Cao Yu's The Thunderstorm - Triceratops Home

the case. She actually told me it was because she had heard that your mother
could read and write, that she wanted to see her, and have a chat.
Sifeng (suddenly listening attentively) Dad, stop talking, I think I heard someone in
the kitchen, (points to the left) coughing.
Gui (listens) It isn't the Mistress? (walks to the door to the kitchen, peers through
the keyhole, returns hurriedly) It was her, strange, that she would come
downstairs.
Sifeng (wiping away tears) Dad, am I clean?
Gui Don't be flustered, don't expose yourself, don't say anything. I'm off.
Sifeng Hm, when Mom comes, please tell me first.
Gui By the way, when you see your mother, act like you don't know a thing,
understand? (walks to the middle door, turns his head back) Don't forget, tell
the Mistress that Lii Gui hopes she feels better.
[La Gui exits in a rush from the central door. Sifeng carries the bowl of
medicine towards the kitchen door; when she is right in front of the door,
Zhou Fanyi ripples in. With one look, you can tell she is a courageous, yet
malicious woman. Her complexion is pale and wan, and only her lips have
any blush of color. Her large, gloomy eyes and large nose make others think
she is frightening. However, one can see from her facial features that she is
depressed; below those still, long eyelashes, because of the pent-up fire in her
heart, the light of her eyes is full of the suffering and anger of a young wife
after she has lost hope. The corners of her mouth are bent back, showing that
she is a woman that has been suppressed, and is now controlling herself. Her
snow-white, slender hands are often pressed to her slim, weak chest when she
coughs softly. She waits until she pants out a breath, and only then does she
wipe her own red, swollen cheeks, and gasp for breath. She is a woman of
China's old culture: her gentle frailness, her calm sorrow, her brilliance—she
has an interest in poetry, but she also has an even more primal wildness: in her
heart, her courage, her crazed thinking, in her subtle strength that comes
suddenly in the time of decision. If you look at her whole self, she appears as
crystal. She can only give spiritual comfort to a man, and her bright forehead
shows deep understanding, as if she is only allowed to offer idle talk; but
when she is caught in thoughts of love, she will suddenly laugh cheerily; when
she sees the one she loves, a happy flush will scatter across her face, and when
her dimples are shown, only then will you think that she can be loved by
others, only then will you know that she is indeed a woman, the same as all
the other young women. She will love you like a dog that has been starved for
three days gnawing at its favorite bone; when she begins to hate you, it will
also be like a ferocious dog snarling—no, more like one which will silently,
maliciously devour you. Yet, her demeanor is quiet, or vexed. She will be like
a leaf lightly falling beside you on an autumn evening, who thinks her own
summer is already past, and the Western Paradise's sunset glow has already
turned to night.
[Her whole body is in black. Her qipao is inlaid with silver-grey lace. She
holds a round screen fan, hanging below her fingers, as she enters. Her eye
sockets are a bit sunken, and she looks at Sifeng quite naturally.