On the forty-second day after his death, the corpse which had been put in a beautifully carved sandalwood coffin was placed in a marquee in the courtyard. On each of the last seven nights before his interment the dead man was supposed to ascend a high mountain in the other world and look down on his whole family; he would only be happy if he saw that every member of his family was present and taken care of. Otherwise, it was believed, he would never find rest. The family wanted my mother to be there as the intended daughter-in-law.

She refused. She felt sad for old Mr. Liu, who had been kind to her, but if she attended, she would never be able to get out of marrying his son. Relays of messengers from the Liu family came to the Xia house.

Dr. Xia told my mother that breaking her relationship at this moment was tantamount to letting Mr. Liu senior down, and that this was dishonorable. Although he would not have objected to my mother breaking up with young Mr. Liu normally, he felt that under the circumstances her wishes should be subordinated to a higher imperative. My grandmother also thought she should go. In addition she said, "Who ever heard of a girl rejecting a man because he got the name of some foreign writer wrong, or because he had affairs? All rich young men like to have fun and sow their wild oats. Besides, you have no need to worry about concubines and maids. You're a strong character; you can keep your husband under control."

This was not my mother's idea of the life she wanted, and she said so. In her heart, my grandmother agreed. But she was frightened about keeping my mother at home because of the persistent proposals from Kuomintang officers, "We can say no to one, but not to all of them," she told my mother.

"If you don't marry Zhang, you will have to accept Lee.

Think it over: isn't Liu much better than the others? If you marry him, no officer will be able to bother you anymore. I worry day and night about what may happen to you. I won't be able to rest until you leave the house." But my mother said she would rather die than marry someone who could not give her happiness and love.

The Lius were furious with my mother, and so were Dr. Xia' and my grandmother. For days they argued, pleaded, cajoled, shouted, and wept, to no avail. Finally, for the first time since he had hit her as a child for sitting in his seat on the kang, Dr. Xia flew into a rage with my mother.

"What you are doing is bringing shame on the name of Xia. I don't want a daughter like you!" My mother stood up and flung back the words: "All right, then, you won't have a daughter like me. I'm leaving!" She stormed out of the room, packed her things, and left the house.

In my grandmother's time, leaving home like this would have been out of the question. There were no jobs for women, except as servants, and even they had to have references. But things had changed. In 1946 women could live on their own and find work, like teaching or medicine, although working was still regarded as the last resort by most families. In my mother's school was a teacher training department which offered free board and tuition for girls who had completed three years in the school. Apart from an exam, the only condition for entry was that the graduates had to become teachers. Most pupils in the department were either from poor families who could not afford to pay for an education or people who did not think they had a chance to get into a university, and therefore did not want to stay on at the normal high school. It was only since 1945 that women could contemplate getting into a university; under the Japanese, they could not go beyond high school, where they were mainly taught how to run a family.

Up till now my mother had never considered going to this department, which was generally looked down on as second best. She had always thought of herself as university material. The department was a lit He surprised when she applied, but she persuaded them of her fervent wish to join the teaching profession. She had not yet finished her obligatory three years in the school, but she was known as a star pupil. The department gladly took her after giving her an exam which she passed with little difficulty. She went to live in the school. It was not long before my grandmother rushed over to beg her to come home. My mother was glad to have a reconciliation; she promised she would go home and stay often. But she insisted on keeping her bed on the campus; she was determined not to be dependent on anyone, however much they loved her. For her, the department was ideal. It guaranteed her a job after graduation, whereas university graduates often could not find jobs. Another advantage was that it was free and Dr. Xia was already beginning to suffer the effects of the mismanagement of the economy.

The Kuomintang personnel put in charge of the factories those that had not been dismantled by the Russians were conspicuously unsuccessful at getting the economy moving again. They got a few factories working at well below full capacity, but pocketed most of the revenue themselves.

Kuomintang carpetbaggers were moving into the smart houses which the Japanese had vacated. The house next door to the Xias' old house, where the Japanese official had lived, was now occupied by an official and one of his newly acquired concubines. The mayor of Jinzhou, a Mr. Han, was a local nobody. Suddenly he was rich from the proceeds of property confiscated from the Japanese and collaborators. He acquired several concubines, and the locals began to call the city government 'the Han household," as it was bulging with his relatives and friends.

When the Kuomintang took Yixian they released my great-grandfather, Yang, from prison or he bought his way out. The locals believed, with good reason, that Kuomintang officials made fortunes out of the ex-collaborators.

Yang tried to protect himself by marrying off his remaining daughter, whom he had had with one of his concubines, to a Kuomintang officer. But this man was only a captain, not powerful enough to give him any real protection.

Yang's property was confiscated and he was reduced to living as a beggar 'squatting by open drains," as the locals called it. When she heard about this, his wife told-her children not to give him any money or do anything to help him.

In 1947, a little more than a year after his release from jail, he developed a cancerous goiter on his neck. He realized he was dying and sent word to Jinzhou begging to see his children. My great-grandmother refused, but he kept sending messages entreating them to come. In the end his wife relented. My grandmother, Lan and Yu-lin set off for Yixian by train. It was ten years since my grandmother had seen her father, and he was a crumpled shadow of his former self. Tears streamed down his cheeks when he saw his children. They found it hard to forgive him for the way he had treated their mother and themselves and they spoke to him using rather distant forms of address. He pleaded with Yu-lin to call him Father, but Yu-lin refused.

Yang's ravaged face was a mask of despair. My grandmother begged her brother to call him Father, just once.

Finally he did, through gritted teeth. His father took his hand and said: "Try to be a scholar, or run a small business.

Never try to be an official. It will ruin you, the way it has ruined me." These were his last words to his family.

He died with only one of his concubines at his side. He was so poor he could not even afford a coffin. His corpse was put in a battered old suitcase and buried without ceremony. Not one member of his family was there.

Corruption was so widespread that Chiang Kai-shek set up a special organization to combat it. It was called the "Tiger-Beating Squad," because people compared corrupt officials to fearsome tigers, and it invited citizens to send in their complaints. But it soon became apparent that this was a means for the really powerful to extort money from the rich.