The aptly named A Slight Flaw (not because of his flaws, mind you: "My surname is Li and my personal name is Kao, and there is a slight flaw in my character" is from the book) reproduced a beautiful passage from Bridge of Birds. The reformed Miser Shen recites this prayer to his daughter on his deathbed. In the only clue that much of the book is based on genuine Chinese mythology and literature, the author inserted a footnote on that page telling the reader that his translation is different from someone else's. This one is from Lin Yutang's The Importance of Understanding.

Sacrificial Prayer to Ah Chen
Shen Chun Lieh

On the 23rd of December of the year 1619, Shen Chunlieh's eldest daughter, Ah Chen, died of smallpox which failed to appear, and was buried on the northern mounds. Her mother, Madam Po, recited Buddhist sutras daily in her favor and urged the writing of a sacrificial prayer for her, but he did not have the heart to take up a pen and do it. On the 21st day of her death, he prepared for her a sacrifice of cooked food, and composed a piece to weep over her, which was burned on the scene of her childhood games, and is as follows:

Alas! great is my sorrow! Your name is Ah Chen, written with the components Ping and Chen, because you were born in the year Pingchen (1616). When you were born, I was not truly pleased, for I was a man over thirty, and you came not a boy but a girl. But before you were one year old, you were already adorable. When one nodded to you, you opened your mouth and laughed. During this period, Chouma (amah) was taking care of you, and she woke up ten times a night, and never took off her girdle while going to bed. When you were hungry, you sought for milk from you mama, and when you were well filled, you went to bed with Chouma. And Chouma suffered many misunderstandings on your account. She moved you from a wet place to a dry place, and went to great troubles to lighten a small suffering. If she paid you too much attention, your mother would reprimand her, and if she paid too little attention, you would cry.

Last year, I was unlucky. On account of the examinations, I had to tear myself away from you. I failed in the examinations and Chouma died. When I came back, you pulled at my sleeves and asked for toys,. With you by my side, my sorrow was relieved. You grew more teeth and you daily grew in wisdom. You called "Dada" and "Mama" and your pronunciation was perfect. You often knocked at the door and asked "Who is it?" When my nephew came, you called him "Koko"[elder brother]. He took away your toys in play and you ran away and protested. When your maternal uncle came, you pulled at his gown. You called out "Mama" and you laughed in a silvery voice. When our paternal uncle came, you played the host. Lifting the cup, you said, "Ching!" (please) and we roared with laughter. Your grandpa went to the country, and you yourself went to Soochow. For a year you had not seen him, and we asked you if you knew grandpa, and you said, "Yes. White cap and white beard." You ad never seen your maternal grandpa, and when we asked you, "Whence comes this guest?" you said "Peking!" Your maternal grandma was very fond of you and regarded you like her own. Several times she took you to Soochow with her. You asked for toys at midnight and you asked for fruit at day's dawn. Your own parents asked you to come home but you refused, saying "Grandma would think of me."

This year in June, you had boils, and I went to Soochow specially to take you home. I touched your affected spots, and your face showed pain. But you did not cry, thinking it was not right. Every time you took a fruit or sweetmeat, you looked at people's faces, and if we did not approve, you would not put it in your mouth. Sometimes you touched things and accidentally spoiled them, and one just looked at you , and your hand would shrink back. Your mama was too strict with you, and she often admonished you, for fear that when you grew up, you would form such habits. I did not agree, and told her in private, "let the baby alone. What does she know at this young age?" When you were at Soochow, and mama and I were coming home, we asked you if you would come or stay. And your heart lay both ways, and you hesitated to reply. Then you came home, and we were so glad, and we coaxed you and we pulled faces to get your laugh. You carried a toy basket of dates and sat on a low stool to eat porridge. You repeated the "Great Learning," and you bowed to Buddha. You played at guessing games, and you romped about the house. You clapped your hands and thought yourself very clever.

But within a fortnight, the day of your death came. Was it Heaven's will or was it your fate? Even the fairies do not know. Before you died, we sent for a doctor. Some said it was a cold, and some said it was smallpox. It could not be a cold, and it might be smallpox, and we still wonder what you died of. You were clever at speech, but you were silent then. You only panted and stared at us. We wept around you and you wept, too.

Alas! great is my sorrow! According to conventions, why should one weep at a daughter's death. According to my age, I am in my prime and poor and alone. You were very intelligent, and I was satisfied with you, although a girl. But who knew that the gods would be so cruel to me? Ten days before you, our younger sister, Ah Shun, died of the same disease in three days. You know her well, and now that you have no company there, you must stick together with your sister. You can already walk about, but your sister can hardly stand steadily. You should take her y the hand and go about together and must be good to each other and never quarrel. If you meet your amah [Chouma], you could ask her saying, "Pa had a wife by the name of Ku and a mammy by the name of Min." Ask her to take you to them, and they will surely take care of you. You can stay there for the present, and you should be near Ku. Sister is small and you should lead her, and you are small and Ku should protect you. Sometime later, I will find a propitious ground and bury you three in the same grave. I am thinking of you now, and it is hard to forget you. If you should hear my prayer, come to see me in my dreams. If fate decrees that you must yet live an earthly life, then come again into your mama's womb. I am offering Buddhist sacrifices and prayers and I have soup here for you, and I am burning paper money for your use. Wen you see the Judge of the Lower World, hold your hands together and plead to him, "I am young, and I am innocent. I was born in a poor family and I was contented with scanty meals. I never wasted a single grain of rice, and I was never willfully careless of my clothing and my shoes. Whatever thou commandest, I am only a young child. If evil spirits ever bully me, may thou protect me!" You should just put it that way, and you should not cry or make too much noise. For remember you are in strange underworld, and it is not like it is at home with our own people. Now I am composing this, but you do not yet know how to read. I will only cry, "Ah Chen, your father is here." I can but cry for you and call your name.