Lost Child
May Spring Always Stay
In my tenth year as a beggar, I was so hungry I had wrapped myself around a tree and started gnawing on its bark when a young lord in brocade appeared and promised to take me to Chang’an to live in luxury.
Tears filled my eyes at once.
I knew this plot: he had to be some poor boy I once saved, now rich and powerful and eager to repay me.
I hurled myself at him and cried, “Husband!”
The young lord nearly did the splits trying to escape.
“Shut your mouth,” he shouted, “I’m your real brother!”
