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Authors: Mingmei Yip
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drops of water. From the bag she extracted a bundle of needles.
“All right, now grind all these needles to a sharp point like this one,” she said, holding up the very thin one she’d just used.
“But, Aunty . . .”
“What?”
“I thought I’m supposed to learn embroidery, not grinding needles.”
She swung her head back and snorted. “Ha! You think it’s that easy? Everyone, even in the palace, has to grind needles first. After you have sharpened enough needles, then you can learn how to split the threads.”
She thought for a while and spoke again. “Grinding also helps you quiet your mind before you start to embroider. All right, that’s the lesson for today.” She rubbed her eyes and hands. “Now get started on the needles. If you expect to stay here, you have to make yourself useful.”
As I picked up the first needle, I glanced at the plate of sugared plums. But Aunty didn’t seem to get my hint, or she didn’t want to.
I had no choice but to swallow my saliva to keep it from dripping onto her exquisite embroidery.
6
An Invisible Mountain Friend
T he following weeks went by slowly because Aunty Peony wouldn’t even let me stitch a cat’s whiskers or a dog’s eyelashes. Every day it was needles and more needles. Finally, in the beginning of the second month, she allowed that my needles were almost up to her standard, and though I was unworthy, she would begin to teach me. But she also made it clear that in the event that I did not succeed at my lessons, if she did not simply kick me out of the house, she’d make me help Little Doll with the cooking and cleaning.
In between embroidery lessons, I had to try to get along with Aunty Peony and the girls. Aunty was the teacher, master, and absolute authority in the house, so if I listened attentively, acted submissively, practiced hard, and did as I was told, she’d probably keep me. Purple was older than me and quite easygoing, so all I needed to do was act friendly and appreciative. Little Doll was a child of ten and, as Aunty said, “a little slow,” and so was easy to deal with. Leilei, however, seemed to take a dislike to me from the beginning. Though beautiful and talented, she was also bitter, which made her cold and aloof as if she was better than us and merited a much brighter future.
Whenever Aunty could not overhear, she’d say things like, “Someday I’ll leave this house and become rich and famous, while all of you are stuck here forever!”
One time I foolishly asked, “But how are you going to become famous?” I hoped she could tell me how so I also could escape to find fame and fortune.
“Sorry, Spring Swallow,” she said, casting me a condescending look, “you’ll never be anybody.”
“Why not?”
“Why don’t you wait and see what Aunty says about your embroidery, eh?”
Finally, after observing me grinding needles for more than a month, Aunty Peony deemed me hardworking and responsible enough to actually start teaching me embroidery. I was ready to show everyone that I was not as worthless as Leilei thought.
After my daily lesson, I was expected to practice for another five or six hours a day. First I was taught how to split one thread into many miniscule ones because only fine fibers can produce subtle effects.
Aunty Peony told me over and over, “You have to divide the threads until they are thinner than your hair.”
Another challenge was being able to remember the subtle differences between color gradations. It was not easy, but I did my best to absorb everything she was willing to teach.
Finally, five months had passed and I was allowed to embroider simple items like hats, slippers, and children’s stomach covers. My work, together with Little Doll’s, was sent off to Heavenly Phoenix in Peking to be sold. We were given these undemanding jobs so the others could devote themselves to what Aunty planned as her masterpiece, Along the River during the Qingming Festival. However, Aunty left no
“All right, now grind all these needles to a sharp point like this one,” she said, holding up the very thin one she’d just used.
“But, Aunty . . .”
“What?”
“I thought I’m supposed to learn embroidery, not grinding needles.”
She swung her head back and snorted. “Ha! You think it’s that easy? Everyone, even in the palace, has to grind needles first. After you have sharpened enough needles, then you can learn how to split the threads.”
She thought for a while and spoke again. “Grinding also helps you quiet your mind before you start to embroider. All right, that’s the lesson for today.” She rubbed her eyes and hands. “Now get started on the needles. If you expect to stay here, you have to make yourself useful.”
As I picked up the first needle, I glanced at the plate of sugared plums. But Aunty didn’t seem to get my hint, or she didn’t want to.
I had no choice but to swallow my saliva to keep it from dripping onto her exquisite embroidery.
6
An Invisible Mountain Friend
T he following weeks went by slowly because Aunty Peony wouldn’t even let me stitch a cat’s whiskers or a dog’s eyelashes. Every day it was needles and more needles. Finally, in the beginning of the second month, she allowed that my needles were almost up to her standard, and though I was unworthy, she would begin to teach me. But she also made it clear that in the event that I did not succeed at my lessons, if she did not simply kick me out of the house, she’d make me help Little Doll with the cooking and cleaning.
In between embroidery lessons, I had to try to get along with Aunty Peony and the girls. Aunty was the teacher, master, and absolute authority in the house, so if I listened attentively, acted submissively, practiced hard, and did as I was told, she’d probably keep me. Purple was older than me and quite easygoing, so all I needed to do was act friendly and appreciative. Little Doll was a child of ten and, as Aunty said, “a little slow,” and so was easy to deal with. Leilei, however, seemed to take a dislike to me from the beginning. Though beautiful and talented, she was also bitter, which made her cold and aloof as if she was better than us and merited a much brighter future.
Whenever Aunty could not overhear, she’d say things like, “Someday I’ll leave this house and become rich and famous, while all of you are stuck here forever!”
One time I foolishly asked, “But how are you going to become famous?” I hoped she could tell me how so I also could escape to find fame and fortune.
“Sorry, Spring Swallow,” she said, casting me a condescending look, “you’ll never be anybody.”
“Why not?”
“Why don’t you wait and see what Aunty says about your embroidery, eh?”
Finally, after observing me grinding needles for more than a month, Aunty Peony deemed me hardworking and responsible enough to actually start teaching me embroidery. I was ready to show everyone that I was not as worthless as Leilei thought.
After my daily lesson, I was expected to practice for another five or six hours a day. First I was taught how to split one thread into many miniscule ones because only fine fibers can produce subtle effects.
Aunty Peony told me over and over, “You have to divide the threads until they are thinner than your hair.”
Another challenge was being able to remember the subtle differences between color gradations. It was not easy, but I did my best to absorb everything she was willing to teach.
Finally, five months had passed and I was allowed to embroider simple items like hats, slippers, and children’s stomach covers. My work, together with Little Doll’s, was sent off to Heavenly Phoenix in Peking to be sold. We were given these undemanding jobs so the others could devote themselves to what Aunty planned as her masterpiece, Along the River during the Qingming Festival. However, Aunty left no
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