Chinese literature

Please find this session’s reflection question below. In the reflection essay, I ask you to respond to the assigned questions and/or to raise questions related to the text included in the reflection prompts. Please submit your reflection essay (about 200 words for each discussion forum) 

Compare Xu Dishan’s “Merchant’s wife” to Lu Xun’s Hsiang Lin’s wife, how do these two women act differently towards their miseries?

The Merchant’s Wife

by Hsu Ti-shan

Translated by William H. Nienhauser, Jr.

“It’s time for your morning tea, sir.”
The voice of the second-class cabin attendant

was urging me to get up. Since I’d been very busy
yesterday before boarding the ship, my mind and
body were so completely exhausted that I slept
from nine o’clock straight on through until seven
A.M. without stirring. When I heard the atten-
dant’s call, I got up immediately. After attending
to those matters which need to be taken care of in
the morning, I went to the dining hall.

By that time the hall was crowded. Everyone
there was drinking tea and chatting: predicting
who would be victorious in the European War,
discussing whether Yuan Shih-k’ai [1859-1916]
should have made himself emperor, or conjectur-
ing whether the revolt of the Indian soldiers in
Singapore was incited by the Indian Revolu-
tionary Party. The buzzing and murmuring al-
most transformed the hall into a marketplace. I
wasn’t accustomed to it. As soon as I was done
with my tea, I returned to my cabin, took a vol-
ume entitled Miscellanies of the Western Capital, and
ran off to starboard looking for a place to sit. I
was planning on an intimate conversation with the
characters of the book.

As I opened it and was about to begin reading,
an Indian woman, leading a child of about seven.

or eight by the hand, came and sat down facing
me. I had seen this woman at the Pond for Releas-
ing Life 1 in the Temple ofSupreme Joy2 the day
before yesterday. I had also spotted her boarding
ship, and on board had often seen her at the rail,
port and starboard, enjoying the cool air. As soon
as I saw her my curiosity was stirred, for though
her attire was Indian, her deportment was not
that of an Indian woman.

I laid the book down and watched her furtively,
pretending to be reading whenever she turned
her gaze toward me. After I had done that several
times, I feared she might suspect an ulterior mo-
tive and lowered my head, not daring to allow my
eyes to touch her again.

She absentmindedly sang Indian songs to the
child, who pointed here and there, asking her
questions. AsI listened to her replies, uncon-
sciously I stared at her face again. When she saw
me raise my head, she ignored the child and
quickly asked me in a Southern Fukienese dialect,
“Uncle,” are you going to Singapore too?” (She
had the accent of the Hai-cheng country folk, and
her tone of voice too was that of a country
dweller.) She spoke slowly, syllable by syllable, as
if she were just learning to speak. When she asked
me this question my suspicions multiplied, and I

Professors Dennis T. Hu, Muhammed Umar Memon, V. Narayana Rao, and Seng-tong Wong have all made important sugges-
tions and clarifications to the translator. The responsibility for any remaining infelicities or errors lies solely with the latter. In the
case where Muslim terms cannot be identified, romanizations according to the Chinese renderings are provided.

The numbered footnotes were supplied by the translator, whereas the footnotes keyed with letters are the author’s own.
1 A pond where people release captive fish or turtles, often after purchasing them nearby; the practice is a Buddhist one,

reflecting the Buddhist principle of respect for life.
2 This temple is locate~+n the island of Penang off the west coast of Malaysia.
3 “Lao-shu” in the origi) al, which means “Old Uncle.”

– ——–

HSU

TI-SHAN

answered, “I’m returning to Amoy. Have you
been to our area? How is it that you speak our
language?”

“Eh? I suppose since you saw that I am dressed
as an Indian woman, you suspected I wasn’t from
the ‘lands of the T’ang.? To tell you the truth, my
home is in Hung-chien.”

When the child saw us conversing in our native
dialect, he had a strange feeling. Shaking his
mother’s knee, he asked in Indian: “Mama, what
language are you speaking? Who is he?” He had
probably never heard her speak this language be-
fore, and thus felt it was strange. To learn this
woman’s background a little more quickly, I went
on with my questions.

“Is that your child?”
She first answered the child, then turned to me

and sighed. “Why not? I raised him in Madras.”
The more we talked the more familiar we be-

came, so that our initial inhibitions subsided.
Once she knew my home and that I was a teacher,
she stopped addressing me as “uncle” and called
me “sir” instead, which was more appropriate for
a man of my profession. She related to me, more-
over, the general conditions in Madras. Because
her experiences were out of the ordinary, I asked
her to tell them in some detail. By then she was in
a mood to talk, and she agreed. Only then did I
put the book in my bag and with undivided atten-
tion listen to her story.

When I was fifteen I was married to Lin Yin-
ch’iao of the Ching-chao area. My husband ran
the sugar shop around the corner from us. Al-
though he spent little time at home, this scarcely
affected our good relationship. During the three
or four years I spent with him, we never argued
or had a difference of opinion. One day, he came
back from the shop looking troubled and de-
pressed. As soon as he came through the door, he
grasped my hands and said, “Hsi-kuan,” my busi-
ness is ruined. From now on I won’t be going back
to the shop again.”

When I heard this I had to ask, “Why? Has
business been bad?”

“No,” he said. “No, I ruined it myself. These
past couple of days some friends have been urg-
ing me to gamble with them. At first I won quite a
bit, but then I lost everything-even the store’s
equipment and furniture. I wish I hadn’t done it
. . . I’m really sorry; I can hardly face you.”

I was stunned for a while and couldn’t find the
right words to console him. I was even more at a
loss for words to rebuke him.

He saw my tears stream down and hurriedly
wiped them away as he went on. “Ai, you’ve never
cried in my presence before. These tears you shed
before me now are like molten pellets of iron
dripping one by one into the depths of my heart.
It really hurts me more than you. But you needn’t
worry too much: I’ll simply look for some capital
to set up business again.”

Then we two sat there wordlessly staring into
each other’s eyes. Although I had a few things I
wanted to set straight with him, whenever I
looked at him, I felt as if he had a kind of de-
monic power that, before I could speak any
thought, had long since understood it. I could
only say, “From now on you’d better not throw
your money away! You’ve got to realize that gam-
bling …”

He was at home, without ajob, for almost three
months. It turned out that we could get along on
the money I had saved, so there was no need for
him to worry about a livelihood. He would be out
the whole day to borrow money for capital, but
unfortunately no one trusted him enough to loan
him a penny. He was so desperate that he finally
decided to migrate to Southeast Asia.

By the time he was ready to leave for Singa-
pore, I had all the things he would need, includ-
ing a pair ofjade bracelets to sell at Amoy for
travel expenses. He wanted to take advantage of
the morning tide in leaving for Amoy, so the day
before we were to part we talked all through the
night. The next morning I saw him off onto a small

a Overseas Chinese refer to their motherland as “Tang Shan,” the lands of Tang China.
b It is customary for people of Fukienese origin to address one another by adding the suffix “kuan” to the given name, whether

it is a person of an older generation speaking to one of a younger, or a man and woman of the same generation addressing each
other.

THE MERCHANT’S WIFE 43

boat and then walked back alone, my mind trou-
bled. I sat down at my desk thinking that most
men who went to Southeast Asia never missed
their homes or thought of their families, and I
wondered whether he would be like them. As I
was still lost in this thought, a trail of hurried
footsteps stopped at the door. I recognized them
as his and quickly got up and opened the door.
“Did you leave something behind?” I asked.

“No,” he replied. “I forgot to tell you some-
thing. When I get there, no matter what I’m
doing, I’ll write you. If I don’t return in five or six
years, you come look for me.”

“All right,” I said. “You had to come back to tell
me this? When the time comes I’ll know what I
should do. It’s getting late. You’d better hurry
back to the boat!”

He pressed my hands, heaved a long sigh, and
then turned and left. I watched him until he
reached the edge of the banyan tree’s shade and
saw him descend the long dike, before I closed
the door.

I was twenty that year when I parted from Lin
Yin-ch’iao. After he left home only two letters
came, one saying he had opened a grocery store
in Tanjong Pagar in Singapore and that business
was good. The other said he was quite occupied
with business and couldn’t afford to come home.
For many years I waited for him to come back for
a reunion, but year after year my hopes were in
vain.

The woman who lived next door often urged
me to go to Southeast Asia and look for him.
When I gave this some thought, I realized we had
been separated for ten years. To go searching for
him, even if it weren’t easy, would be much better
than suffering alone at home. I got together the
money I had saved, turned the house over to the
care of a village family named Jung, and went to
Amoy to take ship. Since this was the first time I
had gone abroad, of course I couldn’t get used to
the rocking of the ship in rough seas, so when I
arrived in Singapore, after what seemed to be
ages, I was happier than I’ll ever be again. I asked
someone to take me to the Yi-ho-ch’eng Grocery
in Tanjong Pagar. I can’t put into words the ex-
citement I felt. I saw that business in the shop was

furious and there.was no need to wonder about
the success my husband had enjoyed in those ten
years, since I could see it displayed right before
my eyes.

None of the employees in the store knew me, so
I told them who I was and why I had come. A
young clerk said to me, “The boss didn’t come
down today. I’ll take you to his home.” Only then
did I realize that my husband didn’t live in the
shop; at the same time I guessed he had married
again. If not, he certainly wouldn’t have kept a
separate “home.” On the way I tried to sound out
the clerk a bit, and it was just as I’d expected!

The rickshaw wound about through the streets
and stopped at a two-story, half-Chinese, half-
foreign building. The clerk said, “I’ll go in first
and tell the boss.” I was left outside, and it was
quite some time before he came back out and
said, ”T)1e boss has gone out this morning and
isn’t back yet. His wife asks you to go in and wait a
while. Maybe he’ll be home soon.” He took my
two cloth bundles-that was my only baggage-
and I followed him in.

I saw that the rooms were plushly furnished.
The so-called “boss’s wife” was a Malay woman.
She came out and nodded perfunctorily. As far as
I could see her manner was most disrespectful,
but I didn’t understand Southeast Asian customs,
so I just returned her greeting. She was wearing
huge diamonds and pearls in her hair. Among the
precious stones, gold, and silver that she wore,
her swarthy face was conspicuous in its unbeara-
ble ugliness. She exchanged polite pleasantries with
me and had someone bring me a cup of coffee
while she herself stayed to one side, smoking,
chewing betel nut, and not engaging me in much
conversation. I thought that was due to the uncer-
tainties of a first meeting, and thus didn’t dare ask
her too many questions. After a short time I
heard the sound of horses coming from the main
gate straight up to the portico and guessed it was
my husband returning. I saw that he was much
fatter than ten years ago and sported a potbelly.
He had a cigar in his mouth, and was carrying an
ivory stick in his hand. As he got out of the car-
riage and stopped in the door, he hung his hat on
the rack. Seeing me seated to one side, he was just

TI-SHAN

m~er suspicions about her. I put on a lake-
green cotton blouse and a bright red skirt. When
she saw them she couldn’t repress her laughter. I
felt like a country bumpkin from head to toe and
was quite embarrassed.

“That’s all right,” she said. “Our hosts aren’t
from ‘Tang lands.’ They certainly won’t notice
whether you’re wearing the latest fashions. Let’s
go, then!”

The horse-drawn carriage went on for some
time and then passed through a grove of coconut
trees before arriving at our hosts’. Just inside the
gate was a very large garden, and as I followed
her into the sitting room, I looked about me.
They really had a strange banquet set up. All the
female guests were Malays or Indians, and they
were in the midst of an animated and in-
comprehensible conversation. My husband’s
Malay wife left me by myself and went over to
chat with them. Before long she left with a
woman. I thought they had gone for a walk in the
garden, and didn’t pay much attention. But after
a good deal of time, when they hadn’t returned, I
became a little anxious and said to one of the
women present, “Where did the lady who came in
with me go?” Although she could get my mean-
ing, I didn’t understand a word of what she said
in reply.

I sat on a cushion, my heart beating violently. A
servant brought a pot of water and gestured to-
ward the set table. I saw the others wash their
hands and realized that it was a custom before
eating. So I washed my hands. They showed me
to a table. I didn’t have the faintest idea where I
was supposed to sit and simply took the place they
directed me to. They prayed before they selected
what food they wanted, with their hands, from
the platters. The first time I picked up something
to eat with my fingers, it was certainly unwieldy,
but they taught me how to do it. At that time I
was very troubled by the absence of that Malay
woman of my husband’s, so I wasn’t able to con-
centrate on eating or socializing. After the tables
were cleared, the guests kissed me with a smile
and left.

about to ask me something when that Malay
woman stepped forward and murmured a buzz of
words at him. Although I didn’t understand what
she said, I could tell from her expression that she
wasn’t happy at all.

My husband turned to me and said, “Hsi-kuan,
why didn’t you give me any notice before you
decided to come? Who made you take the trip?” I
had thought that once he saw me, he would be
sure to say some tender words; I had never
dreamed that he’d angrily demand an explana-
tion! Then I suppressed my disgruntled feelings
and forced a smile, saying, “But Yin-ko,” you
know that I can’t write. And that letter writer in
the village, Mr. Wang, often writes the wrong
words for people, even to the point of getting the
wrong meaning across. So I didn’t want him to
write for me. Besides, I’d made up my mind to
come look for you, and sooner or later I still
would have had to set out. Why waste all the time
and effort? Didn’t you say that if you hadn’t re-
turned in five or six years I should come?”

“So you came up with this brilliant idea on your
own, huh?” my husband scoffed.

When he finished he went straight into the
house. What he said proved that he was a dif-
ferent man from ten years ago. I couldn’t under-
stand the reason behind all this. Was it because I
was getting old, losing my charm? But I felt that I
was so much prettier than that Malay woman.
Could it be an accusation of misconduct? But I
had pleased him all the years we had been mar-
ried and had never gone beyond my bounds. To
this day I haven’t been able to figure out the rid-
dle of Yin-ko.

He put me up on the ground floor, and for
seven or eight days didn’t come to my room even
to speak to me. That Malay woman, however, was
very hospitable. She came and told me, “Yin-ko
has been rather upset these past few days because
you showed up. But don’t worry too much about
it; in a few days he won’t be angry anymore.
We’re invited to dinner tonight. Why don’t you go
get dressed and we’ll go together?”

These sweet words of hers completely dispelled

44

4 “Ko” is “brother,” used here as a suffix of affection.

THE MERCHANT’S WIFE 45
I too wanted to follow them out the door, but

the mistress of the house told me to wait a bit. I
gestured to her in mute talk, and we were dying
with laughter when an Indian man in his fifties
came in from outside. The woman hurriedly got
up and said a few words to him, and then they sat
down together. Encountering a strange man while
in a foreign place, I was naturally abashed. That
man walked up to me and said, “Hello, you mine
now. I use money to buy you. It good you stay
here.” Although he spoke Chinese, his syntax, ac-
cent, and tones were all wrong. When I heard him
say he had bought me, I couldn’t help bursting
into tears. The woman was at my side comforting
me, trying to be nice about it. It was after nine,
and they told me to go in and sleep, but I simply
sat, fully dressed, through the night off to one
side of the sitting room. How could I have done
as they said?

Sir, hearing this much of my story you certainly
must be wondering why I didn’t choose to die.
Well, I had the same thoughts then, but they
guarded me like a prisoner-no matter what time
it was there was someone with me. As time went
on, my violent emotions subsided; I gave up want-
ing to die and decided to live this life of mine
through and see what fate had in store for me.

The man who bought me was Ahuja, an Indian
Muslim from Madras. He was a serge merchant,
and since he had made a fortune in Singapore,
he wanted to take another woman home with him
to enjoy life. And my ill fate brought me to this
chance, turning me into his foreign curio. Before
I had lived a month in Singapore, he took me to
Madras.

Ahuja gave me the name Liya. He made me un-
bind my feet and pierced a hole in my nose, hang-
ing a diamond nose ring through it. He said that
according to their customs every married woman
had to wear a nose ring, since that was the sign of
a wife. He also had me wear a fine kurta, C a ma-la-
mu, d and a pair of ai-san. e From then on I became
a Muslim woman.

Ahuja had five wives-six including me. Among
those five I got along best with the third. The
remainder I detested, because they often took ad-
vantage of my not being able to speak their lan-
guage and made fun of me too. My small feet
were naturally a rarity among them: although
they couldn’t stop touching them, I didn’t take of-
fense. What I hated was that they told tales to
Ahuja about me and made me suffer.

Akolima was the name of Ahuja’s third wife-
she was the very same woman who had arranged
that dinner when I was sold. She was quite fond
of me, often urging me to use surma f to line my
eyes, and to dye my nails and palms with balsam
flowers. Muslim women use these things daily, as
we Chinese employ rouge and powder. She also
taught me to read Bengali and Arabic. I remem-
bered that because I couldn’t write a letter, I had
given Yin-ko an excuse and ended up in this pre-
dicament. Therefore, in this period when I hadn’t
a single friend or relative around, I wanted to use
the time to work hard at learning to read a bit. Al-
though Akolima was not much of a scholar, she
was more than good enough to be my teacher. I
studied a year with her and then could actually
write! She told me that in their religion there was
a holy book, which wasn’t readily given to women,
but that later she would be sure to bring it to
teach me. She always said to me, “Your fate has
been such a painful one because it was predeter-
mined by Allah. Don’t keep thinking of your fam-
ily! Someday it’s possible that great happiness will
descend upon you, and it’d be too much for you
to enjoy.” At that time such fatalistic words of
comfort could actually raise my spirits somewhat.

Although I never felt a wife’s love for Ahuja, I
had to live with him as man and wife. Ah! This
child of mine (as she spoke she stroked the child’s
head with her hand) was born the year after we
arrived in Madras. I was over thirty when I be-
came pregnant and had never in all my life expe-
rienced such pain. Fortunately, Akolima was
thoughtful and often comforted me with her

C Muslim woman’s upper garment. d A bodice. e Trousers.
f Surma is generally used only by men. It is a powder applied to an iron’ rod and then inserted into the eyes by the traditional

Muslim vendor. It is intended as a cooling agent. Colerium, often called surma, is used as a sort of eyeshadow and is probably in-
tended here.

HSU TI-SHAN

words, distracting me from the pain of that time.
Once when she saw the pain was particularly bad,
she said to me, “Hey, Liya! Be strong! We don’t
have the fortune of the fig tree,” and so we can’t
avoid the strain of pregnancy. When you’re going
through painful times, appeal to Allah. If he has
pity on you, he’ll grant you peace.” She helped me
a lot when I was about to give birth. Even today I
cannot forget her kindness to me.

Not more than four months after I gave birth, a
disappointing turn of events distressed me: I was
separated from my good friend. She didn’t die,
but I’ll never find out where she went. Why did
Akolima leave me? It’s a long story, but probably
it was my fault.

We had a young, eighteen-year-old widow next
door to us named Honna. She had been widowed
since she was four. Her mother treated her cru-
elly, but that wasn’t enough. She told her that her
sins accumulated from her past lives were great,
and if she didn’t pay for them through suffering,
she would not be redeemed in her next life. Ev-
erything that she ate or wore was worse than oth-
ers’. She often wept secretly in the back yard.
Since her garden was separated from ours only by
a hedge, when I heard her there, crying, I would
go and chat with her, sometimes to comfort,
sometimes to offer something to eat, and some-
times to give her a little money.

When Akolima first saw me help the girl, she
didn’t feel it was right at all. I explained to her
time after time that anyone in China could receive
sorneone’s aid regardless of creed. She was influ-
enced by me and later also showed compassion
herself for that widow.

One day just as Akolima was handing a few
pieces of silver to Honna through the hedge, she
was accidentally seen by Ahuja. He kept quiet and
tiptoed up behind her, gave her a slap and yelled,
“You little bitch! You dirty sow! What are you

doing here?” As he went back in, so angry that his
entire body trembled, he pointed his finger at
Akolima and said, “Who told you to give money
to that Brahman woman? You stained your own
reputation! Not just your own, but mine and that
of Islam. Ma-sha-Alliih!;; Take off your burqa h im-
mediately!”

I heard clearly from inside, but thought that ev-
erything would be normal again after the scold-
ing. Who would have known that in no time at all
Akolima would come in batting tears as big as
pearls from her eyelashes, and say to me, “Liya,
we’ll have to say goodbye.” When I heard this I
was shocked and asked immediately, “What do
you mean? I don’t understand.”

“Didn’t you hear him ask me to take off my
veil? That means he’s disowning me. I’ll have to
return to my family right now. You needn’t feel
sorry for my sake, for after a couple of days when
his anger subsides, he’ll probably have me come
back.”

I was so grief-stricken, I didn’t know what to
say to comfort her. We sobbed in each other’s
arms and then parted. Indeed, as the couplet
goes, “Those who kill and burn wear moneybelts;
Those who repair bridges and fix roads turn into
lepers.” What an apt description of human life!

After Akolima left, my desolate and sorrowful
days started all over again. There were simply no
feelings of friendship between Ahuja’S four other
women and myself. As for Ahuja, as soon as I saw
that thin strip of a dark face, with a beard like the
spines of a porcupine, I would be filled with loath-
ing and wish that he would leave the next second.
My day-to-day life consisted of nurturing my
child; aside from that there was nothing to do. I
was so frightened by Akolima’s incident that I no
longer dared venture into the garden for a stroll.

A few months later my painful days were about
over, since Ahuja returned through an illness to

“This reference to the fig tree alludes to the Koran. where it is recorded that Adam and Eve, having been lured by the devil A-
chatsei to eat the fruit Allah had forbidden them to, noticed immediately that their heavenly garments had vanished. They
were ashamed by their nakedness and tried to borrow leaves from a tree in Eden to cover their bodies. Since they violated Allah’s
command, none of the various types of trees dared loan them any. Only the fig tree, moved by their pitifulness, generously
loaned them a few leaves. Allah approved of this conduct by the fig tree and conferred upon it the capability of producing fruit
without going through the pain of blossoming and being disturbed by the bees and butterflies,

5 Hsu Ti-shan’s original gloss for this phrase is “Allah forbid.” However, it should mean “As Allah wills.”
h A veil.

THE MERCHANT’S WIFE 47
his Paradise. I had heard Akolima say before that
one hundred and thirty days after a husband’s
death a wife became free, and could pick another
match of her choosing. Originally, I wanted to
wait until that prescribed day before leaving, but
those four women were afraid I’d take advantage
of them in the inheritance, because I had a child,
so they put various pressures on me to drive me
out. I still can’t bear to talk about their schemes.

Honna urged me to flee to her older sister’s.
She told me to send a little money to her brother-
in-law, and then I could take shelter with them.
I’d already met her sister once, and she was a
good person. When I thought about it, running
away didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.
Those four women were treacherous by nature,
and if I’d been caught in their schemes, I’d have
had it. Honna’s brother-in-law lived in Arcot. I set
things up with her and told her to let me know
when she found a good opportunity.

A week later, Honna told me her mother had
left town and wouldn’t be back until late at night,
and I should climb across the hedge. This wasn’t
an easy matter, because it must be done so that I
wouldn’t cause Honna to suffer afterward. More-
over, a barbed wire ran along the top of the
hedge, making it difficult for me. I peered up at
the jackfruit tree growing next to the hedge-{)ne
branch stretched over to her side, and the tree
had grown at a slanted angle. I told her to wait
until everything was quiet and then to stand ready
underneath the tree.

As it happened, the room I lived in had a small
door leading into the garden. That evening, when
there was just a little starlight in the sky, I packed
my clothes and valuables into a bag, put on two
extra layers of clothing, and was just about to
leave when I saw my child sleeping there. I really
didn’t want to take him along, but was afraid that
when he woke he’d see I wasn’t there and would
cry. So I stopped for a moment and picked him
up in my arms to let him nurse. Only when he was
nursing did I truly feel that I was his mother, and
although I had no emotional tie to his father, I
had still borne him. Moreover, once I’d gone, he

; A Muslim woman’s outer garment.

would certainly be ill-treated. As this thought
crossed my mind, tears burst from my eyes. And
yet to add the burden of a child to the escape
would make my task even harder. After I consid-
ered all this over and over again, I finally put him
on my back and in a low voice said to him, “If you
want to be a good boy, don’t cry! All right? You’ve
got to sleep quietly too. ” Fortunately, it was as if he
understood me then, and he didn’t make much
noise. I left a letter on the bed explaining that I
was willing to give up those possessions due me,
and my reasons for running away, then went out
that small door.

With one hand I steadied the child, with the
other carried the bag, as I stole to the foot of the
jackfruit tree. I tied the bag to a rope and slowly
crawled up the tree, stopping for a moment when
I reached the extended branch. Just then the
child grunted once or twice. I patted him lightly
and rocked him a few times, then pulled the bag
up, tossing it over to Honna. I crawled over fur-
ther and groped for the rope Honna had pre-
pared for me. I grasped it tightly to me and slowly
let myself down. My hands couldn’t stand the fric-
tion and were cut by the rope in no time.

After I had descended and thanked Honna, I
quickly left her house. Not far from Honna’s gate
was the Adyar River. Honna went with me to rent
a boat. After she had explained things clearly, she
went back. The helmsman was an old codger and
probably didn’t understand what Honna said. He
rowed me to the Saidapet Terminal and bought a
ticket for me. Since it was the first time I had
taken a train, I wasn’t very clear about the regula-
tions of rail travel. When he told me to get on, I
just did as I was told. Only after the train had
started and the conductor examined my train
ticket did I learn I had boarded the wrong train.

When it arrived at an intermediate stop, I
quickly got off, intending to wait for a return
train. By that time it was the middle of the night,
and the people in the station said no train would
be going into Madras until dawn. I was forced to
sit in the transit lounge. I spread my Ma-chih-la’
over me and put my hands in my pockets,

HSU TI-SHAN

pretending to sleep. At around three or four
o’clock, looking up by chance, I saw a very distant
gleam of lamplight through the railing. I quickly
went to the platform and, pointing to the light,
questioned the people standing there. There was
one man who smiled and said, “This woman can’t
tell one direction from another. She mistakes the
morning star for the headlight on a train.” Taking
a good look, I couldn’t help laughing as I said,
“I’ll be darned! My eyes aren’t seeing right!”

As I faced Venus, I thought of something Ako-
lima had said. She once told me that that star was
the transformation of a woman who had been a
siren good at bewitching men. Because of this I
remembered that the feeling between Yin-ko and
myself had been basically good, and that if he
hadn’t been fooled by that foreign bitch, he never
could have stood for having his beloved first wife
sold off. My being sold couldn’t have been com-
pletely Yin-ko’s responsibility. If I could have
stood those painful days in China, and if I hadn’t
decided to go to Singapore to rely on him, none
of this would have happened. As I thought it
over, I had to smile at my own impulsiveness in
fleeing. I figured that since I had made it all right
out of the place, what need was there to impose
on Honna’s sister? When I had reached this con-
clusion, I returned to my waiting place with the
child in my arms and summoned all my energies
to resolve this question. The things I’d run off
with and my ready cash together were worth
more than three thousand rupees. If I lived in a
village, they could support my expenses for the
rest of my life. So I decided on an independent
life.

The stars in the sky one by one gathered in
their light, until only Venus still twinkled in the
east. As I looked at her, it was as if a voice beamed
out from her saying, “Hsi-kuan, from now on
don’t take me for a woman out to bewitch men.
You should know that nothing which is bright and
sterling could bewitch. Among all the stars, I ap-
pear first, to tell you that darkness will soon ar-
rive; I return last, so that you may receive the first
rays of the sun on my heels. I’m the brightest star
of the night. You could take me as the diligent
awakener of your heart.” As I faced her, I felt ex-

uberant, and can’t describe the gratitude I felt in
my heart. From that time on, whenever I saw her,
I always had a special feeling.

I inquired about where an inn was to be found,
and everyone said I’d have to go to Chinglepet to
find one. So I took another train there. I didn’t
live in the inn for long before I moved to my own
home.

That house was bought with the money Ilgot in
exchange for my diamond nose ring. It ~sn’t
large-only two rooms and a small yard/with
pineapple trees planted all around as an enclosing
wall. Although Indian-style homes weren’t good, I
loved the location near to the village and could
not afford to be bothered by appearances either
inside or outside. I hired an old woman to help
with the housekeeping, and besides raising the
child, I was able to find time to read some Indian
books.

Every day at dusk, a rather solemn song would
drift to my ears. I went into the garden for a look
and saw that it came from a small house opposite
mine. At first I didn’t know the purpose of their
singing, and only later did I understand they were
Christians. I met the mistress of the house, Eliza-
beth, before long. And I often went to their eve-
ning prayer meetings. Her family could be consid-
ered the first friends I had in Chinglepet.

Elizabeth was a most amicable woman. She
urged me to attend school. Moreoever, she prom-
ised to take care of the child for me if I did. I felt
that only a person completely without ambition
would idle away the days, so the very next year
she arranged for me to study at a woman’s school
in Madras. I went home once a month to visit my
child. She took care of him for me very well, so
that I didn’t have to worry.

Since while at school I had nothing to divert my
attention, my grades were very good. In this
period of about six or seven years, not only did
my knowledge progress, but my beliefs also
changed. And since graduation I’ve worked as a
teacher in a small village not far from Chinglepet.
So that’s my whole life in outline; if I were to go
into details, I couldn’t finish relating everything in
a year’s time.

Now I’m going to Singapore to look for my hus-

THE MERCHANT’S WIFE 49

band, because I want to know just who it was that
sold me. I firmly believe that Yin-ko couldn’t pos-
sibly have accepted it. Even if it was his idea, then
someday sooner or later he’ll repent.

Hsi-kuan and I had been talking for two full
hours or more. She spoke very slowly, and the
child bothered her from time to time, so she had
not told me about her student life in much detail.
Because she had talked for such a long time, I was
afraid she would be tired out, and so I didn’t go
on asking questions. I just said to her, “That you
were able to find your way in life during such a
period of drifting is really admirable. If you
would like me to help you look for Yin-ko tomor-
row when we reach Singapore, I’d be glad to do
it.”

“It’s not really that I’m so smart. This way was
merely one opened for me by some unknown
heavenly mentor. When I was in school I was
moved the most by Pilgrim’s Progress and Robinson
Crusoe. These two books gave me much comfort
and many things to learn from. Now I’m simply a
female Crusoe. If you would help me search for
Yin-ko, I’d be very grateful. Since I don’t really
know Singapore, tomorrow I’ll need your-”

At this point the child began pestering her to go
into the cabin and get some toys for him. She
stood up, but continued speaking: “Tomorrow,
I’ll need your help.”

I stood up and bowed as she left, then sat back
down to record the conversation we’d just had in
my diary, which I carried with me.

After twenty-four hours some mountain peaks
appeared faintly in the southeast. All the people
on the ship were very busy. Hsi-kuan too attended
to packing and didn’t come out on deck. Only as
the ship was entering the harbor did she appear,
holding her child by the hand. She sat with
me on a bench. “Sir,” she said to me, “I never ex-
pected a chance to see this place again. The leaves
of the coconut trees are still dancing; the sea gulls
above the water are still flying back and forth to
welcome strangers.

“My happiness is the same as it was nine years
ago when I first met them. In the blink of an eye
these years have passed-like an arrow-yet I

can’t find any difference between what I saw then
and what I see now. So the expression ‘Time is
like an arrow’ doesn’t refer to the speed at which
an arrow flies, but to the arrow itself. For no mat-
ter how fast time flies, things show no change-as
something attached to an arrow, although it may
fly with the arrow, doesn’t go through any
changes at all. But though what I see today is the
same, I hope Yin-ko’s affections won’t change as
slowly as natural phenomena; I hope he’ll change
his mind and accept me now.”

“I know how you feel,” I said. “I heard this ship
will moor at Tanjong Pagar. I think that when we
arrive, you should wait on board at first; I’ll go
ashore to inquire a bit and then come back for
you. What do you think?”

“This is getting to be more and more of a
bother to you,” she said.

I went ashore and asked at a good number of
homes, but they all said they didn’t know any Lin
Yin-ch’iao. I couldn’t find even a trace of the sign
for the grocery, “Yi-ho-ch’eng.” I was getting des-
perate, and after being on my feet for the better
part of the day, a bit tired, so I went into a Can-
tonese teahouse to rest. By chance I picked up a
clue there when I questioned the shopkeeper. Ac-
cording to him, because Lin Yin-ch’iao had sold
his wife to an Indian, he incurred the ill-feelings
of the numerous Chinese in this area. At that time,
some people said it was his idea to sell her, others
said it was that foreign bitch who sold her; in the
end it couldn’t be said for sure who did it. But his
business suffered immensely because of this. He
saw that he couldn’t stay in Singapore any longer,
and so closed his shop and moved, lock, stock,
and barrel, to some other place.

When I returned and had reported all that I
had learned to Hsi-kuan, and, moreover, urged
her to return to China, she said, “I can never go
back. With this brown-skinned child, as soon as I
got home, people would shame me and laugh at
me. Besides, I can’t read Chinese at all. If I went,
I’d just starve to death. I plan to stay in Singapore
for a few days, to ask carefully about his where-
abouts. If I can’t learn anything, I’ll return to
India. Well, I’ve become an Indian now!”

From what I made of the situation, I truly could

5° HSU TI-SHAN

not think of anything to persuade her to return to
her home town, and just sighed and said, “Your
life is really full of misfortune, isn’t it?”

But she smiled. “Sir, in all human affairs, there
is basically no distinction between the painful and
the pleasurable. When you try too hard, it is pain-
ful; when you have hope, it is pleasurable. As
you’re actually doing something, it is painful, but
to recall it is pleasurable. In other words, every-
thing in the present is filled with suffering. The
past, recollections of it, and hope are pleasant.
Yesterday, as I related my experiences to you, you
felt they were painful. My narration of past cir-
cumstances, displayed before your eyes, led you to
feel that they were events in the present. If I re-
call them myself-the long separation, being sold,
my escape, etc.-none of these events are without
happiness. So you needn’t feel sorry for me. You

must be able to take things easy. I would only ask
one thing of you: when you go back to China, if it
is convenient, would you go to my village and let
my mother know the latest news? She must be
over seventy-she lives in Hung-chien. She’s the
only relative I have left in China. Outside her gate
there is a very tall olive tree. If you ask for Marne
Liang, everyone will know.”

As the boat left the dock, she stood on the shore
waving me off with a handkerchief. That sincere
expression on her face is something I can never
forget. Not more than a month after I got home I
went to Hung-chien. The broken-down house
under the olive tree was sealed up by old vines.
Through a crack in the door I could see faintly
several sets of rotting wooden ancestry tablets on
the table. How could there have been a Marne
Liang there?

• Xu Dishan – The Merchants Wife p41
• Xu Dishan – The Merchants Wife p42
• Xu Dishan – The Merchants Wife p43
• Xu Dishan – The Merchants Wife p44
• Xu Dishan – The Merchants Wife p45
• Xu Dishan – The Merchants Wife p46
• Xu Dishan – The Merchants Wife p47
• Xu Dishan – The Merchants Wife p48
• Xu Dishan – The Merchants Wife p49
• Xu Dishan – The Merchants Wife p50