The service began with "The Hymn to Ancestors" in which the family joined. It was a chant, soft, gentle, so that the air might not be disturbed. The service was symbolic. They knew that the souls of their ancestors did not dwell in the tablets. Nevertheless, in reverence they were there. Offerings of fruits, wine and rice were laid upon the altar, after the mother had handed them to the father, who held them above his head for a brief interlude before setting them in place. Yang Yuan-kuei repeated the names and inscriptions from the tablets. They were imprinted in his memory. Now and then he paused a moment to relate some notable achievement. This done, he returned the fruits, the wine and the rice to the mother who in turn distributed them among their children, who were also the children of his brother.
However, on this occasion there was no family gathering.
"Today," Yang Yuan-kuei said, "we shall worship at the Hall of Ancestors, you and I alone. Set it down as a whim, though a whim with a good foundation. When a task has been nobly accomplished it is better not to puff out the chest. Men might be affronted. If, however, one walks humbly, what cause is there for dismay? You become the concubine of a prince. Today it is well that we give thanks for the good fortune of which we are possessed."
Pausing for a moment, he sat down on a marble bench. Yuhan remained standing. Sweeter than honey
were the ripened fruits of ambition. Her uncle was
