雙語散文|柔 石——為奴隸的母親
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為奴隸的母親
她底丈夫是一個(gè)皮販，就是收集鄉(xiāng)間各獵戶底獸皮和牛皮，販到大埠上出賣的人。但有時(shí)也兼做點(diǎn)農(nóng)作，芒種的時(shí)節(jié)，便幫人家插秧，他能將每行插得非常直，假如有五人同在一個(gè)水田內(nèi)，他們一定叫他站在第一個(gè)做標(biāo)準(zhǔn)。然而境況總是不佳，債是年年積起來了。他大約就因?yàn)榫硾r的不佳，煙也吸了，酒也喝了，錢也賭起來了。這樣，竟使他變做一個(gè)非常兇狠而暴躁的男子，但也就更貧窮下去，連小小的移借，別人也不敢答應(yīng)了。在窮底結(jié)果的病以后，全身便變成枯黃色，臉孔黃的和小銅鼓一樣，連眼白也黃了。別人說他是黃疸病，孩子們也就叫他“黃胖”了。有一天，他向他底妻說：
“再也沒有辦法了，這樣下去，連小鍋?zhàn)右捕假u去了。我想，還是從你底身上設(shè)法罷。你跟著我挨餓，有什么辦法呢？”
“我底身上？……”
他底妻坐在灶后，懷里抱著她底剛滿三周歲的男小孩。她訥訥地低聲地問。
“你，是呀，”她底丈夫病后的無力的聲音，“我已經(jīng)將你出典了……”
“什么呀？”他底妻幾乎昏去似的。
屋內(nèi)是稍稍靜寂了一息。他氣喘著說：
“三天前，王狼來坐討了半天的債回去以后，我也跟著他去，走到了九畝潭邊，我很不想要做人了。但是坐在那株爬上去一縱身就可落在潭里的樹下，想來想去，終沒有力氣跳了。貓頭鷹在耳朵邊不住地囀，我底心被它叫寒起來，我只得回轉(zhuǎn)身，但在路上，遇見了沈家婆，她問我，晚也晚了，在外做什么。我就告訴她，請(qǐng)她代我借一筆款，或向什么人家的小姐借些衣服或首飾去暫時(shí)當(dāng)一當(dāng)，免得王狼底狼一般的綠眼睛天天在家里閃爍?？墒巧蚣移畔蛭倚Φ溃?br /> “‘你還將妻養(yǎng)在家里做什么呢，你自己黃也黃到這個(gè)地步了？’
“我低著頭站在她面前沒有答，她又說：
“‘兒子呢，你只有一個(gè)了，舍不得。但妻——’
“我當(dāng)時(shí)想：‘莫非叫我賣去妻子么？’
“而她繼續(xù)道：
“‘但妻——雖然是結(jié)發(fā)的，窮了，也沒有法，還養(yǎng)在家里做什么呢？’
“這樣，她就直說出：‘有一個(gè)秀才，因?yàn)闆]有兒子，年紀(jì)已經(jīng)五十歲了，想買一個(gè)妾；又因他底大妻不允許，只準(zhǔn)他典一個(gè)，典三年或五年，叫我物色相當(dāng)?shù)呐耍耗昙o(jì)約三十歲左右，養(yǎng)過兩三個(gè)兒子的，人要沉默老實(shí)，又肯做事，還要對(duì)他底大妻肯低眉下首。這次是秀才娘子向我說的，假如條件合，肯出八十元或一百元的身價(jià)。我代她尋了好幾天，終沒有相當(dāng)?shù)呐恕?rsquo;她說：現(xiàn)在碰到我，想起了你來，樣樣都對(duì)的。當(dāng)時(shí)問我底意見怎樣，我一邊掉了幾滴淚，一邊卻被她催的答應(yīng)她了。”
說到這里，他垂下頭，聲音很低弱，停止了。他底妻簡直癡似的，話一句沒有。又靜寂了一息，他繼續(xù)說：
“昨天，沈家婆到過秀才底家里，她說秀才很高興，秀才娘子也喜歡，錢是一百元，年數(shù)呢，假如三年養(yǎng)不出兒子，是五年。沈家婆并將日子也揀定了——本月十八，五天后。今天，她寫典契去了。”
這時(shí)，他底妻簡直連腑臟都顫抖，吞吐著問：
“你為什么早不對(duì)我說？”
“昨天在你底面前旋了三個(gè)圈子，可是對(duì)你說不出。不過我仔細(xì)想，除出將你底身子設(shè)法外，再也沒有辦法了。”
“決定了么？”婦人戰(zhàn)著牙齒問。
“只待典契寫好。”
“倒霉的事情呀，我——一點(diǎn)也沒有別的方法了么？”
“倒霉，我也想到過，可是窮了，我們又不肯死，有什么辦法？今年，我怕連插秧也不能插了。”
“你也想到過春寶么？春寶還只有三歲，沒有娘，他怎么好呢？”
“我領(lǐng)他便了。本來是斷了奶的孩子。”
他似乎漸漸發(fā)怒了。也就走出門外去了。她，卻嗚嗚咽咽地哭起來。
這時(shí)，在她過去的回憶里，卻想起恰恰一年前的事：那時(shí)她生下了一個(gè)女兒，她簡直如死去一般地臥在床上。死還是整個(gè)的，她卻肢體分作四碎與五裂：剛落地的女嬰，在地上的干草堆上叫：“呱呀，呱呀，”聲音很重的，手腳揪縮。臍帶繞在她底身上，胎盤落在一邊，她很想掙扎起來給她洗好，可是她底頭昂起來，身子凝滯在床上。這樣，她看見她底丈夫，這個(gè)兇狠的男子，緋紅著臉，提了一桶沸水到女嬰的旁邊。她簡直用了她一生底最后的力向他喊：“慢！慢……”但這個(gè)病前極兇狠的男子，沒有一分鐘商量的余地，也不答半句話，就將“呱呀，呱呀，”聲音很重地在叫著的女兒，剛出世的新生命，用他底粗暴的兩手捧起來，如屠戶捧將殺的小羊一般，撲通，投下在沸水里了！除出沸水的濺聲和皮肉吸收沸水的嘶聲以外，女孩一聲也不喊。她當(dāng)時(shí)剜去了心一般地昏去了。
想到這里，似乎淚竟干涸了。“唉！苦命呀！”她低低地嘆息了一聲。這時(shí)春寶向他底母親的臉上看，一邊叫：
“媽媽！媽媽！”
在她將離別底前一晚，她揀了房子底最黑暗處坐著。一盞油燈點(diǎn)在灶前，螢火那么的光亮。她，手里抱著春寶，將她底頭貼在他底頭發(fā)上。她底思想似乎浮漂在極遠(yuǎn)，可是她自己捉摸不定遠(yuǎn)在哪里。于是慢慢地跑回來，跑到眼前，跑在她底孩子底身上。她向她底孩子低聲叫：
“春寶，寶寶！”
“媽媽，”孩子回答。
“媽媽明天要去了……”
“唔，”孩子似不十分懂得，本能地將頭鉆進(jìn)他母親底胸膛。
“媽媽不回來了，三年內(nèi)不能回來了！”
她擦一擦眼睛，孩子放松口子問：
“媽媽哪里去呢？廟里么？”
“不是，三十里路外，一家姓李的。”
“我也去。”
“寶寶去不得的。”
“呃！”孩子反抗地。
“你跟爸爸在家里，爸爸會(huì)照料寶寶的：同寶寶睡，也帶寶寶玩，你聽爸爸底話好了。過三年……”
她沒有說完，孩子要哭似的說：
“爸爸要打我的！”
“爸爸不再打你了，”同時(shí)用她底左手撫摸著孩子底右額，在這上，有他父親在殺死他剛生下的妹妹后第三天，用鋤柄敲他，腫起而又平復(fù)了的傷痕。
她似要還想對(duì)孩子說話；她底丈夫踏進(jìn)門了。他走到她底面前，一只手放在袋里，掏取著什么，一邊說：
“錢已經(jīng)拿來七十元了。還有三十元要等你到了后十天付。”
停了一息說：“也答應(yīng)轎子來接。”
又停了一息：“也答應(yīng)轎夫一早吃好早飯來。”
這樣，他離開了她，又向門外走出去了。
這一晚，她和她底丈夫都沒有吃晚飯。
第二天，春雨竟滴滴淅淅地落著。
轎是一早就到了?？墒沁@婦人，她卻一夜不曾睡。她先將春寶底幾件破衣服都修補(bǔ)好；春將完了，夏將到了，可是她，連孩子冬天用的破爛棉襖都拿出來，移交給他底父親——實(shí)在，他已經(jīng)在床上睡去了。以后，她坐在他底旁邊，想對(duì)他說幾句語，可是長夜是遲延著過去，她底話一句也說不出。而且，她大著膽向他叫了幾聲，發(fā)了幾個(gè)聽不清楚的音，聲音在他底耳外，她也就睡下不說了。
等她朦朦朧朧地剛離開思索將要睡去，春寶又醒了。他就推叫他底母親，要起來。以后當(dāng)她給他穿衣服的時(shí)候，向他說：
“寶寶好好地在家里，不要哭，免得你爸爸打你。以后媽媽常買糖果來，買給寶寶吃，寶寶不要哭。”
而小孩子竟不知道悲哀是什么一回事，張大口子“唉，唉，”地唱起來了。她在他底唇邊吻了一吻，又說：
“不要唱，你爸爸被你唱醒了。”
轎夫坐在門首的板凳上，抽著旱煙，說著他們自己要聽的話。一息，鄰村的沈家婆也趕到了。一個(gè)老婦人，熟悉世故的媒婆，一進(jìn)門，就拍拍她身上的雨點(diǎn)，向他們說：
“下雨了，下雨了，這是你們家里此后會(huì)有滋長的預(yù)兆。”
老婦人忙碌似地在屋內(nèi)旋了幾個(gè)圈，對(duì)孩子底父親說了幾句話，意思是討酬報(bào)。因?yàn)檫@件契約之能訂的如此順利而合算，實(shí)在是她底力量。
“說實(shí)在話，春寶底爸呀，再加五十元，那老頭子可以買一房妾了。”她說。
于是又變向催促她——婦人卻抱著春寶，這時(shí)坐著不動(dòng)。老婦人聲音很高地：
“轎夫要趕到他們家里吃中飯的，你快些預(yù)備走呀！”
可是婦人向她瞧了一瞧，似乎說：
“我實(shí)在不愿離開呢！讓我餓死在這里罷！”
聲音是在她底喉下，可是媒婆懂得了，走近到她前面，迷迷地向她笑說：
“你真是一個(gè)不懂事的丫頭，黃胖還有什么東西給你呢？那邊真是一份有吃有剩的人家，兩百多畝田，經(jīng)濟(jì)很寬裕，房子是自己底，也雇著長工養(yǎng)著牛。大娘底性子是極好的，對(duì)人非?？蜌?，每次看見人總給人一些吃的東西。那老頭子——實(shí)在并不老，臉是很白白的，也沒有留胡子，因?yàn)樽x了書，背有些僂僂的，斯文的模樣?？墒且膊槐囟嗾f，你一走下轎就看見的，我是一個(gè)從不說謊的媒婆。”
婦人拭一拭淚，極輕地：
“春寶……我怎么能拋開他呢！”
“不用想到春寶了，”老婦人一手放在她底肩上，臉湊近她和春寶。“有三歲了，古人說：‘三周四歲離娘身’，可以離開你了。只要你底肚子爭(zhēng)氣些，到那邊，也養(yǎng)下一二個(gè)來，萬事都好了。”
轎夫也在門首催起身了，他們嚕 著說：
“又不是新娘子，啼啼哭哭的。”
這樣，老婦人將春寶從她底懷里拉去，一邊說：
“春寶讓我?guī)チT。”
小小的孩子也哭了，手腳亂舞的，可是老婦人終于給他拉到小門外去。當(dāng)婦人走進(jìn)轎門的時(shí)候，向他們說：
“帶進(jìn)屋里來罷，外邊有雨呢。”
她底丈夫用手支著頭坐著，一動(dòng)沒有動(dòng)，而且也沒有話。
兩村的相隔有三十里路，可是轎夫的第二次將轎子放下肩，就到了。春天的細(xì)雨，從轎子底布篷里飄進(jìn)，吹濕了她底衣衫。一個(gè)臉孔肥肥的，兩眼很有心計(jì)的約摸五十四五歲的老婦人來迎她，她想：這當(dāng)然是大娘了。可是只向她滿面羞澀地看一看，并沒有叫。她很親昵似地將她牽上沿階，一個(gè)長長的瘦瘦的而面孔圓細(xì)的男子就從房里走出來。他向新來的少婦，仔細(xì)地瞧了瞧，堆出滿臉的笑容來，向她問：
“這么早就到了么？可是打濕你底衣裳了。”
而那位老婦人，卻簡直沒有顧到他底說話，也向她問：
“還有什么在轎里么？”
“沒有什么了，”少婦答。
幾位鄰舍的婦人站在大門外，探頭張望的；可是她們走進(jìn)屋里面了。
她自己也不知道這究竟為什么，她底心老是掛念著她底舊的家，掉不下她的春寶。這是真實(shí)而明顯的，她應(yīng)慶祝這將開始的三年的生活——這個(gè)家庭，和她所典給他的丈夫，都比曾經(jīng)過去的要好，秀才確是一個(gè)溫良和善的人，講話是那么地低聲，連大娘，實(shí)在也是一個(gè)出乎意料之外的婦人，她底態(tài)度之殷勤，和滔滔的一席話：說她和她丈夫底過去的生活之經(jīng)過，從美滿而漂亮的結(jié)婚生活起，一直到現(xiàn)在，中間的三十年。她曾做過一次的產(chǎn)，十五六年以前了，養(yǎng)下一個(gè)男孩子，據(jù)她說，是一個(gè)極美麗又極聰明的嬰兒，可是不到十個(gè)月，竟患了天花死去了。這樣，以后就沒有再養(yǎng)過第二個(gè)。在她底意思中，似乎——似乎——早就叫她底丈夫娶一房妾，可是他，不知是愛她呢，還是沒有相當(dāng)?shù)娜?mdash;—這一層她并沒有說清楚；于是，就一直到現(xiàn)在。這樣，竟說得這個(gè)具著樸素的心地的她，一時(shí)酸，一會(huì)苦，一時(shí)甜上心頭，一時(shí)又咸的壓下去了。最后，這個(gè)老婦人并將她底希望也向她說出來了。她底臉是嬌紅的，可是老婦人說：
“你是養(yǎng)過三四個(gè)孩子的女人了，當(dāng)然，你是知道什么的，你一定知道的還比我多。”
這樣，她說著走開了。
當(dāng)晚，秀才也將家里底種種情形告訴她，實(shí)際，不過是向她夸耀或求媚罷了。她坐在一張櫥子的旁邊，這樣的紅的木櫥，是她舊的家所沒有的，她眼睛白晃晃地瞧著它。秀才也就坐到櫥子底面前來，問她：
“你叫什么名字呢？”
她沒有答，也并不笑，站起來，走到床底前面，秀才也跟到床底旁邊，更笑地問她：
“怕羞么？哈，你想你底丈夫么？哈，哈，現(xiàn)在我是你底丈夫了。”聲音是輕輕的，又用手去牽著她底袖子。“不要愁罷！你也想你底孩子的，是不是？不過——”
他沒有說完，卻又哈的笑了一聲，他自己脫去他外面的長衫了。
她可以聽見房外的大娘底聲音在高聲地罵著什么人，她一時(shí)聽不出在罵誰，罵燒飯的女仆，又好像罵她自己，可是因?yàn)樗自购?，仿佛又是為她而發(fā)的。秀才在床上叫道：
“睡罷，她常是這么嚕嚕 的。她以前很愛那個(gè)長工，因?yàn)殚L工要和燒飯的黃媽多說話，她卻常要罵黃媽的。”
日子是一天天地過去了。舊的家，漸漸地在她底腦子里疏遠(yuǎn)了，而眼前，卻一步步地親近她使她熟悉。雖則，春寶底哭聲有時(shí)竟在她底耳朵邊響，夢(mèng)中，她也幾次地遇到過他了?？墒菈?mèng)是一個(gè)比一個(gè)縹緲，眼前的事務(wù)是一天比一天繁多。她知道這個(gè)老婦人是猜忌多心的，外表雖則對(duì)她還算大方，可是她底嫉妒的心是和偵探一樣，監(jiān)視著秀才對(duì)她的一舉一動(dòng)。有時(shí)，秀才從外面回來，先遇見了她而同她說話，老婦人就疑心有什么特別的東西買給她了，非在當(dāng)晚，將秀才叫到她自己底房內(nèi)去，狠狠地訓(xùn)斥一番不可。“你給狐貍迷著了么？”“你應(yīng)該稱一稱你自己底老骨頭是多少重！”像這樣的話，她耳聞到不止一次了。這樣以后，她望見秀才從外面回來而旁邊沒有她坐著的時(shí)候，就非得急忙避開不可。即使她在旁邊，有時(shí)也該讓開一些，但這種動(dòng)作，她要做的非常自然，而且不能讓旁人看出，否則，她又要向她發(fā)怒，說是她有意要在旁人的前面暴露她大娘底丑惡。而且以后，竟將家里的許多雜務(wù)都堆積在她底身上，同一個(gè)女仆那么樣。有時(shí)老婦人底換下來的衣服放著，她也給她拿去洗了，雖然她說：
“我底衣服怎么要你洗呢？就是你自己底衣服，也可叫黃媽洗的。”可是接著說：
“妹妹呀，你最好到豬欄里去看一看，那兩只豬為什么這樣喁喁叫的，或者因?yàn)闆]有吃飽罷，黃媽總是不肯給它吃飽的。”
八個(gè)月了，那年冬天，她底胃卻起了變化：老是不想吃飯，想吃新鮮的面，番薯等。但番薯或面吃了兩餐，又不想吃，又想吃餛飩，多吃又要嘔。而且還想吃南瓜和梅子——這是六月里的東西，真稀奇，向哪里去找呢？秀才是知道在這個(gè)變化中所帶來的預(yù)告了。他鎮(zhèn)日地笑微微，能找到的東西，總忙著給她找來。他親身給她到街上去買橘子，又托便人買了金柑來，他在廊沿下走來走去，口里念念有詞的，不知說什么。他看她和黃媽磨過年的粉，但還沒有磨了三升，就向她叫：“歇一歇罷，長工也好磨的，年糕是人人要吃的。”
有時(shí)在夜里，人家談著話，他卻獨(dú)自拿了一盞燈，在燈下，讀起《詩經(jīng)》來了：
關(guān)關(guān)雎鳩，
在河之洲，
窈窕淑女，
君子好逑——
這時(shí)長工向他問：
“先生，你又不去考舉人，還讀它做什么呢？”
他卻摸一摸沒有胡子的口邊，怡悅地說道：
“是呀，你也知道人生底快樂么？所謂：‘洞房花燭夜，金榜掛名時(shí)。’你也知道這兩句話底意思么？這是人生底最快樂的兩件事呀！可是我對(duì)于這兩件事都過去了，我卻還有比這兩件更快樂的事呢！”
這樣，除出他底兩個(gè)妻以外，其余的人們都大笑了。
這些事，在老婦人眼睛里是看得非常氣惱了。她起初聞到她底受孕也歡喜，以后看見秀才的這樣奉承她，她卻怨恨她自己肚子底不會(huì)還債了。有一次，次年三月了，這婦人因?yàn)樯眢w感覺不舒服，頭有些痛，睡了三天。秀才呢，也愿她歇息歇息，更不時(shí)地問她要什么，而老婦人卻著實(shí)地發(fā)怒了。她說她裝嬌，嚕嚕 地也說了三天。她先是惡意地譏嘲她：說是一到秀才底家里就高貴起來了，什么腰酸呀，頭痛呀，姨太太的架子也都擺出來了；以前在她自己底家里，她不相信她有這樣的嬌養(yǎng)，恐怕竟和街頭的母狗一樣，肚子里有著一肚皮的小狗，臨產(chǎn)了，還要到處地奔求著食物?，F(xiàn)在呢，因?yàn)?ldquo;老東西”——這是秀才的妻叫秀才的名字——趨奉了她，就裝著嬌滴滴的樣子了。
“兒子，”她有一次在廚房里對(duì)黃媽說，“誰沒有養(yǎng)過呀？我也曾懷過十個(gè)月的孕，不相信有這么的難受。而且，此刻的兒子，還在‘閻羅王的簿里’，誰保的定生出來不是一只癩蝦蟆呢？也等到真的‘鳥兒’，從洞里鉆出來看見了，才可在我底面前顯威風(fēng)，擺架子，此刻，不過是一塊血的貓頭鷹，就這么的裝腔，也顯得太早一點(diǎn)！”
當(dāng)晚這婦人沒有吃晚飯，這時(shí)她已經(jīng)睡了，聽了這一番婉轉(zhuǎn)的冷嘲與熱罵，她嗚嗚咽咽地低聲哭泣了。秀才也帶衣服坐在床上，聽到渾身透著冷汗，發(fā)起抖來。他很想扣好衣服，重新走起來，去打她一頓，抓住她底頭發(fā)狠狠地打她一頓，泄泄他一肚皮的氣。但不知怎樣，似乎沒有力量，連指也顫動(dòng)，臂也酸軟了，一邊輕輕地嘆息著說：
“唉，一向?qū)嵲谔珜?duì)她好了。結(jié)婚了三十年，沒有打過她一掌，簡直連指甲都沒有彈到她底皮膚上過，所以今日，竟和娘娘一般地難惹了。”
同時(shí)，他爬過到床底那端，她底身邊，向她耳語說：
“不要哭罷，不要哭罷，隨她吠去好了！她是閹過的母雞，看見別人的孵卵是難受的。假如你這一次真能養(yǎng)出一個(gè)男孩子來，我當(dāng)送你兩樣寶貝——我有一只青玉的戒指，一只白玉的……”
他沒有說完，可是他忍不住聽下門外的他底大妻底喋喋的譏笑的聲音，他急忙地脫去了衣服，將頭鉆進(jìn)被窩里去，湊向她底胸膛，一邊說：
“我有白玉的……”
肚子一天天地膨脹的如斗那么大，老婦人終究也將產(chǎn)婆雇定了，而且在別人的面前，竟拿起花布來做嬰兒用的衣服。
酷熱的暑天到了盡頭，舊歷的六月，他們?cè)谙Ｍ难壑羞^去了。秋天始，涼風(fēng)也拂拂地在鄉(xiāng)鎮(zhèn)上吹送。于是有一天，這全家的人們都到了希望底最高潮，屋里底空氣完全地騷動(dòng)起來。秀才底心更是異常地緊張，他在天井上不斷地徘徊，手里捧著一本歷書，好似要讀它背誦那么地念去——“戊辰”，“甲戌”，“壬寅之年”，老是反復(fù)地輕輕地說著。有時(shí)他底焦急的眼光向一間關(guān)了窗的房子望去——在這間房子內(nèi)是有產(chǎn)母底低聲呻吟的聲音；有時(shí)他向天上望一望被云籠罩著的太陽，于是又走向房門口，向站在房門內(nèi)的黃媽問：
“此刻如何？”
黃媽不住地點(diǎn)著頭不做聲響，一息，答：
“快下來了，快下來了。”
于是他又捧了那本歷書，在廊下徘徊起來。
這樣的情形，一直繼續(xù)到黃昏底青煙在地面起來，燈火一盞盞的如春天的野花般在屋內(nèi)開起，嬰兒才落地了，是一個(gè)男的。嬰兒底聲音是很重地在屋內(nèi)叫，秀才卻坐在屋角里，幾乎快樂到流出眼淚來了。全家的人都沒有心思吃晚飯。
一個(gè)月以后，嬰兒底白嫩的小臉孔，已在秋天的陽光里照耀了。這個(gè)少婦給他哺著奶，鄰舍的婦人圍著他們瞧，有的稱贊嬰兒底鼻子好，有的稱贊嬰兒底口子好，有的稱贊嬰兒底兩耳好；更有的稱贊嬰兒底母親，也比以前好，白而且壯了。老婦人卻正和老祖母那么地吩咐著，保護(hù)著，這時(shí)開始說：
“夠了，不要弄他哭了。”
關(guān)于孩子底名字，秀才是煞費(fèi)苦心地想著，但總想不出一個(gè)相當(dāng)?shù)淖謥?。?jù)老婦人底意見，還是從“長命富貴”或“福祿壽喜”里揀一個(gè)字，最好還是“壽”字或與“壽”同意義的字，如“其頤”，“彭祖”等，但秀才不同意，以為太通俗，人云亦云的名字。于是翻開了《易經(jīng)》，《書經(jīng)》，向這里面找，但找了半月，一月，還沒有恰貼的字。在他底意思：以為在這個(gè)名字內(nèi)，一邊要祝福孩子，一邊要包含他底老而得子底蘊(yùn)義，所以竟不容易找。這一天，他一邊抱著三個(gè)月的嬰兒，一邊又向書里找名字，戴著一副眼鏡，將書遞到燈底旁邊去。嬰兒底母親呆呆地坐在房內(nèi)底一邊，不知思想著什么，卻忽然開口說道：
“我想，還是叫他‘秋寶’罷。”屋內(nèi)的人們底幾對(duì)眼睛都轉(zhuǎn)向她，注意地靜聽著：“他不是生在秋天嗎？秋天的寶貝——還是叫他‘秋寶’罷。”
秀才立刻接著說道：
“是呀，我真極費(fèi)心思了。我年過半百，實(shí)在到了人生的秋期，孩子也正養(yǎng)在秋天；‘秋’是萬物成熟的季節(jié)，秋寶，實(shí)在是一個(gè)很好的名字呀！而且《書經(jīng)》里沒有么？‘乃亦有秋，’我真乃亦有‘秋’了！”
接著，又稱贊了一通嬰兒底母親：說是呆讀書實(shí)在無用，聰明是天生的。這些話，說的這婦人連坐著都覺得局促不安，垂下頭，苦笑地又含淚地想：
“我不過因春寶想到罷了。”
秋寶是天天成長的非?？蓯鄣仉x不開他底母親了。他有出奇的大的眼睛，對(duì)陌生人是不倦地注視地瞧著，但對(duì)他底母親，卻遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)地一眼就知道了。他整天地抓住了他底母親，雖則秀才是比她還愛他，但不喜歡父親；秀才底大妻呢，表面也愛他，似愛她自己親生的兒子一樣，但在嬰兒底大眼睛里，卻看她似陌生人，也用奇怪的不倦的視法。可是他的執(zhí)住他底母親愈緊，而他底母親的離開這家的日子也愈近了。春天底口子咬住了冬天底尾巴；而夏天底腳又常是緊隨著在春天底身后的；這樣，誰都將孩子底母親底三年快到的問題橫放在心頭上。
秀才呢，因?yàn)閻圩拥年P(guān)系，首先向他底大妻提出來了：他愿意再拿出一百元錢，將她永遠(yuǎn)買下來。可是他底大妻底回答是：
“你要買她，那先給我藥死罷！”
秀才聽到這句話，氣的只向鼻孔放出氣，許久沒有說；以后，他反而做著笑臉地：
“你想想孩子沒有娘……”
老婦人也尖利地冷笑地說：
“我不好算是他底娘么？”
在孩子底母親的心呢，卻正矛盾著這兩種的沖突了：一邊，她底腦里老是有“三年”這兩個(gè)字，三年是容易過去的，于是她底生活便變做在秀才底家里底傭人似的了。而且想象中的春寶，也同眼前的秋寶一樣活潑可愛，她既舍不得秋寶，怎么就能舍得掉春寶呢？可是另一邊，她實(shí)在愿意永遠(yuǎn)在這新的家里住下去，她想，春寶的爸爸不是一個(gè)長壽的人，他底病一定是在三五年之內(nèi)要將他帶走到不可知的異國里去的，于是，她便要求她底第二個(gè)丈夫，將春寶也領(lǐng)過來，這樣，春寶也在她底眼前。
有時(shí)，她倦坐在房外的沿廊下，初夏的陽光，異常地能令人昏朦地起幻想，秋寶睡在她底懷里，含著她底乳，可是她覺得仿佛春寶同時(shí)也站在她底旁邊，她伸出手去也想將春寶抱近來，她還要對(duì)他們兄弟兩人說幾句話，可是身邊是空空的。
在身邊的較遠(yuǎn)的門口，卻站著這位臉孔慈善而眼睛兇毒的老婦人，目光注視著她。這樣，她也恍恍惚惚地敏悟：“還是早些脫離罷，她簡直探子一樣地監(jiān)視著我了。”
以后，秀才又將計(jì)劃修改了一些，他想叫沈家婆來，叫她向秋寶底母親底前夫去說，他愿否再拿進(jìn)三十元——最多是五十元，將妻續(xù)典三年給秀才。秀才對(duì)他底大妻說：
“要是秋寶到五歲，是可以離開娘了。”
他底大妻正是手里捻著念佛珠，一邊在念著“南無阿彌陀佛”，一邊答：
“她家里也還有前兒在，你也應(yīng)放她和她底結(jié)發(fā)夫婦團(tuán)聚一下罷。”
秀才低著頭，斷斷續(xù)續(xù)地仍然這樣說：
“你想想秋寶兩歲就沒有娘……”
可是老婦人放下念佛珠說：
“我會(huì)養(yǎng)的，我會(huì)管理他的，你怕我謀害了他么？”
秀才一聽到末一句話，就拔步走開了。老婦人仍在后面說：
“這個(gè)兒子是幫我生的，秋寶是我底；絕種雖然是絕了你家底種，可是我卻仍然吃著你家底餐飯。你真被迷了，老昏了，一點(diǎn)也不會(huì)想了。你還有幾年好活，卻要拼命拉她在身邊？雙連牌位，我是不愿意坐的！”
老婦人似乎還有許多刻毒的銳利的話，可是秀才走遠(yuǎn)開聽不見了。
在夏天，嬰兒底頭上生了一個(gè)瘡，有時(shí)身體稍稍發(fā)些熱，于是這位老婦人就到處地問菩薩，求佛藥，給嬰兒敷在瘡上，或灌下肚里，嬰兒底母親覺得并不十分要緊，反而使這樣小小的生命哭成一身的汗珠，她不愿意，或?qū)⒊粤藥卓诘乃幇档乩锬萌サ沟袅?。于是這位老婦人就高聲嘆息，向秀才說：
“你看，她竟一點(diǎn)也不介意他底病，還說孩子是并不怎樣瘦下去。愛在心里的是深的；專疼表面是假的。”
這樣，婦人只有暗自揮淚，秀才也不說什么話了。
秋寶一周紀(jì)念的時(shí)候，這家熱鬧地排了一天的酒筵，客人也到了三四十，有的送衣服，有的送面，有的送銀制的獅 ，給嬰兒掛在胸前的，有的送鍍金的壽星老頭兒，給孩子釘在帽上的。他們祝福著嬰兒的飛黃騰達(dá)，贊頌著嬰兒的長壽永生；主人底臉孔，竟是榮光照耀著，有如落日的云霞反映著在他底頰上似的。
可是在這天，正當(dāng)他們筵席將舉行的黃昏時(shí)，來了一個(gè)客，從朦朧的暮光中向他們底天井走進(jìn)，人們都注意他：一個(gè)憔悴異常的鄉(xiāng)人，衣服補(bǔ)衲的，頭發(fā)很長，在他底腋下，挾著一個(gè)紙包。主人駭異地迎上前去，問他是哪里人，他口吃似地答了，主人一時(shí)糊涂的，但立刻明白了，就是那個(gè)皮販。主人更輕輕地說：
“你為什么也送東西來呢？你真不必的呀！”
來客膽怯地向四周看看，一邊答說：
“要，要的……我來祝祝這個(gè)寶貝長壽千……”
他似沒有說完，一邊將腋下的紙包打開來了，手指顫動(dòng)地打開了兩三重的紙，于是拿出四只銅制鍍銀的字，一方寸那么大，是“壽比南山”四字。
秀才底大娘走來了，向他仔細(xì)一看，似乎不大高興。秀才卻將他招待到席上，客人們互相私語著。
兩點(diǎn)鐘的酒與肉，將人們弄得胡亂與狂熱了：他們高聲猜著拳，用大碗盛著酒互相比賽，鬧得似乎房子都被震動(dòng)了。只有那個(gè)皮販，他雖然也喝了兩杯酒，可是仍然坐著不動(dòng)，客人們也不招呼他。等到興盡了，于是各人草草地吃了一碗飯，互祝著好話，從兩兩三三的燈籠光影中，走散了。
而皮販，卻吃到最后，傭人來收拾羹碗了，他才離開了桌，走到廊下的黑暗處。在那里，他遇見了他底被典的妻。
“你也來做什么呢？”婦人問，語氣是非常凄慘的。
“我哪里又愿意來，因?yàn)闆]有法子。”
“那未你為什么來的這樣晚？”
“我哪里來買禮物的錢呀？！奔跑了一下午，哀求了一上午，又到城里買禮物，走得乏了，餓了，也遲了。”
婦人接著問：
“春寶呢？”
男子沉吟了一息答：
“所以，我是為春寶來的。……”
“為春寶來的？”婦人驚異地回音似地問。
男人慢慢地說：
“從夏天來，春寶是瘦的異樣了。到秋天，竟病起來了。我又哪里有錢給他請(qǐng)醫(yī)生吃藥，所以現(xiàn)在病是更厲害了！再不想法救救他，眼見得要死了！”靜寂了一刻，繼續(xù)說：“現(xiàn)在，我是向你來借錢的……”
這時(shí)婦人底胸膛內(nèi)，簡直似有四五只貓?jiān)谧ニ?，咬她，咀嚼著她底心臟一樣。她恨不得哭出來，但在人們個(gè)個(gè)向秋寶祝頌的日子，她又怎么好跟在人們底聲音后面叫哭呢？她吞下她底眼淚，向她底丈夫說：
“我又哪里有錢呢？我在這里，每月只給我兩角錢的零用，我自己又哪里要用什么，悉數(shù)補(bǔ)在孩子底身上了?，F(xiàn)在，怎么好呢？”
他們一時(shí)沒有話，以后，婦人又問：
“此刻有什么人照顧著春寶呢？”
“托了一個(gè)鄰舍。今晚，我仍舊想回家，我就要走了。”
他一邊說著，一邊揩著淚。女的同時(shí)哽咽著說：
“你等一下罷，我向他去借借看。”
她就走開了。
三天以后的一天晚上，秀才忽然向這婦人道：
“我給你的那只青玉戒指呢？”
“在那天夜里，給了他了。給了他拿去當(dāng)了。”
“沒有借你五塊錢么？”秀才憤怒地。
婦人低著頭停了一息答：
“五塊錢怎么夠呢！”
秀才接著嘆息說：
“總是前夫和前兒好，無論我對(duì)你怎么樣！本來我很想再留你兩年的，現(xiàn)在，你還是到明春就走罷！”
女人簡直連淚也沒有地呆著了。
幾天后，他還向她那么地說：
“那只戒指是寶貝，我給你是要你傳給秋寶的，誰知你一下就拿去當(dāng)了！幸得她不知道，要是知道了，有三個(gè)月好鬧了！”
婦人是一天天地黃瘦了。沒有精彩的光芒在她底眼睛里起來，而譏笑與冷罵的聲音又充塞在她底耳內(nèi)了。她是時(shí)常記念著她底春寶的病的，探聽著有沒有從她底本鄉(xiāng)來的朋友，也探聽著有沒有向她底本鄉(xiāng)去的便客，她很想得到一個(gè)關(guān)于“春寶的身體已復(fù)原”的消息，可是消息總沒有；她也想借兩元錢或買些糖果去，方便的客人又沒有，她不時(shí)地抱著秋寶在門首過去一些的大路邊，眼睛望著來和去的路。這種情形卻很使秀才底大妻不舒服了，她時(shí)常對(duì)秀才說：
“她哪里愿意在這里呢，她是極想早些飛回去的。”
有幾夜，她抱著秋寶在睡夢(mèng)中突然喊起來，秋寶也被嚇醒，哭起來了。秀才就追逼地問：
“你為什么？你為什么？”
可是女人拍著秋寶，口子哼哼的沒有答。秀才繼續(xù)說：
“夢(mèng)見你底前兒死了么，那么地喊？連我都被你叫醒了。”
女人急忙地一邊答：
“不，不，……好像我底前面有一壙墳?zāi)兀?rdquo;
秀才沒有再講話，而悲哀的幻象更在女人底前面展現(xiàn)開來，她要走向這墳去。
冬末了，催離別的小鳥，已經(jīng)到她底窗前不住地叫了。先是孩子斷了奶，又叫道士們來給孩子度了一個(gè)關(guān)，于是孩子和他親生的母親的別離——永遠(yuǎn)的別離的命運(yùn)就被決定了。
這一天，黃媽先悄悄地向秀才底大妻說：
“叫一頂轎子送她去么？”
秀才底大妻還是手里捻著念佛珠說：
“走走好罷，到那邊轎錢是那邊付的，她又哪里有錢呢，聽說她底親夫連飯也沒得吃，她不必?cái)[闊了。路也不算遠(yuǎn)，我也是曾經(jīng)走過三四十里路的人，她底腳比我大，半天可以到了。”
這天早晨當(dāng)她給秋寶穿衣服的時(shí)候，她底淚如溪水那么地流下，孩子向她叫：“嬸嬸，嬸嬸，”——因?yàn)槔蠇D人要他叫她自己是“媽媽”，只準(zhǔn)叫她是“嬸嬸”——她向他咽咽地答應(yīng)。她很想對(duì)他說幾句話，意思是：
“別了，我底親愛的兒子呀！你底媽媽待你是好的，你將來也好好地待還她罷，永遠(yuǎn)不要再記念我了！”
可是她無論怎樣也說不出。她也知道一周半的孩子是不會(huì)了解的。
秀才悄悄地走向她，從她背后的腋下伸進(jìn)手來，在他底手內(nèi)是十枚雙毫角子，一邊輕輕說：
“拿去罷，這兩塊錢。”
婦人扣好孩子底鈕扣，就將角子塞在懷內(nèi)的衣袋里。
老婦人又進(jìn)來了，注意著秀才走出去的背后，又向婦人說：
“秋寶給我抱去罷，免得你走時(shí)他哭。”
婦人不做聲響，可是秋寶總不愿意，用手不住地拍在老婦人底臉上。于是老婦人生氣地又說：
“那末你同他去吃早飯去罷，吃了早飯交給我。”
黃媽拼命地勸她多吃飯，一邊說：
“半月來你就這樣了，你真比來的時(shí)候還瘦了。你沒有去照照鏡子。今天，吃一碗下去罷，你還要走三十里路呢。”
她只不關(guān)緊要地說了一句：
“你對(duì)我真好！”
但是太陽是升的非常高了，一個(gè)很好的天氣，秋寶還是不肯離開他底母親，老婦人便狠狠地將他從她底懷里奪去，秋寶用小小的腳踢在老婦人底肚子上，用小小的拳頭搔住她底頭發(fā)，高聲呼喊她。婦人在后面說：
“讓我吃了中飯去罷。”
老婦人卻轉(zhuǎn)過頭，洶洶地答：
“趕快打起你底包袱去罷，早晚總有一次的！”
孩子底哭聲便在她底耳內(nèi)漸漸遠(yuǎn)去了。
打包裹的時(shí)候，耳內(nèi)是聽著孩子底哭聲。黃媽在旁邊，一邊勸慰著她，一邊卻看她打進(jìn)什么去。終于，她挾著一只舊的包裹走了。
她離開他底大門時(shí)，聽見她底秋寶的哭聲；可是慢慢地遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)地走了三里路了，還聽見她底秋寶的哭聲。
暖和的太陽所照耀的路，在她底面前竟和天一樣無窮止地長。當(dāng)她走到一條河邊的時(shí)候，她很想停止她底那么無力的腳步，向明澈可以照見她自己底身子的水底跳下去了。但在水邊坐了一會(huì)之后，她還得依前去的方向，移動(dòng)她自己底影子。
太陽已經(jīng)過午了，一個(gè)村里的一個(gè)年老的鄉(xiāng)人告訴她，路還有十五里；于是她向那個(gè)老人說：
“伯伯，請(qǐng)你代我就近叫一頂轎子罷，我是走不回去了！”
“你是有病的么？”老人問。
“是的。”
她那時(shí)坐在村口的涼亭里面。
“你從哪里來？”
婦人靜默了一時(shí)答：
“我是向那里去的；早晨我以為自己會(huì)走的。”
老人憐憫地也沒有多說話，就給她找了兩位轎夫，一頂沒篷的轎。因?yàn)槟鞘窍卵淼臅r(shí)節(jié)。
下午三四時(shí)的樣子，一條狹窄而污穢的鄉(xiāng)村小街上，抬過了一頂沒篷的轎子，轎里躺著一個(gè)臉色枯萎如同一張干癟的黃菜葉那么的中年婦人，兩眼朦朧地頹唐地閉著。嘴里的呼吸只有微弱地吐出。街上的人們個(gè)個(gè)睜著驚異的目光，憐憫地凝視著過去。一群孩子們，爭(zhēng)噪地跟在轎后，好像一件奇異的事情落到這沉寂的小村鎮(zhèn)里來了。
春寶也是跟在轎后的孩子們中底一個(gè)，他還在似趕豬那么地嘩著轎走，可是當(dāng)轎子一轉(zhuǎn)一個(gè)彎，卻是向他底家里去的路，他卻伸直了兩手而奇怪了，等到轎子到了他家里的門口，他簡直呆似地遠(yuǎn)遠(yuǎn)地站在前面，背靠在一株柱子上，面向著轎，其余的孩子們膽怯地圍在轎的兩邊。婦人走出來了，她昏迷的眼睛還認(rèn)不清站在前面的，穿著襤褸的衣服，頭發(fā)蓬亂的，身子和三年前一樣的短小，那個(gè)六歲的孩子是她底春寶。突然，她哭出來地高叫了：
“春寶呀！”
一群孩子們，個(gè)個(gè)無意地吃了一驚，而春寶簡直嚇的躲進(jìn)屋里他父親那里去了。
婦人在灰暗的屋內(nèi)坐了許久許久，她和她底丈夫都沒有一句話。夜色降落了，他下垂的頭昂起來，向她說：
“燒飯吃罷！”
婦人就不得已地站起來，向屋角上旋轉(zhuǎn)了一周，一點(diǎn)也沒有氣力地對(duì)她丈夫說：
“米缸內(nèi)是空空的……”
男人冷笑了一聲，答說：
“你真在大人家底家里生活過了！米，盛在那只香煙盒子內(nèi)。”
當(dāng)天晚上，男子向他底兒子說：
“春寶，跟你底娘去睡！”
而春寶卻靠在灶邊哭起來了。他底母親走近他，一邊叫：
“春寶，寶寶！”
可是當(dāng)她底手去撫摸他底時(shí)候，他又躲閃開了。男子加上說：
“會(huì)生疏得那么快，一頓打呢！”
她眼睜睜地睡在一張齷齪的狹板床上，春寶陌生似地睡在她底身邊。在她底已經(jīng)麻木的腦內(nèi)，仿佛秋寶肥白可愛地在她身邊掙動(dòng)著，她伸出兩手想去抱，可是身邊是春寶。這時(shí)，春寶睡著了，轉(zhuǎn)了一個(gè)身，他底母親緊緊地將他抱住，而孩子卻從微弱的鼾聲中，臉伏在她底胸膛上。
沉靜而寒冷的死一般的長夜，似無限地拖延著，拖延著……
A Slave Mother
He was a dealer in animal skins which he bought from hunters in the countryside and sold in town. Sometimes he also worked in the fields; early each summer he turned farm-hand, transplanting rice for other people. As he had learned to transplant the seedlings in wonderfully straight rows, the peasants always asked him to help them. But he never made enough money to support his family and his debts mounted with each passing year. The wretchedness of his life and the hopeless situation he was in caused him to take to smoking, drinking and gambling, and he became vicious and bad-tempered. As he grew poorer and poorer, people stopped lending him money, even in small sums.With poverty came sickness. He grew sallow: his face took on the sickly colour of a brass drum and even the whites of his eyes became yellow. People said that he had jaundice and urchins nicknamed him "Yellow Fellow". One day, he said to his wife,
There's no way out of it. It looks as if we'll even have to sell our cooking pot. I'm afraid we have to part. It's no use both of us going hungry together.
We have to part?... muttered his wife, who was sitting behind the stove with their three-year-old boy in her arms.
Yes, we have to part, he answered feebly. "There's somebody willing to hire you as a temporary wife..."
What? she almost lost her senses.
There followed a brief silence. Then the husband continued, falteringly,
"Three days ago, Wang Lang came here and spent a long time pressing me to pay my debt to him. After he had left, I went out. I sat under a tree on the shore of Jiumu Lake and thought of committing suicide. I wanted to climb the tree and dive into the water and drown myself, but, after thinking about it, I lost courage. The hooting of an owl frightened me and I walked away. On my way home, I came across Mrs. Shen, the matchmaker, who asked me why I was out at night. I told her what had happened and asked her if she could borrow some money for me, or some lady's dresses and ornaments that I could pawn to pay Wang Lang so that he'd no longer be prowling after me like a wolf. But Mrs. Shen only smiled and said,
'What do you keep your wife at home for? And you're so sick and yellow!'"
"I hung my head and said nothing. She continued,
'Since you've got only one son, you might find it hard to part with him. But as for your wife...'"
"I thought she meant that I should sell you, but she added,
'Of course she is your lawful wife, but you're poor and you can't do anything about it. What do you keep her at home for? Starve her to death?'"
"Then she said straight out, 'There's a fifty-year-old scholar who wants a concubine to bear him a son since his wife is barren. But his wife objects and will only allow him to hire somebody else's wife for a few years. I've been asked to find them a woman. She has to be about thirty years old and the mother of two or three children. She must be honest and hard-working, and obey the scholar's wife. The scholar's wife has told me that they are willing to pay from eighty to a hundred dollars for the right sort of woman. I've looked around for one for several days, but without any luck. But your wife is just the woman I've been looking for.'
She asked me what I thought about it. It made me cry to think of it, but she comforted me and convinced me that it was all for the best."""
At this point, his voice trailed off, he hung his head and stopped. His wife looked dazed and remained speechless. There was another moment of silence before he continued,
Yesterday, Mrs. Shen went to see the scholar again. She came back and told me that both the scholar and his wife were very happy about the idea of having you and had promised to pay me a hundred dollars. If you bear them a child they will keep you for three years, if not — for five. Mrs. Shen has fixed the date for you to go — the eighteenth of this month, that is, five days from now. She is going to have the contract drawn up today.
Trembling all over, the wife faltered,
Why didn't you tell me this earlier?
Yesterday I went up to you three times, but each time I was afraid to begin. But after thinking it over I've come to realize that there's really nothing to be done but hire you out.
Has it all been decided? asked the wife, her teeth clattering.
There's just the contract to be signed.
Oh, what a poor wretch I am! Can't we really do anything else?
It's terrible, I know. But we're poor and we don't want to die. What else can we do? I'm afraid this year I won't even be asked to do any transplanting.
Have you thought about Chun Bao? He's only three. What will become of him without me?
I'll take care of him. You're not nursing him any longer, you know.
He became more and more angry with himself and went out. She broke into uncontrolled sobs.
Then, looking back upon the past, she remembered what had just happened one year before: She was lying on her bed more dead than alive after giving birth to a baby girl. The newborn infant was lying on a heap of straw on the ground, crying at the top of her lungs and twitching her little limbs. The umbilical cord was wound round her body and the placenta left by her side. The poor young woman was anxious to get up to wash her baby. But she could only manage to lift her head while her whole body seemed to remain glued to the bed. All of a sudden she saw her husband, fierce and flushed, come up to the baby with a bucket of boiling water. "Stop, stop!...," she threw what little strength she had into yelling at him. The vicious husband, nevertheless, was uncompromising. Without saying a word, he held up in both hands the baby with her cry of new life and, like a butcher slaughtering a small lamb, splashed her into the boiling water. The baby immediately stopped crying. All was silent except for the sizzling of her flesh in the boiling water. The young woman fainted away at the heart-rending scene.
At the painful recollection, she had no more tears to shed, but sighed faintly, "Oh, what a miserable life!" Chun Bao stared at her, whimpering, "Mummy, mummy!"
On the eve of her departure, she was sitting in the darkest corner of the house. In front of the stove stood an oil lamp, its light flickering like that of a fire-fly. Holding Chun Bao close to her bosom, she pressed her head against his hair. Lost in deep thought, she seemed absolutely dead to the reality surrounding her. Later, she gradually came to, and found herself face to face with the present and her child. Softly she called him,
Chun Bao, Chun Bao!
Yes, mummy! the child replied.
I'm going to leave you tomorrow...
What? the child did not quite understand what she meant and instinctively cuddled closer to her.
I'm not coming back, not for three years!
She wiped away her tears. The little boy became inquisitive,
Mummy, where are you going? To the temple?
No. I'm going to live with the Li family, about thirty li away.
I want to go with you.
No, you can't, darling!
Why? he countered.
You'll stay home with daddy, he'll take good care of you. He'll sleep with you and play with you. You just listen to daddy. In three years...
Before she had finished talking the child sadly interrupted her,
Daddy will beat me!
Daddy will never beat you again. Her left hand was stroking the scar on the right side of the boy's forehead — a reminder of the blow dealt by her husband with the handle of a hoe three days after he killed the baby girl.
She was about to speak to the boy again when her husband came in. He walked up to her, and fumbling in his pocket, he said,
I've got seventy dollars from them. They'll give me the other thirty dollars ten days after you get there.
After a short pause, he added, "They've promised to take you there in a sedan-chair."
After another short pause, he continued, "The chair carriers will come to take you early in the morning as soon as they've had breakfast."
With this he walked out again.
That evening, neither he nor she felt like having supper.
The next day there was a spring drizzle.
The chair carriers arrived at the crack of dawn. The young woman had not slept a wink during the night. She had spent the time mending Chun Bao's tattered clothes. Although it was late spring and summer was near, she took out the boy's shabby cotton-padded winter jacket and wanted to give it to her husband, but he was fast asleep. Then she sat down beside her husband, wishing to have a chat with him. But he slept on and she sat there silently, waiting for the night to pass. She plucked up enough courage to mutter a few words into his ear, but even this failed to wake him up. So she lay down too.
As she was about to doze off, Chun Bao woke up. He wanted to get up and pushed his mother. Dressing the child, she said,
Darling, you mustn't cry while I'm away or daddy will beat you. I'll buy sweets for you to eat. But you mustn't cry any more, darling.
The boy was too young to know what sorrow was, so in a minute he began to sing. She kissed his cheek and said,
Stop singing now, you'll wake up daddy.
The chair carriers were sitting on the benches in front of the gate, smoking their pipes and chatting. Soon afterwards, Mrs. Shen arrived from the nearby village where she was living. She was an old and experienced matchmaker. As soon as she crossed the threshold, she brushed the raindrops off her clothes, saying to the husband and wife,
It's raining, it's raining. That's a good omen, it means you will thrive from now on.
The matchmaker bustled about the house and whispered and hinted to the husband that she should be rewarded for having so successfully brought about the deal.
To tell you the truth, for another fifty dollars, the old man could have bought himself a concubine, she said.
Then Mrs. Shen turned to the young woman who was sitting still with the child in her arms, and said loudly,
The chair carriers have to get there in time for lunch, so you'd better hurry up and get ready to go.
The young woman glanced at her and her look seemed to say, "I don't want to leave! I'd rather starve here!"
The matchmaker understood and, walking up to her, said smiling,
You're just a silly girl. What can the 'Yellow Fellow' give you? But over there, the scholar has plenty of everything. He has more than two hundred mou of land, his own houses and cattle. His wife is good-tempered and she's very kind. She never turns anybody from her door without giving him something to eat. And the scholar is not really old. He has a white face and no beard. He stoops a little as well-educated men generally do, and he is quite gentlemanly. There's no need for me to tell you more about him. You'll see him with your own eyes as soon as you get out of the sedan-chair. You know, as a matchmaker, I've never told a lie.
The young woman wiped away her tears and said softly,
"Chun Bao... How can I part from him?"
"Chun Bao will be all right," said the matchmaker, patting the young woman on the shoulder and bending over her and the child. "He is already three. There's a saying, 'A child of three can move about free.' So he can be left alone. It all depends on you. If you can have one or two children over there, everything will be quite all right."
The chair bearers outside the gate now started urging the young woman to set out, murmuring.
"You are really not a bride, why should you cry?" 〔15〕
The matchmaker snatched away Chun Bao from his mother's arms, saying,
"Let me take care of Chun Bao!"
The little boy began to scream and kick. The matchmaker took him outside. When the young woman was in the sedan-chair, she said,
"You'd better take the boy in, it's raining outside."
Inside the house, resting his head on the palm of his hand, sat the little boy's father, motionless and wordless.
The two villages were thirty li apart, but the chair carriers reached their destination without making a single stop on the way. The young woman's clothes were wet from the spring raindrops which had been blown in through the sedan-chair screens. An elderly woman, of about fifty-five, with a plump face and shrewd eyes came out to greet her. Realizing immediately that this was the scholar's wife, the young woman looked at her bashfully and remained silent. As the scholar's wife was amiably helping the young woman to the door, there came out from the house a tall and thin elderly man with a round, smooth face. Measuring the young woman from head to foot, he smiled and said,
"You have come early. Did you get wet in the rain?"
His wife, completely ignoring what he was saying, asked the young woman,
"Have you left anything in the sedan-chair?"
"No, nothing," answered the young woman.
Soon they were inside the house. Outside the gate, a number of women from the neighbourhood had gathered and were peeping in to see what was happening.
Somehow or other, the young woman could not help thinking about her old home and Chun Bao. As a matter of fact, she might have congratulated herself on the prospects of spending the next three years here, since both her new home and her temporary husband seemed pleasant. The scholar was really kind and soft-spoken. His wife appeared hospitable and talkative. She talked about her thirty years of happy married life with the scholar. She had given birth to a boy some fifteen years before — a really handsome and lively child, she said — but he died of smallpox less than ten months after his birth. Since then, she had never had another child. The elderly woman hinted she had long been urging her husband to get a concubine but he had always put it off — either because he was too much in love with his wedded wife or because he couldn't find a suitable woman for a concubine. This chatter made the young woman feel sad, delighted and depressed by turns. Finally, the young woman was told what was expected of her. She blushed when the scholar's wife said,
"You've had three or four children. Of course you know what to do. You know much more than I do."
After this, the elderly woman went away.
That evening, the scholar told the young woman a great many things about his family in an effort to show off and ingratiate himself with her. She was sitting beside a red-lacquered wooden wardrobe — something she had never had in her old home. Her dull eyes were focused upon it when the scholar came over and sat in front of it, asking,
"What's you name?"
She remained silent and did not smile. Then, rising to her feet, she went towards the bed. He followed her, his face beaming.
"Don't be shy. Still thinking about your husband? Ha, ha, I'm your husband now!" he said softly, touching her arm. "Don't worry! You're thinking about your child, aren't you? Well..."
He burst out laughing and took off his long gown.
The young woman then heard the scholar's wife scolding somebody outside the room. Though she could not make out just who was being scolded, it seemed to be either the kitchenmaid or herself. In her sorrow, the young woman began to suspect that it must be herself, but the scholar, now lying in bed, said loudly,
"Don't bother. She always grumbles like that. She likes our farmhand very much, and often scolds the kitchenmaid for chatting with him too much."
Time passed quickly. The young woman's thoughts of her old home gradually faded as she became better and better acquainted with what went on in her new one. Sometimes it seemed to her she heard Chun Bao's muffled cries, and she dreamed of him several times. But these dreams became more and more blurred as she became occupied with her new life. Outwardly, the scholar's wife was kind to her, but she felt that, deep inside, the elderly woman was jealous and suspicious and that, like a detective, she was always spying to see what was going on between the scholar and her. Sometimes, if the wife caught her husband talking to the young woman on his return home, she would suspect that he had bought her something special. She would call him to her bedroom at night to give him a good scolding. "So you've been seduced by the witch!" she would cry. "You should take good care of your old carcase." These abusive remarks the young woman overheard time and again. After that, whenever she saw the scholar return home, she always tried to avoid him if his wife was not present. But even in the presence of his wife, the young woman considered it necessary to keep herself in the background. She had to do all this naturally so that it would not be noticed by outsiders, for otherwise the wife would get angry and blame her for purposely discrediting her in public. As time went on, the scholar's wife even made the young woman do the work of a maidservant. Once the young woman decided to wash the elderly woman's clothes.
"You're not supposed to wash my clothes," the scholar's wife said. "In fact you can have the kitchenmaid wash your own laundry." Yet the next moment she said,
"Sister dear, you'd better go to the pigsty and have a look at the two pigs which have been grunting all the time. They're probably hungry because the kitchenmaid never gives them enough to eat."
Eight months had passed and winter came. The young woman became fussy about her food. She had little appetite for regular meals and always felt like eating something different — noodles, potatoes and so on. But she soon got tired of noodles and potatoes, and asked for meat dumplings. When she ate a little too much she got sick. Then she felt a desire for pumpkins and plums — things that could only be had in summer. The scholar knew what all this meant. He kept smiling all day and gave her whatever was available. He went to town himself to get her tangerines and asked someone to buy her some oranges. He often paced up and down the veranda, muttering to himself. One day, he saw the young woman and the kitchenmaid grinding rice for the New Year festival. They had hardly started grinding when he said to the young woman, "You'd better have a rest now. We can let the farmhand do it, since everybody is going to eat the cakes."
Sometimes in the evening, when the rest of the household were chatting, he would sit alone near an oil lamp, reading the Book of Songs:
"Fair, fair," cry the ospreys
On the island in the river.
Lovely is the good lady,
Fit bride for our lord.
……
The farmhand once asked him,
"Please, sir, what are you reading this book for? You're not going to sit for a higher civil service examination, are you?"
The scholar stroked his beardless chin and said in a gay tone,
"Well, you know the joys of life, don't you? There's a saying that the greatest joy of life is either to spend the first night in the nuptial chamber or to pass a civil service examination. As for me, I've already experienced both. But now there's a still greater blessing in store for me."
His remark set the whole household laughing — except for his wife and the young woman.
To the scholar's wife all this was very annoying. When she first heard of the young woman's pregnancy, she was pleased. Later, when she saw her husband lavishing attentions on the young woman, she began to blame herself for being barren. Once, the following spring, it happened that the young woman fell ill and was laid up for three days with a headache. The scholar was anxious that she take a rest and frequently asked what she needed. This made his wife angry. She grumbled for three whole days and said that the young woman was malingering.
"She has been spoiled here and become stuck-up like a real concubine," she said, sneering maliciously, "always complaining about headaches or backaches. She must have been quite different before — like a bitch that has to go searching for food even when she is going to bear a litter of puppies! Now, with the old man fawning on her, she puts on airs!"
"Why so much fuss about having a baby?" said the scholar's wife one night to the kitchenmaid. "I myself was once with child for ten months, I just can't believe she's really feeling so bad. Who knows what she's going to have? It may be just a little toad! She'd better not try to bluff me, throwing her weight around before the little thing is born. It's still nothing but a clot of blood! It's really a bit too early for her to make such a fuss!"
The young woman who had gone to bed without supper was awakened by this torrent of malicious abuse and burst into convulsive sobs. The scholar was also shocked by what he heard — so much so that he broke into a cold sweat and shook with anger. He wanted to go to his wife's room, grab her by the hair and give her a good beating so as to work off his feelings. But, somehow or other, he felt powerless to do so; his fingers trembled and his arms ached with weariness. Sighing deeply, he said softly, "I've been too good to her. In thirty years of married life, I've never slapped her face or given her a scratch. That's why she is so cocky."
Then, crawling across the bed, he whispered to the young woman beside him,
"Now, stop crying, stop crying, let her cackle! A barren hen is always jealous! If you manage to have a baby boy this time, I'll give you two precious gifts — a blue jade ring and a white jade..." leaving the last sentence unfinished, he turned to listen to his wife's jeering voice outside the room. He hastily took off his clothes, and, covering his head with the quilt and nestling closer to the young woman, he said,
"I've a white jade..."
The young woman grew bigger and bigger around the waist. The scholar's wife made arrangements with a midwife, and, when other people were around, she would busy herself making baby's clothes out of floral prints.
The hot summer had ended and the cool autumn breeze was blowing over the village. The day finally came when the expectations of the whole household reached their climax and everybody was agog. His heart beating faster than ever, the scholar was pacing the courtyard, reading about horoscopes from an almanac in his hand as intently as if he wanted to commit the whole book to memory. One moment he would look anxiously at the room with its windows closely shut whence came the muffled groans of the expectant mother. The next, he would look at the cloudy sky, and walk up to the kitchenmaid at the door to ask,
"How is everything now?"
Nodding, the maid would reply after a moment's pause,
"It won't be long now, it won't be long now."
He would resume pacing the courtyard and reading the almanac.
The suspense lasted until sunset. Then, when wisps of kitchen smoke were curling up from the roofs and lamps were gleaming in the country houses like so many wild flowers in spring, a baby boy was born. The newborn baby cried at the top of his voice while the scholar sat in a corner of the house, with tears of joy in his eyes. The household was so excited that no one cared about supper.
A month later, the bright and tender-faced baby made his debut in the open. While the young woman was breast-feeding him, womenfolk from the neighbourhood gathered around to feast their eyes upon the boy. Some liked his nose; others, his mouth; still others, his ears. Some praised his mother, saying that she had become whiter and healthier. The scholar's wife, now acting like a granny, said,
"That's enough! You'll make the baby cry!"
As to the baby's name, the scholar racked his brains, but just could not hit upon a suitable one. His wife suggested that the Chinese character shou, meaning longevity, or one of its synonyms, should be included in his name. But the scholar did not like it — it was too commonplace. He spent several weeks looking through Chinese classics like the Book of Changes and the Book of History in search of suitable characters to be used as the baby's name. But all his efforts proved fruitless. It was a difficult problem to solve because he wanted a name which should be auspicious for the baby and would imply at the same time that he was born to him in old age. One evening, while holding the three-month-old baby in his arms, the scholar, with spectacles on, sat down near a lamp and again looked into some book in an effort to find a name for the boy. The baby's mother, sitting quietly in a corner of the room, appeared to be musing. Suddenly she said.
"I suppose you could call him 'Qiu Bao'." Those in the room turned to look at the young woman and listened intently as she continued, "Qiu means autumn and Bao means treasure. So since he was born in autumn, you'd better call him 'Qiu Bao'."
The scholar was silent for a brief moment and then exclaimed,
"A wonderful idea! I've wasted a lot of time looking for a name for the baby! As a man of over fifty, I've reached the autumn of my life. The boy too was born in autumn. Besides, autumn is the time when everything is ripe and the time for harvesting, as the Book of History says. 'Qiu Bao' is really a good name for the child."
Then he began to praise the young woman, saying that she was born clever and that it was quite useless to be a bookworm like himself. His remarks made the young woman feel ill at ease. Lowering her head and forcing a smile, she said to herself with tears in her eyes,
"I suggested 'Qiu Bao' simply because I was thinking of my elder son Chun Bao." 〔16〕
Qiu Bao daily grew handsomer and more attached to his mother. His unusually big eyes which stared tirelessly at strangers would light up joyfully when he saw his mother, even when she was a long distance away. He always clung to her. Although the scholar loved him even more than his mother did, Qiu Bao did not take to him. As to the scholar's wife, although outwardly she showed as much affection for Qiu Bao as if he were her own baby, he would stare at her with the same indefatigable curiosity as he did at strangers. But the more the child grew attached to his mother, the closer drew the time for their separation. Once more it was summer. To everybody in the house, the advent of this season was a reminder of the coming end of the young woman's three-year stay.
The scholar, out of his love for Qiu Bao, suggested to his wife one day that he was willing to offer another hundred dollars to buy the young woman so that she could stay with them permanently. The wife, however, replied curtly,
"No, you'll have to poison me before you do that!"
This made the scholar angry. He remained silent for quite a while. Then, forcing himself to smile, he said,
"It's a pity that our child will be motherless..." His wife smiled wryly and said in an icy and cutting tone,
"Don't you think that I might be a mother to him?"
As to the young woman, there were two conflicting ideas in her mind. On the one hand, she always remembered that she would have to leave after the three years were up. Three years seemed a short time and she had become more of a servant than a temporary wife. Besides, in her mind her elder son Chun Bao had become as sweet and lovely a child as Qiu Bao. She could not bear to remain away from either Qiu Bao or Chun Bao. On the other hand, she was willing to stay on permanently in the scholar's house because she thought her own husband would not live long and might even die in four or five years. So she longed to have the scholar bring Chun Bao into his home so that she could also live with her elder son.
One day, as she was sitting wearily on the veranda with Qiu Bao sleeping at her breast, the hypnotic rays of the early summer sun sent her into a daydream and she thought she saw Chun Bao standing beside her; but when she stretched out her hand to him and was about to speak to her two sons, she saw that her elder boy was not there.
At the door at the other end of the veranda the scholar's wife, with her seemingly kind face but fierce eyes, stood staring at the young woman. The latter came to and said to herself,
"I'd better leave here as soon as I can. She's always spying on me!"
Later, the scholar changed his plan a little; he decided he would send Mrs. Shen on another mission: to find out whether the young woman's husband was willing to take another thirty dollars — or fifty dollars at most — to let him keep the young woman for another three years. He said to his wife,
"I suppose Qiu Bao's mother could stay on until he is five."
Chanting "Buddha preserve me" with a rosary in her hand, the scholar's wife replied,
"She has got her elder son at home. Besides, you ought to let her go back to her lawful husband."
The scholar hung his head and said brokenly,
"Just imagine, Qiu Bao will be motherless at two..."
Putting away the rosary, his wife snapped,
"I can take care of him, I can manage him. Are you afraid I'm going to murder him?"
Upon hearing the last sentence, the scholar walked away hurriedly. His wife went on grumbling,
"The child has been born for me. Qiu Bao is mine. If the male line of your family came to an end, it would affect me too. You've been bewitched by her. You're old and pigheaded. You don't know what's what. Just think how many more years you may live, and yet you're trying to do everything to keep her with you. I certainly don't want another woman's tablet put side by side with mine in the family shrine!"
It seemed as if she would never stop pouring out the stream of venomous and biting words, but the scholar was too far away to hear them.
Every time Qiu Bao had a pimple on his head or a slight fever, the scholar's wife would go around praying to Buddha and bring back Buddha's medicine in the form of incense ash which she applied to the baby's pimple or dissolved in water for him to drink. He would cry and perspire profusely. The young woman did not like the idea of the scholar's wife making so much fuss when the baby fell slightly ill, and always threw the ash away when she was not there. Sighing deeply, the scholar's wife once said to her husband,
"You see, she really doesn't care a bit about our baby and says that he's not getting thinner. Real love needs no flourishes; she is only pretending that she loves our baby."
The young woman wept when alone, and the scholar kept silent.
On Qiu Bao's first birthday, the celebration lasted the whole day. About forty guests attended the party. The birthday presents they brought included baby clothes, noodles, a silver pendant in the shape of a lion's head to be worn on the baby's chest and a gold-plated image of the God of Longevity to be sewn to the baby's bonnet. The guests wished the baby good luck and a long life. The host's face flushed with joy as if reflecting the reddening glow of the setting sun.
Late in the afternoon, just before the banquet, there came into the courtyard from the deepening twilight outside an uninvited guest, who attracted the attention of all the others. He was an emaciated-looking peasant, dressed in patched clothes and with unkempt hair, carrying under his arm a paper-parcel. Greatly astonished and puzzled, the host went up to inquire where he hailed from. While the newcomer was stammering, it suddenly occurred to the host that this was none other than the skin dealer — the young woman's husband. Thereupon, the host said in a low voice,
"Why do you bring a gift? You really shouldn't have done this!"
The newcomer looked timidly about, saying,
"I... I had to come... I've come to wish the baby a long life..."
Before he had finished speaking, he began to open the package he had brought. Tearing off three paper wrappings with his quivering fingers, he took out four bronze-cast and silver-plated Chinese characters, each about one square inch in size, which said that the baby would live as long as the South Mountain.
The scholar's wife appeared on the scene, and looked displeased when she saw the skin dealer. The scholar, however, invited the skin dealer to the table, where the guests sat whispering about him.
The guests wined and dined for two hours and everybody was feeling happy and excited. They indulged in noisy drinking games and plied one another with big bowls of wine. The deafening uproar rocked the house. Nobody paid any attention to the skin dealer who sat silently after drinking two cups of wine. Having enjoyed their wine, the guests each hurriedly took a bowl of rice; and, bidding one another farewell, they dispersed in twos and threes, carrying lighted lanterns in their hands.
The skin dealer sat there eating until the servants came to clear the table. Then he walked to a dark corner of the veranda where he found his wife.
"What did you come for?" asked the young woman with an extremely sad note in her voice.
"I didn't want to come, but I just couldn't help it."
"Then why did you come so late?"
"I couldn't get any money to buy a birthday gift. I spent the whole morning begging for a loan and then I had to go to town to buy the gift. I was tired and hungry. That's why I came late."
The young woman asked, "How's Chun Bao?"
Her husband reflected for a moment and then answered,
"It's for Chun Bao's sake that I've come..."
"For Chun Bao's sake!" she echoed in surprise. He went on slowly,
"Since this summer Chun Bao has grown very skinny. In the autumn, he fell sick. I haven't been able to do anything for him because I haven't had any money. So his illness is getting more serious. I'm afraid he won't live unless we try to save him!" He continued after a short pause, "I've come to borrow some money from you..."
Deep inside her, the young woman had the feeling that wild cats were scratching and biting her, gnawing at her very heart. She was on the verge of bursting into tears, but on such an occasion when everybody was celebrating Qiu Bao's birthday she knew she had to keep her emotions under control. She made a brave effort to keep back her tears and said to her husband,
"How can I get hold of any money? They give me twenty cents a month as pocket money here, but I spend every cent of it on my baby. What can we do now?"
Both were speechless for a while, then the young woman asked again,
"Who is taking care of Chun Bao while you're here?"
"One of the neighbours. I've got to go back home tonight. In fact I ought to be going now," he answered, wiping away his tears.
"Wait a moment," she told him tearfully, "let me go and try to borrow some money from him."
And with this she left him.
Three days later, in the evening, the scholar suddenly asked the young woman,
"Where's the blue jade ring I gave you?"
"I gave it to him the other night. He pawned it."
"Didn't I lend you five dollars?" countered the scholar irritably.
The young woman, hanging her head, answered after a moment's pause,
"Five dollars wasn't enough!"
The scholar sighed deeply at this and said, "No matter how good I try to be to you, you still love your husband and your elder son more. I wanted to keep you for another couple of years, but now I think you'd better leave here next spring!"
The young woman stood there silent and tearless.
Several days later, the scholar again reproached her, "That blue jade ring is a treasure. I gave it to you because I wanted Qiu Bao to inherit it from you. I didn't' think you would have it pawned! It's lucky my wife doesn't know about it, otherwise she would make scenes for another three months."
After this the young woman became thinner and paler. Her eyes lost their lustre; she was often subjected to sneers and curses. She was forever worrying about Chun Bao's illness. She was always on the lookout for some acquaintance from her home village or some traveller going there. She hoped she could hear about Chun Bao's recovery, but there was no news. She wished she could borrow a couple of dollars or buy sweets for some traveller to take to Chun Bao, but she could find no one going to her home village. She would often walk outside the gate with Qiu Bao in her arms, and there, standing by the roadside, she would gaze with melancholy eyes at the country paths. This greatly annoyed the scholar's wife who said to her husband,
"She really doesn't want to stay here any longer. She's anxious to get back home as soon as she can."
Sometimes at night, sleeping with Qiu Bao at her bosom, she would suddenly wake up from her dreams and scream until the child too would awake and start crying. Once, the scholar asked her,
"What's happened? What's happened?"
She patted the child without answering. The scholar continued,
"Did you dream your elder son had died? How you screamed! You woke me up!"
She hurriedly answered, "No, no... I thought I saw a new grave in front of me!"
He said nothing, but the morbid hallucination continued to loom before her — she saw herself approaching the grave.
Winter was drawing to a close and the birds began twittering at her window, as if urging her to leave quickly. The child was weaned, and her separation from her son — permanent separation — was already a foregone conclusion.
On the day of her departure, the kitchenmaid quietly asked the scholar's wife,
"Shall we hire a sedan-chair to take her home?"
Fingering the rosary in her hand, the scholar's wife said, "Better let her walk. Otherwise she will have to pay the fare herself. And where will she get the money? I understand her husband can't even afford to have three meals a day. She shouldn't try to be showy. It's not very far from here, and I myself have walked some forty li a day. She's more used to walking than I am, so she ought to be able to get there in half a day."
In the morning, as the young woman was dressing Qiu Bao, tears kept streaming down her cheeks. The child called, "Auntie, auntie" (the scholar's wife had made him call herself "mummy", and his real mother, "auntie"). The young woman could not answer for weeping. She wanted so much to say to the child,
"Good-bye, darling! Your 'mummy' has been good to you, so you should be good to her in the future. Forget about me forever!" But these words she never uttered. The child was only one and a half years old, and she knew that he would never understand what she wanted to say.
The scholar walked up quietly behind her, and put ten twenty-cent silver coins into her palm, saying softly,
"Here are two dollars for you."
Buttoning up the child's clothes, she put the ten silver coins into her pocket.
The scholar's wife also came in, and, staring hard at the back of the retreating scholar, she turned to the young woman, saying,
"Give me Qiu Bao, so that he won't cry when you leave."
The young woman remained silent, but the child was unwilling to leave his mother and kept striking the scholar's wife's face with his little hands. The scholar's wife was piqued and said,
"You can keep him with you until you've had breakfast."
The kitchenmaid urged the young woman to eat as much as possible, saying,
"You've been eating very little for a fortnight. You are thinner than when you first came here. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? You have to walk thirty li today, so finish this bowl of rice!"
The young woman said listlessly, "You're really kind to me!"
It was a fine day and the sun was high in the sky. Qiu Bao continued to cling to his mother. When the scholar's wife angrily snatched him away from her, he yelled at the top of his voice, kicking the elderly woman in the belly and pulling at her hair. The young woman, standing behind, pleaded,
"Let me stay here until after lunch."
The scholar's wife replied fiercely over her shoulder,
"Hurry up with your packing. You've got to leave sooner or later!"
From then on, Qiu Bao's cries gradually receded from the young woman's hearing.
While she was packing, she kept listening to his crying. The kitchenmaid stood beside her, comforting her and watching what she was putting into her parcel. The young woman then left with the same old parcel she had brought with her when she first came.
She heard Qiu Bao crying as she walked out of the gate, and his cries rang in her ears even after she had plodded a distance of three li.
Stretching before her lay the sun-bathed country road which seemed to be as long as the sky was boundless. As she was walking along the bank of a river, whose clear water reflected her like a mirror, she thought of stopping there and putting an end to her life by drowning herself. But, after sitting for a while on the bank, she resumed her journey.
It was already afternoon, and an elderly villager told her that she still had fifteen li to go before she would reach her own village. She said to him,
"Grandpa, please hire a litter for me. I'm too tired to walk."
"Are you sick?" asked the old man.
"Yes, I am." She was sitting in a pavilion outside a village.
"Where have you walked from?"
She answered after a moment's hesitation,
"I'm on my way home; this morning I thought I would be able to walk the whole way."
The elder lapsed into sympathetic silence and finally hired a litter for her.
It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when the litter carriers entered a narrow and filthy village street. The young woman, her pale face shrunken and yellowed like an old vegetable leaf, lay with her eyes closed. She was breathing weakly. The villagers eyed her with astonishment and compassion. A group of village urchins noisily followed the litter, the appearance of which stirred the quiet village.
One of the children chasing after the litter was Chun Bao. The children were shouting like they were driving little pigs when the litter carriers suddenly turned into the lane leading to Chun Bao's home. Chun Bao stopped in surprise. As the litter stopped in front of his home, he leaned dazed against a post and looked at it from a distance. The other children gathered around and craned their necks timidly. When the young woman descended from the litter, she felt giddy and at first did not realize that the shabbily dressed child with dishevelled hair standing before her was Chun Bao. He was hardly any taller than when she had left three years before and just as skinny. Then, she blurted out in tears,
"Chun Bao!"
Startled, the children dispersed. Chun bao, also frightened, ran inside the house to look for his father.
Inside the dingy room, the young woman sat for a long, long while. Both she and her husband were speechless. As night fell, he raised his head and said,
"You'd better prepare supper!"
She rose reluctantly, and, after searching around the house, said in a weak voice,
"There's no rice left in the big jar..."
Her husband looked at her with a sickly smile,
"You've got used to living in a rich man's house all right. We keep our rice in a cardboard box."
That night, the skin dealer said to his son,
"Chun Bao, you go to bed with your mother!"
Chun Bao, standing beside the stove, started crying. His mother walked up to him and called,
"Chun Bao, Chun Bao!" But when she tried to caress him, the boy shunned her. His father hissed,
"You've forgotten your own mother. You ought to get a good beating for that!"
The young woman lay awake on the narrow, dirty plankbed with Chun Bao lying, like a stranger, beside her. Her mind in a daze, she seemed to see her younger son Qiu Bao — plump, white and lovely — curled up beside her, but as she stretched out her arms to embrace him, she saw it was Chun Bao, who had just fallen asleep. The boy was breathing faintly, his face pressed against his mother's breast. She hugged him tightly.
The still and chilly night seemed to drag on endlessly...
