I took brush in hand, holding it upright between my thumb, index finger, and middle finger, and dipped it in the ink. I began by painting a tiny snow flower amid the garland of leaves at the top of the fan. For my message, I chose the fold next to Snow Flower’s beautiful calligraphy. I started with a traditional opening and then proceeded with the accepted phrases for such an occasion:
I write to you. Please listen to me. Though I am poor and improper, though I am not worthy of your family’s high gate, I write today to say it was fated that we join. Your words fill my heart. We are a pair of mandarin ducks. We are a bridge over the river. People everywhere will envy our good match. Yes, my heart is true to go with you.
Naturally I did not mean
all
these sentiments. How could we conceive of deep love, friendship, and everlasting commitment when we were only seven? We had not even met, and even if we had, we didn’t understand those feelings one bit. They were just words I wrote, hoping that one day they would come true.
I set the fan and the pair of bound-foot shoes I had made on a piece of cloth. With nothing now to occupy my hands, my mind worried about many things. Was I too low for Snow Flower’s family? Would they look at my calligraphy and realize just how inferior I was? Would they think my break with tradition showed bad manners? Would they stop the match? These troubling thoughts—fox spirits in the mind, my mother called them—haunted me, yet all I could do was wait, keep working in the women’s chamber, and rest my feet so the bones healed properly.
When Madame Wang first saw what I had done to the fan, she pursed her lips in disapproval. Then, after a long moment, she nodded knowingly. “This is truly a perfect match. These two girls are not just sames in the eight characters, they are alike in their horse spirits as well. This will be . . . interesting.” She said this last word almost as a question, which in turn made me wonder about Snow Flower. “The next step is to complete the official arrangements. I suggest that I escort the two girls to the Temple of Gupo fair in Shexia to write their contract. Mother, I will take care of transportation for both girls. Little walking will be required.”
With that, Madame Wang took the four ends of the cloth, folded them over the fan and shoes, and took them away with her to give to my future
laotong.
Snow Flower
OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS, IT WAS HARD FOR ME TO SIT STILL and let my feet heal as I was supposed to when all I could think about was that I would soon meet Snow Flower. Even Mama and Aunt got caught up in the anticipation, making suggestions about what Snow Flower and I should write in our contract even though neither of them had ever seen one. When Madame Wang’s palanquin arrived at our threshold, I was clean and dressed in country-simple clothes. Mama carried me downstairs and outside. Ten years later when I got married I would make a similar journey to a palanquin. On that occasion I was fearful of the new life that lay before me and sad to be leaving all I had known behind, but for this meeting I was giddy with nervous excitement. Would Snow Flower like me?
Madame Wang held the door to the palanquin open, Mama set me down, and I stepped into the small space. Snow Flower was far prettier than I had imagined. Her eyes were perfect almonds. Her skin was pale, showing that she had not spent as much time outdoors as I had during my milk years. A red curtain hung down next to her, and a rosy-hued light glinted in her black hair. She wore a sky-blue silk tunic embroidered with a cloud pattern. Peeking out from beneath her trousers were the shoes I had made her. She did not speak. Perhaps she was as nervous as I was. She smiled and I smiled back.
The palanquin had just one seat, so the three of us had to squeeze together. To keep the palanquin balanced, Madame Wang sat in the middle. The bearers picked us up, and soon they were trotting over the
I write to you. Please listen to me. Though I am poor and improper, though I am not worthy of your family’s high gate, I write today to say it was fated that we join. Your words fill my heart. We are a pair of mandarin ducks. We are a bridge over the river. People everywhere will envy our good match. Yes, my heart is true to go with you.
Naturally I did not mean
all
these sentiments. How could we conceive of deep love, friendship, and everlasting commitment when we were only seven? We had not even met, and even if we had, we didn’t understand those feelings one bit. They were just words I wrote, hoping that one day they would come true.
I set the fan and the pair of bound-foot shoes I had made on a piece of cloth. With nothing now to occupy my hands, my mind worried about many things. Was I too low for Snow Flower’s family? Would they look at my calligraphy and realize just how inferior I was? Would they think my break with tradition showed bad manners? Would they stop the match? These troubling thoughts—fox spirits in the mind, my mother called them—haunted me, yet all I could do was wait, keep working in the women’s chamber, and rest my feet so the bones healed properly.
When Madame Wang first saw what I had done to the fan, she pursed her lips in disapproval. Then, after a long moment, she nodded knowingly. “This is truly a perfect match. These two girls are not just sames in the eight characters, they are alike in their horse spirits as well. This will be . . . interesting.” She said this last word almost as a question, which in turn made me wonder about Snow Flower. “The next step is to complete the official arrangements. I suggest that I escort the two girls to the Temple of Gupo fair in Shexia to write their contract. Mother, I will take care of transportation for both girls. Little walking will be required.”
With that, Madame Wang took the four ends of the cloth, folded them over the fan and shoes, and took them away with her to give to my future
laotong.
Snow Flower
OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS, IT WAS HARD FOR ME TO SIT STILL and let my feet heal as I was supposed to when all I could think about was that I would soon meet Snow Flower. Even Mama and Aunt got caught up in the anticipation, making suggestions about what Snow Flower and I should write in our contract even though neither of them had ever seen one. When Madame Wang’s palanquin arrived at our threshold, I was clean and dressed in country-simple clothes. Mama carried me downstairs and outside. Ten years later when I got married I would make a similar journey to a palanquin. On that occasion I was fearful of the new life that lay before me and sad to be leaving all I had known behind, but for this meeting I was giddy with nervous excitement. Would Snow Flower like me?
Madame Wang held the door to the palanquin open, Mama set me down, and I stepped into the small space. Snow Flower was far prettier than I had imagined. Her eyes were perfect almonds. Her skin was pale, showing that she had not spent as much time outdoors as I had during my milk years. A red curtain hung down next to her, and a rosy-hued light glinted in her black hair. She wore a sky-blue silk tunic embroidered with a cloud pattern. Peeking out from beneath her trousers were the shoes I had made her. She did not speak. Perhaps she was as nervous as I was. She smiled and I smiled back.
The palanquin had just one seat, so the three of us had to squeeze together. To keep the palanquin balanced, Madame Wang sat in the middle. The bearers picked us up, and soon they were trotting over the
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