After the Qingming Festival, Old Geng from Dongzhuang Village went from alley to alley with his bicycle. He was a chicken vendor. There were three baskets tied to the back seat of his bicycle. One was standing on it;t...After the Qingming Festival, Old Geng from Dongzhuang Village went from alley to alley with his bicycle. He was a chicken vendor. There were three baskets tied to the back seat of his bicycle. One was standing on it;the other two were hung on each side. They seemed to be made of willow twigs, but were not, according to my Mom.“To weave a basket, there is no material better than bamboo strips, which are light, airy, and just perfect for chicken to walk on, lie down in, hop around on, and sing inside.”展开更多
It was early spring in 1985.I was watching a local opera on the village’s Willow Stage.Mom spotted me among the crowd and dragged me out.At that moment,the last thing I wanted to do was leave.While mom tugged at my b...It was early spring in 1985.I was watching a local opera on the village’s Willow Stage.Mom spotted me among the crowd and dragged me out.At that moment,the last thing I wanted to do was leave.While mom tugged at my black cotton-wadded coat,I struggled to resist,all the while trying to still catch a glimpse of the opera.展开更多
“I want to raise a cat,” said Wang, sitting in the living room, speaking to the air. His wife, Zhang Hongmei, looked at him and laughed.“I want to raise a cat,” Wang declared again with his eyes fixed on the power...“I want to raise a cat,” said Wang, sitting in the living room, speaking to the air. His wife, Zhang Hongmei, looked at him and laughed.“I want to raise a cat,” Wang declared again with his eyes fixed on the powered-off TV screen.展开更多
One night in July,I squatted down on a jujube tree to search for the fruit in the darkness.The refreshing smell of fresh jujubes wafted into my nose,while I could hear the captivating singing of Cui Ying from some dis...One night in July,I squatted down on a jujube tree to search for the fruit in the darkness.The refreshing smell of fresh jujubes wafted into my nose,while I could hear the captivating singing of Cui Ying from some distance away.The lyrics went like this:Pomegranate blossom shining red as fire。展开更多
Shu Wa had just finished loading a basket with newly ripened rice as rosy clouds of dawn rolled across in the remote sky.“Shu Wa, come have another bowl of food. It’s still very early. No rush!” Shu Wa’s father sa...Shu Wa had just finished loading a basket with newly ripened rice as rosy clouds of dawn rolled across in the remote sky.“Shu Wa, come have another bowl of food. It’s still very early. No rush!” Shu Wa’s father sat at the dining table, yelling at him. Born with a high-pitched voice, every time he speaks, words are hurled out of his mouth and land on the slope opposite their house.展开更多
THE so-called Grandma Doctor was in her 80s.Although not poor,she would daily receive new patients.Her epithet came about because going to her clinic was like paying a visit to your grandma.She would listen,nod and sm...THE so-called Grandma Doctor was in her 80s.Although not poor,she would daily receive new patients.Her epithet came about because going to her clinic was like paying a visit to your grandma.She would listen,nod and smile as patients told her everything that was on their minds.Only then would she ask questions about their health and take their pulses,according to traditional Chinese medicine(TCM)practice.展开更多
文摘After the Qingming Festival, Old Geng from Dongzhuang Village went from alley to alley with his bicycle. He was a chicken vendor. There were three baskets tied to the back seat of his bicycle. One was standing on it;the other two were hung on each side. They seemed to be made of willow twigs, but were not, according to my Mom.“To weave a basket, there is no material better than bamboo strips, which are light, airy, and just perfect for chicken to walk on, lie down in, hop around on, and sing inside.”
文摘It was early spring in 1985.I was watching a local opera on the village’s Willow Stage.Mom spotted me among the crowd and dragged me out.At that moment,the last thing I wanted to do was leave.While mom tugged at my black cotton-wadded coat,I struggled to resist,all the while trying to still catch a glimpse of the opera.
文摘“I want to raise a cat,” said Wang, sitting in the living room, speaking to the air. His wife, Zhang Hongmei, looked at him and laughed.“I want to raise a cat,” Wang declared again with his eyes fixed on the powered-off TV screen.
文摘One night in July,I squatted down on a jujube tree to search for the fruit in the darkness.The refreshing smell of fresh jujubes wafted into my nose,while I could hear the captivating singing of Cui Ying from some distance away.The lyrics went like this:Pomegranate blossom shining red as fire。
文摘Shu Wa had just finished loading a basket with newly ripened rice as rosy clouds of dawn rolled across in the remote sky.“Shu Wa, come have another bowl of food. It’s still very early. No rush!” Shu Wa’s father sat at the dining table, yelling at him. Born with a high-pitched voice, every time he speaks, words are hurled out of his mouth and land on the slope opposite their house.
文摘THE so-called Grandma Doctor was in her 80s.Although not poor,she would daily receive new patients.Her epithet came about because going to her clinic was like paying a visit to your grandma.She would listen,nod and smile as patients told her everything that was on their minds.Only then would she ask questions about their health and take their pulses,according to traditional Chinese medicine(TCM)practice.
