A well-known writer in modern China, Ba Jin, born in 1904. began his writing career in 1927. His novels and prose have been collected in fourteen volumes, which fully demonstrate his achievement as a prolific writer, He has also translated many foreign literary works.
This volume contains the novel written by Ba Jin - The Family and his novef ette Autumn in Spring.
The Family is the first novel of the author's trilogy entitled Current, other two being Spring and Autumn. Through his personal ex

《巴金文集（一）》：
The night died, and with it the glow of the electric lights died too. Darkness ruled the big compound. The dismal cry the electric lamps uttered as they expired still quivered in the air. Although the sound was low,it penetrated everywhere; even the corners of the rooms seemed to echo with soft Weeping. The time for happiness had passed. Now was the hour of tragic tears.
Lying in their beds, stripped of the masks they had worn all day, people took stock of themselves. They opened their hearts and examined their innermost
secrets, peering into the recesses of their souls. Stricken with remorse and anger, they wept over the waste, the losses, the bitterness of the day gone by. Of course there were a few pleased individuals among them, but these were already wrapped in satisfied slumber. The rest were disappointed, miserable creatures in unwarm beds, tearfully bemoaning their fate.
Whether in the brightness of day or the darkness of night the world always has these two different aspects for these two different kinds of people.
In the female servants' room a wick floating in an earthen cup of oil sputtered feebly and grew dim,deepening the darkness of the humble quarters. Two
women were snoring lustily on wooden beds on the right side of the room. On the left were two other beds,one occupied by Mama Huang, an elderly servant
whose hair was streaked with grey, the other by the sixteen-year-old bondmaid, Mingfeng. The girl was sitting up, gazing dully at the lamp wick.
After working hard all day, now that the madams and misses of the household had retired and she had temporarily recovered her freedom, Mingfeng might,
quite reasonably, have gone to sleep early. But lately, these hours of freedom had become especially dear to her; she treasured every minute of them. Thinking,remembering, she felt very much at peace. No one disturbed her. The noisy commands, the scoldings that were dinned in her ears from morning till night, were finally stilled.
During the day, wearing her mask like everyone else, she rushed around busily, a pleasant smile on her face. Now, in these precious hours of freedom, she
could take the mask off; she could unlock her mind and spread out its secrets for her heart to see.
I've been here for seven years. That was the first thought. It had been constantly tormenting her of late.Seven years was a long time！ She often marvelled that they should have gone by so uneventfully. She had wept many tears in that period, received many a curse and many a blow. But these had become commonplace,mere frills to her dull existence. Unavoidable things which, while she didn't relish them, had to be endured.All that happened in the world was decreed by an omnipotent being; it was her fate to be where she was and what she was. This was her own simple belief, and it coincided with what others told her.
But something else was now stirring in her heart.Though she was not yet aware of it, it was beginning to waken, bringing her hope.
More than seven years I've been here. It's soon going to be eight！ She was swept with a wave of rewlsion for the emptiness of her life. Like other girls
in her position, she began to bemoan her fate. When the Eldest Young Miss was still alive she often talked to me about a home of one's own. Who knows where
my final home will be.
Ahead Mingfeng could see only a dreary wilderness, without a trace of light anywhere. The familiar face of the Eldest Young Miss again floated before her.... If only she were still alive, there would be someone who cared for me. She helped me understand many things, she taught me to read and write. Now
she's dead. The good don't live very long！... Tears filled Mingfeng's eyes.
How much longer must I go on like this？ she asked herself tragically. She remembered a snowy day seven years ago. A fierce-looking woman had led her from the side of her father, bereft over the loss of his wife,and brought her to this wealthy household. From then on orders, exhausting toil, tears, curses and blows became the principal elements of her existence.
……