more extraordinarily clever and intelligent, and looking like the proverbial celestial beauty that had descended to earth. Third Sister was her father and mother’s darling.
But the Guo sons? Every one of them was an unmentionable “Ah Dou the Weak.” 3 When they were young, they were stubborn, ignorant, and always making trouble. Grown up, they became hard drinkers, opium smokers, slaves of the flesh. People always said that there was something wrong with the feng shui of the Guo ancestral tombs. In those days, very few rich people sent their daughters to study in “Western” schools. Only by a stretch of the imagination could the Guos be considered a comfortably well-off family, but still they were willing to spend the money to send Third Sister to one of these places. Before Granny left home in marriage, Third Sister suddenly got violently ill and died. I heard that my great-grandfather couldn’t bear this shock and that winter he died coughing blood.
Granny’s sister-in-law, the wife of the eldest of her brothers, scrupulously fulfilled her duties and responsibilities as Big Sister-in-Law. She hung over a dozen painted portraits of departed Guos on the four walls of her narrow little building in the courtyard. She lived through the change of the Qing dynasty and the downward spiral in the family’s conditions. Though she led a desperate and uprooted life for several decades, these pictures accompanied her in their pristine state. Among these were portraits of my granny’s grandparents, parents, and several departed younger brothers. There were also pictures of two younger sisters who had died when they were just babies. The only one who had no picture was Third Sister, the one that Grandpa liked.
What was she like, that Third Sister who could make Ninth Brother fall so deeply in love with her?
When I was little, Granny would often take me from West Gate to Drum Tower, to her old home, her own parents’ home. The eating, drinking, whoring, and gambling of her wastrel brothers had finished this place off. The only thing left was a small rundown house filled with ancestral portraits. The street we walked along was called West Street. Not far off from Drum Tower, on the north side of West Street, was a dilapidated residence compound. From the main gate, you could look in and see the many households squeezed and crowded in there. Under the sky well, there were always clothes of every imaginable color hanging out to dry. Only a few dark red stone steps in front of the main door still looked smooth and bright from the years of buffing and polishing. Every time my grandmother passed by here she couldn’t help slowing down and peering fondly inside. This compound had been her real home, where she had been born, and where several generations of Guos had likewise been born. Whether or not I fully understood, she just always wanted to tell me about all the bygone events connected to that place and her family.
Third Sister had been born in the small wing off the sky well. Her mother had already given birth to two girls. That the third birth also was a girl clearly made the Guo clan elders exceedingly disappointed. Her mother cried for several days and nights because of that belly of hers failing to meet expectations. She wouldn’t let this infant suck at her breasts. In those days, getting rid of a female infant was no different from flinging out a newborn kitten or a puppy. She quoted the old maxim to her husband, “‘Failing to give birth to a son is the worst way to be unfilial.’ Just go and take a concubine to give you a son.” Though my great-grandfather longed for a son in concept, he also truly loved his daughters. Early in their young lives, each one of them had shown unusual intelligence and charm. On their part, they seemed to know that being born in girls’ bodies they were indebted to their parents. So they were all the more solicitous of their mother and father and worked to win their favor. It was
But the Guo sons? Every one of them was an unmentionable “Ah Dou the Weak.” 3 When they were young, they were stubborn, ignorant, and always making trouble. Grown up, they became hard drinkers, opium smokers, slaves of the flesh. People always said that there was something wrong with the feng shui of the Guo ancestral tombs. In those days, very few rich people sent their daughters to study in “Western” schools. Only by a stretch of the imagination could the Guos be considered a comfortably well-off family, but still they were willing to spend the money to send Third Sister to one of these places. Before Granny left home in marriage, Third Sister suddenly got violently ill and died. I heard that my great-grandfather couldn’t bear this shock and that winter he died coughing blood.
Granny’s sister-in-law, the wife of the eldest of her brothers, scrupulously fulfilled her duties and responsibilities as Big Sister-in-Law. She hung over a dozen painted portraits of departed Guos on the four walls of her narrow little building in the courtyard. She lived through the change of the Qing dynasty and the downward spiral in the family’s conditions. Though she led a desperate and uprooted life for several decades, these pictures accompanied her in their pristine state. Among these were portraits of my granny’s grandparents, parents, and several departed younger brothers. There were also pictures of two younger sisters who had died when they were just babies. The only one who had no picture was Third Sister, the one that Grandpa liked.
What was she like, that Third Sister who could make Ninth Brother fall so deeply in love with her?
When I was little, Granny would often take me from West Gate to Drum Tower, to her old home, her own parents’ home. The eating, drinking, whoring, and gambling of her wastrel brothers had finished this place off. The only thing left was a small rundown house filled with ancestral portraits. The street we walked along was called West Street. Not far off from Drum Tower, on the north side of West Street, was a dilapidated residence compound. From the main gate, you could look in and see the many households squeezed and crowded in there. Under the sky well, there were always clothes of every imaginable color hanging out to dry. Only a few dark red stone steps in front of the main door still looked smooth and bright from the years of buffing and polishing. Every time my grandmother passed by here she couldn’t help slowing down and peering fondly inside. This compound had been her real home, where she had been born, and where several generations of Guos had likewise been born. Whether or not I fully understood, she just always wanted to tell me about all the bygone events connected to that place and her family.
Third Sister had been born in the small wing off the sky well. Her mother had already given birth to two girls. That the third birth also was a girl clearly made the Guo clan elders exceedingly disappointed. Her mother cried for several days and nights because of that belly of hers failing to meet expectations. She wouldn’t let this infant suck at her breasts. In those days, getting rid of a female infant was no different from flinging out a newborn kitten or a puppy. She quoted the old maxim to her husband, “‘Failing to give birth to a son is the worst way to be unfilial.’ Just go and take a concubine to give you a son.” Though my great-grandfather longed for a son in concept, he also truly loved his daughters. Early in their young lives, each one of them had shown unusual intelligence and charm. On their part, they seemed to know that being born in girls’ bodies they were indebted to their parents. So they were all the more solicitous of their mother and father and worked to win their favor. It was
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