with Yunying. I believe you and she are only ordinary friends, and I realize that nowadays boys and girls can be friends. But after all, this is a small country town, and people do gossip, so I hope you will be careful. And now that someone has sent a matchmaker for Yunying you need to be all the more careful, to avoid embarrassment all round. You understand, don’t you?”

A wisp of dark cloud floated across Huosheng’s eyes, but he did not react in any way. Inside his closed mouth his top teeth were biting into his lower lip.

“Do you have anything to say?” Jinde was watching Huosheng’s face closely for any change in his expression.

Huosheng shook his head. “No.”

Seeing that Jinde had no more to say, Huosheng was about to rise and take his leave, but Jinde stopped him with a look and indicated that he should stay seated. Jinde took a puff of his cigarette, stubbed it out, and threw the butt in the ashtray.

“Stay a little longer,” he said. “Do you know what’s happening with your family’s land?”

“You should know.”

“Hmm. So what is happening?”

“It’s just about to be returned to the landlord. The day after tomorrow the Land Rents Commission is having an arbitration meeting.”

“You can go home and ask.”

Huosheng was silent, while Jinde wore a bitter, deeply critical smile.

“I disapprove of your family’s conduct in this,” he said. “The lease on those fields was originally mine. It was because your family didn’t have enough land to make a living that I made over my fields to you. Now you’re going to get rich and won’t need to farm your fields. You’re going to return them to the landlord. Fine! But if you were going to do that you should at least have had a word with me first, out of courtesy. But no, you did it all behind my back. Don’t you feel ashamed? I can see it all very clearly. You and your brother are grown up now, you don’t need me any more, your father’s sworn brother. You can do whatever you like. Well, that’s fine by me. I’ll be happy to have nothing to worry about anymore.”

At first Huosheng wanted to defend himself, but disgust and anger obstinately stopped up his mouth.

That evening when Huosheng went home he immediately went to his brother’s room.

“You went ahead and submitted the application, didn’t you?”

He didn’t beat about the bush.

“Yes.” His brother seemed very embarrassed.

“I thought you had agreed not to go through with it.”

“It was Ma who told me to put it forward.”

“So you just obey her in everything?”

“What else could I do?”

Huosheng scrutinized his brother’s face. His stupidity, weakness, and ineptitude made him extremely angry.

“It goes to arbitration the day after tomorrow?”

“And you’re going to say what they’ve told you to say?”

“Have you never thought for yourself whether it’s the right thing to do or not?”

Tusheng didn’t reply.

Huosheng realized there was no point in further conversation, and so after sitting there a little longer he left. He hadn’t the heart to go and see his mother.

He went out and wandered aimlessly as far as the banks of the main irrigation canal, following it where it flowed among the farmland. Usually the main canal had running water in it, but now it was dried up and resembled a mummified corpse stretched out among the fields, utterly lifeless. Slowly he walked upstream, paying no heed whatsoever to the scenery around him. His head was empty, but his heart was heavy, wounded, and bleeding. Everything made him feel disillusioned and in despair: family and love had both abandoned him. All he had had was now lost. Life no longer held for him so much as a scrap of hope or a glimmer of brightness.

He thought again about his plan to leave. Now that he felt hopeless about his life, the plan floated into his mind with a new form and a new allure. He felt that leaving was the only way open for him.

He must leave this town! The town that had given him so much pleasure and richness in life—his birthplace—had now become the site of his heartbreak. It lay there as before, as beautiful as ever, sparkling with many lights, showing that human activity continued, but it no longer retained any meaning for him. All it held was alienation and indifference. Intimacy and warmth were gone.

He must leave this town. This was the only thought left in his head. He didn’t care anymore whether his mother would oppose it or not. He must put his resolution into action at all costs.

Sitting at her sewing machine or standing at the cutting table, Yunying kept forgetting to work. She sat or stood in a daze. Her eyes would be vaguely focused on some far-off place, and then she would find that they were overflowing with tears, like a leaky tap. She would take out a handkerchief to wipe them surreptitiously, but sometimes she would have the handkerchief in her hand but forget to wipe her eyes, and just let the tears fall.

The girls in the shop watched her with a special look in their eyes. But whether they went out of their way to be polite to her, or put their heads together and whispered, she didn’t pay them any heed. Her heart was broken, she was immersed in her own grief, and she had no time to bother with anything else!

Her mother’s attempt to force her to accept Zhengang’s suit had only made her angry—it couldn’t hurt her—but this rift with Huosheng had plunged her into utter despair.

The buds of hope had been torn off and thrown away; the door to life had been shut tight.

She thought of death!

She thought of that poor girl Qiuju’s suicide. Her place in the shop had already been taken by a new girl. Her story was like a shooting star that had flared across the sky and plunged into darkness: although it had aroused their interest for a moment, it had almost immediately been forgotten, leaving not the slightest trace. Was the world so heartless? If so, it might help her to make a clean break, but at the same time it was a blow to her thoughts of suicide. She felt that life and death, death and life were equally meaningless. She had the coldest, bleakest, mournful feeling.

She stood up, told the boss she wasn’t feeling well and needed the rest of the day off, and then went home.

Next day she really was ill, with fever, a headache, and loss of appetite. She lay in bed with her gaze fixed between the dark roof beams. Tears once more stole into her eyes. She wasn’t aware of them until they were pouring down. She couldn’t be bothered to get up for a handkerchief, but just wiped the tears away with her hand. She had lost all control over the sluice gate of her tears. They flowed onto the pillow, soaking large areas of it on either side of her head.

The more she thought, the more heartbroken she became. She had gone to Huosheng as a child with hurt feelings goes to its mother. She had felt sure he would understand her and sympathize with her noble struggle: that she could count on him for the comfort, tenderness, and consideration that she needed. Then she could have gone on to tell him her plan for them to flee far away together if it came to the crunch. She not only had the plan, she had the determination. How could she have known that Huosheng would misconstrue her intentions, pour cold water on her sincere feelings, and even allow himself to mock her. She never would have thought it. She didn’t understand how he could have been so utterly unreasonable. Did he think it was her fault that someone had proposed marriage? Did he think she had done wrong, even though she hadn’t accepted the offer? How could he blame her so unjustly?

Her father sent for the doctor and brought her a one-day prescription. She refused to take the medicine, but her father would not take no for an answer. In the end he stood over her and didn’t leave until she finished the full dose.

That night she awoke in the middle of the night when everyone else was fast asleep. The four walls stood silent around her and she heard not a sound. Before long the clock in the hall struck: one o’clock.

Yunying sat up and stayed sitting for a while, then got out of bed and went over to sit in the rattan chair by the window, gazing at the moon. By now the dust in the atmosphere had all fallen back down to ground: the sky was clear, and the moonlight silently caressed the earth below. The anger was now gone from her heart, as was the grief. What remained was a feeling of emptiness, like the kind of medical collapse a patient may experience after a long illness: a sensation of utter feebleness. Everything seemed hazy, as if she found herself in an insubstantial, illusory realm where the sense of time and space no longer existed.

She became aware of a moving light in the distance. The light was dim and tiny, probably some farmer’s paraffin lantern, the kind made of a square wooden box with a pane of glass in one side. But because its appearance had seemed to coincide with the moment it came into her field of vision, she had the feeling that it had come from heaven, that it was not of this world. Listlessly she watched the moving light getting nearer, little by little. As it approached the corner of her own house, she could faintly make out a very soft, very slight but very regular sound. The sound grew clearer and clearer until eventually she heard it as footsteps. Just then the light disappeared. Evidently the light had gone behind the west wing of the house. Now the sound of footsteps was at its clearest, but then it got weaker and gradually more distant, then still more distant. Finally it vanished into boundless silence.

The mundane activity of the walker in the night pulled Yunying back to earth. Her heart began to experience feelings once again. All the things that had happened in the last few days swam back up into her consciousness. At first they were indistinct, but then they grew very clear. Her tears flowed again. Yet these things seemed to have been drained of all color and content. They no longer had any effect on her and were merely a cluster of incidents that were already dead and cold.

She opened a drawer and took out her photographs. She had filled a thick album, beginning with a family group taken when she was a little girl a few days before her father left for the South Seas, and ending with recent pictures. Then there was a smaller booklet with her junior high graduation photos: each student had received one of these booklets.

She opened the photo album at the beginning and leafed through one page at a time until the last. Each photograph was a slice of its own moment in her life. When she looked at each picture, the life of that time, with all its details, emotions, and thoughts was displayed anew before her eyes, as fresh and vital as it had been at the time. As she looked at one photo after another she found herself reliving her entire life history. It was a history that began in simplicity, calm, and innocence; then there had been a mid-section of hard work and diligence; finally her history had entered a rich, bright, and varied golden age. Who could have known it would be so fleeting, and now …

It had been a lovely dream, but now she had woken.

She closed the album.

Her tears began to fall again.

She wiped them away with her hand and stood up with the intention of burning the albums. She wanted them to be consigned to nothingness, like herself. She didn’t want any trace to be left behind in this world.

But just at that moment a faint thought flickered through her mind. She sat down again.

So was she really going to die now, just like that? As soon as this question occurred to her, her will to die was shaken, and even more questions came into her head. Was her situation really worth dying for? Was all hope truly at an end? Was there really no way for her to go on living? Had Huosheng really abandoned her?

As she dug further and further down in her consciousness, her will to die grew weaker and weaker, and the desire to live raised its head once more. No! She shouldn’t die! She would try again. Opportunities were frequently grasped only in the last minute. Why shouldn’t she keep trying, why must she choose death? She and Huosheng had gone through bad times in the past due to a misunderstanding on the part of one or other of them, but each time the bad feeling between them had been erased and their good relationship restored. She only had to explain to him clearly and sincerely the circumstances he had misunderstood and she could surely win back his understanding and forgiveness, so that he would be back at her side once more. This was not impossible, and it was well worth a try. If she made an earnest attempt and still failed to win back his love, well then, it would not be too late to die!

When she thought of this, hope returned to her breast once more. And so, brushing aside all distracting thoughts, she got back into bed.

Next day her father brought her another one-day prescription. This time she didn’t need persuasion but took the medicine straightaway.

A few of the girls from the shop came to see how she was and sat with her for a while. By now she was recovered, and although she had lost some weight, her face had regained a healthy color. However, she asked the girls to ask the boss for another day off, and to say that she planned to return to work tomorrow.

At two or three in the afternoon she told her mother she was going into town for a while. She changed into a light blue cotton blouse with a flower print, a favorite of Huosheng’s, and went out. When she reached the soda fountain on the corner she chose a seat, and then told the same boy as before to take a message to TTL.

The boy soon came back and told her Huosheng wasn’t in the office. They said he’d gone to Taipei. Yunying hesitated, then asked the boy if it was someone at TTL who had told him. The boy said it was.

“Did you ask him what he went to Taipei for?”

“No,” said the boy.

The boy’s report gave Yunying an ominous feeling. She left the soda fountain to go and find out the truth for herself. In the past she’d been too shy to enter Huosheng’s place of work, but she had no room for shyness now and just strode on in.

She walked up to the desk at the very front of the offices and quietly asked the slightly balding middle-aged man there if it was true that Huosheng was not at work.

Looking up from his desk to see a female there, the man replied very politely: “He’s gone to Taipei.”

“Is he there on business?” Yunying asked.

“Quit?” Stunned, Yunying spoke mechanically.

At this moment, the office manager looked up from his large desk at the top of the room. He knew Yunying and had a fair idea of her relationship with Huosheng.

“Miss Huang,” he said, smiling in a friendly way. “If you’re looking for Huosheng, I’m afraid he has resigned and gone to Taipei. Didn’t he tell you?”

Yunying shook her head, turned around, and walked out of TTL in a daze. What she had learned struck her like a merciless axe cleaving into her brow. Her face was deathly white, but cold sweat was pouring from her temples and her hands were shaking. The world seemed to be spinning around her, and the light of the sky had gone dim. She felt as though grim, ice-cold, taut-skinned faces were leering at her from all sides.

Everywhere doors were slamming in her face, everything acting in concert to push her off the edge into an abyss.

As if plunged into an all-enveloping fog, Yunying walked on with no sense of direction. She walked unsteadily, but her feet led her step by step back to her own home.

On the day of the meeting of the Township Land Rents Commission, Huang Jinde was sitting in a small diner near the Town Hall. On the table in front of him were a dish of pig’s ear, a pair of chopsticks, and a bottle of rice wine from which he served himself in a leisurely and superior fashion. He had sent the waiter to the Town Hall with instructions that Tusheng should join him when his hearing was over. Now he was waiting for Tusheng. It was ten-fifty in the morning.

Tusheng came at twelve-thirty. Jinde told the waiter to bring another pair of chopsticks and slice a dish of sausage.

Tusheng was fearful. “I don’t drink,” he said, waving away the offer.

“Oh, come on,” Jinde insisted hospitably. “Just have a little.”

Tusheng sat down on his left. When Jinde stood and raised the liquor bottle to pour him a cup he tried to cover the cup with his hand.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” said Jinde. “I’ll just pour you half a cup.”

When the liquor was poured Jinde sat down again and lifted his cup.

“Come on then! Bottoms up!”

Jinde filled both cups again, and then stuffed some meat in his mouth.

“Do you know why I asked you here?”

His tone had changed, becoming very serious. As he stared at Tusheng, an awesome force seemed to shoot out from his eyes.

“Erm,” Tusheng looked as if he no longer knew what to do with his hands and feet. “No.”

Jinde’s eyes glared wider than ever and his head jutted forward.

“Do you know what you should call me?”

“Sworn-uncle,” said Tusheng.

In that instant Jinde raised his right hand and brought it strong and true right across the young man’s face with a resounding slap. Five big, thick finger marks were immediately imprinted on his left cheek.

Tusheng was seeing stars, but still he sat staring dumbly at Huang Jinde. He seemed to wonder if he was dreaming and couldn’t understand what had just happened.

“Hah!” roared Jinde. “Well, at least that’s something: you still know who your sworn-uncle is.” His throat was bright red, and beads of sweat were popping out from his head. “Let me ask you: who originally had the lease on those fields you farm? Now that you’re returning them to the landlord, how come you didn’t even mention it to me? Am I nothing to you anymore? Think about it: if you really didn’t want that land anymore, no problem, just a few words from me and someone else would have taken on the let. The only thing is you wouldn’t have been able to get your hands on that ten thousand, and after you’d kissed the land goodbye you’d’ve realized it was too late to regret.

“Now, that’s probably the only time I’ll ever hit you. From now on I won’t be bothering with your family at all.”

Tusheng remained silent, glued to the spot. He didn’t know whether to stay or go, but in the end he did get to his feet.

“Go home and have another good think about things,” urged Jinde, calling after him.

When the liquor was finished Jinde walked out of the diner. It was now already two in the afternoon, the streets were crowded, and from time to time he bumped into someone’s shoulder, which sent him reeling and swaying. But Jinde was beaming all over his face with satisfaction, feeling light and easy in his heart.

Luo Dingrui’s residence was on the same street as TTL. It had doors on two sides: one on the street, and the other overlooking the river. The door from the street led straight through to the parlor, via a small courtyard with an old sweet-scented osmanthus tree and several plants in pots.

When Jinde went in, Luo Dingrui seemed to have only just awoken from his siesta. He was sitting in a rattan chair, yawning and stretching, in a lethargic state of mind. As soon as he saw Jinde he gave a start, as if from an electric shock, and his sleepiness vanished. Not knowing the reason for this visit, and confronted with Jinde’s fierce, liquor-flushed face, Luo was surprised and bewildered, so much so that he forgot to say anything.

Jinde swaggered into Luo’s parlor and, without waiting to be greeted, went right on in and sat opposite the host.

“I beg your pardon,” he said, with the opposite of humility, not even looking Luo in the face.

Thirty seconds passed in silence. Jinde kept wiping his lips with his hand, first with the back of the hand, and then turning it over and using the palm.

“I beg your pardon,” he said with another wipe across his mouth; finally he put down his hand and looked up. “Mr. Luo, I haven’t bothered you in a long time. I have one request of you: don’t buy Xu Longxiang’s land; if you’ve got the money you can buy land anywhere, it doesn’t have to be those fields. If you do buy Xu’s land, I have to tell you it will turn out badly. You know what I mean.”

By now Luo Dingrui had composed himself and was more than capable again of thinking, responding, and counterattacking. He smiled cunningly and took his time about replying: “I don’t want their land. I only want my money to be repaid.”

“Whatever they owe you, I’ll make sure they repay you.”

“Can you guarantee that?”

With alacrity, Jinde slapped his own chest and said: “I, Huang Jinde, will be the guarantor.”

Luo Dingrui laughed loud and long.

“Thank you!” he said jocularly. “It’s not that I’m afraid they will withhold repayment. After all, I still have those other two tenths of theirs as security. However, I can allow them an extension on the loan. There: you’ll be satisfied with that, I hope?”

Again, Luo Dingrui burst into loud laughter.

“Fine!” Jinde rose to his feet. “It’s a deal then. Thank you for your trouble!”

Feeling extremely pleased, Jinde walked back to the bantiao restaurant by the clock. In the doorway he ran into the owner. A-Geng took one look at him and cried: “Oh, Jinde! Who’ve you killed now?”

“Haha,” chuckled Jinde. “Murder wouldn’t taste half as sweet as what I’ve been up to. And now I want a drink.”

“Your eyes are already red with drink. You still want more?”

“I haven’t had enough, not by a long shot.”

“How much will be enough?”

“I reckon three bottles of rice wine should do it.”

“Don’t brag. One bottle’s enough to put you in the gutter!”

Both men guffawed. Jinde walked into the restaurant.

“You want to sleep?”

Jinde grunted a reply as he swayed on into the back room.

It was dark when Jinde awoke. Other people had already had their evening meal and were sitting out on the roadsides enjoying the cool of the evening. Jinde ate a platter of pig’s head and a bowl of bantiao washed down with a bottle of red dew wine.⁸

A-Geng sat beside him, smoking a cigarette.

“Weren’t you there last night?” he asked. “Youfu and Quansheng really cleaned up!”

“I know,” replied Jinde. “Tonight I’m gonna make ’em cough the whole lot back up again.”

“If you ask me you’d be better just taking care of what’s yours.”

“You don’t believe me? Just wait and see.”

Uncle A-San’s family’s tobacco shed housed a gambling den run by Tang Youfu and Ruan Quansheng. The game tonight was chariot-horse-cannon, a roulette using Chinese chess pieces. Quansheng was the chief croupier, Youfu was the banker, and a great mass of gamblers crowded round them in a ring.

Jinde stood and watched for a while on the outer edge of the human wall. Then he parted it with a hand, shouting, “Make way there, make way there!” His voice was loud and his hand was heavy, and what’s more his mouth gave off the strong acrid smell of liquor. The men hurried to let him through. He forced his way right into the middle and sat on the edge of the rush mat. Quansheng gave him an unconcerned glance and returned his full attention to the chess pieces. Youfu, on the other hand, realizing that Jinde was not here to deal in pleasantries, mentally prepared himself for trouble.

Quansheng was sitting cross-legged, both hands stirring about in a black bag. His eyes half-closed, he was the image of a conjurer doing a magic trick. Solemn and tense, his face was otherwise as devoid of emotion as if it had been carved in wax. After fumbling in the bag for quite some time he brought out a small metal box, which he pushed forward on the mat in front of his feet. As the gamblers placed their stakes, banknotes fell through the air like rain and there was a great hubbub of voices.

“Red horse five yuan.”

“Black knight ten yuan.”

“Red chariot …”

Youfu raised his voice above the clamor, shouting, “You can’t take back a placed bet! Keep your hands to yourselves! If you take it the bet still stands …”

Jinde took out two ten yuan notes and placed one on the red knight and the other on the red elephant.

When all bets had been placed, the uproar died away and everyone held their breath as they fixed the little metal box with their eager eyes.

“Final bets now or never! The box is going to open! Keep your hands to yourselves!” Youfu was yelling all the while.

“Open!” The word was pelted out of a dozen mouths at once.

A tall old guy next to Quansheng whose nickname was Leggy reached out to open the box. You could have heard a pin drop, the men were swallowing saliva, and dozens of pairs of eyes were fixed on that long, dark-brown hand.

Leggy opened the box.

“Black cannon!” Many voices cried out at once, a few of them happy, the others disappointed.

“Keep your hands to yourselves!” Youfu was shouting again. “Anyone who grabs won’t get paid! Whose is this one yuan? Here you are, ten yuan, take it! Whose is this five yuan? …”

Both of Jinde’s ten yuan notes were swallowed up by the bank. Next, he bet on the red cannon and the black elephant, ten yuan each, and lost both again. Next again, he placed his full stake of fifty yuan on the black elephant.

“How about staking a bit less?” said Youfu amiably. “Or you could split your money into two or three different bets.”

Jinde made no reply, but he did take back twenty yuan.

The metal box was opened, and Jinde’s thirty yuan disappeared again.

Jinde kept losing, only once winning on a ten-yuan stake. But he gambled more and more audaciously, his stakes getting bigger and bigger. All the while his face was as taut as sheet metal, his eyes blazed fiercely, and sweat pricked up all over his body.

Once more the metal box was pushed forward.

Once more the rain came fluttering down.

“Place your bets! It’s about to open!” Youfu yelled again.

Flames were spitting from Jinde’s eyes, but he kept his mouth tightly shut. Then suddenly he took the ring from his finger and threw it down shouting “Red chariot! Red chariot, two hundred!”

The whole place seemed to go into shock; in an instant it was shrouded in an unnatural silence. But in another moment a great surging billow of commotion swept through the gathering. They sensed that a storm was about to break. Many of them withdrew their stakes at the last minute.

“Jinde,” said Youfu, all friendly smiles. “Come on now, let’s be serious.”

“You think I’d joke with you?” Jinde’s face was perfectly grave.

Youfu picked up the ring, quickly gauged its caratage, and placed it on one palm to judge its weight.

“It’s genuine alright,” said Jinde. “Two ounces. It can be redeemed tomorrow, no problem.”

“Make it a fifty-yuan stake?” said Youfu, looking Jinde in the eye.

“No way! It’s got to be two hundred!”

Youfu turned to look at his partner. Quansheng was looking away; the more perceptive observers could see beads of sweat breaking out on his face.

Every man in the room was bellowing for his bet to come out.

The old guy looked up hesitantly at Youfu and Jinde.

“Open it!” said Youfu.

In great trepidation, Leggy reached out a hand to open the metal box. His hand trembled slightly and was slicked with sweat.

All the gamblers stretched their necks forward to get a view; tension and excitement hung on every face.

The box lid opened a fraction at a time.

Five seconds, ten seconds, thirty seconds …

It opened: red chariot!

“Aaaah!” Everyone cried out together in amazement, many of them shouting words of triumph.

“Yes!” “Hurray!”

The crowd was going crazy.

All the color drained from Youfu’s face.

Two hundred to pay two thousand. He counted out a thick wad of notes and handed them to Jinde.

“How much?” asked Jinde.

“Fifteen hundred,” said Youfu meekly. “Five hundred short. You’ll get it later.”

“No way! You’ve got money!” Jinde angled his head, his eyes jutting at Youfu.

“I wouldn’t lie to you. I really don’t have any more.”

Jinde grabbed Youfu’s collar in one fist and shook it violently.

“Give it here! You give others what you owe, why not me?”

“But I really don’t have it!” As he spoke, Youfu tried to pry Jinde’s hand off.

Jinde gave him a great shove. “Fuck your mother! What kind of banker are you, with no money!”

Youfu staggered off a good distance. Luckily those standing behind him stopped him from falling.

Meanwhile Quansheng was struggling to his feet.

“Stay where you are!” Jinde barked angrily. “This has nothing to do with you!”

Quansheng stood stock still.

Humiliation turning to anger, Youfu was gathering himself for a leap at Jinde, but Jinde’s eye and hand were too quick: he was already bringing up a fist and now he brought it down on Youfu’s chest. Immediately there was pandemonium in the room. Many of the gamblers fled outside. Those who remained took hold of Youfu and Jinde and kept them apart.

“Fuck your mother! Open your eyes and take a good look who you’re dealing with: Huang Jinde!” Jinde was struggling like an enraged lion in the grip of the men who held him. “You think I’m a soft touch? I’m Huang Jinde and from now on you’d better not get me riled. You get me riled and you’ll be sorry. Fuck your mother!”

Just then, an urgent wave of sound swept into the shed. At first everyone thought it was a police raid and got ready to rush out. But now the wave of sound entered the room and became three words.

“Is Jinde here?”

Like a whirlwind, a man came hurtling up to Jinde, grabbed his arm, and began to pull him outside.

“Go home, quick!” The man was flustered and dismayed. “Something’s happened at home.”

“What’s happened?” Jinde asked as he was dragged along.

“Your daughter’s taken poison …”

Before the man could complete the sentence Jinde’s face had turned ashen. He shook himself free and took to his heels. Without pausing for breath he ran all the way out of town. As he neared home he heard a great hubbub from inside the house. He could make out his wife’s howling and wailing.

“Yunying—my child, if you didn’t want—you should’ve said—Ma wouldn’t have forced you—how could you go and—take your own life … !”

The woman’s weeping punctuated her monologue. The sound made Jinde’s legs turn weak and a lump come into his throat, but still he didn’t stop. Instead he only ran faster.

His whole house—the yard, the hall, and his daughter’s room, all were packed with people, all of them talking to one another, shouting, raising the very roof. Jinde ran straight into his daughter’s room. Seeing him arrive, the crowd hurried to make a way for him to pass.

“Jinde’s back! Jinde’s back!” Many voices took up the cry.

Yunying was lying stiff and straight on her bed, smartly dressed from head to toe, as if she’d been about to go on a long journey. Her face was greenish, with foam at the corners of her mouth. One of her eyes was still slightly open. His wife was bent over their daughter’s body, wailing….

Jinde went forward, took his daughter’s hand, and cried over and over, “Yunying! Yunying! Yunying! …”

Her hand was not yet cold, but no breath came from her nose; she was obviously dead.

Tears fell from the father’s eyes.

“Did you send for the doctor?” he asked his wife.

“We did,” said someone on her behalf. “He should be here any minute.”

“She,” he asked his wife again, “what did she …?”

“She drank endrin.”

It was someone standing by the table who spoke, lifting a bottle, which he shook and showed Jinde. It was the remains of the pesticide he used on his rice fields. He never dreamed his own daughter would use it to kill herself.

“Yunying, Yunying …” In his grief Jinde cried out to the daughter who would never answer him again. Tears streamed down his face. “Yunying, Yunying …”

“Yunying—my child …” The mother kept on and on weeping. The doctor arrived.

Toward noon the sky began to grow dark as gray rain clouds spread over it. The clouds grew ever darker. By the time people were finishing their meals the scattered clouds had formed into cloud clusters hanging low over the earth. Then bursts of thunder began to roll: urgent, violent, shaking the window frames with great booming crashes.

The cloud clusters grew so dense that eventually they coalesced into a single mass, covering the sky. The sun had hidden itself out of sight, and at ground level it was as dark as night. Bolts of lightning pierced the black sky again and again, each followed by an earth-shaking peal of thunder: Kuang—lang-lang-lang … kuh-lalala… After each bolt of lightning the clouds regathered, dense, black, and thick.

The lightning flashed again.

Kuang—lang-lang-lang-lang …

Still the trees hung their heads, as though waiting for something to arrive.

Farmers danced and gesticulated wildly, crazy with delight. Children ran back and forth in the streets, singing, “The wind doth blow, a-shrimping we will go; the rain doth fall, there’ll be prawns for us all.”

Anyone wearing a bamboo hat had it tossed to the ground; anyone using an umbrella had it torn to pieces. Such articles were taboo, and the people would not allow their use. The rain was the answer to their prayers.

No! It was more than that: it was pure gold! Heaven was showering gold upon them.

The rain fell heavier and heavier, turning the sky darker than ever; in no time at all the ground was awash.

The farmers quickly mobilized: some led oxen, some shouldered plows or hoes, some carried baskets. In the streets and on the lanes people were bustling, coming and going as never before. The whole town had burst into action. Within half an hour the fields were filled with human bodies in motion, and all around could be heard the sound of plowmen urging on their oxen: “Ho! Ho!”

Tense activity and high excitement filled the landscape.

The farmers were returning to their lives.

The rice seedlings might be past their prime, but the fields still had to be planted.

Some families mobilized their young and old to go searching for seedlings.

Favors, grievances, disputes, curses, fisticuffs—all of that was put aside.

Kuang—lang-lang-lang-lang-lang-lang …

Kuh-lalalalalala …

The thunder was singing. Then gradually it quieted down, until all that was left was the rain.

The rain was falling. Falling in sheets, falling …

Everywhere was the sound of plowmen’s cries: “Yah! Yah!”

3. From 1949 land reform in Taiwan aimed to control all annual land rents at or below 37.5 percent (375) of the value of the rice crop, landlords previously having taken varying rates, up to 66 percent. Furthermore, buying and selling of land was to be controlled by the government with the aim of redistributing land ownership. In principle, a landowner repossessing “375 Land” from a tenant ran contrary to this important national policy, which by the time of the action of this novella had already succeeded in transforming Taiwan’s rural economy.

8. “Red dew wine” (honglujiu 紅露酒, aka honglaojiu 紅老酒 [‘red old wine,’ the original name before it was Japanized in Taiwan]) is a rice wine, originating in Fujian, China, similar in strength and body to Shaoxing wine but with a reddish hue, produced by its main ingredient, red yeast rice, which is cultivated using the mold Monascus purpureus (“red yeast”).