Look at her lips, he thought. How thick they are! Ugly beyond words! People would ask, then, how come a young calligrapher should choose to marry a cold drink peddler? It isn't a good match! 

Well, fortunately, the prize came in time, or it would be too late if we had gotten married. I must shake her off me! But some other people would certainly gossip about it, those who like to poke their noses into everything! I won't be scared. Times have changed. To hell with all those solemn vows I've made to her! I am now a calligrapher engaged in art. What does a cold drink peddler know about art? After all, I am like a course china plate that used to be put together with those common plates for daily use until one day an archeologist discovered that it was an antique. Well, then, when it's placed with other precious antiques in the museum, all the common plates will have to bow low to it. Jealousy, naturally, will come with admiration. For that's the way things are.

Thus Mr. Luo look the picture of Miss B from the frame and threw it away, feeling well justified. In its place he put in a color stage photo of Miss A, and went on dreaming.

See? With her charm and grace this woman must be the one that makes a match for me now. To Mr. Luo, the woman used to be a fairy queen whom he could only look up to and admire at a distance. But now that he felt himself to be the prince of art.... A fairy queen and a prince, what a perfect match!

He look upa writing brush and to write.

"I am now a calligrapher.…" It was a letter of fire to pretty Miss A.

The second letter was to Miss B the thick-lipped:

"I am now a calligrapher.…" It was a letter of ice.

He then dropped both the fire and the ice into the mailbox.

In a shed by the river. Miss B wept bitterly. She crumpled the letter, threw it into the river, and then went on with her work.

In a small house on the river bank, Miss A let out a contempluous laugh after reading the letter, crumpled it and threw it into the river. She then turned to her study of a script.

The two crumpled letters floated slowly down the river and disappeared.

When evening came, Mr. Luo sat by the river smoking a cigarette, and gazing at the water with the eyes of an artist. There reflected a rosy moon in the water. In the moon there was a golden palace，and out of the palace flew the charming and elegant Chang Er, the moon goddess.... 

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