The car door opened. First came the sweating， anxious and confused secretary of the local Party branch. Following him was a man in a heavy yellow woolen military coat. His eyes were bright and intense. He stood there， his wide shoulders holding up the heavy coat， gazing around at the surrounding mountains and trees. Then his eyes returned to the people around him. Someone suddenly yelled out in shock：
"Brother Rong！"
At that moment， Madam was elaborately putting firewood into the stove， with no idea of what was happening outside. But the yell of Brother Rong struck her like thunder. The burning firewood fell on her foot， blue smoke rising as it sizzled. After she threw away the tongs， Madam rushed to the gate， stumbling. She was just in time to see a third person come out of the car. It was a woman in her twenties， with wide shoulders and a thin waist. She wore a grey double-breasted Lenin coat and a pair of black cloth shoes. In her pocket there was a shining pen. Her lips were brightly red， her two eyes curiously looking out from under her long eyelashes. She leaned close to the man， and raised her arm lazily to point to the distant mysterious mountains. The man suddenly saw Madam， who was leaning on the gate. He pushed away the woman's hand impatiently， and ran with great difficulty toward Madam. The house seemed to become smaller in comparison to his giant body. He blocked the weak body of Madam， so the villagers could not see the emotions in her eyes. But what followed was as shocking as an earthquake. The man kneeled down heavily before her. He kneeled down under her feet， grabbing her hand and slapping his face. Madam looked into the distance with empty eyes， showing no reaction. With her loose and fluffy hair， she was like a piece of withered wood leaning on the gate.
Then the man， with red-rimmed eyes， took out a thick stack of money and gave it to Father， who was standing there in astonishment. Father was just about to get married and he needed money desperately. The fresh new bills emanated the fragrance of ink. Father reached out his hands to take the money， trembling. But what he didn't expect was that Madam would rush up to him like a wolf， throwing away the money in his hand and slapping him. Blood dripped from Father's nose onto the scattered bills on the ground. The woman from outside gave out a series of screams.
"Brother Rong's already dead！ He was buried on Penholder Mountain， and I am going to see the tomb tomorrow." Madam said this to the man proudly， the porcelain bowl with maidenhair chicken in her hands. "I don't want to see you ever again！ And you mustn't to contact my son！ If you ever dare come back to the Tian family land， I'll hack you to bits！"
From then on， the man never came again.
Madam sat in her chair looking at Zhaonü and Yingnü harshly， and said to them one word at a time： "Men —are—bad！"
Madam never gave any man a smile， even her son Father. Often Father would be rebuked by his mother for no reason， or scolded for a long time. Father had a soft personality， and he was familiar with the suffering of his mother. So he was always obedient to her. After his wife died， Father thought about marrying another. But Madam became massively angry， saying， "You men are so bad！ Your wife just died for you and now you are thinking about humiliating another woman？" Since then Father dared not mention it ever again. And whether he had a lover or not in the village， nobody ever thought about it.
Zhaonü and Yingnü were raised by Madam. She fed them with meticulously cooked rice porridge， spoon by spoon. She carried one on her back， and the other one in her arms. She would let the sisters kick or hit her old body， like a swing. During the evening， she put her withered nipple to their mouths to stop them from crying. Her love for them was unique. Zhaonü could not bear the worries on Madam's face， and she would wink at Yingnü. Madam liked Yingnü's cheerfulness， so Yingnü could give her some relief.
The makeup on Yingnü's face smelt good. She got closer to Madam's old face and said to her in a sweet voice， "Madam， can't you relax？ If you're not happy， we can't be happy either."
Madam caressed Yingnü's hand on her knee， and said， "Raising a girl is like holding a bowl of oil. You two cannot hide from me—I know that both of you have worries."
Zhaonü was astonished. She continued， "Yingnü， what have you been thinking lately？ Tell me."
Yingnü was coquettish. "I want Madam to find me a husband. Now Madam can believe me， right？"
"How about Liu Pingwa？" Madam said.
Yingnü laughed as she raised her head and shook Madam's hand. "Madam， you are so funny. You're giving him to me because Zhaonü didn't want him. Is he the only man in the world？"
"A woman needs to be content with what she's got，" Madam said.
Yingnü frowned， but a smile rippled across her dimples. "Why can't I have what others have？ I don't want to live like you on the Tian's family land. I want to go out and work， and make big money. I'll open a shop in the future， selling floral cloth. There will be red， yellow and green flowers on the cloth. I will sell them to the girls in town. Then I'll take Madam there to help me with my shop. And I'll make silk floral clothes for Madam. You can wear it， so you'll look so pretty …"
As Yingnü talked， her voice became lower and lower， and a sad look emerged on her face. Madam held Yingnü's hand， and remained silent for a long time.
4
In the middle of the night Yingnü was suddenly crying， startling Zhaonü awake.
Unable to return to sleep， Zhaonü could only reflect upon the endless worries filling her heart. Her status as an unofficial teacher—the Chief's scalding lips—the smell of the shampoo in his hair—his poem.
Moon like a scythe
Memories like mist
Pains like aged wine
Accumulating
Within a heart …
The weeping came from the other side of the bed， coldly filling Zhaonü's ears. She sat up suddenly， called： "Yingnü， Yingnü—what's wrong？"
