Rice Papers

by Hugh Leigh Norris

To Tao by his infirmity was unfitted for heavy manual labour, but his distorted body seemed to be endowed with some marvellous power of rendering natural objects equally grotesque. No one for hundreds of li around could produce small trees in such fantastic shapes and weird eccentricities of growth as he. Hence to all outward appearances almost as poverty stricken as Lok Hing, To Tao was a man of some means, seeing that the wealthy gentry were only too glad to purchase the curious trees and shrubs that resulted from his untiring care and peculiar skill.

As To Tao passed, Lok Hing softly sang: “Forty yesterday, forty the day before, in all three hundred and sixty, and now all are finished.”

“What does my brother mean?” asked To Tao, whose close attention to the cultivation of his plants had left him ignorant of public affairs.

“Forty each day for nine days have been beheaded, and now there remains but one, whom my lord the magistrate will have strangled this day.”

Then Lok Hing told the hunchback of the one remaining prisoner, an old woman whose crime no one knew. She had been about forty years in prison, and had herself forgotten why she had been placed there, and that Yeh Lok had been so moved at the recital of her wrongs that he had vowed neither to eat nor drink until justice had been done her by suitable strangulation.

The hunchback heard the story without any outward emotion, but his heart was heavy within him. He alone knew the old woman’s story. She was his mother. His father had been a notable brigand, and his mother had been seized by the then tao-tai and held as a hostage till the brigand should be caught or slain. To Tao’s father, however, died a natural death at a ripe old age, and now for some years the hunchback had ministered to the material comforts of his remaining parent by sending her food and little luxuries daily in the prison.

There was nothing more to be done now, however, as already the procession was approaching along the dusty road with two stout coolies carrying the old woman in a basket slung on a thick bamboo pole.

Hastily purchasing some pea-nuts from Lok Hing, the hunchback approached the basket and handed them through its wide meshes to his mother. The old dame received the nuts gratefully, and continued to munch them with evident enjoyment until the final tightening of the string round her neck rendered further deglutition not only unnecessary but impossible.

The magistrates, officials, soldiers, and rabble then returned to pursue their several occupations or amusements, and To Tao, with rage in his heart, also departed to his house, where he had long kept a handsome coffin with which to do the last thing properly by his aged parent. This action of To Tao in providing a coffin for the aged prisoner was accounted to him for righteousness, no one being cognisant of the relationship that had existed between the two.

In this way peace having been restored and all internal affairs of State set running smoothly, the new magistrate, who was something of a Sybarite, began to turn his attention to improvements in his yamen, and to the surrounding of himself with every luxury. He spent money freely, employing hosts of builders, carpenters, painters, and other workmen in embellishing his house and grounds, and in this way soon earned a certain popularity as a beneficent magistrate. Yeh, however, had unwittingly earned the undying hatred of the hunchback, whose filial piety would allow him to leave no stone unturned in his endeavour to avenge the—to his mind—illegal execution of his aged mother. Having beautified the interior of his yamen, the magistrate turned his attention to the spacious grounds surrounding his residence, and who more able to provide fantastic rock-work, design ornamental ponds, bridges, hills, and valleys, and complete the whole scheme with cunning dwarf trees and shrubs, than the hunchback gardener, To Tao?