Question

You have read the passage from “Hidden Heritage.” How does the idea of tradition impact the characters? Use details from the passage to support your answer.

Planting was Xinxin’s least favorite season. It meant hours of stooping with his knees in the dirt.
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2 “What is this?” Didi sneered at Xinxin’s crooked sweet potato row. “A monkey could do better.”
3 Xinxin fumed but kept his mouth shut. While he’d barely finished his first row, his twin brother
was on his third, and Didi’s seedlings stood as straight as disciplined militiamen.
4 Before Didi could hurl another taunt, Ma tramped over with a tray of seedlings. “I’ll finish here.
You two go to calligraphy practice.”
5 Didi’s smirk fell. “I can stay—”
6 “Go. Grandpa’s waiting.”
7 Xinxin laughed silently as Ma shooed them away. Didi was bigger, stronger, and wielded a hoe as
well as a grownup, but his brushstrokes were chicken scratches. Xinxin’s handwriting, on the
other hand, was their grandfather’s pride.
8 As they took the footpath home, Didi muttered, “Calligraphy’s boring.”
9 “I think it’s fun. Besides, we’re Baos, and Baos are scholars,” Xinxin piped, quoting Grandpa’s
favorite saying.
10 Xinxin’s chest puffed as he recalled Grandpa’s tales about their ancestors. Baos had been
prominent magistrates of the Ming Dynasty. Entrepreneurs in the Yangzhou salt trade. Qing-Era
philanthropists. And all were accomplished intellectuals.
11 Squeeeeeee!
12 The twins jumped as a young pig burst from their granduncle’s yard. It dashed out of the village,
then leaped down an embankment and into their father’s lotus patch.
13 “Next time this pig gets loose,” Didi snarled, “I’m turning it into sausage.”
14 Together the brothers grabbed the porker as it wriggled and fought, unwilling to leave its soggy
wallow. Then above its squealing came a girlish laugh. “I always thought you boys smelled funny.
Now I know why!”
15 “Lanlan?” Xinxin gasped, surprised at the sight of the lanky girl on the footpath above, her braids
shaking with laughter.
16 “We’re here for important business,” said Lanlan, pointing. Further up the path, six men carrying
bulky packs descended into the valley.
17 The brothers exchanged a look. Something big was coming.18 The village storehouse usually held only farm implements. That night, however, all twenty-five
villagers crowded inside with their Tangyue relatives to hear Lanlan’s father. The atmosphere
grew more oppressive as he spoke.
19 When he had finished, Xinxin’s grandfather replied grimly, “So, the Red Guards1 are in our midst.”
20 “And they’re not just raiding schools and temples,” said Lanlan’s father. “They’re targeting
ancestral halls and private residences, too. That’s why we’ve come.” Removing a wooden scroll
case from his pack, he placed it on a worktable and unfurled its contents.

21 Xinxin’s jaw dropped. The sheet his uncle held was a large, ornate painting, an eighteenth-
century portrait of thirteen Ming and Qing ancestors in robes of state. The Baos’ most cherished

heirloom, it hung in a place of honor in their Tangyue ancestral hall.
22 Or it had.
23 “The closest squad is two towns away,” Uncle continued. “It won’t be long before they target our
ancestral hall. We cannot stop them from defacing it, but we can save our most precious
paintings and books—with your help.” Uncle faced his village kin. “This place is remote, and
everyone is a Bao. If the family treasures will be safe anywhere, it’s here.”
24 Silence fell. What Uncle said was true. But taking that responsibility meant bearing the
consequences if things went awry, and Red Guards wouldn’t hesitate to break their bones or
destroy their property. One by one, the villagers averted their eyes.
25 However, Xinxin’s gaze remained fixed on the painting. The ancestors’ dignified expressions
seemed to rebuke2

their faintheartedness, and he sprang up. “We’ll take them.”

26 The room gasped. “Xinxin!” his mother cried.
27 “But Grandpa’s grandpa protected this painting before,” said Xinxin. “How can we honor his spirit
if we don’t?”
28 The villagers’ shock turned to shame. During the Taiping Rebellion a century earlier, when
religious fanatics opposed to ancestor worship instigated a purge of human images, a courageous
Bao risked his life to hide the portrait.
29 Grandpa had told the tale over and over as a point of family pride, and at Xinxin’s words, the old
man’s fear steeled into determination. “Xinxin’s right. Our ancestors preserved our heritage for
us. Now it’s our turn.” Squaring his shoulders, Grandpa said to Uncle, “You can rely on us.”

Answer 1

Answer:

Planting was Xinxin’s least favorite season. It meant hours of stooping with his knees in the dirt.

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