the custom of Old Town that not until five days after childbirth could a husband visit his wife. When, accordingly, Great-Grandpa entered her wing of the courtyard, bent over, and saw the infant girl abandoned at the corner of the bed, at that very moment Third Sister opened her eyes for the first time in her five days of life. The look from her crow-black eyes told her father of the wrong being done to her, and curling her tiny lips, she began to cry softly. Immediately, her father was smitten by this daughter. He picked up the child and, holding her close to him, said to his wife, “We’ll just keep her.”
Third Sister had better luck than the other two girls in the family. When she was seven years old, Old Town got a “Western” school. Folk in Old Town called anything at all imported from the outside world, “Western things.” “Coal oil”—kerosene, that is—was called “Western oil,” matches were called “Western fire,” and so on. Before the Western school, private teachers had tutored educated people in Old Town at home. Wealthy people would set up a study room and invite someone well versed in the doctrines of Confucius and Mencius to be the teacher. Or else the teacher would arrange a schoolroom at his own home and take in several children to learn to read and write Chinese characters.
The earliest Western school in Old Town was church-run. Nowadays it is a famous institution. Family heads consider it an honor for their children to study in this school. The history of that school building goes back more than eighty years and the children’s loud and clear recitations have never been interrupted.
Little Third Sister saw the young ladies and gentlemen from the wealthy homes wearing their neat school uniforms pass by her doorway. She asked Eldest Sister, “What are they doing?” Eldest Sister told her that they were the pupils at the Western school. She asked Eldest Sister to take her to see just what sort of place the Western school was, and Eldest Sister did so. The school was built beside Little West Lake. There for the first time they saw a two-story, Western-style building and heard the sound of school lesson recitations wafting out from within, which greatly moved Third Sister. Returning home, she begged and pleaded with her father to send her there to school. By that time my grandma’s two younger brothers had been born. The older of the two was almost three years old but he still couldn’t speak. Second Younger Brother at one year old was a “nighttime crybaby,” asleep all day long, and crying up a storm the rest of the time. There is a saying in Old Town, “Look at youth to foretell maturity.” Boss Guo concluded that his sons would never amount to anything and so cherished his daughters all the more. And so he gave in to Third Sister’s pleas.
West Street consisted of several hundred households, but of these there was only one pupil in the Western school, and that was Third Daughter Guo. Thereupon she became renowned on West Street, like a movie star of today. Every word she said, every move she made, was scrutinized by the people of that neighborhood. Every day she tripped down those dark-red stone steps on her way to school and, every day after school, she tripped back up those same dark-red steps. Such a pretty sight on West Street! From grade school to junior middle school, she grew more beautiful and dignified all the time. The womenfolk of West Street would get together and express all kinds of dire worries about Third Sister: whose home would be graced by this sort of a girl that everyone loved at first sight? Afterward, with Third Sister always in and out of the West Gate church, the West Street women said she was a Western sort of Buddhist nun. They all sighed over the beautiful girl with the unlucky fate. Still later, when people discovered that Third Sister was going from door to door with a male preacher, there was a mighty uproar throughout West Street. Women traded
Third Sister had better luck than the other two girls in the family. When she was seven years old, Old Town got a “Western” school. Folk in Old Town called anything at all imported from the outside world, “Western things.” “Coal oil”—kerosene, that is—was called “Western oil,” matches were called “Western fire,” and so on. Before the Western school, private teachers had tutored educated people in Old Town at home. Wealthy people would set up a study room and invite someone well versed in the doctrines of Confucius and Mencius to be the teacher. Or else the teacher would arrange a schoolroom at his own home and take in several children to learn to read and write Chinese characters.
The earliest Western school in Old Town was church-run. Nowadays it is a famous institution. Family heads consider it an honor for their children to study in this school. The history of that school building goes back more than eighty years and the children’s loud and clear recitations have never been interrupted.
Little Third Sister saw the young ladies and gentlemen from the wealthy homes wearing their neat school uniforms pass by her doorway. She asked Eldest Sister, “What are they doing?” Eldest Sister told her that they were the pupils at the Western school. She asked Eldest Sister to take her to see just what sort of place the Western school was, and Eldest Sister did so. The school was built beside Little West Lake. There for the first time they saw a two-story, Western-style building and heard the sound of school lesson recitations wafting out from within, which greatly moved Third Sister. Returning home, she begged and pleaded with her father to send her there to school. By that time my grandma’s two younger brothers had been born. The older of the two was almost three years old but he still couldn’t speak. Second Younger Brother at one year old was a “nighttime crybaby,” asleep all day long, and crying up a storm the rest of the time. There is a saying in Old Town, “Look at youth to foretell maturity.” Boss Guo concluded that his sons would never amount to anything and so cherished his daughters all the more. And so he gave in to Third Sister’s pleas.
West Street consisted of several hundred households, but of these there was only one pupil in the Western school, and that was Third Daughter Guo. Thereupon she became renowned on West Street, like a movie star of today. Every word she said, every move she made, was scrutinized by the people of that neighborhood. Every day she tripped down those dark-red stone steps on her way to school and, every day after school, she tripped back up those same dark-red steps. Such a pretty sight on West Street! From grade school to junior middle school, she grew more beautiful and dignified all the time. The womenfolk of West Street would get together and express all kinds of dire worries about Third Sister: whose home would be graced by this sort of a girl that everyone loved at first sight? Afterward, with Third Sister always in and out of the West Gate church, the West Street women said she was a Western sort of Buddhist nun. They all sighed over the beautiful girl with the unlucky fate. Still later, when people discovered that Third Sister was going from door to door with a male preacher, there was a mighty uproar throughout West Street. Women traded
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