Chinese Literature

Carrying. their simple baggage, they would usually come in teams of four at the beginning of autumn. They would roam around the counties bordering the lake, specializing in reaping and threshing rice for the local people. Their wages were not excessive, but it was customary to feed them fairly well.

Very quickly, Uncle Yun-pu hired a team. Four aaron men with shabby baggage on their shoulders followed him back. By the time

they had started to work the sun was already quite high. Uncle Yun-pu

told Shao-pu to stay in the field and supervise the hired men while he himself went around to look for Li-chiu.

It was getting dark and the grain from an area planted with twenty catties of seeds had been harvested. He had to pay four strings of money as wages. And still Li-chiu was nowhere to be found. It made Uncle Yun-pu quite beside himself with rage. The harvest, though, was unexpectedly bountiful—twelve piculs of rough grain were reaped from twenty catties of seeds. His happiness was spoiled only by his irritation with his son, who was such a disappointment.

It really was not worthwhile hiring a team to work. Besides the wages, the harvesters devoured bowls and bowls of luscious white rice, and the thought of it all made Yun-pu’s heart sink. When he remembered how in the past they themselves had faced starvation he was ready to grab Li-chiu by the neck and choke him to death. They certainly must not hire harvesters again. Even if he were to depend only on Shao-pu and himself, he could still manage to get the grain harvested from an area planted with a few catties of seeds at least.

It was getting quite late. Uncle Yun-pu was finding it hard to fall asleep. Faintly and indistinctly he heard Li-chiu outside whispering to someone. Anger again took possession of him. Opening his eyes he shouted: “You wastrel! You nighthawk! So you still dare to come back! You neglect everything at home, leaving me, an old man, to struggle along alone. I don’t care to live any longer! Today it’s either your life or mine! See what you can do against an old grey head!” So saying, he snatched up a wooden stick, and dashed at his son in fury. Behind the swing of the stick lay the power of all his resentment at the loss of four strings of money and all the precious white rice consumed

_by the harvesters.

“Unele Yun-pu, please don’t hold it against him. This time it’s really because we asked him to help us with some business.”

“What sort of business? And what business have you taking him away from his work? You, who are you... Cousin Big Lai, don’t you know how heavy our work is these days? And he, the scoundrel, just

went off like that!’ He was really beside himself with fury, and the _ stick trembled violently in his hand.

Sao Soe aye

“You're right of course, Uncle Yun-pu, but this time he was really

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