Han Jimei soon realized the extent of her imagination.
Chu Kuang didn't write satirical stories just for the sake of satire.
"There are two most precious things in this modest home: One, is Mr. A's gold watch, passed down through three generations, and the other is Mrs. A's hair. If a wealthy, beautiful woman were to live in an apartment opposite the courtyard, Mrs. A would one day hang her hair out the window to dry, outshining the lady's jewelry and gifts. If a rich man were to pile all his wealth in the basement, Mr. A would retrieve his gold watch every time he passed by, just to flaunt it and incite envy."
This was a unique form of expression.
Since Blue Star lacked English-to-Chinese translation accents, Han Jimei found this textual expression fascinating upon encountering it for the first time.
Well, Han Jimei already knew that Mrs. A was going to sell her hair.
It was a tough decision because it was Mrs. A's favorite and source of pride.
Her beautiful hair cascaded down her body like a black waterfall, flowing and gleaming.
With hair that reached her knees, it almost seemed to be her garment.
She hastily combed her hair, feeling nervous.
After some hesitation, she stood still, a tear or two splashing onto the shabby red carpet.
The more the text describes Mrs. A's beautiful hair, the more Han Jimei could sense the woman's sadness and bitterness.
But this woman ultimately sold her once-prized hair, successfully exchanging it for 20 yuan.
And the gift she purchased—a white hair ribbon, worth 23 yuan—was a significant bargain after half an hour of bargaining with her boss.
With only eight cents left, Mrs. A returned home elated.
So...
Although Mr. A's watch was luxurious, he sometimes glanced at it secretly, as it now sported an old leather strap instead of its original bracelet.
Upon returning home, Mrs. A scrutinized herself in the mirror repeatedly.
With short hair and bandages, she resembled a schoolboy playing hooky.
Then, worry set in.
Would Mr. be angry?
Would he scold her severely?
After all, he had praised her hair countless times. Without her long locks, would she still be beautiful in his eyes?
She hesitated, feeling panicked.
Seeing this, Han Jimei couldn't help but feel sorry for the woman.
If this were the Tang Dynasty, Han Jimei would surely think of the saying, "Poor couples are sad," and worry even more.
But what must happen will happen.
The story continued from Mrs. A's perspective:
The door opened, and her husband walked in, casually closing it behind him. He was thin and serious-looking. Poor man, he was only twenty-two—bearing the burden of the family! He also needed a new coat and didn't even have gloves.
She truly loved her husband.
Chu Kuang didn't need words to describe the depth of her affection; it was evident in the emotions conveyed between the lines.
Would Mr. be angry?
Han Jimei was a little afraid to find out, but she continued reading:
"Did you cut your hair?" Mr. A asked laboriously as if he hadn't grasped this obvious fact despite racking his brains.
Was this anger?
At this moment, like Mrs. A, Han Jimei was curious about Mr. A 's psychology. She didn't know if the next moment would bring a harsh slap or—
How despicable!
If that were the case, she wouldn't easily read Chu Kuang's novels again.
"Not only did I cut it, but I also sold it," Mrs. A replied. "Anyway, do you still love me the same? Even without my hair, I'm still me, aren't I?"
Her tone was cautious, even a little humble.
At this point, the story came to an end.
Han Jimei couldn't predict how it would conclude until she read the following passage:
Mr. took out a bag from his coat pocket and tossed it onto the table.
"Don't misunderstand, dear," he said. "Whether it's cutting your hair, fixing your face, or washing your hair, my love for my girl will never diminish. But as soon as you open this bag, you'll understand why you caught me off guard earlier."
With trembling hands, Mrs. A untied the rope and unwrapped the paper. A cry of delight followed by a gasp! The tears and wails suddenly turned into feminine nervousness, prompting the apartment owner to do everything possible to comfort her.
It was a comb!
The object her husband had brought out was a hair comb.
A complete set of combs—for the temples, and for the back—everything she needed.
It had originally been displayed in a shop window on the busiest street far from their apartment. Mrs. A had longed for it, but it was too expensive. Unable to afford it, she had given up hope of ever owning it. And now— But the hair that would have adorned these long-awaited decorations was gone.
"This is made of pure tortoiseshell! A beautiful hairbrush with jewels on the side!"
Without Mrs. A's long hair, its color was no longer suitable.
Mrs. A knew how valuable this comb was, and she had admired it for a long time. But she never dared to hope of owning it. Now, it was actually—
Mrs. A held the comb close to her chest. After a while, she lifted her misty eyes and smiled at her husband. "My hair will grow back quickly!"
Then, Mrs. A produced the watch strap.
Looking at her husband expectantly, she said, "Isn't it beautiful, Jim? I found it after searching all over the city. Now you'll have to glance at your watch hundreds of times a day. Give me your watch, and I'll see if it matches."
Han Jimei breathed a sigh of relief and flashed a knowing smile.
Although Mrs. A had sold her hair, her husband wasn't angry. Instead, he lamented that the comb had temporarily lost its purpose.
That was heartwarming.
The story's ending was filled with beautiful imagery, almost making one yearn for love, even though Han Jimei was a married woman.
She took a sip of tea.
Glancing at the last paragraph, she anticipated a summary. Short stories often concluded with a moral.
Something like, "This is a beautiful love," perhaps?
But upon reading the next passage, the tea nearly sprayed onto the magazine:
Mr. didn't follow her instructions.
He simply collapsed onto the couch, hands behind his head, laughing. "Let's set aside the Christmas gifts for now. They're too precious to use yet—I sold the gold watch and bought your hair comb."
The story came to an abrupt end.
At that moment, Han Jimei was speechless.