Read Online The Courtesan by Alexandra Curry - Free Book Online Page A

today—the way they looked when she put Aiwen’s things in the wooden trunk and locked it with the brass padlock in the shape of a dog. The green skirt, the pink shoes, the lacquer box; she packed all those things away so that Jinhua wouldn’t touch them ever again. Only a few things are left in theroom: the red lip paint, the quilt on the bed—and the god of wealth is still there sitting on his pile of coins, grinning and looking at Aiwen’s apple.
    No one knows about the bites that are missing. No one knows yet. Jinhua takes a spoonful of porridge. It has a clean smell, and yes, it is steaming hot, too hot to eat.
    Yesterday Lao Mama poked Jinhua’s chest hard with her finger, and the finger poking her rib bones almost knocked the breath out of her. Lao Mama said, “You must eat this food so you will become nice and fat and strong for bed business. And then you will eat some more.” She laughed, and the sound of her laughing was like a whole string of firecrackers exploding, and Jinhua could see her golden tooth at the back of her mouth. Then Lao Mama left the room, but the too-sweet smell of her water pipe stayed.
    Lao Mama did not explain what bed business is. Jinhua couldn’t finish the rice and meat and green vegetables, and her stomach was hurting, and she was wondering about bed business for quite a long time. Now she is hungry enough to eat everything. She lifts the spoon and blows on the porridge and swings her feet back and forth.
    Suyin is busy tidying the bed and hasn’t answered Jinhua’s question about her feet. She has the red, flower-smelling quilt in her hands and her back is turned. “Small feet are beautiful,” she says quite suddenly, “and when you are older you will understand how this is a thing that matters greatly.” Her sigh is like wind in the room, and even though Suyin is standing there next to the bed she seems far away. Jinhua waits for her to say more. She wants Suyin to stay with her even after she has finished eating.
    â€œI will tell you something that is true, and maybe it will help you.” Suyin has turned, and she is hugging the quilt to her chest, and her voice sounds sad and nice, both at once. Jinhua puts thespoon back in the bowl, and it sinks into the porridge as though the porridge were swallowing it, the whole thing, making it disappear. She notices that Suyin has never once called her by her name.
    â€œThe binding of your feet will cost you a thousand buckets of tears,” Suyin says now. Her hands have turned to fists still holding on to the quilt. She drops her head and is looking at the floor, and Jinhua feels a sudden chill even though she has that hot porridge inside her belly.
    â€œBut there is something much more terrible than having your feet bound and crying all those tears.” The quilt hangs heavily now from Suyin’s outstretched arms, and her voice is dreamy, and Jinhua waits to hear what she will say while she is folding the quilt. “And that is to be a girl like me,” Suyin continues, “with feet that are only half small. To be a girl who will be ugly and unloved for all of her life and there is nothing anyone can do.” Suyin shakes the quilt once, and then again, and then several more times. “To hold the sorrow of feet like mine that were both bound and not, a thousand buckets is not enough.”
    Suyin makes a neat fold and tosses the quilt onto the bed as though it were nothing, and her mood has changed again. “So actually, you are a very lucky person, and you should be happy that your feet will be made small.” She shuffles across the room, and her limp is worse than it was just moments ago, and her shoes make that sound.
Tok. Tok-tok.
At the door Suyin pauses, looking back. She is holding her elbows tightly, her arms folded over her belly, and Jinhua calls out. “But there is something I can do, Suyin. I can love you, Suyin, even though you are