The Yellow Papers Read Free Page A

the shape of their dress, though he did wonder if the strange shape of their shoe meant that they too practised a type of foot-binding. He was relieved no one seemed interested in skinning him alive, and slowly – ever so slowly – he learned a few words of English.
    And then it was the eve of the examinations.
    Chen Mu barely slept that night. He was sure he would fail English and be sent back to his village in shame. He imagined himself walking back to the schoolmaster’s house, giving back the lotus leaf brush-rest, because someone so stupid would not be worthy of such a gift. But when morning finally arrived he had no trouble with questions on China’s history, nor with recitation. Next came English. The commissioner asked him to translate a sentence, and Chen Mu answered, sure he was wrong. The commissioner looked at the teacher, the teacher looked back, blank-faced. The commissioner asked him for another sentence, then another, and though Chen Mu again did not know the exact words, he answered as best he could.
    â€˜That will do,’ the commissioner finally said, and Chen Mu left the room, but before the door closed he thought he heard the commissioner ask the teacher, ‘Was he correct?’
    He waited in the classroom until all the other boys had been tested. Never had a day passed so slowly. Finally the commissioner and the teacher came in. One by one each boy was called to the front of the room and given the much-coveted button of the cadet. The boys bowed, then returned to their seats, proud and confident.
    Soon there was only Chen Mu without a button. He’d been right – he had failed the English examination. They’d left him till last so that he would see what success he could have achieved if he’d applied himself more.
    â€˜Chen Mu,’ the commissioner called.
    He rose and walked to the front of the room, fighting tears, head bowed in shame.
    â€˜Well done, Chen Mu,’ and the commissioner presented him with the button.
    For a moment Chen Mu stared at the commissioner, not understanding. He looked at the teacher, who smiled and nodded.
    He walked back to his seat, past the smiling faces of his friends. I passed , he thought. I passed! Now Mā won’t think me stupid .

3

    Chen Mu was thirteen years old when, on the 24 th of February 1875, Teacher Yung Wing married Mary Kellogg, a young American woman who had taught some of the boys in her home when they had first arrived in America. From the Chinese Education Mission only two teachers attended the wedding, but late in the afternoon Yung Wing and his bride returned to the college, so that he could formally introduce her as his wife to the boys.
    There was much congratulation and formality at first, but Mary Kellogg was already a favourite with the students, well loved for her cheerfulness and gentle manner, and it didn’t take long for decorum to be replaced by laughter, teasing and games. There were many at the college who disapproved of the union, but the boys thought it a wonderful thing.
    That night, after Yung Wing and his new bride had left, the boys ate supper and retired to their dormitories, still full of excitement. Chen Mu was undressing when Xi Tang crept up behind him and grabbed his queue.
    â€˜Your turn, Mouse!’ he said, brandishing scissors. Chen Mu pulled back, anxious. Though some had been quick to cut their queues and discard their Chinese robes for Western-style clothes, others, like Chen Mu, were reluctant – Director Ngen had lectured them on the importance of remaining Chinese in every way.
    â€˜Cutting your queue,’ he’d said, ‘is a sign you are no longer loyal to Confucian ideals.’
    â€˜I don’t know …’ Chen Mu said, but Xi Tang laughed.
    â€˜Come on! If it’s okay for Yung Wing to marry Miss Kellogg, why do we have to still wear our hair in a queue? Why do you love this mouse’s tail so much, hey?’
    â€˜Cut the