“Stories grow out of fascination. Mai Song was twelve years of age when the mocking man first appeared at her side. ‘You are the daughter of an impoverished war lord,’ he sneered. ‘You will never amount to anything.’ ‘I am not concerned about riches or fame,’ she replied, ‘so long as I find happiness.’ The mocking man laughed in a particularly offensive manner. ‘That too will be beyond your grasp, if I have anything to do with it.’ Mai Song was an accomplished archer. She could hit a knotted... clout at a hundred paces with the bow her father had given her. However, her next shot missed the target. The mocking man laughed and jeered. Thereafter the mocking man was always there, at crucial times, to denigrate her. He jeered at her efforts to paint beautiful watercolours of the firs clinging to the crags of Guilin’s hills, telling her that mud splashed on walls by the wheels of ox-carts was more artistic. He called her horse, the beast she loved, a shambling monster.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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