Great-Granddad awoke from his drunken stupor8 on the second day of Grandma’s return, andimmediately recalled Shan Tingxiu’s promise to give him a big black mule9. His ears rang withthe rhythmic10 clippety-clop of the mule’s hooves as it flew down the road. Such a mule: fetchingblack eyes like tiny lanterns, hooves like little goblets11. ‘You old ass,’ Great- Grandma saidanxiously, ‘your daughter won’t eat. What are we going to do?’
Great-Granddad glanced out of the corner of his drunken eyes and said. ‘She’s spoiled, spoiledrotten! Who does she think she is?’
He walked up to Grandma and said angrily, ‘What are you up to, you little tramp? Peopledestined to marry are connected by a thread, no matter how far apart. Man and wife, for better orfor worse. Marry a chicken and share the coop, marry a dog and share the kennel12. Your dad’s nohigh-ranking noble, and you’re no gold branch or jade13 leaf. It was your good fortune to find arich man like this, and your dad’s good fortune, too. The first thing your father-in-law did waspromise me a nice black mule. That’s breeding.?.?.?.’
Grandma sat motionless, her eyes closed. Her damp eyelashes might have been covered with alayer of honey, each thick, full lash14 sticking to the others and curling like a swallowtail. Great-Granddad glared at her, his anger rising. ‘Don’t you act deaf and dumb with me. You can wasteaway if you want to, but you’ll be the Shan family’s ghost, because there’s no place in the Daifamily graveyard15 for you!’
Grandma just laughed.
Great-Granddad slapped her.
With a pop, the rosiness16 in Grandma’s cheeks vanished, leaving a pallor behind. But the colourgradually returned, and her face became the red morning sun. Her eyes shining, she clenched17 herteeth and sneered18. Glaring hatefully at her dad, she said: ‘I’m just afraid?.?.?. if you?.?.?. then youcan forget about seeing a single hair of that mule!’
Lowering her head, she picked up her chopsticks and gobbled down the still-steaming food infront of her, like a whirlwind scooping19 up snow. When she was finished, she threw the bowl highinto the air, where it tumbled and spun20, sailed over the beam, and picked up two cobwebs beforefalling to the floor; it bounced around in a half-circle before settling upside down. She picked upanother bowl and heaved it; this one hit the wall and fell to the floor in two pieces. Great-Granddad was so shocked his mouth fell open, his sideburns quivered, and he was speechless.
‘Daughter,’ Great-Grandma exclaimed, ‘you finally ate something!’
After throwing the bowls, Grandma broke down and cried. It was an agreeable, emotional,moist sound, which the room couldn’t hold, so it spilled outside and spread to the fields, to mergewith the rustling21 of the pollinated late-summer sorghum22. A million thoughts ran through hermind; over and over she relived what had happened from the time she had been placed in thebridal sedan chair until she had returned on the donkey’s back to her parents’ home. Every scenefrom those three days, every sound, every smell entered her mind?.?.?. the horns andwoodwinds?.?.?. little tunes23, big sounds?.?.?. all that music turned the green sorghum red. Itpounded a curtain of rain out of the clear sky: two cracks of thunder, a flash of lightning, rainfalling like dense24 flax?.?.?. turning her confused heart to flax, dense rain pouring in at an angle,then straight up, then straight down.?.?.?.
Grandma thought back to the highwayman at Toad25 Hollow, and to the valiant26 actions of theyoung sedan bearer. He was their leader, the main dog of the pack. He couldn’t be more thantwenty-four – not a wrinkle on his rugged27 face. She recalled how close his face had been for awhile, and how his lips, hard as mussel shells, had covered hers. Her blood had frozen for aninstant, before gushing28 forth29 to dilate30 every blood vessel31 in her body. Her feet had cramped32, herabdominal muscles had jerked madly. Their call to revolt had been aided by the vibrant33 sorghum– the powder on the stalks, so fine it was barely visible, spreading in the air above her and thesedan bearer.?.?.?.
Grandma hoped that by concentrating on the youthful passion of that moment she could holdon to it, but it kept slipping away, here one moment, then gone. And yet the leper’s face, like along-buried rotten grape, kept reappearing, along with the ten hooked claws that were his fingers.
Then there was the old man, with his tiny queue and the ring of brass34 keys at his belt. Grandmasat quietly, but even though she was dozens of li away from the spot, the rich taste of sorghumwine and the sour taste of sorghum mash35 seemed to roll around on her tongue. She recalled howthe two male ‘serving girls’ reeked36 like drunken geese fished out of a wine vat37, the smell ofalcohol seeping38 from every pore in their bodies.?.?.?. He had cut a swath through the sorghum,leaving the blade of his razor-sharp sword wet with little horseshoes of inky green, sticky residuefrom the decapitated plants, their lifeblood. She remembered what he had said: ‘Come back inthree days, no matter what!’ Daggers39 of light had shot from his long, slitted eyes.
Grandma had a premonition that her life was about to change in extraordinary ways.
In some significant aspects, heroes are born, not made. Heroic qualities flow through aperson’s veins40 like an undercurrent, ready to be translated into action. During her first sixteenyears, Grandma’s days had been devoted41 to embroidery42, needlework, paper cutouts, foot binding,the endless glossing43 of her hair, and all other manner of domestic things in the company ofneighbour girls. What, then, was the source of her ability and courage to deal with the events sheencountered in her adult years? How was she able to temper herself to the point where even inthe face of danger she could conquer her fears and force herself to act heroically? I’m not sure Iknow.
Grandma wept for a long time without feeling much true grief; as she cried, she relived thejoys and pleasures of her past, even the suffering and sorrow. The sounds of crying seemed to bea distant musical accompaniment to the beautiful and hideous44 images appearing and reappearingin her mind. Finally, she mused45 that human existence is as brief as the life of autumn grass, sowhat was there to fear from taking chances with your life?
‘Time to leave, Little Nine,’ Great-Granddad said, calling her by her childhood name.
Leave! Leave! Leave!
Grandma asked for a basin of water to wash her face. Then she applied46 some powder androuge. As she looked in the mirror, she loosened her hairnet, releasing long, flowing hair thatquickly covered her back with its satiny sheen, all the way down to the curve of her legs. Whenshe pulled it across her shoulder with her left hand, it spilled over her breast, where she combed itout with a pear-wood comb. Grandma had uncommonly47 thick, shiny, black hair that lightened abit at the tips. Once it was combed out smooth, she twisted it into large ebony blossoms, whichshe secured with four silver combs. Then she trimmed her fringe so that it fell just short of hereyebrows. After rewrapping her feet, she put on a pair of white cotton stockings, tied her trousercuffs tightly, and slipped on a pair of embroidered48 slippers49 that accentuated50 her bound feet.
It was Grandma’s tiny feet that had caught the attention of Shan Tingxiu, and it was her tinyfeet that had aroused the passions of the sedan bearer Yu Zhan’ao. She was very proud of them.
Even a pock-faced witch is assured of marriage if she has tiny bound feet, but no one wants a girlwith large unbound feet, even if she has the face of an immortal. Grandma, with her bound feetand lovely face, was one of the true beauties of her time. Throughout our long history, thedelicate, pointed51 tips of women’s feet have been viewed as genital organs, in a way, from whichmen have derived52 a sort of aesthetic53 pleasure that sets their sexual juices flowing.
Now that she was ready, Grandma left the house, clicking her feet. A blanket had been thrownover the back of the family’s little donkey, in whose glistening54 eyes Grandma noticed a spark ofhuman understanding. She swung her leg over the donkey’s back and straddled it, unlike mostwomen. Great-Grandma had tried to get her to ride sidesaddle, but Grandma dug in her heels andthe donkey started off down the road, its rider sitting proudly on its back, head up and eyesstraight ahead.
Once she was on her way, Grandma didn’t look back, and although Great-Granddad washolding the reins55 at first, when they were out of the village she took them from him and guidedthe donkey herself, leaving him to trot56 along behind her.
Another thunderstorm had struck during the three days. Grandma noticed a section of sorghumthe size of a millstone where the leaves were singed57 and shrivelled, a spot of emaciated58 whitenessamid the surrounding green. Assuming that lightning was the culprit, she was reminded of theprevious year, when lightning had struck and killed her friend Beauty, a girl of seventeen,literally frying her hair and burning her clothes to cinders59. A design had been scorched60 into herback, which some people said was the script of heavenly tadpoles61.
Rumours62 spread that greed had killed Beauty, who had caused the death of an abandonedbaby. The details were lurid63. On her way to market one day, she heard a bawling64 baby by theroadside. When she unwrapped the swaddling clothes she found a pink, newborn baby boy and anote that said: ‘Father was eighteen, mother seventeen, the moon was directly overhead, the threestars were in the western sky, when our son, Road Joy, was born. Father had already marriedSecond Sister Zhang, a girl with unbound feet from West Village. Mother will marry Scar Eyefrom East Village. It breaks our hearts to abandon our newborn son. Snot runs down his father’schin, tears stream down his mother’s cheeks, but we stifle65 our sobs66 so no one will hear us. RoadJoy, Road Joy, our joy on the road, whoever finds you will be your parents. We have wrappedyou in a yard of silk, and have left twenty silver dollars. We beg a kindhearted passerby67 to storeup karma by saving our son’s precious life.’
People said that Beauty took the silk and the silver dollars, but abandoned the infant in thesorghum field, for which heaven punished her by sending down a bolt of lightning. Grandmarefused to believe the rumours about her best friend, but as she pondered the tragic68 mysteries oflife her heart was gripped by desolation and melancholy69.
The rain-soaked road was still wet and pitted by pelting70 raindrops; soft mud, with a light oilysheen, filled the holes. Once again the donkey left its hoofprints in the mud. Katydids hid in thegrass and on the sorghum leaves, vibrating their long silken beards and sawing their transparentwings to produce a cheerless sound. The long summer was about to end, and the sombre smell ofautumn was in the air. Swarms71 of locusts72, sensing the change of season, dragged their seed-filledbellies out of the sorghum fields onto the road, where they bored their hindquarters into the hardsurface to lay their eggs.
Great-Granddad snapped off a sorghum stalk and smacked73 the rump of the weary donkey,which tucked its tail between its legs and shot forward a few paces before resuming its unhurriedpace. Great-Granddad must have been feeling very pleased with himself as he walked behind thedonkey, for he began singing snatches of popular local opera, making up the words as he wentalong. ‘Wu Dalang drank poison, how bad he felt.?.?.?. His seven lengths of intestines74 and theeight lobes75 of his lungs lurched and trembled.?.?.?. The ugly man took a beautiful wife, bringingcalamity to his door.?.?.?. Ah – ye – ye?.?.?. Big Wu’s belly76 is killing77 him?.?.?. waiting for SecondBrother to complete his mission?.?.?. to return home and avenge78 his murder.?.?.?.’
Grandma’s heart thumped79 wildly as she listened to Great-Granddad’s crazy song. The imageof that scowling80 young man, sword in hand, appeared in a flash. Who was he? What was he upto? It dawned on her that, even though they didn’t know each other, their lives were already asclose as fish and water. Their sole encounter had been lightning quick and was over in a flash,like a dream, yet not like a dream. She had been shaken to the depths of her soul, overcome byspirits. Resign yourself to your fate, she thought as she heaved a long sigh.
Grandma let the donkey proceed freely as she listened to her dad’s fractured rendition of theWu Dalang song. A breath of wind and a puff81 of fire, and there they were, in Toad Hollow. Thedonkey kept its nostrils82 closed tight as it pawed the ground, refusing to go any farther, even whenGreat-Granddad smacked it on the rump with his sorghum switch. ‘Get moving, you bastard83! Getgoing, you rotten donkey bastard!’ The switch sang out against the donkey’s rump, but instead ofmoving forward, it backed up.
An awful stench assailed84 Grandma’s nostrils. Quickly dismounting and covering her nose withher sleeve, she tugged85 on the reins to get the donkey moving. It looked up at her, its mouth open,tears filling its eyes. ‘Donkey,’ she said, ‘grit your teeth and walk past it. There’s no mountainthat can’t be scaled and no river that can’t be forded.’ Moved by her words, it raised its head andbrayed, then galloped86 forward, dragging her along so fast her feet barely touched the ground andher clothes fluttered in the wind like red clouds tumbling in the sky. She glanced at the shamhighwayman’s corpse87 as they passed. A scene of filth88 and corruption89 greeted her eyes: a millionfat maggots had gorged90 themselves until only a few pieces of rotting flesh covered his bones.
Grandma climbed back onto the donkey after they’d managed to drag one another past ToadHollow. Gradually she became aware of the smell of sorghum wine floating on the northeastwind. She whipped up her courage, but as she drew nearer to the climactic scene of the drama hersense of fear and foreboding was as strong as ever. Steam rose from the ground under the blazingsun, but shivers ran down her spine91. The village where the Shans lived was far away, andGrandma, surrounded by the thick aroma92 of sorghum wine, felt as if the marrow93 in her spine hadfrozen solid. A man in the field to her right began to sing in a loud, full voice:
Little sister, boldly you move on
Your jaw94 set like a steel trap
Bones as hard as cast bronze
From high atop the embroidery tower
You toss down the embroidered ball
Striking me on the head
Now join me in a toast with dark-red sorghum wine.
‘Hey there, opera singer, come out! That’s terrible singing! Just awful!’ Great- Granddadshouted towards the sorghum field.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
coax
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| v.哄诱，劝诱，用诱哄得到，诱取 | |
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milky
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| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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Buddha
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| n.佛；佛像；佛陀 | |
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stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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goblets
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| n.高脚酒杯( goblet的名词复数 ) | |
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kennel
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| n.狗舍，狗窝 | |
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jade
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| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
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lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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rosiness
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| n.玫瑰色；淡红色；光明；有希望 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scooping
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| n.捞球v.抢先报道( scoop的现在分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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sorghum
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| n.高粱属的植物，高粱糖浆，甜得发腻的东西 | |
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tunes
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| n.曲调，曲子( tune的名词复数 )v.调音( tune的第三人称单数 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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toad
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| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆 | |
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valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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gushing
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| adj.迸出的；涌出的；喷出的；过分热情的v.喷，涌( gush的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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dilate
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| vt.使膨胀，使扩大 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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vibrant
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| adj.震颤的，响亮的，充满活力的，精力充沛的，(色彩)鲜明的 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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mash
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| n.麦芽浆，糊状物，土豆泥；v.把…捣成糊状，挑逗，调情 | |
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reeked
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的过去式和过去分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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vat
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| n.(=value added tax)增值税，大桶 | |
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seeping
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| v.（液体）渗( seep的现在分词 )；渗透；渗出；漏出 | |
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daggers
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| 匕首，短剑( dagger的名词复数 ) | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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glossing
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| v.注解( gloss的现在分词 )；掩饰（错误）；粉饰；把…搪塞过去 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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49
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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50
accentuated
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| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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aesthetic
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| adj.美学的，审美的，有美感 | |
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54
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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57
singed
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| v.浅表烧焦( singe的过去式和过去分词 )；（毛发）燎，烧焦尖端[边儿] | |
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58
emaciated
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| adj.衰弱的，消瘦的 | |
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cinders
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| n.煤渣( cinder的名词复数 )；炭渣；煤渣路；煤渣跑道 | |
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scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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tadpoles
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| n.蝌蚪( tadpole的名词复数 ) | |
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rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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bawling
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的现在分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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stifle
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| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
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66
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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67
passerby
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| n.过路人，行人 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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70
pelting
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| 微不足道的，无价值的，盛怒的 | |
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swarms
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| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
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72
locusts
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| n.蝗虫( locust的名词复数 )；贪吃的人；破坏者；槐树 | |
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73
smacked
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| 拍，打，掴( smack的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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intestines
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| n.肠( intestine的名词复数 ) | |
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lobes
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| n.耳垂( lobe的名词复数 )；（器官的）叶；肺叶；脑叶 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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77
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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avenge
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| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
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79
thumped
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| v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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80
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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81
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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bastard
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| n.坏蛋，混蛋；私生子 | |
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84
assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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86
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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88
filth
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| n.肮脏，污物，污秽；淫猥 | |
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corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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90
gorged
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| v.（用食物把自己）塞饱，填饱( gorge的过去式和过去分词 )；作呕 | |
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spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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aroma
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| n.香气，芬芳，芳香 | |
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marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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