9780300122275.pdf by Canxue.; Gernant Karen.; Chen Zeping

Author:Canxue.; Gernant, Karen.; Chen, Zeping [Unknown]
Language: eng
Format: epub

including some the lame woman could never imagine! Well, then, sing some songs. She was hoarse.

The lame woman walked far away, her crutches still echoing. . . .

It was really a terrifying day.

The bees didn’t sing again that day.

‘‘A fortune-teller came.’’ She braced herself to joke with her husband.

‘‘Recently, I haven’t been too interested in fortune-telling.’’ In high spirits, Q was looking at his wife. He kissed her little ears and smiled absent-mindedly.

‘‘You’re wonderful!’’ Gasping in admiration, she threw herself into his arms. ‘‘How about paying a little more attention to our bees and getting them to sing all the time?’’

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5

T H E F A I L U R E O F R E E D U C A T I O N

One noon in the second year of Madam X’s ‘‘dispel boredom’’

movement, there was a small get-together at the lame woman’s home. More than a dozen charming, graceful women attended.

This meeting wasn’t convened by anyone but was brought about by telepathy: it was a ‘‘coincidence.’’ These women were forthright like

‘‘feminists.’’ As soon as they sat down in the room, each began cursing someone. Because they were on the same wave length, they were doubly stimulated—they shared a bitter hatred of the enemy and fought in high spirits, all of them eager and determined to throw all their energy into this.

In this charged atmosphere, the widow suggested that they ask Old Woman Jin to go out and buy some fried dough sticks in order

‘‘to lift their spirits’’ for ‘‘working energetically on this.’’ Naturally, this suggestion drew unanimous approval, and soon the whole room was filled with the sound of fried dough sticks being eaten. Some people surreptitiously wiped their greasy fingers on the lame woman’s quilt. After finishing the dough sticks, they ate some fried dough twists and then played cards. In the midst of such a good time, they nearly forgot the main point. Only when the female colleague prompted them did they start cursing someone again. This time, it wasn’t the one they had begun with—the woman they all knew—but instead an eighty-year-old ‘‘who should have been dead a long time ago.’’ After half an hour, they finally realized they had ‘‘shifted the objective of the struggle,’’ and resumed cursing the first woman.

‘‘She’s still coming up with ideas for your children!’’ The widow 77

brought up this most sensitive and thrilling issue and then launched into a lengthy self-analysis. Her emotions were like a surging flood:

‘‘Although I have no children, I will join you in struggling against her to the end. In the first place, I had the ability to have children, but my deceased husband and I didn’t think children were important. You could say we didn’t even think about it—and so the outcome was inevitable. You must remember that in those years, the old folks said that I would have at least a dozen children; they all described me as ‘a mother hen good at laying eggs.’ Fifty-eight people said this, and some were so excited they said it repeatedly.

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