The Curse of the Blood-Glow

[etm solmerano]

The Curse of the Blood-Glow
By Pa Chin

Pa Chin is the pen name for Li Fei-kan (1904- ) is one of modern China’s most prolific and admired writers. Although he has written in practically every literary genre, from political tracts to romantic dramas, his chief reputation has been as a novelist of social reform. In addition to two trilogies Turbulent Stream and Love Pa Chin has written several other novels and scores of short stories. The first book of the trilogy Turbulent Stream is the novel Family, from which the story of the Blood-Glow is taken. An anarchist from his student days, Pa Chin ran into hard times with both the Kuomintang and the Communist governments. During the first year of the Chinese People’s Republic, he realized considerable fame. But after speaking out too frankly during the quickly-aborted “Hundred Flowers Period” of 1956-57 when Mao Tse-tung called for freedom of thought and expression, his home was vandalized, and his internationally-famous library of anarchist literature destroyed. In 1968, Pa Chin was publicly denounced as a traitor, first kept under house arrest, and then sent to labor for re-education. He was among a considerable number of intellectuals who were later accepted back into the mainstream of China’s life. Pa Chin’s Family presents in fictional form a picture of old China and the forces that are rising to destroy it. Women suffer their special agonies. Arranged marriages, foot-binding, submission to men and to elders, are all becoming increasingly hard to accept. The struggles, hopes, and aspirations of the Kao family are rooted in the reality of the China of the day. While parents and grandparents remain bound to Confucian classics, the young people read such magazines as New Youth, one of the most influential periodicals of the New Culture Movement that was inspired by Hu Shih’s call for the use of spoken language as a literary medium. They read and dream about the strange life of the West. They are ripe for change and freedom.

It was almost time for Jui-chueh to give birth, and Mistress Chen and the other women of the family were deeply disturbed. At first they only discussed the matter privately. Then, one day, with stern visage, Mistress Chen talked to Ke-ming and his brothers about the curse of the blood-glow.
There was a superstition that if, while the body of one of the elder generation was still in the house, a birth should take place at home, the glow of blood emitted by the mother would attack the corpse and cause it to spurt large quantities of blood. The only means by which this could be prevented was for the pregnant woman to leave the compound and move outside the city.
Nor was that enough. The big city gates weren’t strong enough to keep the blood-glow from returning– she had to move across a bridge.
Even that was necessarily fool-proof. The coffin had to be covered with a layer of bricks and earth. Only thus could it be protected from the curse of the blood-glow.
Madam Shen of the Fifth Household was the fist to approve of these preventive measures; Madam Wang of the Fourth Household quickly seconded her. Ke-an and Ke-ting agreed next, followed finally by Ke-ming and Madam Chou. Of the elder generation only Madam Chang of the Third Household expressed no opinion. In any event, it was decided to act according to Mistress Chen’s recommendation, and the elders wanted Chueh-hsin to move his wife out immediately. They said the interests of the Vulnerable Master Kao should transcend all.
Although the decision struck Chueh-hsin like a bolt from the blue, he accepted it meekly. He had never disagreed with anyone in his life, no matter how unfairly they may have treated him. He preferred to swallow his tears, suppress his anger and bitterness; he would bear anything– rather than oppose the person directly. Nor did it even occur to him to wonder whether this forbearance might not be harmful to others.
Jui-chueh made no complaint when he informed her. She expressed her unwillingness in tears. But it was no use. She hadn’t the strength to protect herself. Chueh-hsin hadn’t the strength to protect her either. She could only submit.
“You know I don’t believe in this, but what can I do?” Chueh-hsin helplessly spread his hands.
“They all say it’s better to be on the safe side.”
“I am not blaming you. I blame only my unhappy destiny,” Jui-chueh sobbed. “My mother isn’t even in town to look after me. But I can’t let you get the reputation of being unfilial. Even if you were willing, I wouldn’t agree.”
“Jui, forgive me, I’m too weak. I can’t even protect my own wife. These years we’ve been together– you know what I’ve been suffering.”
“You shouldn’t…talk like that,” Jui-chueh said, wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. “I know… what you’ve been through. You’ve… suffered enough. You’re so good to me. I’m very grateful.”
“Grateful? You’re going to give birth any day now, and I’m sending you to a lonely place outside the city where there are no conveniences and you’ll be all alone. I’m letting you down. What other man would let his wife be treated so badly? And you still say you’re grateful!” Chueh-hsin wept miserably.
Jui-chueh stilled her crying, rose quietly and walked out. Soon she returned, holding little Hai-chen by the hand and followed by the nursemaid.
Leading the child to the softly weeping Chueh-hsin, she instructed him to call his “Tieh-tieh,” to take his father’s hand and tell him not to cry.
Chueh-hsin embraced the little boy and gazed at him with loving eyes. He kissed the child’s cheek several times, the put him down and returned him to Jui-chueh. “There’s no hope for me,” he said hoarsely. “But rear Hai-chen well. I don’t want him to be like me when he grows up!”
Chue-hsin left the room, wiping his eyes with his hand.
“Where are you going?” Jui-chueh called after him in concern.
“Outside the city to look for a house.” He turned around to face her, and his eyes again were blinded by tears. After wrenching these words out, he hastily walked away.
That day Chue-hsin returned very late. Finding a house was nit easy, but in the end he had succeeded. It was a little place in a small compound, ill- lighted, with damp walls and earthen floor. The rent was cheap enough, but that wasn’t the reason Chueh-hsin took it. He had been concerned with only two things- “outside the city” and “across the bridge.” Such matters as comfort and convenience are secondary.
Before Jui-chueh moved, Mistress Chen and a few other ladies of the family went to inspect the house. They could find no objections.
Chueh-hsin insisted on doing all the packing for Jui-chueh. He made her sit in a chair and supervise. Before putting anything in the suitcase, he would hold it up and say, “What about this?” and she would smile and nod her head., whether she really wanted it or not. When the packing was done Chueh-hsin declared proudly, “You see, I know exactly what you like.”
Jui-chueh smiled. “You do indeed. The next time I go on a trip I’ll be sure to ask you to pack for me again.” She hadn’t intended to make the last remark, but it slipped out.
“Next time? Of course I’ll go with you next time. Where will you be going?”
“I was thinking of visiting my mother. But we’ll go together, naturally. I won’t leave you again.”
Chueh-hsin changed color, and he hastily dropped his head. Then he raised it again and said with a forced laugh, “Yes, we’ll go together.”
They were fooling each other and they knew it. Though they smiled, they wanted to cry. But they masked their true feelings behind a cheerful countenance. Neither was willing to give way to tears in the presence of the other.
The girls, Shu-hua and Shu-ying, came in, then Chueh-min and Chueh-hui. They could see only the pleasant expressions on the faces of Chueh-hsin and Jui-chueh, and could not guess the turmoil that was in their hearts.
Chueh-hsin couldn’t keep silent. “Big brother, are you really going to let Sister-in-law go?” he demanded. Although he had heard something about this, at first, he thought people were joking. But when he had come home, a few minutes before, he had met Yuan Cheng, Chueh-hsin’s middle-aged servant, at the gate to the inner courtyard. The man had greeted him affectionately, and Chueh-hui stopped to chat with him.
“Third Young Master, do you think it’s a good idea for Mistress Jui-chueh to move outside the city?” Yuan Cheng had asked with a frown, his thin face darker that usual.
Chueh-hui was startled. “Of course not. But I don’t think she’ll really go.”
“Third Young Master, you don’t know. First Young Master has ordered me and Sister Chang to look after her. They’ve already called in a mason to make a false tomb for the old man’s coffin. I don’t think she ought to go, Third Young Master. Even if she must, it ought to be to some place decent. Only rich people have all these rules and customs. Why doesn’t First Young Master speak up? We servants don’t understand much, but we think her life is more important than all these rules. Why don’t you talk to First Young Master, and Madam Chou?”
There were tears in Yuan Cheng’s eyes. “We ought to think of the Young Mistress. Everyone in the compound wishes her well! If anything should go wrong–“ Yuan Cheng couldn’t continue.
“All right. I’ll speak to First Young Master immediately. Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen to the Young Mistress,” Chueh-hui had said, agitated, but determined.
“Thank you, Third Young Master. But please don’ let anyone know I told you,” Yuan Cheng said in a low voice. He turned and went into the gate house.
Chueh-hui had immediately sought out Chueh-hsin. Although the appearance of the room already proved the truth of Yuan Cheng’s word, Chueh-hui demanded to know whether Big Brother was sending Jui-chueh away.
Chueh-hsin looked at him vaguely, then silently nodded his head.
“Are you crazy? Surely you don’t believe in all this superstitious rot!”
“What difference does it make what I believe?” cried Chueh-hsin, wringing his hands.
“That’s what they all want.”
“I say you should fight back,” said Chueh-hui angrily, his eyes gleaming with hatred. He didn’t look at Chueh-hsin.
“This is the last act of their farce.” His gaze was fixed outside the window.
“Third Brother is right,” said Chueh-min. “Don’t sent Sister-in-law away. Go and explain your reasons in detail. They’ll understand. They’re reasonable people.”
“Reasonable?” echoed Chueh-hsin fretfully. “Even Third Uncle who studied law in a Japanese university was forced to agree. What chances have I? I couldn’t bear it if I became known as unfilial. I have to do what they want. It’s just hard on your Sister-in-law.”
“What’s hard about it? It will be much quieter outside the city.” I’ll have people to look after me and keep me company,” said Jui-chueh with a forced smile. “I’m sure it will be very comfortable.”
“You’ve given in again, Big Brother! Why do you always give in? Don’t you realize how much harm you do?” Chueh-hui demanded hotly. “Your weakness nearly wrecked the happiness of Chueh-min and Chin. Luckily, Second Brother had the courage to resist. That’s why he won.”
Chueh-min couldn’t repress a smile of satisfaction. He agreed with Chueh-hui. His happiness had been won through victory in battle.
“Certainly, you’ve triumphed.” Chueh-hsin suppressed his anger. He seemed to be ridiculing himself. “You resist everything, you have contempt for everything, and you’ve won. But your victory has deepened my defeat. They heap upon me all their resentment against you. They hate me, curse me behind my back. You can resist, go away. But can I run away from home like Second Brother? There are many things you don’t know. How much abuse I had to put up with on account of Second Brother. The trouble I had over Third Brother working on that magazine and mixing with those new friends, I took it all, without a word. I kept my bitterness inside me. No one knew. It’s all very well for you talk about resistance, struggle. But who can I say those fine-sounding words to?”
Gradually his anger abated. An unbearable oppression seemed to be crushing him. He hurried to his bed and lay down, hiding his face with his hands.
This crumpled Jui-chueh’s last line of defense. Dropping her false smile, she buried her head on the table and wept. Shua-hua and Shu-ying, their own voices tearful, tried to comfort her. Chueh-min regretted he had spoken so hastily. He had been too harsh with Big Brother. He tried to think of something to say to make amends.
Chueh-hui was different. There was too much hatred in his heart for him to find room for sympathy for his Big Brother. He could see a lake before him, and a coffin… Ming-feng and Mei…. And now… this… and what it would bring. These thoughts made him burn with range.
Like his two older brothers, Chueh-hui had enjoyed the loving care of a devoted mother. After she died, he tried to carry out her teachings– love and help others, respect your elders, be good to your inferiors. But what a spectacle his elder generation was making of itself today! How the dark forces in the family that destroys love were growing! The life of the girl he had adored had been uselessly snuffed out. Another girl had been driven to her grave. And he had not been able to save them. Sympathy, he was bereft of sympathy- even for his brother. In his heart there were only curses.
“One girl has died already because of you,” he said to Chueh-hsin coldly. “I should think that would be enough.” He strode from the room.
Outside, he met the nursemaid bringing in little Hai-chen. The child hailed him, laughing, and he returned the salutation. He was miserable.
Back in his own room, Chueh-hui was overcome with a loneliness, the like of which he had never felt before. His eyes grew damp. The world was such a tragic place. So may tears. So many sufferings. People live only t destroy themselves, or to destroy others.
“Why is there so much misery in the world?” he asked himself. His mind was filled with pictures of innumerable unhappy events.
No matter what happens, I must go my own road, even if it means trampling over their dead bodies. Chueh-hui seemed to be hemmed in by bitterness, with no way out, and he encouraged himself with these words.
Then he left the compound. He went to the magazine office, to join his new friends.
Temporarily suppressing his unhappiness, Chueh-hsin accompanied Jui-chueh to her new abode. Madam Chou, Shu-hua and Shu-ying went with them. There were also the man servant, Yuan Cheng and Sister Chang, the stout maid, who would stay with Jui-chueh. Chueh-min and Chin came out a bit later in the day.
Jui-chueh didn’t like the place. It was the first time she and Chueh-hsin would be separated since their marriage. She would have to live without him in this damp gloomy house for over a month. She tried to think of something to console herself, but she could not. Everyone was busy arranging furniture, and she wept behind their backs. But when anyone spoke to her she managed to look cheerful. This made the people concerned about her feel somewhat reassured.
It was soon time for the others to return to the city.
“Must you all go? Can’t Chin and Shu-hua stay a little longer?” Jui-chueh pleaded.
“It’s getting late. They’ll be closing the city gates. I’ll come and see you again tomorrow,” said Chin with a smile.
“City gates,” Jui-chueh repeated the phrase as if she had not understood it. Actually she knew very well that tonight she would be separated from Chueh-hsin not only by distance but by a series of ponderous gates. Between dusk tonight and dawn tomorrow even if she died out here, he wouldn’t know. He wouldn’t be able to reach her. She was like a criminal, exiled in a distance land. This time she couldn’t control her tears; they welled from her eyes.
“It’s so lonely here. I’m afraid.”
“Don’t worry Sister-in-law,” said Shu-hua. I’ll move out tomorrow.”
“I will too. I’ll speak to Ma about it,” added Shu-ying emotionally.
“Be patient, Jui. You’ll get used to it in a day or so,” said Chueh-hsin. “The two servants staying with you are very reliable. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Tomorrow the girls will move out to keep you company. I’ll try and find time too. Be patient. The month will pass quickly.” Though he tried hard to appear confident, Chueh-hsin felt more like embracing Jui-chueh and weeping with her.
Madam Chou gave some instructions, the others added a few words, and then they all departed. Jui-chueh saw them to the compound gate and watched them get into their sedan-chairs.
Chueh-hsin had already entered his conveyance. Suddenly he got out again to ask whether she wanted him to bring her anything from home. Jui-chueh said she had everything she needed.
“Bring Hai-chen out tomorrow. I miss him terrible,” she said. “Take care of him,” she directed, and she added, “Whatever you do, don’t let my mother hear about this. She’ll worry.”
“I wrote to her two days ago. I didn’t tell you. I knew you wouldn’t let me write her,” replied Chueh-hsin.
“Why did you do it? If my mother knew I was–“ Jui-chueh stopped herself abruptly. She was afraid of hurting him.
“I had to let her know. If she can come to Chengtu, she’ll be able to help look after you.” Chueh-hsin swallowed his pain. He didn’t dare think of Jui-chueh’s unfinished sentence.
The two looked at each other as if they had nothing to say. But their hearts were filled with unspoken words.
“I’m going now. You get some rest.” Again Chueh-hsin walked to his sedan-chair. He turned his head to gaze at her several times.
“Come early tomorrow,” Jui-chueh called from the gate. She waved her hand until the sedan-chair disappeared around a bend in the road. Then, supporting her heavy abdomen, she went into the house.
She wanted to take some things out of her luggage, but her limbs were powerless. Her nerves were tense too. Wearily making an effort, she walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. Suddenly, she thought she felt the child move in her womb; she seemed to hear it cry. I hysterical anger, she beat her abdomen with her hand weakly. “You’ve ruined me!” she exclaimed. She wept softly until Sister Chang, the maid, hearing her, came hurrying in to soothe her.
The following morning, Chueh-hsin indeed came early, and he brought Hai-chen with him. Shu-hua moved out, as promised. Shu-ying came too, but she had not been able to obtain her mother’s consent to live outside the city. Later, Chin also arrived. For a while, the little compound was very gay, with chatter and happy laughter.
The hours passed quickly. Again it was time to part. Hai-chen burst into tears; he wanted to remain with his mother. Of course, this was not possible. After much persuasion, Jui-chueh managed to cajole a smile from him again. He agreed to go home with his father.
Once more Jui-chueh saw Chueh-hsin to the gate. “Come again early tomorrow,” she said. Tears glistened in her eyes.
“I’m afraid I can’t come tomorrow. Masons are coming to build a simulated tomb for Yeh-yeh. The family wants me to supervise,” Chueh-hsin said morosely. Noticing her tears, he said quickly,
“But I’ll definitely find time to come out. You mustn’t get upset so easily, Jui. Take care of your health. If you should get sick–“ Chueh-hsin swallowed the rest. He was afraid of weeping himself.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” said Jui-chueh slowly with a mournful smile, her eyes fixed upon his face. She patted Hai-chen’s cheek. “Each time you leave, I’m afraid I’m never going to see you again. I’m scared. I don’t know why.” She rubbed her eyes.
“You shouldn’t be. We will live so near each other, and I come to see you every day. And now Shu-hua is staying with you.” Chueh-hsin forced a smile. He didn’t dare let himself think.
“Isn’t that the temple?” Jui-chueh suddenly pointed at a tile-roofed building far off to the right.
“I hear that’s where Cousin Mei’s coffin is. I must go and see her one of these days.”
Chueh-hsin turned pale. He hastily looked away. A terrifying thought possessed him. He took her warm soft hand and pressed it, as if afraid that someone would snatch her from him. “You mustn’t go, Jui!” he exhorted. Jui-chueh was impressed with the gravity of his tone, though she couldn’t understand why he should be so set against her going.
But he said no more. Dropping her hand abruptly, after Hai-chen again said goodbye to “Mama,” Chueh-hsin strode to his sedan-chair. As the two carriers raised the conveyance to their shoulders, Hai-chen leaned out of the window and called, “Mama! Mama!”
On returning home, Chueh-hsin went to the family hall, where the old man’s body was lying in its coffin. He met Mistress Chen who was coming out.
“How is Jui-chueh? Well, I hope,” she greeted him, smiling.
“Not bad, thank you.” Chueh-hsin forced an answering smile.
“Will she be giving birth soon?”
“It will still be a couple of days, I’m afraid.”
“Don’t forget, Young Master. You mustn’t enter the delivery room!” Mistress Chen’s voice suddenly became hard. She walked away.
Chueh-hsin had been given this warning several times before. But today, hearing a person like Mistress Chen issue it in such a tone made him speechless with rage. He stared her retreating figure. When little Hai-chen, whom he was holding by the hand, raised his head and called “Tieh-tieh,” Chueh-hsin didn’t hear him.
Four days later, paid his usual visit to Jui-chueh. Because he had been delayed by some business at home, he didn’t arrive until past three in the afternoon.
Calling Jui-chueh by name as he entered the courtyard, he hurried to her room. But before he could set foot across the threshold, he was stopped by the stout maid, Sister Chang.
“You can’t go in, First Young Master,” she said severely.
He understood, and meekly withdrew to the little garden outside Jui-chueh’s window. The door closed. Inside, he heard footsteps and the voice of a woman he didn’t know.
Chueh-hsin gazed distractedly at the grass and the flowers in the small garden. He couldn’t tell whether he was happy or sad, angry or satisfied. It seemed to him he felt all these emotions at the same time. It seemed to him that he had been in a similar state of mind several years before, though only to a very slight extent. Actually it had been quite different.
How he had suffered through her struggles then, how happy and grateful he had been when she presented him with the precious gift of their first child. He had been by her side when she won through to victory; his tension had relaxed, his worry had turned to joy. When the midwife handed him the infant, he had kissed its adorable little red face. He had vowed in his heart that he would love the child and make every sacrifice for him; his whole life was deposited in the body of that infant. He had gone to the bedside of his wife and looked at her pale weary face with a love and gratitude beyond words. She had gazed back at him, triumphant, loving; then she had looked at the baby.
“I feel fine now,” she had said to Chueh-hsin happily. “Isn’t he a darling? You must decide on a name for him, quickly!” her face shone with a radiance of a mother’s bliss.
Today, she was lying again in bed. She had begun to moan. There were hurrying footsteps in the room and low serious voices. All that was the same. But now she was in this rustic place. They were separated by a door. He couldn’t see her, encourage her, comfort her, and share her pain.
Today, again he waited. But there was no joy or satisfaction- only fear, shame and regret. In his mind there was just one thought- I have injured her.
“Young Mistress, how are you feeling?” he heard Sister Chang ask.
There was along silence. Then an agonized cry pierced his ears. He trembled, gritted his teeth, and clenched his fists. Can that be her? He wondered. She had never uttered a sound like that before. But who else could it be? It must be her: It must be my Jui.
Again those terrible screams. Cries hardly human. Footsteps, voices. The rattle of crockery and cries blended together. Chueh-hsin covered his ears with his hands. It can’t be her. It can’t be my Jui. She could never scream like that. Nearly frantic with worry, he tried to look through the window, but the blinds were closed. He could only hear things; he couldn’t see. Disappointed, he turned away.
“Be patient, Young Mistress. You’ll be all right in a little while,” said the unknown woman.
“It won’t be long now,” urged Shu-hua. “Just be patient.”
Gradually, the cries subsided into low moans.
The door suddenly opened and sister Chang hurried out. She went in to another room. Chueh-hsin stared in through the half-opened door. He hesitated, wondering whether to go in. by the time he made up his mind, the door was closed in his face. He pushed it a few times, but inside there was no response. As he dejectedly turned to leave, from the room came a terrible cry. He pushed the door hard and pounded it with his fists.
“Who’s there?” shouted Sister Chang.
“Let me in!” There was fear in voice, and pain and anger.
No one answered. The door remained shut. His wife continues to scream.
“Let me in I say!” He furiously pounded the door.
“You can’t come in, First Young Master. Madam Chou, Elder Master Ke-ming, Mistress Chen- they all left strict instructions.” Sister Chang shouted through the door.
Chueh-hsin’s courage ebbed away. He remembered what they had told him. Silently, he stood before the door. He had nothing more to say.
“Is that you, Chueh-hsin?” It was Jui-chueh’s agonized voice. “Why don’t you come in? Sister Chang, let the First Master in! Oh, the pain… the pain…”
A chill ran up Chueh-hsin’s spine. “I’m coming, Jui, I’m coming! Open this door immediately! She needed me! Let me in!” he yelled, beating a wild tattoo on the door with his fists.
“Hsin, it hurts!... Where are you? Why don’t you let him in? Oh!”
“I’ll protect you, Jui! I’ll never leave your! Let me in! Can’t you see how she’s suffering? Have you no pity!” He heard a violent thrashing about.
Then the cries in the room stopped. A dead silence followed. That awful stillness was suddenly pierced by the bright clear wail of a new-born babe.
A stone seemed to drop from Chueh-hsin’s heart. “Thank Heaven, thank Earth!” he breathed. Her pain was probably over now. Fear and suffering left him. Again he felt an indescribable joy; his eyes filled with tears. “I’ll love and cherish her more than ever,” he said to himself. “And I’ll love our second child.” He smiled with tears running down his cheeks.
“Sister-in-law!” Shu-hua’s terrified exclamation smashed him like a blow. “Her hands are cold!”
“Young Mistress!” cried Sister Chang.
Their cries were a mournful dirge. Besides the midwife, they were the only persons in the room.
Chueh-hsin knew that a disaster had struck. He didn’t dare to think. He went on beating against the door and yelling. No one paid any attention. The door stood implacable. It wouldn’t let him rescue her, or even see her for the last time. It cut off all hope. In the room, women wept.
“Jui, I’m calling you. Can you hear me?” An insane shout, embodying all his love, was wrenched from the depths of his heart. A cry to bring her back to another world, to restore life not only to her but himself. For he knew what sort of an existence he would lead without her.
But death had come.
Footsteps approached the door. He thought it was going to be opened. But no, the midwife stood with the baby in her arms and spoke to him through a crack. “Congratulations, First Young Master. It’s a boy.” He heard her start to walk away, and then the dreadful words, “Unfortunately, the baby has no mother.”
The announcement went through Chueh-hsin’s hear like a knife. He had none of the father’s love for his infant. The child was his enemy, an enemy who had stolen Jui-chueh’s life.
Gripped by hatred and grief, he pounded savagely on the door. He had wanted to kneel at his wife’s bedside and beg forgiveness for his wrongs. But it was too late. The stubborn door barred their final love, their last farewell. It would not even let him weep before her.
Suddenly it dawned upon him. The door had no power. What had taken his wife away was something else. It was the entire social system, with its moral code, its superstitions. He had borne them for years while they stole his youth, his happiness, his future, and the two women he had loved most in the world. They were too heavy a burden’s he wanted to shake them off; he struggled. Then, all at once, he knew it was impossible. He was powerless, a weakling. Slumping to his knees before the door, he burst into bitter tears. He wept for her; he wept for himself. His weeping mingled with the sobs inside the room. But how different the two sounds were!
Two sedan-chairs halted outside the compound gate and Chueh-hsin’s stepmother Madam Chou, surprised, asked Chueh-hsin when she saw him still kneeling outside the door.
Chueh-hsin quickly rose. Spreading wide his hands, he sobbed, “Jui, Jui!” He recognized the other woman and greeted her shamefacedly, then again began to cry aloud. At the same time, wails came from the infant inside.
Not speaking, the woman dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief.
The door finally opened. Madam Chou said, ”Please go in, Mrs. Li. Our family is not allowed in the confinement chamber.”
Mrs. Li entered, her penetrating voice was added to the other sounds of grief.
“Jui, why couldn’t you wait? Ma came from so far to see you. If you have anything to tell me, speak! You died a cruel death, my poor little girl! Deserted in this lonely place. They drove you out and left you all alone. If I had only come back earlier, you’d still be alive. My poor little child. Why did I let you marry into that family? Your Ma destroyed you.”
Madam Chou and Chueh-hsin heard it all clearly. Every word was like a needle, piercing deep into their hearts.
“Big brother, I can’t live in this place longer! I’m leaving!”
Chueh-hsin had been sitting all alone in his room at dusk, when Chueh-hui burst in on him. He had been gazing at the photograph he and Jui-chueh had taken when they got married. Although he couldn’t see very plainly in the dim light, her every feature was etched upon his heart. Her full pretty face, her lovely big eyes, her shy smile, and the faint dimples in her cheeks- they all seemed to come alive in the photograph. He had been starting at it tearfully when Chueh-hui’s exclamation brought him back to reality. He turned to see his Third Brother looking at him with flashing eyes.
“You’re leaving?” Chueh-hsin asked, startled. “Where are you going?”
“Shanghai, Peking– any place, as long as it’s away from here!”
Chueh-hsin made no reply. His heart ached. He massaged his chest.
“I’m leaving. I don’t care what they say, I’m leaving!”
Chueh-hui jammed his hands into his pockets and heatedly paced the floor. He didn’t know that each step fell like a heavy tread on Chueh-hsin’s heart.
“Second Brother?” Chueh-hsin wrenched out the question.
“Sometimes he says he’s going, sometimes he says he’s not. I don’t think he’d give up Sister.
Chin and go off by himself,” Chueh-hui replied irritably. Then he added with determination, “Anyhow, I intend to leave.”
“Yes, you can leave if you want to. You can go to Shanghai, to Peking, any place you like!”
Chueh-hsin said almost sobbing.
Chueh-hui remained silent. He understood what his Big Brother meant.
“But what about me? Where can I go?” Chueh-hsin suddenly buried his head and wept.
Chueh-hui continued to pace the floor, from time to time, shooting unhappy glances at his brother.
“You mustn’t go,” Chueh-hsin pleaded. He stopped crying and removed his hands from his face.
“No matter what happens, you must not go.”
Chueh-hui halted and stood looking at his Big Brother with a distressed _expression.
“They won’t allow you to leave. They’ll never let you go!” Chueh-hsin said in a loud argumentative tone. “I know they don’t want me to go.” Chueh-hui laughed contemptuously. “But I’m going to leave just to show them!”
“How can you? They have many arguments you won’t be able to deny. Yeh-yeh’s body is still in the house; there hasn’t been any memorial service yet; he still hasn’t been buried…” Chueh-hsin seemed to be speaking to “them” at this point.
“What’s all that got to do with me? How can they stop me? They won’t dare to kill me– like they killed Sister-in-law!”