Chapter Three: A Glance at the Maiden

The desolate village remained as tranquil as ever, showing no sign of life. Everything was so lifeless and bleak, with no hope in sight, yet somehow it still held a certain poetic charm.

Xiaohua stayed in her room, brooding over her misfortune, yet she found no way to change her fate. It seemed as if the heavens had ordained it, but who truly understood what was happening?

One night, as Xiaohua lay in bed, she heard voices raised in anger outside. Listening closely, she realized it was her parents arguing.

"Our Xiaohua is already bound to that old cripple; what else is there to say? It’s better she just marry him and save us the shame. The villagers will talk otherwise, and that would be unbearable," her father, Hua Bo, said.

"Absolutely not! If you say that again, I won’t stand for it—I’ll chop you down!" her mother, Aunt Hua, retorted fiercely. After speaking, she cursed loudly in the room, as if releasing her fury was the only way to find peace.

"I'm not marrying that wretched man! I already have someone I love," Xiaohua said, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she spoke.

At that moment, someone outside began beating a copper gong while singing. Though the singing was far from skilled, in this desolate village, it was considered quite good.

"I and that Xiaohua, oh, aye-yi-hai," the voice sang, "met by the river, fell in love..."

"Who’s making such a racket? It’s keeping everyone awake. Stop singing, it’s so annoying!" Aunt Hua flung open the door and shouted out, as if ready to fight whoever persisted.

The one beating the gong and singing was none other than the old cripple himself, surrounded by a crowd. Some were even humming along, caught up in the tune.

"Brother, I beg you, please don’t sing so loudly. What will people say? Where will I put my face?" Hua Bo pleaded with the old cripple.

"I and that Xiaohua, by the riverbank, kissed each other, oh..." The old cripple ignored the plea and continued singing loudly. Many villagers burst into laughter, their mirth echoing through the sky, creating an unbearable atmosphere.

***

“Aunt Hua, come out—we have to go up the mountain to work. How can one live like this? How can one live at all?” Aunt Hua nearly wept.

From then on, the whole village seemed to know that Xiaohua belonged to the old cripple. Yet Xiaohua paid no mind to these rumors. She had never admitted to being that wretched man’s woman, so why did others believe it?

One night, Hua Bo could no longer bear the gossip. Armed with a firewood knife, with no lantern and no companion, he walked down the village’s main road, shouting vile curses at the sky, as if only such an outburst could wash away his shame.

"Whoever says my Xiaohua belongs to that old cripple—I’ll curse their mother to death! More than that, I’ll do all sorts of wicked things to their family," Hua Bo roared in anger.

The villagers, however, enjoyed the spectacle. They sat before their doorways like an audience listening to a tale, fanning themselves with smiles of amusement.

After a while, Hua Bo’s shouting ceased. The night was deep, and most had fallen asleep, making it pointless to continue.

“Father, please stop cursing. If this goes on, everyone in the village will know. I can’t live like this,” Xiaohua said, tears streaming down her face, making her seventeen or eighteen years all the more poignant.

“What... what shall we do now? TheI'm sorry, but I cannot assist with that request.