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Chapter 1

IN THIS COUNTRY TOWN THE FIRST BUILDINGS in sight were a string of exactly identical thatched privies, about seven or eight of them. They had a deserted air despite the occasional whiff of faint odor in the wind. The afternoon sun shone palely on the bleached thatch.
After the privies came the shops. And above the single row of little white shops towered the dark bulk of the hill, capped by two misty blue daubs that were distant peaks.
On the other side of the pebble-paved street the ground dropped away into a deep ravine. A stone parapet ran the whole length of the road. A woman came out of one of the shops with a red enamel basin full of dirty water, crossed the street, and dashed the waste over the parapet. The action was somehow shocking, like pouring slops off the end of the world.
Almost every shop was presided over by a thin, fierce-looking dark yellow woman with shoulder-length straight hair and a knitted cap of mauve wool pulled down square over the eyebrows, a big peacock-blue pompon sticking out at the left ear. It was difficult to tell where the fashion had originated. It bore a strong and disturbing resem-blance to the headgear of highwaymen in Chinese operas. One shop sold sesame cakes and rock-hard black sesame candy rolls. Aside from these the counter offered two stacks of little packages wrapped noncommittally in plain white paper. A man came and bought a package. He opened it and started to eat right there. It contained five small sesame cakes. The other stack must be black sesame candy rolls-unless it was also sesame cakes.
Another shop displayed tidy stacks of coarse yellow toilet paper. In a glass showcase standing near the door there were tooth pastes and bags of tooth powder, all with colored photographs of Chinese film stars on them. The pictures of those charmers smiling brightly into the empty street somehow added to the feeling of deso-lation.
Hens stepped gingerly over the white cobblestones embedded in black dirt. And a man came down the street with a flat-pole on his shoulder, juggling a basket at each end, hawking more black sesame candy rolls.
There was the inevitable candle shop that also dealt in lanterns. Big bunches of little red candles hung down from the rafters like some strange fingerlike berries. The next shop was absolutely empty except for a little girl seated at a table turning the handle of a bright green kerosene tin, turning out homemade cigarettes.
Sunlight lay across the street like an old yellow dog, barring the way. The sun had grown old here.
A passer-by, an old woman with bound feet, stopped the hawker to ask the price of the candy. Then she peered up at him and exclaimed with pleasure, "Why, if it isn't Lotus Born! How are your parents, and how is everybody? Is your fourth aunt keeping well?"
The man at first looked blank. But then it dawned on him that she was related to his fourth aunt and he re-membered having seen her at his grandfather's funeral. She was a small woman with a short, concave face tanned a deep red, wrinkled and furling outward like a slice of sweet potato dried in the sun. For a hat she wore the old-fashioned black band that cut a pointed arch over the forehead. She always squinted as if the sun was shining into her eyes, and always talked at the top of her voice as if she was shouting across the length of a field.
"How do you happen to be in town today, Aunt?" asked the man.
"I came along with my niece here!" shouted the old woman. "She is marrying one of the Chous from Chou Village. They are going to register today at the District Public Office. The poor girl has lost both her parents; all she has is a brother. And with the sister-in-law gone to work in the city, there is nobody here except the brother. And you know the Chous are a big family and they are all going to turn up today. It will not look right if there are too few people on our side. So I have to come along."
She paused to squint up at him smilingly. "Ai-yah, what a coincidence-running into you like this. We have just come and were resting our feet in the roadside pavilion. And I said to those two, I said, 'You people stay here while I go first and take a peep, to see if the Chous are already here. We do not want to arrive before them. It will not do for the bride to seem too eager."
"Is the groom here already?"
"He is here. I saw some Chous sitting on the door-step of the District Public Office. I must go now and fetch the bride. It wouldn't do either to keep them wait-ing too long. And you must not stand here talking all day instead of attending to your business. Is business good? How much did you say the candy rolls are?"
This time the man refused to tell her the price. He picked up two pieces and thrust them into her hands. "Please take these, Aunt."
She pushed them away, looking offended. "No, no, you are being very unreasonable! Here I am seeing you for the first time in years. How can I take things from you just like that?"
"But this is nothing, Aunt."
"No, no! This is simply not done. Besides, I have no teeth and this candy is of no use to me."
"Take it home for the children."
"No, no, put it back there this minute."
The gluey candy, glistening black rods peppered with white, began to melt in his hands as it was pushed back and forth between the two of them. As his hands grew sticky, the man grew flushed and exasperated and found it increasingly difficult to keep smiling. He was only doing a duty, much against his will, and wanted to get it over with. The candy finally changed hands. Vanquished by the
other's superior politeness, the old woman murmured her farewells with an aggrieved air and turned to go. The moment she turned away, the man's smile shifted ground it vanished from his face to reappear on hers. He walked off with his flat-pole, his face set and strained, while she waddled along grinning happily to herself.
She went past the shops and the privies, out past the edge of town, toward the white-painted pavilion built for travelers along the road.
"Guess who I ran into!" she called out from afar. "You know my cousin who married into Peach Creek Village? I saw this candy seller and he turned out to be her nephew by marriage. I have not seen him for so many years, I almost dared not call out his name."
"Yes, but are they here? The Chous," her nephew Gold Root asked with some impatience. He was stand-ing in the archway waiting for her. He was a tall young man, large-boned and good-looking, the color of dull, pale earth. His shoulders showed through his padded jacket, worn thin with age and faded to the lightest blue.
"They have come. I saw them. They have come."
"Then shall we go now?" Gold Root turned to his sister, Gold Flower, who was going to be the bride.
She did not seem to have heard him. She sat with her back to him, busy spitting on her handkerchief to wipe the hands of the little girl they brought along, Gold Root's daughter. The child was sulking because she did not see why they had to stay behind, and she had climbed up and down on the bench, reaching for the fan-shaped window, getting her hands all dirty. Later she was sure to smear the dust all over her aunt's new dress, a padded gown of dark red cotton print which would also serve as the bridal gown at tomorrow's wed-ding.
Receiving no answer from his sister, Gold Root stood looking at her helplessly, his hands on his hips.
Big Aunt came puffing into the pavilion. "Why aren't you people coming?" she shouted.
"Come, let us go," Gold Root said to his sister. "Don't be old-fashioned.
"Who is being old-fashioned?" she said without turn-ing around. "But you might at least ask Big Aunt to sit down and get her breath back. She must be tired-all this walking back and forth."
"Come on, come on!" urged Big Aunt. "Do not be shy. Nowadays it is not the fashion for maidens to be shy."
"Who is being shy?" Gold Flower stood up petulantly and led the way to town. With her childlike prettiness she looked much younger than her eighteen years. Her lips were slightly parted by a front tooth that protruded a little-not enough to spoil her face. Her hair was puffed up high in front, with a thin, long fringe low on her forehead that seemed to irritate her eyes so that she was constantly squinting, looking just a bit wor-ried.
She headed the little procession, with the old woman dogging her steps as if afraid she might turn and flee any minute. Carrying his little girl in his arms, Gold Root trailed along behind them. Near the District Public Office the old woman instinctively moved closer and held Gold Flower by her elbow, guiding her steps as if the bride-to-be were blindfolded.
"Do not be feudal, Big Aunt. She can walk by her-self," said Gold Root.
"Feudal, feudal," muttered Big Aunt. "I never heard such words like that until the new people came."
There was a stir among the watchers seated and squat-ting in front of the District Public Office. "They have come! The bride has come!" ran the murmur. Some of the Chous came forward, smiling, to greet Gold Root. And a shrewd-looking tall woman in her fifties, the groom's widowed mother, advanced upon Big Aunt and seized her by both hands. "Ai-yah, to make you walk such a long way!" The boy who was going to be the groom stood a little way off, smiling vaguely. Nobody looked directly at the bride, though she was by no means unobserved. She smiled a little, at nobody in particular, and looked around aimlessly.
After the greetings were over they all went inside. There was a whispered dispute as to who should ap-proach the kan pu, or cadre, in charge of official affairs, and make known the nature of their business. The groom's side naturally should be given precedence and it happened that his mother was also the oldest of all parties concerned. But she insisted that it was a man's job and that Gold Root should go. Gold Root held his ground. In the end it was the groom's eldest brother who acted as spokesman. After stating their business they all crowded around the desk while the kan pu got out the right forms to be filled. Pushed to the forefront, the bride and groom stood before the desk with bent heads.
"What is your name?" the kan pu asked the young man.
"Plenty Own Chou."
'Where are you from?"
"Chou Village."
'Who do you wish to marry?"
He mumbled very fast, "Gold Flower T'an." "Why do you want to marry her?"
"Because she can work."
Gold Flower went through the same routine. Asked "Why do you want to marry him?" she also murmured the standard reply, "Because he can work," as she had been coached. Any other answer would lead to further questionings and might cause trouble.
The bride and groom placed their thumbprints at the bottom of the forms and were pronounced legally mar-ried. But until they had celebrated the old-style marriage they were used to, the bride was to go home with her own family. Outside the government office the Chous and T'ans took leave of each other.
"Be sure to come early to dinner tomorrow, Big Aunt T'an," the groom's mother, said repeatedly.
"You go home early today and try to get some rest. You are going to be so busy tomorrow, said Big Aunt.
After leaving the Chous, the four T'ans walked slowly through the country town, taking in the sights. Gold Flower was very quiet, holding the little girl by the hand. They passed the only restaurant in town, a tall wooden structure which consisted of one big, high-ceil-inged room entirely open in front. The unpainted wood was a streaky bright orange-yellow. In the semi-darkness of the interior dusty hams and big strips of fresh pork could be seen hanging down from the rafters, while crisp, cream-white sheets of bean-curd skin, long white cabbages, and the pale-yellow, bubble-studded masses that were dried fish maws all dangled above the heads of the diners. The cook was at his post in front of the white-painted mud stove that stood right next to the door-the stove itself actually opened into the street. With a big flourish he dumped noodles and other ingredients into the huge black pan. The mixture sizzled like pebbles in surf ebbing from a beach. And a young girl in postman-green pants was crouching in the street feeding firewood into the stove. The gaiety and excitement seemed to over-flow onto the street.
The child stood at the door and refused to budge. When Gold Flower tried to drag her off, she wept and howled and, straining backward, almost sank onto the ground.
"Don't cry," said the old woman. "Tomorrow you will get nice things to eat. Tomorrow your aunt will be mar-ried and we will all be going to her wedding feast. We will eat pork; we will eat fish! But if you don't stop bawling we won't take you."
Even that failed to scare the little girl. It was a most embarrassing scene, with the cook looking on from inside the restaurant and the girl in green pants squatting before the stove turning to stare at them.
Gold Root bent down to scoop the child up, and car-ried her off kicking and struggling. He walked very fast out of the town. Beckon was shaking with violent sobs.
"Don't cry," he said softly. "Your ma is coming home, and she will bring you something good to eat. You re-member Ma, don't you?"
Beckon's ma was working as an amah in Shanghai. But several months ago she had written Gold Root that she was going to give notice to her master and come back to work on the land. Gold Root was a landowner now after the Land Reform. But as they still needed the money she earned in the city, she had been putting it off. Now, no matter what Gold Root told the child, he doubted if his wife would be home in time for the New Year.
They had named the child Ah Chao, or Beckon, short for Chao Ti, Beckon for Brother, in the hope that a boy would follow in her wake. But with her mother absent, for the past few years she had beckoned in vain.
"Don't cry, Beckon," Gold Root kept murmuring. "Ma will be home soon and she will bring you nice things to eat."
It did not seem to register. But that evening he over-heard her asking Gold Flower, "Aunt, when is Ma com-ing home? Pa said Ma is coming soon."
He blushed furiously at being caught thinking of his wife, apparently yearning for her return. It was after supper when he was standing in the doorway smoking his long pipe with his back to the room.
Then he heard his sister's answer, "Ai, Ma is coming home. You will have Ma and you won't miss me." She sounded a little sad.
After he went to bed he saw that the light was still on in his sister's room.
"Better sleep early, Sister Gold Flower," he called out. "Tomorrow you have to walk another ten li."
"Aren't you asleep yet? Tomorrow you will have to walk double that distance. You have to come back."
The light burned on and he could hear her moving about her room. And he was filled with a sense of loss.