News from Taiwan

Chapter 21 Memories of the Past

Since Jiang Guier left, Jiang Wumei has looked terrible. The caregiver, Aunt Chen, poured her a glass of water. "Don't take Guier's words to heart. She's just a child and doesn't understand."

Jiang Wumei forced a smile but didn't touch the glass of water. Her voice was hoarse as she said, "How could she possibly understand the suffering I endured back then? She was born in a better era."

"The children are all very filial." Having worked for the Jiang family for many years, Aunt Chen is well aware of their situation; they are all strong-willed people.

Jiang Wumei raised her water glass and took a sip. The warm water flowed into her mouth as she quietly looked at her mother, who was lying unconscious on the hospital bed. "If a mother is not kind, how can one be filial..."

Her voice was very low, almost inaudible.

Aunt Chen was sweeping up the pieces of paper she had torn up on the ground when her gaze fell on a piece of paper that read 'Braised Pork'.

Memories suddenly surged into her mind...

---

It was the summer of 1960. The weather in Shanghai was very hot. Jiang Wumei went out as usual and set up a small stall with her classmates on the roadside by the Suzhou River to write letters to people. It was called a small stall, but it was really just a table made up of two square stools and three small stools.

The cloth bag slung across her body was embroidered with a beautiful red five-pointed star. Inside was a thick stack of letter paper and a fountain pen that she had secretly taken from her mother's dressing table. She was able to set up this small stall with her classmates thanks to this fountain pen.

She had a fountain pen, her classmate provided a desk and chair, and they were also responsible for soliciting business on the street; the two had a clear division of labor.

Writing a letter for someone earns 20 cents. Each person receives 5 cents, and the remaining 10 cents is used as a reserve fund to buy stationery and ink. If there is any surplus after all the materials are completed in a month, it will be split 50/50 again.

It seems like a very ordinary job that doesn't earn much money, but the large number of people coming and going along the Suzhou River, coupled with their low prices, allows them to make a lot of money with small profits. By writing letters for people all day, they can earn at least 2 yuan per person, which is not a small income.

Unfortunately, the weather wasn't cooperating today; it started to drizzle shortly after I began writing.

Their little stall depends on the weather for its livelihood. When it rains, it means fewer customers. And since their open-air stall has nowhere to shelter from the rain and wind, if the rain is heavy, the words they write will get wet and smudge.

Therefore, they usually don't set up their stall on rainy days, and if they do set up, they close early if it starts raining unexpectedly.

Today is no exception. After writing only three letters, Jiang Wumei had to go home. They live in a Shikumen house in Jing'an. Over the years, more and more people have moved into their house, and their own room has become smaller and smaller.

As soon as she got home, she saw her mother fetching water to wash clothes. She was using clips to hang the washed sheets on the clothesline. A gust of wind blew up the sheets, revealing her delicate face, which looked just like a painting.

"Mom, when I came in, I saw those two whispering at the intersection. Did Aunt Zhang come looking for you again?" Jiang Wumei put her small handbag on the stool next to her, stood on tiptoe, picked up the wrung-out socks, and clipped them together.

Shen Xiangyun paused for a moment, then snapped the bamboo clips shut.

When she turned around, Wu Mei saw stray hairs sticking to her sweaty skin at her temples, and her moon-white polyester shirt rolled up with the collar neatly tied.

"Let her read it." Shen Xiangyun's voice was very soft, but the end of her sentence carried a hint of coldness that was hard to detect. "People may have their own mouths, but you have to live your own life."

“Mom, if she comes again, I’ll hit her out with a broom.” Jiang Wumei clenched her fist.

"Then people will say you're shrewish, and there will be even more gossip."

"I'm not afraid!" Jiang Wumei shook her hands, which were wet. "Mom, if all else fails, we can ask Uncle. Aunt Zhang is just trying to set you up with someone, taking advantage of our family's lack of connections." For years, only the mother and daughter had lived together in this family.

She had never met her father since birth. By chance, he went to Taiwan, and occasionally letters would be sent to her through various channels.

But who knows if that person has started a family over there!

From as far back as she can remember, this family was sustained by her mother.

In the past, Shen Xiangyun always had a glass jar of pearl cream on her dressing table. She liked to use silver hairpins to insert diagonally into her hair bun, and would occasionally switch to gold or jade hairpins. She would always choose them to match her mother's cheongsam, and she always had a faint fragrance on her body.

When the aunties in the shikufang saw her, they all greeted her politely as "Miss Shen".

His tone was full of envy, and there was something else that was hard to explain.

Those people just want to see us make a fool of ourselves.

Besides Aunt Zhang, there were quite a few people who tried to arrange marriages for his mother. Of all the people she'd disliked over the years, Aunt Zhang was the one she hated the most.

Some people care about saving face and won't bother their mothers after being rejected. Since they'll see each other again, they'll maintain some decorum. But this one is shameless. The more you reject her, the more she thinks you're being difficult.

After repeatedly visiting and being rejected, he became dissatisfied and started gossiping behind people's backs.

People love to hear jokes, especially when gossip gets around, more and more people will believe it. Hmm.
I remember it was Aunt Zhang's comment, "She's acting like a capitalist's daughter," that made my mother not wear any of those beautiful cheongsams for a whole year.

You should know that her mother had a box full of custom-made cheongsams. She counted seventeen in total, including brocade, Hangzhou silk, and cheongsams embroidered with lotus scrolls. Her maternal grandfather and uncle made them for her every year from Suzhou. The embroidery on those cheongsams was exquisite, and the embroidery was lifelike.

She asked her mother why.

My mother said that even good fabrics will wear out if worn too often, and it's more convenient to wear polyester for everyday tasks.

She was so angry that she spent 5 cents to have someone carry river mud and used it to plaster Aunt Zhang's door overnight. She was very happy to see Aunt Zhang wiping the door all morning the next day, cursing and swearing.

Shen Xiangyun bent down and flicked Jiang Wumei's cheek. "Don't get any bad ideas again. I haven't settled the score with you for what happened last time."

"Everyone says that my maternal uncle is the best person to me. If he knew that Aunt Zhang was talking about my mother behind my back, he would definitely take away their house."

Shen Xiangyun glanced at the door and said in a low voice, "I know you mean well, but there are some people you shouldn't associate with, and you shouldn't get into conflicts with them. Most importantly, don't cause trouble for your uncle."

"Mom, you're just too good-tempered. Last time, Aunt Zhang even called me 'the capitalist's little princess'."

"When?" Shen Xiangyun's gaze sharpened.

"Just last week."

No sooner had Jiang Wumei finished speaking than she saw her mother grab a broom and go out.

　Sorry, my darlings, only one chapter today~
　　
　
(End of this chapter)