Selected Prose Works of Hongmei

Author: Xu Baorong
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2004-09-01
Features: Hongmei, originally named Chen Guangmei, was born on December 23, 1913, in Shanghai. As a child, she was also known as Husheng and later used this as a pen name. Her father, Chen Boxiao, participated in the Tongmenghui led by Sun Yat-sen, took part in the Xinhai Revolution, and later joined the campaign against Yuan Shikai. He was wanted and fled to Guangdong. Her father's activities left a deep impression of a "revolutionary" on her during her childhood.
Excerpt: Her face, shaped like the oval often depicted in old novels, was truly like a just-ripened peach, with a faint red hue peeking through a layer of fine, downy hair. It was framed by bright eyes and a small, thin-lipped mouth, making her appear both beautiful and dignified. Suddenly, the future aunt-in-law of the visiting uncle called out, "Little Sister," pulling her to sit beside me. With a grin, she said, "This was my idea—let your uncle call over a girl to keep you company!" I blushed, my hands and feet fidgeting uncomfortably, sweat beading on my forehead and palms. When Uncle Song glanced at me with a smug look, I shot him a glare, meaning, "How dare you tease me like this." It was a prank. Though Uncle Li and the "aunt-in-law" kept urging me to talk with "Little Peach Blossom," I remained silent for the better part of half an hour, neither turning to look at her nor initiating a conversation. She, however, was quite composed, calling me "Master Chen" twice and asking a few questions, to which I gave brief replies. When she leaned closer to ask something, I accidentally brushed against her soft arm amidst the strong scent of perfume, making me even more flustered. When she finally stood up, said a quiet "Thank you, Master Chen," and nodded at the door as she left, I noticed a faint, melancholic glow in her bright eyes. Only then did I truly look at her and nod in farewell. At that moment, I regretted not having spoken to her—but what could I have said? Soon after, I left the smoky, dull hotel filled with pointless laughter and noise, wandering alone by the river. I couldn't help but recall my last days in Shanghai, when I had wandered the streets of Nanjing Road. The pale girl who had called me "Brother" on Nanjing Road was now doing what? And what fate awaited this dignified, peach-cheeked "Little Peach Blossom"? Our meeting with "Little Peach Blossom" was brief. Because Uncle Song, who had promised to take good care of me, finally left Wuhan without saying goodbye. Some said he had given up on the world, changed his name, and returned to his hometown. Others claimed he had fled after being involved in a major corruption case. Still others believed he had truly married the "aunt-in-law" and retreated into seclusion. I would never see "Little Peach Blossom" again, let alone concern her fate. Because at that time, I myself was still lost, troubled by misery and melancholy, unable to grasp my own destiny.