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"Stop weeping,
little girl, and I will tell you. At my age, I
can see into the future much better than I can
recall the past. When they drive away the
others, they will let us old and useless ones
stay on, living as best we can on what we manage
to grow in our vegetable garden. From kindness?
Not exactly. This place is too poor and too
remote for them to be in a hurry to use it for
some other purpose; and, as three or four of us
are so very old, they will look to death to
relieve them of the problem of our disposal -
rightly so. The Vasty Gate Recluse and I propose
to leave this world together on the evening of
the Mid-Autumn Festival next year. No, no! Be
calm, little Yi. Do you suppose we shall hang
ourselves or swallow a liang or two of opium?
Preposterous! With wine, incense and other
things we intend to hide away, we shall perform
the festival rites as usual, walk up to the
terrace to admire the autumn moon, and there sit
down. Passing in meditation to the very source
of yin and yang, we shall plunge together into
the ocean of the void."
Though he
laughed so merrily, I burst out weeping again.
Then suddenly he said: "Little Yi, are there
herons in Singapore?"
"Herons,
Master? I - I - no, no, there are
not."
"Good. Rather
than have you sad for us, we shall gladly
postpone eternal bliss for an hour or so. Be
sure to remember what I am going to say. Next
year, at the hour of the boar on the night of
the festival, go to a high place and watch the
sky just above the ocean that surrounds your
island. I have a great desire to see the sea by
moonlight, never having seen it in all my years.
There we shall meet and bid each other a joyous
farewell."
Continued
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