Read Online Inheritance by Lan Samantha Chang - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lan Samantha Chang
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liberty of mentioning Yinan.
I will offer my opinion that I do not consider it a bad thing for your daughter to marry a man in his late fifties, such as Mao Gao. An older man cherishes a girl and provides a steadying influence.
Moreover, it is your situation that I am also thinking about. I am not unaware that there have been some recent instabilities in the cotton market. I believe Mao Gao is protected and can provide not only loans for your business aspirations to the north, but a crucial connection into the industry at a time when you will surely need it. Please reply immediately, as they are in some hurry.
My best wishes to you for luck and prosperity in the coming Rooster year.
Your brother-cousin,
Baoding
“He is too old,” Junan told her father.
“You’re only a child. You don’t understand these things.”
He explained that Mao Gao was a merchant of high caliber. He could hardly turn down a connection to this man. He had already telegramed his cousin and instructed him to proceed.
Junan knew she shouldn’t openly disagree with him. She went to Mma’s room and mentioned the match. Surely Mma would cancel the plan.
But Mma only shrugged. She had grown so old that when she shrug-ged, her puny shoulders seemed to part from her body. “All men are dogs,” she muttered. “An older dog will jump at the chance for something fresh.”
This reply, not being a dissent, amounted to approval. If Mma approved, Junan could not gracefully object. She bowed her head and went to talk to Hu Mudan. She suspected that Yinan had somehow convinced the laundry woman not to starch or iron her clothes. This problem must be remedied, if Yinan was to marry.
She fought against another bout of sorrow so fierce it squeezed her breath. Could it be that her father and grandmother knew best? Certainly, this marriage would be, in many ways, better than her own. Mao Gao would provide a generous living, and if she bore a son, Yinan would be cherished. Would Yinan become a youthful sacrifice to save the family finances? She tried to put the thought out of her mind.
HER FATHER WROTE to his cousin, who wrote back that Mao Gao leaned in favor of the marriage, but wanted to see a photograph. This brought on a troublesome sequence of events. Yinan’s pink qipao had mysteriously vanished. Junan questioned her sister, the laundry woman, and the maid. None of them had seen it. She fumed at the new problem: Mao Gao was an older man who would want his future bride to wear traditional clothing. Yinan, who wandered around the house in a rumpled blouse and trousers, had only this one good traditional dress. Junan made Yinan try on a qipao of her own, but it didn’t fit properly.
After a discussion with Hu Mudan, Junan decided that Yinan could have her picture taken in the dress she had planned to wear to Junan’s wedding. It was a Western dress, but feminine and expensive. Junan fussed over the shuidou scar on Yinan’s forehead, and in the end, her skin was smooth, although Junan knew all along what the photograph would reveal: an ordinary girl, awkward in a fancy dress, her features made plain by misery and embarrassment.
The photographer asked Yinan to hold a long-stemmed paper rose. Halfway through the sitting, Yinan began to shiver. When the photographer was finished, she tugged Junan’s sleeve, and together they went to Yinan’s room, where she shed her dress and pulled on the same things she’d worn two hours before. Junan looked away from Yinan’s thin, childish body as it emerged from the shimmering yellow silk, then disappeared again under the shabby pants, undershirt, blouse, and vest.
“You need to stop wearing these rags,” she said. “How will you get your husband to want you?”
Yinan said something she couldn’t hear.
“What is it?”
Yinan lowered her gaze. For a moment Junan thought the conversation was over, but then Yinan persisted. “What is that like?”
“I don’t understand.”
“To be wanted in
I will offer my opinion that I do not consider it a bad thing for your daughter to marry a man in his late fifties, such as Mao Gao. An older man cherishes a girl and provides a steadying influence.
Moreover, it is your situation that I am also thinking about. I am not unaware that there have been some recent instabilities in the cotton market. I believe Mao Gao is protected and can provide not only loans for your business aspirations to the north, but a crucial connection into the industry at a time when you will surely need it. Please reply immediately, as they are in some hurry.
My best wishes to you for luck and prosperity in the coming Rooster year.
Your brother-cousin,
Baoding
“He is too old,” Junan told her father.
“You’re only a child. You don’t understand these things.”
He explained that Mao Gao was a merchant of high caliber. He could hardly turn down a connection to this man. He had already telegramed his cousin and instructed him to proceed.
Junan knew she shouldn’t openly disagree with him. She went to Mma’s room and mentioned the match. Surely Mma would cancel the plan.
But Mma only shrugged. She had grown so old that when she shrug-ged, her puny shoulders seemed to part from her body. “All men are dogs,” she muttered. “An older dog will jump at the chance for something fresh.”
This reply, not being a dissent, amounted to approval. If Mma approved, Junan could not gracefully object. She bowed her head and went to talk to Hu Mudan. She suspected that Yinan had somehow convinced the laundry woman not to starch or iron her clothes. This problem must be remedied, if Yinan was to marry.
She fought against another bout of sorrow so fierce it squeezed her breath. Could it be that her father and grandmother knew best? Certainly, this marriage would be, in many ways, better than her own. Mao Gao would provide a generous living, and if she bore a son, Yinan would be cherished. Would Yinan become a youthful sacrifice to save the family finances? She tried to put the thought out of her mind.
HER FATHER WROTE to his cousin, who wrote back that Mao Gao leaned in favor of the marriage, but wanted to see a photograph. This brought on a troublesome sequence of events. Yinan’s pink qipao had mysteriously vanished. Junan questioned her sister, the laundry woman, and the maid. None of them had seen it. She fumed at the new problem: Mao Gao was an older man who would want his future bride to wear traditional clothing. Yinan, who wandered around the house in a rumpled blouse and trousers, had only this one good traditional dress. Junan made Yinan try on a qipao of her own, but it didn’t fit properly.
After a discussion with Hu Mudan, Junan decided that Yinan could have her picture taken in the dress she had planned to wear to Junan’s wedding. It was a Western dress, but feminine and expensive. Junan fussed over the shuidou scar on Yinan’s forehead, and in the end, her skin was smooth, although Junan knew all along what the photograph would reveal: an ordinary girl, awkward in a fancy dress, her features made plain by misery and embarrassment.
The photographer asked Yinan to hold a long-stemmed paper rose. Halfway through the sitting, Yinan began to shiver. When the photographer was finished, she tugged Junan’s sleeve, and together they went to Yinan’s room, where she shed her dress and pulled on the same things she’d worn two hours before. Junan looked away from Yinan’s thin, childish body as it emerged from the shimmering yellow silk, then disappeared again under the shabby pants, undershirt, blouse, and vest.
“You need to stop wearing these rags,” she said. “How will you get your husband to want you?”
Yinan said something she couldn’t hear.
“What is it?”
Yinan lowered her gaze. For a moment Junan thought the conversation was over, but then Yinan persisted. “What is that like?”
“I don’t understand.”
“To be wanted in
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