The Woman in the Corner

The sky was as gloomy as a rag soaked in ink, pressing down on the city of Beiping like a gray haze. Pedestrians on the street huddled in their clothes, hurrying along, afraid of being chilled by the cold weather. The teahouse on the roadside, however, was bustling with activity, filled with the sound of voices, the aroma of tea, and a mix of idle chatter.

In a corner of the teahouse sat a woman. She wore a blue cloth jacket that had been washed so many times it was faded, a headscarf whose original color was indiscernible, and her head was bowed, silent. In front of her was a bowl of tea that had long gone cold, but she hadn't taken a sip. Her hands were rough and stiff, the knuckles prominent like the roots of an old tree, tightly clutching the corner of her jacket.

"Have you heard? Today is 'March 8th,' some 'Women's Day,' a foreign thing!" a man with a mustache said, taking a sip of tea and pursing his lips.

"Hey, what novelty isn't there these days? The other day, I heard that female students were marching in the streets, shouting about 'equality between men and women.' Truly, the morals of the world are declining, and people's hearts are not what they used to be!" another man wearing a melon-shaped hat chimed in, his tone full of disdain.

"If you ask me, women should stay at home, taking care of their husbands and children. Showing their faces in public, what kind of behavior is that?"

"Exactly, exactly! And 'liberation'? I think the more liberation, the more chaos!"

The people around them chattered, their voices growing louder, as if to suppress the "unhealthy trend" of this "Women's Day."

The woman in the corner kept her head bowed, as if everything around her had nothing to do with her. Her cloudy eyes held no trace of light, like two dried-up wells.

"Alas, speaking of which, it's really not easy for women." An elderly man sighed, breaking the noisy atmosphere. "Think back to the old days, bound feet, small feet, not stepping out of the main gate, not crossing the second gate, living like objects. Nowadays, although it's called 'liberation,' life may not necessarily be better..."

The old man's words were like a stone thrown into a calm lake, creating ripples. The people around fell silent, seemingly touched by his words.

The woman in the corner slightly raised her head. Her gaze passed through the crowd and landed on the bare old locust tree outside the window. That tree, like her, stood there alone, enduring the wind and rain, silently bearing the erosion of time.

She thought of her husband, the man who had died before she even married him. She hadn't even seen his face before becoming a widow. Her mother-in-law said she was a "jinx" who had cursed her son to death. She was locked in a dark room, without seeing the light of day, and spent many long years.

Later, she was driven out of the house and wandered the streets. She did hard labor, washed clothes for others, and even begged. The hardships of life were like heavy stones, weighing her down and making it hard to breathe.

"This world, for women, is like an insurmountable hurdle," she silently muttered to herself.

"Hey, what era is this, still talking such depressing things!" A young voice interrupted her thoughts. A young woman dressed in student attire came over and sat down in the chair opposite her.

"Sister, don't take it to heart. Those people are old fogeys who don't understand how to respect women," the young woman said enthusiastically. "We women must also fight for our rights, and we can't be like in the past, letting others dictate our lives!"

The woman in the corner raised her head and looked at the vibrant young woman in front of her. Her eyes flashed with a hint of surprise, a hint of confusion, and a hint of... hope?

"Rights...?" she murmured, repeating the unfamiliar word as if tasting it.

"Yes! Rights!" The young woman nodded firmly. "We must study, we must work, we must live equally with men in this world!"

Her words were like a ray of light, shining into the heart of the woman in the corner, which had long been numb. She seemed to see a new world, a world full of hope.

"But... I..." she hesitated, wanting to speak but stopping.

"You don't have to worry!" The young woman took her hand, her hand warm and strong. "We will help you! As long as we unite, there is no difficulty that can stop us!"

The woman in the corner looked at the young woman's confident eyes, and a warm current surged in her heart. This warm current melted the ice in her heart, allowing her to feel a long-lost warmth.

Outside the teahouse, the wind continued to howl, but the woman in the corner no longer felt so cold. She raised her head and looked out the window. On the branches of the old locust tree, it seemed that tiny green shoots had already appeared.

She knew that spring would eventually come. It was just that this spring was not just a change of seasons, but an awakening of people's hearts, a change of the times. Perhaps she, the flower in the corner, could also welcome her own blossoming. This blossoming, though faint, carried an unyielding stubbornness, like a faint but resilient lamp lit in this dark world. But how long could this lamp burn? She didn't know. She only knew that she had to live, like the flower in the corner, even if there was only an inch of soil, she had to strive to live.