Taipei, Summer, January 1962
Time slips away; spring has vanished without a trace.Tides come and go; gatherings and partings are bitterly fleeting.The past cannot be forgotten, like duckweed drifting east and west.The green mountains remain as many sunsets glow red.
Dry tonight's tears; let them drift with tomorrow's winds.The winds carry my dreams, wandering endlessly to the horizon.Day after day, night after night, love and longing remain the same through the ages.The green mountains remain as many sunsets glow red.
Right and wrong, success and failure,all turn to emptiness in the blink of an eye,The green mountains remain as many sunsets glow red!
Why can't the setting sun be held back?It turns instead into a day of drizzling rain!
Dusk. The snting rays of the setting sun cast a golden light on the weathered, paint-chipped window frames. The rosy glow filtered through the cracked gss panes, tinting the faded blue curtains, now washed to a grayish hue, with a warm reddish hue.
Shadows of trees swayed back and forth across the curtains, shifting and dancing. At times hazy, at times sharp; sometimes sparse, sometimes dense—like a series of ever-changing, animated picture patterns.
Meng Zhu bit the eraser on her pencil absentmindedly, her gaze fixed on the flickering shadows on the curtains. Then, she lowered her head to the household ledger spread open on the desk: food, fuel, seasonings, utilities, pocket money, education, medical expenses, entertainment—none of the budgeted items seemed reducible. Yet, when these scattered categories were added up, they turned into an overwhelming total. The gap between income and expenses seemed to widen with each passing month.
(T/N: 梦竹; Mèng Zhú, lit-means Dream Bamboo)
Clenching the pencil tightly, she stared bnkly at the ledger, lost in thought. How could she bance the budget? It seemed like the most difficult lesson of all. Despite nearly twenty years as a housewife, she still couldn't manage to keep expenses within the budget.
After sitting motionless for what felt like an eternity, she gripped the pencil resolutely and, with a sense of determination, crossed out the “entertainment” category. The moment she did, an image of Xiao Bai's wide, expectant eyes and outstretched hands seemed to fsh vividly before her.
"Mom, the Harlem basketball team!"
Xiao Tong? That child, who would never ask for anything excessive, would occasionally shyly say, "Mom, Gu Demei asked me to go to the movies!"
Could she ignore all of this? But how could she manage? Even without the entertainment category, the budget still didn't bance. After considering it for a while, she rewrote the number under the pocket money category. Looking at it again, there was really no more room to cut. Unless she lowered the standard for food, but she knew, deep down, that food couldn't be compromised further. Xiao Tong had tendencies toward anemia, Ming Yuan's health wasn't good, and Xiao Bai was at a stage of rapid growth, needing extra nutrition every six months to grow five centimeters.
After all the calcutions, it came down to one thing—there just wasn't enough for the household expenses. No matter how much she tried to adjust, it still wasn't enough.
The shadows of the trees on the curtain had faded, and dusk deepened. Meng Zhu suddenly jumped up and gnced at the old, worn-out clock on the table. It was already past five o'clock. How had time passed so quickly? Ming Yuan and the children would be home soon. Xiao Bai would definitely burst through the door, immediately asking for dinner. She hurriedly shoved the ledger into a drawer and rushed into the kitchen.
The kitchen was cramped, unbearably narrow. The gas filled the room, making it almost impossible to breathe without coughing. This kitchen had been built in the space under the original eaves. The dormitory, provided to Ming Yuan by the company, had originally consisted of two rooms, each with six seats, with the kitchen and bathroom at the back.
When Xiao Tong and Xiao Bai were little, it didn't matter much. Ming Yuan and his wife lived in the front room, while the two younger children shared the room at the back.
However, as the children grew older, it was no longer acceptable to have their eighteen-year-old daughter and seventeen-year-old son sharing a room. So, reluctantly, they spent a bit of money to convert the old kitchen and bathroom into a separate room for Xiao Bai and built a new kitchen and bathroom behind it. As a result, the kitchen became so small that it was almost impossible to turn around in.
Just after washing the rice and pcing it on the coal stove, Meng Zhu heard the sound of the front door. To avoid the hassle of opening the door each time, all four family members had their keys. Meng Zhu tilted her head, listening intently. She loved this moment. She enjoyed assessing who had returned based on the sound of footsteps and actions. It was her secret pleasure—her life was built around these three people, and the footsteps of any one of them would fill her with a vague, yet unmistakable joy.
The person who entered moved gently and quietly. She heard the soft sound of paper doors sliding open and the sound of a schoolbag being set down. Then, a series of light and graceful footsteps approached the kitchen door, followed by a delicate, calm, and quiet face peeking into the kitchen. The pale face was framed by dark eyes, and she gave Meng Zhu a serene and gentle smile. "Mom, I need to talk to you about something."
"Come in, help me pick the water spinach," Meng Zhu said gently, giving Xiao Tong a soft gnce. She was pleased that Xiao Tong was the first to return. Lately, she has often wished for some time to be alone with her daughter. Even if they didn't mention anything, just looking at her, seeing her gradually maturing body and her increasingly graceful face, filled her with contentment. Having a beautiful daughter was a mother's pride. Though she knew Xiao Tong wasn't exactly “very” beautiful—Xiao Tong was too slender, too quiet, not lively enough, not “outstanding” enough—still, in the eyes of a mother, she was already gorgeous enough.
Xiao Tong walked in, holding a basket of vegetables, and sat on the small stool at the kitchen door to begin picking. The kitchen was so cramped that it couldn't fit two people comfortably. Meng Zhu gnced at her daughter again. Xiao Tong's brows were slightly furrowed, and her thin lips were tightly pressed together. Meng Zhu recognized this expression—it meant there was something difficult to say.
"Xiao Tong, you said you have something to tell me?"
Xiao Tong lifted her head to look at Meng Zhu, then lowered it again, hesitating as she circled around the subject.
"Mom, do you know Gu Demei?"
"Of course, isn't she your best friend?"
"Yes, her. This Saturday will be her eighteenth birthday. She's having a small celebration in the evening, and she insists that I attend."
Meng Zhu looked at Xiao Tong and knew what her daughter hadn't said. Of course, Xiao Tong should attend her best friend's birthday party—it was the kind of social event an eighteen-year-old girl should experience. But—she paused for a moment before speaking, "You're worried you won't have anything to wear, right?"
"It's not just that. I have to show some intention, like giving a cake or something."
Meng Zhu thought of the tightened budget she had just been considering, and her heart grew uneasy. She couldn’t bear to bring Xiao Tong down. Xiao Tong had never been a vain child. She understood the financial difficulties at home and never asked for anything directly. Every time she needed something, she would hint at it cautiously, and if she wasn't given it, she wouldn't say a word. But this time was different—it involved her daughter's sense of pride. Xiao Tong was no longer a little child; she should be allowed to maintain her dignity in front of her friends. However, dignity—those two words were too costly! How much money did it take to ensure that children could hold their heads high in front of others? As she thought about this, she couldn't help but sigh.
