Tales of a Chinese Grandmother

by Frances Carpenter

  "Old Chang Kung called to his servants to bring forth the four precious gems of the library. They set forth on a table a tablet of smooth split bamboo, for in those days people did not know about paper, my children. Beside it they laid out the rabbit-hair brush, the ink stick and the ink stone with its small well of water. Chang Kung wet the black ink stick and rubbed its soft end on the flat stone. He dipped his brush into the ink paste. With delicate strokes he began to brush words on the tablet. One hundred words he wrote. Then with a low bow he placed the tablet in the hands of the curious Emperor.

  "'You have written many words, but at the same time you have written only one word,' the Emperor exclaimed in surprise.

  "'Ai, but that one word is the golden secret, O Son of Heaven,' Chang Kung said, slowly nodding his gray head up and down.

  "What was the one word, Lao Lao?" Ah Shung asked as his grandmother paused.

  "The word he had written one hundred times, my children, was 'kindness.'

  "The Emperor was so pleased that he himself took up the brush and wrote. Upon a large tablet he set down his joy in finding such a household as that of Chang Kung's. He gave permission to have his words pasted upon the great gate, where everyone who came in or who went out might see them.

  "You may be sure that the fame of Chang Kung grew even greater. People asked for his picture so that peace and happiness might rule in their homes as in his. It would be well, my naughty ones, if you should go to our kitchen. Get down on your knees. Make your kowtows toward the picture of Chang Kung up over the stove. Beg him to forget the cross words you have spoken."

  The two children went with their nurse, old Wang Lai, to do as their grandmother bade them. The picture of the Kitchen God in his nook over the stove was smeared with smoke from the cooking fires. But the boy and girl looked up with respect at the old man in his red-and-blue robes. In this picture several children with smiling faces were shown gathered about him.

  Ah Shung and Yu Lang always enjoyed the evening of the twenty-third of the Twelfth Moon when the Kitchen God flew away to spend seven days in the Heavenly Kingdom. The Old Old One herself entered the kitchen as evening came on. She set out with her own hands the steamed cakes and the wine and the other things that were to honor the messenger of heaven. Lao Lao's oldest son took the picture of the Kitchen God from its tiny palace over the stove. Then Grandmother Ling smeared the mouth of the picture with a sweet, sticky sirup.

  "He will lick his lips," she said to the children. "He will taste the sweet sirup and surely he will remember only good things about us when he makes his report to the Emperor of the Sky."

  A little sedan chair made of bamboo and paper was waiting to receive the picture of the Kitchen God. The whole Ling family followed as this was carried into the Courtyard of Politeness, where honored guests were received. There a bonfire had been made, and it crackled as the flames licked the edges of the dry straw.

  Everyone bowed low as the picture of the Kitchen God in its paper chair was put on the center of the fire. As the gray smoke floated upward on the frosty air, the Lings were sure that the Kitchen God was mounting to the sky. They burned a paper horse for him to ride upon, and they poured cups of tea and wine on the ashes so that he should not be thirsty during his journey.

  Ah Shung and his boy cousins were allowed to set off the red firecrackers which so please the gods. With glowing sticks of incense they lighted one after another. The popping filled the children with delight, for to them the sound of firecrackers always meant fun and feasting. For the Lings every important holiday began with the noise of bursting firecrackers. They believed that good spirits loved their din, but that bad spirits were frightened. Thus, the more firecrackers you set off, the safer you were.

  In Grandmother Ling's apartment that evening the family feasted on the steamed cakes which had been made in honor of the Kitchen God's going away. Candied fruit and melon seeds were passed round, and the room was filled with chatter and laughter. The Old Old One seemed to have quite forgotten the unseemly behavior of Ah Shung and Yu Lang. As the children munched their sugared fruit they hoped very much that the Kitchen God, too, had forgotten their fault.

  VI

  GUARDIANS OF THE GATE

  CHANG is pasting the gods on the gate," Ah Shung called to his sister, Yu Lang, as he peeped around the spirit wall that shielded the Moon Gate in the Court of Politeness.

  It was the day just before the New Year, the merriest of all the holidays in the Chinese calendar. In the Ling courtyards people were going and coming, everyone bent on some important errand. Ah Shung ran through the Moon Gate and into the entrance court. Yu Lang followed, but she went more slowly because of her poor little bound feet. Behind the two children came their old nurse, Wang Lai. She was as eager as they to see what was going on at the red gate that led in from the city.

  "How splendid the gate looks!" Yu Lang exclaimed. The great entrance gleamed in the winter sunlight. It looked glossier and redder than ever for it had lately been given a new coat of a special red varnish called lacquer. Over the gate, facing the world outside, was a long sign made of peach wood, also lacquered red. Upon it were some raised golden symbols which were the Chinese word pictures for "Good Luck to This Household."

  "We are ready for the New Year," Old Chang, the gatekeeper, said, wagging his gray head and admiring the gate. The Chinese have always loved red. To them it is the color of joy and good luck. Over every door that opened upon the entrance court were red papers with lucky words cut out of them. Even the gates to the stables and the jinrikisha sheds had New Year trimmings of red. This first day of the First Moon was thought to be the very best day for luck in the whole year.

  Old Chang was pressing flat a gaily colored picture which he had just pasted on one of the red doors of the gate. This picture showed an ancient warrior with a frowning black face. On the other half of the gate there was already pasted the likeness of another warrior whose face was white. With their eyes staring, and with their bows and arrows in hand, surely these gods of the gate were fierce enough to frighten any bad spirits that might come their way. Ah Shung and Yu Lang, Old Chang and Wang Lai, and, indeed, every man, woman, and child inside the Ling walls firmly believed that these gods kept bad spirits away from the gate.

  When the boy and his sister went again to the family court they met their grandmother and Huang Ying coming back from the kitchen. The Old Mistress had been visiting the cooks to be sure that the New Year cakes and the meat dumplings, the New Year porridge, and all the other good things were ready for the feasting that would begin on the morrow and last through the month.

  "Bring tea, Huang Ying," the old woman said to her maid. "Ah Shung will help me into my room. Let there be tea bowls for three."

  While the two children sipped the hot tea from thin blue-and-white bowls they told their grandmother of their visit to Chang and the red gate.

  "It is well," the Old Old One said, nodding her head when they spoke of the gate gods. "When our red gate is shut tight we shall seal its cracks with paper. Then nothing can come in to spoil our New Year luck."

  "Who are those fierce men on the gate-pictures, Lao Lao?" Yu Lang asked between sips of tea and bites of steamed cakes.

  "Perhaps they are Shen Shu and Yu Lu," the old woman explained. "I will tell you the story about them.

  "As I heard my grandmother say," she began, "in the very earliest times there was a mountain in the Eastern Ocean upon which there grew a great peach tree. It was not at all like the peach trees in our Garden of Sweet Smells. Its trunk was larger around than the walls of our city. Its branches grew so long that it would take Wong, the jinrikisha man, many years to trot along the edge of the shadow they made on the earth.

  "Now some of the lowest branches of this tree grew toward the northeast. They leaned toward each other, forming an arch, and through this there flew in and out of the world all the spirits of the air and the earth and the water.

  "Two good spirits, whose names were Shen Shu and
Yu Lu, were chosen by the Emperor of Heaven to stand guard over this gate that led in and out of the world. Ai, they were clever, those gate guards, Shen Shu and Yu Lu. They could tell at a glance which spirits were good and which spirits were bad.

  "As soon as the gate guards saw a bad spirit they tied it up tight and threw it to the tigers. The Emperor who then sat upon the Dragon Throne of our Flowery Kingdom heard of these clever gate guards. He thought he should like them to protect his own palace doors. So he called for the court artists.

  "'Take tablets of lucky peach wood,' he commanded. 'Paint upon them the likenesses of the guardians of the gates on the Eastern Mountain. Give them bows and arrows and spears. Then hang them upon the gates where the spirits can see them. Shen Shu and Yu Lu know bad spirits from good spirits. They will allow only the good spirits to come into my palace.'"

  "Are those men that Chang, the gatekeeper, has pasted on our doors really Shen Shu and Yu Lu, Lao Lao?" Ah Shung asked, his black eyes shining bright with wonder at his grandmother's tale.

  "O-yo, Little Bear, that I do not know," the old woman replied. "There are other guardians of the gate and another tale about them. Perhaps these are the ones that are protecting our sky-wells. Long, long ago there was in our land an Emperor whose name was Shih Ming. One day he fell ill. He could not sleep at night because bad spirits disturbed him. They threw tiles down from the roof. They hurled bricks at his door. They hooted and howled. All the night through they made such a clatter and din that Shih Ming could not rest.

  "In the morning the Emperor was ill indeed. Doctors from the four corners of the empire gathered around him. The minsters of the court were called together.

  "'This True Dragon is near death,' the doctors declared. 'His blood runs too hot. His mind is troubled with strange ideas. He hears nothing by day, but at night the spirits torment him. We do not know what to do.'

  "Then there came forward a brave general whose name was Chin Shu-pao. He fell on his knees and kowtowed to the sick Emperor. 'Shining Son of Heaven,' he said, knocking his head on the ground, 'this unworthy servant of yours may be able to help you. He has killed men as easily as he cuts open a gourd. In battle the dead bodies left behind him are like ants in a hill. Why should he fear spirits? Why should his brave comrade, Hu Ching-te, be afraid? Let us both arm ourselves and let us stand by your door through the night to drive the spirits away.'

  "Chin and Hu took up their posts beside the palace door. All night they stood on guard, and not once was there a sound to disturb the sick Emperor. He slept the night through, and from that moment his illness began to grow less. Night after night Chin and Hu stood by the door, until at last the Emperor recovered. But although he was well again he still feared that the spirits might come back if no guard stood on watch. At the same time he was troubled about his faithful Chin Shu-pao and Hu Ching-te.

  "'The good generals must be weary,' Shih Ming said to his ministers. 'They need to rest. Call the court painters! Bid them paint likenesses of the brave Chin and Hu. Let the artists show them with armor and weapons so that they may be ready for the spirits! Then paste their pictures on the gates of the palace. We shall see if they will not be as powerful against the bad spirits as Chin and Hu themselves.'

  "It was done. The pictures were fixed upon the gates of the palace. Ha, the spirits must have thought the painted figures were really the mighty warriors themselves, for none came that night to disturb the peace inside the palace walls. " Grandmother Ling laughed as she thought of the good joke on the spirits who were so stupid as to be so easily fooled.

  The Ling family took every care to start the New Year with good luck. Besides the lucky red signs and the lucky dishes being prepared inside the family kitchen, they did not forget a single lucky custom. They were more than usually polite as they put up over the stove the new picture of the Kitchen God who, they thought, had returned from his visit to heaven. Knives and scissors and sharp tools were all put carefully away lest the New Year luck should be cut.

  Throughout the evening the courtyards were filled with the din of popping firecrackers. Ah Shung and Yu Lang were allowed to light some of the little red tubes of gunpowder themselves. They enjoyed the sound of their bursting. The Chinese all liked their noise because they believed it helped to frighten the spirits away.

  "It was in earliest times," the Old Old One had told the children, "that we found out that the bad spirits do not like sharp sounds. In the Western Mountain there was once a giant more than twice as tall as your father. He was so ugly to look upon that men fainted away when they saw him. At last they learned to drive him off by burning hollow stalks of bamboo, which made a crackling noise. Then someone or other thought of putting gunpowder inside hollow tubes made of paper. These first firecrackers made a much louder noise than burning bamboo. They frightened the ugly giant so badly that he never came back again.

  "Tomorrow morning we shall break the paper seals that Chang has pasted over the cracks of the gates, and we shall open our doors to fortune with lucky phrases. Every one of us must guard his tongue against saying the wrong words. You, my thoughtless small ones, must take special care what word you speak first when you wake in the morning. For if it is a lucky word, you will be lucky through all the New Year. But if it is unlucky, o-yo, there will be trouble."

  The boy and the girl trotted off with Wang Lai across the dark court to their own low house. The cold winter sky was dotted with stars, and the sound of popping firecrackers still came over the walls from the courtyards of neighboring houses. Ah Shung and Yu Lang exchanged their wadded day suits for their night garments of softer cloth. They climbed up on the heated brick floor of their bed, they arranged their hard little pillows of leather and wood, and they rolled themselves in their thick wadded comforters with sighs of content. They were tired with the excitement of the day's preparations. They wanted to go to sleep quickly so that the New Year would come soon. They could hardly wait for the gifts and the good things that the Old Man of the New Year would bring to them.

  As Wang Lai pulled the bed curtains that shut them away from the night air, they were saying over and over to themselves the word they meant to speak the first thing in the morning. They decided upon it because it was the very word for good luck. If they could just remember to say it first, they would be sure of a splendid New Year.

  "Fu. Fu. Fu-u-u..." Yu Lang whispered sleepily.

  "Fu. Fu. Fu-u-u-u..." Ah Shung echoed. And then all was still inside their bed curtains.

  VII

  THE PAINTED EYEBROW

  YU LANG was watching her grandmother dress. It was a day in the New Year holiday time, and there were to be important guests in the Court of Politeness. The old woman seemed to be taking more than ordinary care with her appearance, although Yu Lang could never remember a day when the Old Old One did not look as if she had stepped down from a scroll painting.

  Lao Lao was sitting in her carved wooden chair before a little table. She had placed herself near the wide latticed windows which filled half of the south side of her room. She wanted to get as much as possible of the light coming through the thin white paper that served instead of glass in the window frames. Upon the table before her was a mahogany box whose open lid stood upright and whose body was filled with little boxes and bottles of powder and paint, with combs and brushes and jars of "hair water."

  Grandmother Ling was gazing intently into the square mirror inside the lid of the mahogany box. She was watching her maid, Huang Ying, who was combing her gray hair with one ivory comb after another. Each of the seven combs the maid used was smaller than the one before, and when she had finished, the old woman's hair lay smooth as silk on her head. With a brush dipped into the hair water the maid went over it for one last time before she coiled it upon her Old Mistress' neck and thrust a gold dagger-shaped pin through the flat knot. The hair water was made of a kind of gum, so sticky that it kept every lock pasted tightly in place.

  "Be sure your hand is steady now, Huang Ying," the old w
oman said when her maid began to draw a fine line of black above one of her eyes. Both of her eyebrows were bare. Every one of their hairs had been plucked out, like the feathers of the fowls that go into the cooking pots.

  "Why does Huang Ying paint your face, Lao Lao?" the little girl asked her grandmother as she gazed fascinated by the work of the maid.

  "I do not put quite so much red on my lips and my cheeks as your mother and the younger women, Little Jade Flower," Grandmother Ling replied, "but because one has grown to an honorable age is no reason for offending the eyes of her neighbors with ugliness."

  "But why do you not let your own eyebrows grow like mine?" Yu Lang persisted. "Then you would not have to have Huang Ying make you new ones each morning."

  "Ai, Little Curious," the old woman said smiling, "that would indeed seem much simpler. But it is not the custom. Who started the fashion, I do not know. Perhaps it was Chen Lien and her ugly eyebrow."

  "Oh, Lao Lao, who was she?" Yu Lang cried in delight, for she scented a story.

  "Chen Lien was a maiden who lived in early times," her grandmother began. "She had a skin whiter than rice. Her waist was as slender as a skein of fine silk. Her eyes were the shape of the oval kernel of the almond. When she walked on her lily feet she swayed like a young bamboo. But her beauty was spoiled because she had only one perfect eyebrow. The other was cut through by a scar caused by an accident when she was small like you, Flower-child.

  "One spring day, as Chen Lien sat in her garden, a young man climbed up a tall willow tree just outside the wall in order to free his kite which had become tangled up in its branches. From his perch high above the ground the young man, whom we might as well call Wu Fang, looked over the wall and caught sight of Chen Lien. The side of her face with the perfect eyebrow was turned toward him, and so fair did the maiden look there in the garden that the young man straightway fell in love with her. He went home to his parents and told them that at last he would consent to marry, as they had so long wished. But he told them also that he would have no other bride than the maiden who sat in the garden beside the tall willow tree.