NCERT Textbook: One Centimetre | Class 12 English Kaleidoscope - Humanities/Arts PDF Download

 Page 1


71/ONE CENTIMETRE
One Centimetre One Centimetre One Centimetre One Centimetre One Centimetre
Bi Shu-min has been serving her country, China, as
a doctor for over twenty years. She also has  a
Master’s degree in literature from the Beijing Teacher’s
College.
Bi Shu-min is one of the best known writers currently
working in China. Her works have been translated
into many languages. She has won innumerable
literary awards both in China and in Taiwan. ‘One
Centimetre’ is a fine example of a mature artist
working at the height of her powers.
When Tao Ying rides on the bus alone, quite often she does
not bother to buy a ticket.
Why should she? Without her, the bus would still be
stopping at every stop, a driver and a conductor would
still have to be employed, and the same amount of petrol
used.
Clearly Tao Ying has to be astute. When the bus
conductor looked like the responsible type, she would buy
a ticket as soon as she got on board. But if he appeared to
be casual and careless, she would not dream of paying,
considering it a small punishment for him and a little
saving for herself.
Tao Ying works as a cook in the canteen of a factory.
She spends all day next to an open fire, baking screw-
shaped wheat cakes with sesame butter.
Today she is with her son Xiao Ye. She follows him
onto the bus. As the doors shut her jacket is caught,
ballooning up like a tent behind her. She twists this way
and that, finally wrenching herself free.
5 5
5 5 5
Bi Shu-min
Born 1952
2024-25
Page 2


71/ONE CENTIMETRE
One Centimetre One Centimetre One Centimetre One Centimetre One Centimetre
Bi Shu-min has been serving her country, China, as
a doctor for over twenty years. She also has  a
Master’s degree in literature from the Beijing Teacher’s
College.
Bi Shu-min is one of the best known writers currently
working in China. Her works have been translated
into many languages. She has won innumerable
literary awards both in China and in Taiwan. ‘One
Centimetre’ is a fine example of a mature artist
working at the height of her powers.
When Tao Ying rides on the bus alone, quite often she does
not bother to buy a ticket.
Why should she? Without her, the bus would still be
stopping at every stop, a driver and a conductor would
still have to be employed, and the same amount of petrol
used.
Clearly Tao Ying has to be astute. When the bus
conductor looked like the responsible type, she would buy
a ticket as soon as she got on board. But if he appeared to
be casual and careless, she would not dream of paying,
considering it a small punishment for him and a little
saving for herself.
Tao Ying works as a cook in the canteen of a factory.
She spends all day next to an open fire, baking screw-
shaped wheat cakes with sesame butter.
Today she is with her son Xiao Ye. She follows him
onto the bus. As the doors shut her jacket is caught,
ballooning up like a tent behind her. She twists this way
and that, finally wrenching herself free.
5 5
5 5 5
Bi Shu-min
Born 1952
2024-25
72/KALEIDOSCOPE
‘Mama, tickets!’ Xiao Ye says. Children are often more
conscious of rituals than adults. Without a ticket in his
hand, the ride doesn’t count as a proper ride.
On the peeling paint of the door somebody has painted
the shape of a pale finger. It points at a number: 1.10 m.
Xiao Ye pushed through. His hair looks as fluffy as a
bundle of straw—dry and without lustre. As a rule, Tao
Ying is very careful with her purse, but she has never
skimped on her child’s diet. Nonetheless the goodness in
his food refuses to advance beyond his hairline. As a result
Xiao Ye is healthy and clever, but his hair is a mess.
Tao Ying tries to smooth it down, as if she was brushing
away topsoil to get to a firm foundation. She can feel the
softness of her son’s skull, rubbery and elastic to the touch.
Apparently there is a gap on the top of everyone’s head,
where the two halves meet. If they don’t meet properly, a
person can end up with a permanently gaping mouth. Even
when the hemispheres are a perfect match, it still takes a
while  for them to seal. This is the door to life itself—if it
remains open, the world outside will feel like water, flowing
into the body through this  slit. Every time Tao Ying
happens upon this aperture on her son’s head, she would
be overwhelmed by a sense of responsibility. It was she
who had brought this delicate creature into the world after
all. Although she senses her own insignificance in the
world, that her existence makes no difference to anyone
else, she also realises that to this little boy she is the
centre of the universe and she must try to be the most
perfect, flawless mother possible.
Between Xiao Ye’s round head and the tip of the painted
digit setting out the height requirement for a ticket rests
the beautiful slender fingers of Tao Ying. Since she is in
contact with oil all day, her nails are shiny, glistening like
the smooth curved back of a sea shell.
‘Xiao Ye, you are not quite tall enough, still one
centimetre away,’ she tells him softly. Tao Ying does not
come from a privileged background, and has not read very
many books. But she likes to be gentle and gracious, to set
an example for her son and make a good impression. This
2024-25
Page 3


71/ONE CENTIMETRE
One Centimetre One Centimetre One Centimetre One Centimetre One Centimetre
Bi Shu-min has been serving her country, China, as
a doctor for over twenty years. She also has  a
Master’s degree in literature from the Beijing Teacher’s
College.
Bi Shu-min is one of the best known writers currently
working in China. Her works have been translated
into many languages. She has won innumerable
literary awards both in China and in Taiwan. ‘One
Centimetre’ is a fine example of a mature artist
working at the height of her powers.
When Tao Ying rides on the bus alone, quite often she does
not bother to buy a ticket.
Why should she? Without her, the bus would still be
stopping at every stop, a driver and a conductor would
still have to be employed, and the same amount of petrol
used.
Clearly Tao Ying has to be astute. When the bus
conductor looked like the responsible type, she would buy
a ticket as soon as she got on board. But if he appeared to
be casual and careless, she would not dream of paying,
considering it a small punishment for him and a little
saving for herself.
Tao Ying works as a cook in the canteen of a factory.
She spends all day next to an open fire, baking screw-
shaped wheat cakes with sesame butter.
Today she is with her son Xiao Ye. She follows him
onto the bus. As the doors shut her jacket is caught,
ballooning up like a tent behind her. She twists this way
and that, finally wrenching herself free.
5 5
5 5 5
Bi Shu-min
Born 1952
2024-25
72/KALEIDOSCOPE
‘Mama, tickets!’ Xiao Ye says. Children are often more
conscious of rituals than adults. Without a ticket in his
hand, the ride doesn’t count as a proper ride.
On the peeling paint of the door somebody has painted
the shape of a pale finger. It points at a number: 1.10 m.
Xiao Ye pushed through. His hair looks as fluffy as a
bundle of straw—dry and without lustre. As a rule, Tao
Ying is very careful with her purse, but she has never
skimped on her child’s diet. Nonetheless the goodness in
his food refuses to advance beyond his hairline. As a result
Xiao Ye is healthy and clever, but his hair is a mess.
Tao Ying tries to smooth it down, as if she was brushing
away topsoil to get to a firm foundation. She can feel the
softness of her son’s skull, rubbery and elastic to the touch.
Apparently there is a gap on the top of everyone’s head,
where the two halves meet. If they don’t meet properly, a
person can end up with a permanently gaping mouth. Even
when the hemispheres are a perfect match, it still takes a
while  for them to seal. This is the door to life itself—if it
remains open, the world outside will feel like water, flowing
into the body through this  slit. Every time Tao Ying
happens upon this aperture on her son’s head, she would
be overwhelmed by a sense of responsibility. It was she
who had brought this delicate creature into the world after
all. Although she senses her own insignificance in the
world, that her existence makes no difference to anyone
else, she also realises that to this little boy she is the
centre of the universe and she must try to be the most
perfect, flawless mother possible.
Between Xiao Ye’s round head and the tip of the painted
digit setting out the height requirement for a ticket rests
the beautiful slender fingers of Tao Ying. Since she is in
contact with oil all day, her nails are shiny, glistening like
the smooth curved back of a sea shell.
‘Xiao Ye, you are not quite tall enough, still one
centimetre away,’ she tells him softly. Tao Ying does not
come from a privileged background, and has not read very
many books. But she likes to be gentle and gracious, to set
an example for her son and make a good impression. This
2024-25
73/ONE CENTIMETRE
elevates her sense of self-worth and makes her feel like an
aristocrat.
‘Mama! I’m tall enough, I’m tall enough!’ Xiao Ye shouts
at the top of his voice, stamping on the floor as if it were a
tin drum. ‘You told me the last time I could have a ticket
the next time, this is the next time. You don’t keep your
word!’ He looks up at his mother angrily.
Tao Ying looks down at her son. A ticket costs twenty
cents. Twenty cents is not to be scoffed at. It can buy a
cucumber, two tomatoes or, at a reduced price, three
bunches of radishes or enough spinach to last four days.
But Xiao Ye’s face is raised up like a half-open blossom,
waiting to receive his promise from the sun.
‘Get in! Don’t block the entrance! This is not a train,
where you stand from Beijing to Bao Ding. We’re almost at
the next stop...!’ the conductor bellows.
Normally, an outburst like this would certainly have
discouraged Tao Ying from buying a ticket. But today she
says, ‘Two tickets, please.’
The fierce conductor has beady eyes. ‘This child is one
centimetre short of requiring a ticket.’
Xiao Ye shrinks, not just one but several centimetres—
the need for a ticket has all of a sudden become interwoven
with the pride of a small child.
To be able to purchase self-esteem with twenty cents
is something that can only happen in childhood and
certainly no mother can resist an opportunity to make her
son happy.
‘I would like to buy two tickets,’ she says politely.
Xiao Ye holds the two tickets close to his lips and
blows, making a sound like a paper windmill.
They had entered through the central doors of the bus,
but alight towards the front. Here another conductor is
poised to examine their tickets. Tao Ying thinks that this
man can’t be very bright. What mother accompanied by a
child would try to avoid paying the correct fare? However
poor she would never have allowed herself to lose face in
front of her own son.
2024-25
Page 4


71/ONE CENTIMETRE
One Centimetre One Centimetre One Centimetre One Centimetre One Centimetre
Bi Shu-min has been serving her country, China, as
a doctor for over twenty years. She also has  a
Master’s degree in literature from the Beijing Teacher’s
College.
Bi Shu-min is one of the best known writers currently
working in China. Her works have been translated
into many languages. She has won innumerable
literary awards both in China and in Taiwan. ‘One
Centimetre’ is a fine example of a mature artist
working at the height of her powers.
When Tao Ying rides on the bus alone, quite often she does
not bother to buy a ticket.
Why should she? Without her, the bus would still be
stopping at every stop, a driver and a conductor would
still have to be employed, and the same amount of petrol
used.
Clearly Tao Ying has to be astute. When the bus
conductor looked like the responsible type, she would buy
a ticket as soon as she got on board. But if he appeared to
be casual and careless, she would not dream of paying,
considering it a small punishment for him and a little
saving for herself.
Tao Ying works as a cook in the canteen of a factory.
She spends all day next to an open fire, baking screw-
shaped wheat cakes with sesame butter.
Today she is with her son Xiao Ye. She follows him
onto the bus. As the doors shut her jacket is caught,
ballooning up like a tent behind her. She twists this way
and that, finally wrenching herself free.
5 5
5 5 5
Bi Shu-min
Born 1952
2024-25
72/KALEIDOSCOPE
‘Mama, tickets!’ Xiao Ye says. Children are often more
conscious of rituals than adults. Without a ticket in his
hand, the ride doesn’t count as a proper ride.
On the peeling paint of the door somebody has painted
the shape of a pale finger. It points at a number: 1.10 m.
Xiao Ye pushed through. His hair looks as fluffy as a
bundle of straw—dry and without lustre. As a rule, Tao
Ying is very careful with her purse, but she has never
skimped on her child’s diet. Nonetheless the goodness in
his food refuses to advance beyond his hairline. As a result
Xiao Ye is healthy and clever, but his hair is a mess.
Tao Ying tries to smooth it down, as if she was brushing
away topsoil to get to a firm foundation. She can feel the
softness of her son’s skull, rubbery and elastic to the touch.
Apparently there is a gap on the top of everyone’s head,
where the two halves meet. If they don’t meet properly, a
person can end up with a permanently gaping mouth. Even
when the hemispheres are a perfect match, it still takes a
while  for them to seal. This is the door to life itself—if it
remains open, the world outside will feel like water, flowing
into the body through this  slit. Every time Tao Ying
happens upon this aperture on her son’s head, she would
be overwhelmed by a sense of responsibility. It was she
who had brought this delicate creature into the world after
all. Although she senses her own insignificance in the
world, that her existence makes no difference to anyone
else, she also realises that to this little boy she is the
centre of the universe and she must try to be the most
perfect, flawless mother possible.
Between Xiao Ye’s round head and the tip of the painted
digit setting out the height requirement for a ticket rests
the beautiful slender fingers of Tao Ying. Since she is in
contact with oil all day, her nails are shiny, glistening like
the smooth curved back of a sea shell.
‘Xiao Ye, you are not quite tall enough, still one
centimetre away,’ she tells him softly. Tao Ying does not
come from a privileged background, and has not read very
many books. But she likes to be gentle and gracious, to set
an example for her son and make a good impression. This
2024-25
73/ONE CENTIMETRE
elevates her sense of self-worth and makes her feel like an
aristocrat.
‘Mama! I’m tall enough, I’m tall enough!’ Xiao Ye shouts
at the top of his voice, stamping on the floor as if it were a
tin drum. ‘You told me the last time I could have a ticket
the next time, this is the next time. You don’t keep your
word!’ He looks up at his mother angrily.
Tao Ying looks down at her son. A ticket costs twenty
cents. Twenty cents is not to be scoffed at. It can buy a
cucumber, two tomatoes or, at a reduced price, three
bunches of radishes or enough spinach to last four days.
But Xiao Ye’s face is raised up like a half-open blossom,
waiting to receive his promise from the sun.
‘Get in! Don’t block the entrance! This is not a train,
where you stand from Beijing to Bao Ding. We’re almost at
the next stop...!’ the conductor bellows.
Normally, an outburst like this would certainly have
discouraged Tao Ying from buying a ticket. But today she
says, ‘Two tickets, please.’
The fierce conductor has beady eyes. ‘This child is one
centimetre short of requiring a ticket.’
Xiao Ye shrinks, not just one but several centimetres—
the need for a ticket has all of a sudden become interwoven
with the pride of a small child.
To be able to purchase self-esteem with twenty cents
is something that can only happen in childhood and
certainly no mother can resist an opportunity to make her
son happy.
‘I would like to buy two tickets,’ she says politely.
Xiao Ye holds the two tickets close to his lips and
blows, making a sound like a paper windmill.
They had entered through the central doors of the bus,
but alight towards the front. Here another conductor is
poised to examine their tickets. Tao Ying thinks that this
man can’t be very bright. What mother accompanied by a
child would try to avoid paying the correct fare? However
poor she would never have allowed herself to lose face in
front of her own son.
2024-25
74/KALEIDOSCOPE
She hands over the tickets nonchalantly. The conductor
asks: ‘Are you going to claim these back?’ ‘No.’ In fact Tao
Ying ought to have kept the tickets so that the next time
there is a picnic or an outing at work she could use her
bicycle and then claim back the fare with the stubs. Both
she and her husband are blue-collar workers, and any
saving would have been a help. But Xiao Ye is a smart boy,
and might well question her aloud, ‘Mama, can we claim
back tickets even when we are on a private outing?’ In
front of the child, she would never lie.
It is exhausting to follow rules dictated by parental
guide-books all the time, but Tao Ying is determined to be
the ideal mother and create a perfect example for her son
to look up to. She needs really to concentrate—living this
way is not unlike carrying an audience with you wherever
you go. But her actions are full of love and tenderness. For
instance, whenever she eats a watermelon in front of Xiao
Ye, she would take care not to bite too close to the rind
even though she doesn’t actually think there is much
difference between the flesh and the skin. True, the
sweetness gradually diminishes as you work your way
through the red towards the green, but every part of the
melon is equally refreshing. In any case the skin of a melon
is supposed to have a beneficial cooling effect, and is often
used as medicine.
One day, she came across her son eating a melon in
the same manner she did. When Xiao Ye looked up, Tao
Ying could see a white melon seed stuck to his forehead.
She was furious: ‘Who taught you to gnaw at a melon like
that? Are you going to wash your face in it too?’ Xiao Ye
was terrified. The small hand holding the melon began to
tremble, but the big round eyes remained defiant.
Children are the best imitators in the world. From
then on Tao Ying realised that if she wanted her son to
behave as if he were the product of a cultured home, then
she must concentrate and never fail in her own example.
This was very difficult, like ‘shooting down aeroplanes with
a small gun’—but with determination, she knew that
nothing was impossible. With this clear objective in mind,
2024-25
Page 5


71/ONE CENTIMETRE
One Centimetre One Centimetre One Centimetre One Centimetre One Centimetre
Bi Shu-min has been serving her country, China, as
a doctor for over twenty years. She also has  a
Master’s degree in literature from the Beijing Teacher’s
College.
Bi Shu-min is one of the best known writers currently
working in China. Her works have been translated
into many languages. She has won innumerable
literary awards both in China and in Taiwan. ‘One
Centimetre’ is a fine example of a mature artist
working at the height of her powers.
When Tao Ying rides on the bus alone, quite often she does
not bother to buy a ticket.
Why should she? Without her, the bus would still be
stopping at every stop, a driver and a conductor would
still have to be employed, and the same amount of petrol
used.
Clearly Tao Ying has to be astute. When the bus
conductor looked like the responsible type, she would buy
a ticket as soon as she got on board. But if he appeared to
be casual and careless, she would not dream of paying,
considering it a small punishment for him and a little
saving for herself.
Tao Ying works as a cook in the canteen of a factory.
She spends all day next to an open fire, baking screw-
shaped wheat cakes with sesame butter.
Today she is with her son Xiao Ye. She follows him
onto the bus. As the doors shut her jacket is caught,
ballooning up like a tent behind her. She twists this way
and that, finally wrenching herself free.
5 5
5 5 5
Bi Shu-min
Born 1952
2024-25
72/KALEIDOSCOPE
‘Mama, tickets!’ Xiao Ye says. Children are often more
conscious of rituals than adults. Without a ticket in his
hand, the ride doesn’t count as a proper ride.
On the peeling paint of the door somebody has painted
the shape of a pale finger. It points at a number: 1.10 m.
Xiao Ye pushed through. His hair looks as fluffy as a
bundle of straw—dry and without lustre. As a rule, Tao
Ying is very careful with her purse, but she has never
skimped on her child’s diet. Nonetheless the goodness in
his food refuses to advance beyond his hairline. As a result
Xiao Ye is healthy and clever, but his hair is a mess.
Tao Ying tries to smooth it down, as if she was brushing
away topsoil to get to a firm foundation. She can feel the
softness of her son’s skull, rubbery and elastic to the touch.
Apparently there is a gap on the top of everyone’s head,
where the two halves meet. If they don’t meet properly, a
person can end up with a permanently gaping mouth. Even
when the hemispheres are a perfect match, it still takes a
while  for them to seal. This is the door to life itself—if it
remains open, the world outside will feel like water, flowing
into the body through this  slit. Every time Tao Ying
happens upon this aperture on her son’s head, she would
be overwhelmed by a sense of responsibility. It was she
who had brought this delicate creature into the world after
all. Although she senses her own insignificance in the
world, that her existence makes no difference to anyone
else, she also realises that to this little boy she is the
centre of the universe and she must try to be the most
perfect, flawless mother possible.
Between Xiao Ye’s round head and the tip of the painted
digit setting out the height requirement for a ticket rests
the beautiful slender fingers of Tao Ying. Since she is in
contact with oil all day, her nails are shiny, glistening like
the smooth curved back of a sea shell.
‘Xiao Ye, you are not quite tall enough, still one
centimetre away,’ she tells him softly. Tao Ying does not
come from a privileged background, and has not read very
many books. But she likes to be gentle and gracious, to set
an example for her son and make a good impression. This
2024-25
73/ONE CENTIMETRE
elevates her sense of self-worth and makes her feel like an
aristocrat.
‘Mama! I’m tall enough, I’m tall enough!’ Xiao Ye shouts
at the top of his voice, stamping on the floor as if it were a
tin drum. ‘You told me the last time I could have a ticket
the next time, this is the next time. You don’t keep your
word!’ He looks up at his mother angrily.
Tao Ying looks down at her son. A ticket costs twenty
cents. Twenty cents is not to be scoffed at. It can buy a
cucumber, two tomatoes or, at a reduced price, three
bunches of radishes or enough spinach to last four days.
But Xiao Ye’s face is raised up like a half-open blossom,
waiting to receive his promise from the sun.
‘Get in! Don’t block the entrance! This is not a train,
where you stand from Beijing to Bao Ding. We’re almost at
the next stop...!’ the conductor bellows.
Normally, an outburst like this would certainly have
discouraged Tao Ying from buying a ticket. But today she
says, ‘Two tickets, please.’
The fierce conductor has beady eyes. ‘This child is one
centimetre short of requiring a ticket.’
Xiao Ye shrinks, not just one but several centimetres—
the need for a ticket has all of a sudden become interwoven
with the pride of a small child.
To be able to purchase self-esteem with twenty cents
is something that can only happen in childhood and
certainly no mother can resist an opportunity to make her
son happy.
‘I would like to buy two tickets,’ she says politely.
Xiao Ye holds the two tickets close to his lips and
blows, making a sound like a paper windmill.
They had entered through the central doors of the bus,
but alight towards the front. Here another conductor is
poised to examine their tickets. Tao Ying thinks that this
man can’t be very bright. What mother accompanied by a
child would try to avoid paying the correct fare? However
poor she would never have allowed herself to lose face in
front of her own son.
2024-25
74/KALEIDOSCOPE
She hands over the tickets nonchalantly. The conductor
asks: ‘Are you going to claim these back?’ ‘No.’ In fact Tao
Ying ought to have kept the tickets so that the next time
there is a picnic or an outing at work she could use her
bicycle and then claim back the fare with the stubs. Both
she and her husband are blue-collar workers, and any
saving would have been a help. But Xiao Ye is a smart boy,
and might well question her aloud, ‘Mama, can we claim
back tickets even when we are on a private outing?’ In
front of the child, she would never lie.
It is exhausting to follow rules dictated by parental
guide-books all the time, but Tao Ying is determined to be
the ideal mother and create a perfect example for her son
to look up to. She needs really to concentrate—living this
way is not unlike carrying an audience with you wherever
you go. But her actions are full of love and tenderness. For
instance, whenever she eats a watermelon in front of Xiao
Ye, she would take care not to bite too close to the rind
even though she doesn’t actually think there is much
difference between the flesh and the skin. True, the
sweetness gradually diminishes as you work your way
through the red towards the green, but every part of the
melon is equally refreshing. In any case the skin of a melon
is supposed to have a beneficial cooling effect, and is often
used as medicine.
One day, she came across her son eating a melon in
the same manner she did. When Xiao Ye looked up, Tao
Ying could see a white melon seed stuck to his forehead.
She was furious: ‘Who taught you to gnaw at a melon like
that? Are you going to wash your face in it too?’ Xiao Ye
was terrified. The small hand holding the melon began to
tremble, but the big round eyes remained defiant.
Children are the best imitators in the world. From
then on Tao Ying realised that if she wanted her son to
behave as if he were the product of a cultured home, then
she must concentrate and never fail in her own example.
This was very difficult, like ‘shooting down aeroplanes with
a small gun’—but with determination, she knew that
nothing was impossible. With this clear objective in mind,
2024-25
75/ONE CENTIMETRE
Tao Ying found her life becoming more focused, more
challenging.
Stop and Think Stop and Think Stop and Think Stop and Think Stop and Think
1. What made Tao Ying decide whether to buy a ticket
or not when she rode a bus alone?
2. Why did she insist on buying tickets both for herself
and her son that day?
Today she is taking Xiao Ye to visit a big temple. He
has never seen the Buddha before. Tao Ying is not a believer
and she does not intend to ask him to kow-tow. That is
superstition, she knows.
The tickets cost five dollars a piece—these days even
temples are run like businesses. Tao Ying’s ticket was a
gift from Lao Chiang, who worked at the meat counter. The
ticket was valid for a month, and today was the last day.
Lao Chiang was one of those people who seemed to know
everybody. Occasionally he would produce a battered
coverless month-old magazine and say: ‘Seen this before?
This is called the Big Reference, not meant for the eyes of
the common people.’ Tao Ying had never seen anything
like this before and wondered how such a small rag, smaller
even than a regular newspaper, could be called a Big
Reference. She asked Lao Chiang but he seemed confused.
He said everybody called it that—perhaps if you were to
take out the pages and laid them flat they would end up
bigger than a normal newspaper. It seemed to make sense.
Studying this publication written in large print, Tao Ying
could see that it was full of speculation about the war in
the Middle East. Foremost on everyone’s mind seemed to
be whether the export of dates from Iraq to China would
continue as it did in the sixties during the famine. In any
case, Tao Ying was full of admiration for Lao Chiang. In
return for her indiscriminate respect, Lao Chiang decided
to reward her with a ticket for the temple. ‘Is there just
the one?’ Tao asked, not without gratitude but with some
uncertainty. ‘Forget your husband, take your son and open
his eyes! Children under 110 centimeters do not need a
2024-25