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Grandmother tottered into the room. Her face looked like a dried plum, and her back bent so far forward that she and I saw eye to eye. “Help your grandmother,” Mama ordered.“See if she needs anything.” Even though I had just made a promise to myself, I hesitated.Grandmother’s gums were sour and sticky in the mornings, and no one wanted to getnear her. I sidled up to her, holding my breath, but she waved me away impatiently. Imoved so quickly that I bumped into my father—the eleventh and most important person in our household.

He didn’t reprimand me or say anything to anyone else. As far as I knew, he wouldn’tspeak until this day was behind him. He sat down and waited to be served. I watchedMama closely as she wordlessly poured his tea. I may have been afraid that she wouldnotice me during her morning routine, but she was even more mindful in her dealings with my father. He rarely hit my mother and he never took a concubine, but her caution with him made us all heedful.

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Aunt put bowls on the table and spooned out the congee, while Mama nursed the baby.After we ate, my father and my uncle set out for the fields, and my mother, aunt,grandmother, and older sister went upstairs to the women’s chamber. I wanted to go withMama and the other women in our family, but I wasn’t old enough. To make matters worse, I now had to share Elder Brother with my baby brother and Third Sister when we went back outside.

I carried the baby on my back as we cut grass and foraged for roots for our pig. ThirdSister followed us as best she could. She was a funny, ornery little thing. She actedspoiled, when the only ones who had a right to be spoiled were our brothers. She thoughtshe was the most beloved in our family, although nothing showed her that this was true.

Once done with our chores, our little foursome explored the village, going up and down the alleys between the houses until we came across some other girls jumping rope. My brother stopped, took the baby, and let me jump too. Then we went home for lunch— something simple, rice and vegetable only. Afterward, Elder Brother left with the men, and the rest of us went upstairs. Mama nursed the baby again, then he and Third Sister took their afternoon naps. Even at that age I enjoyed being in the women’s chamber withmy grandmother, aunt, sister, cousin, and especially my mother. Mama and Grandmother wove cloth, Beautiful Moon and I made balls of yarn, Aunt sat with brush and ink,carefully writing her secret characters, while Elder Sister waited for her four sworn sisters to arrive for an afternoon visit.

Soon enough we heard the sound of four pairs of lily feet come quietly up the stairs. Elder Sister greeted each girl with a hug, and the five of them clustered together in a corner.They didn’t like me intruding on their conversations, but I studied them nevertheless,knowing that I would be part of my own sworn sisterhood in another two years. The girlswere all from Puwei, which meant that they could assemble often, and not just on specialgathering days such as Catching Cool Breezes or the Birds Festival.

The sisterhood had been formed when the girls turned seven. To cement the relationship,their fathers had each contributed twenty-five jin of rice, which was stored at our house.Later, when each girl married out, her portion of rice would be sold so her sworn sisters could buy gifts for her. The last bit of rice would be sold on the occasion of the last sworn sister’s marriage. That would mark the end of the sisterhood, since the girls would have all married out to distant villages, where they would be too busy with their children andobeying their mothers-in-law to have time for old friendships.

Even with her friends, Elder Sister did not attempt to grab attention. She sat placidly withthe other girls as they embroidered and told funny stories. When their chatter and giggles grew loud, my mother sternly hushed them, and another new thought popped into my head: Mama never did that when my grandmother’s late-life sworn sisters came to visit.After her children were grown, my grandmother had been invited to join a new group offive sworn sisters in Puwei. Only two of them plus my grandmother, all widows, were still

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alive, and they visited at least once a week. They made each other laugh and together they shared bawdy jokes that we girls didn’t understand. On those occasions, Mama was too afraid of her mother-in-law to dare ask them to stop. Or maybe she was too busy. Mama ran out of yarn and stood up to get more. For a moment she stayed very still, staringpensively at nothing. I had a nearly uncontrollable desire to run into her arms andscream, See me, see me, see me! But I didn’t. Mama’s feet had been badly bound by her mother. Instead of golden lilies, Mama had ugly stumps. Instead of swaying when shewalked, she balanced herself on a cane. If she put the cane aside, her four limbs went akimbo as she tried to maintain her balance. Mama was too unsteady on her feet for anyone ever to hug or kiss her.

“Isn’t it time for Beautiful Moon and Lily to go outside?” Aunt asked, cutting into my mother’s daydream. “They could help Elder Brother with his chores.”

“He doesn’t need their help.”

“I know,” Aunt admitted, “but it’s a nice day—”

“No,” Mama said sternly. “I don’t like the girls wandering around the village when they should be working at their house learning.”

But about this one thing my aunt was stubborn. She wanted us to know our alleys, to see what lay down them, to walk to the edge of our village and look out, knowing that soon enough all we would see was what we could glimpse from the lattice window of thewomen’s chamber.

“They have only these few months,” she reasoned. She left unsaid that soon our feetwould be bound, our bones broken, our skin rotting. “Let them run while they can.”

My mother was exhausted. She had five children, three of us five and under. She had thefull responsibility of the household—cleaning, washing, and repairing, cooking all our meals, and keeping track of the household debts as best as she could. She had a higher status than Aunt, but she could not fight every day for what she believed was proper behavior. “All right.” Mama sighed in resignation. “They can go.”

I grasped Beautiful Moon’s hand and we jumped up and down. Aunt quickly shooed us tothe door before my mother could change her mind, while Elder Sister and her sworn sisters stared after us wistfully. My cousin and I ran downstairs and outside. Lateafternoon was my favorite part of the day, when the air was warm and fragrant and thecicadas hummed. We scurried down the alley until we found my brother taking the familywater buffalo down to the river. He rode on the beast’s broad shoulders, one leg tuckedunder him, the other bouncing on the animal’s flanks. Beautiful Moon and I walked singlefile behind them through the village’s maze of narrow alleys, the confusing tangle ofwhich protected us from ghost spirits and bandits alike. We didn’t see any adults—themen worked in the fields and the women stayed in their upstairs chambers behind lattice

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windows—but the alleys were occupied by other children and the village’s animals:chickens, ducks, fat sows, and piglets squealing underfoot. We left the village proper andrambled along a raised narrow path paved with small stones. It was wide enough forpeople and palanquins but too small for oxen-or pony-pulled carts. We followed the pathdown to the Xiao River and stopped just before the swaying bridge that crossed it.Beyond the bridge, the world opened before us with vast stretches of cultivated land. Thesky spread above us as blue as the color of kingfisher feathers. In the far distance, we sawother villages—places I never thought I would go in my lifetime. Then we climbed downto the riverbank where the wind rustled through the reeds. I sat on a rock, took off myshoes, and waded into the shallows. Seventy-five years have gone by, and I still rememberthe feel of the mud between my toes, the rush of water over my feet, the cold against myskin. Beautiful Moon and I were free in a way that we would never be again. But Iremember something else very distinctly from that day. From the second I woke up, I hadseen my family in new ways and they had filled me with strange emotions—melancholy,sadness, jealousy, and a sense of injustice about many things that suddenly seemedunfair. I let the water wash all that away.

That night after dinner, we sat outside, enjoying the cool evening air and watching Babaand Uncle smoke their long pipes. Everyone was tired. Mama nursed the baby a final time,trying to get him to fall asleep. She looked weary from the day’s chores, which were stillnot completely done for her. I loo ed my arm over her shoulder to give her comfort. “Toohot for that,” she said, and gently p

ppushed me away. Baba must have seen mydisappointment, because he took me on his lap. In the quiet darkness, I was precious tohim. For that moment, I was like a pearl in his hand.

Footbinding

the preparation for my footbinding took much longer than anyone expected. In cities,girls who come from the entry class have their feet bound as early as age three. In someprovinces far from ours, g

ggirls bind their feet only temporarily, so they will look moreattractive to their future husbands. Those girls might be as old as thirteen. Their bonesare not broken, their bindings are always loose, and, once married, their feet are set freeagain so they can work in the fields alongside their husbands. The poorest girls don’t havetheir feet bound at all. We know how they end up. They are either sold as servants or theybecome “little daughters-inlaw”— big-footed girls from unfortunate families who aregiven to other families to raise until they are old enough to bear children. But in our sosocounty, girls from families like mine begin their footbinding at age six and it is considereddone two years later.

Even while I was out running with my brother, my mother had already begun making thelong blue strips of cloth that would become my bindings. With her own hands she mademy first pair of shoes, but she took even more care stitching the miniature shoes shewould place on the altar of Guanyin—the goddess who hears all women’s tears. Thoseembroidered shoes were only three and a half centimeters long and were made from a第 9 页 共 189 页

special piece of red silk that my mother had saved from her dowry. They were the firstinkling I had that my mother might care for me.

When Beautiful Moon and I turned six, Mama and Aunt sent for the diviner to find anauspicious date to begin our binding. They say fall is the most propitious time to startfootbinding, but only because winter is coming and cold weather helps numb the feet.Was I excited? No. I was scared. I was too young to remember the early days of ElderSister’s binding, but who in our village had not heard the screams of the Wu girl down theway? My mother greeted Diviner Hu downstairs, poured tea, and offered him a bowl ofwatermelon seeds. Her courtesy was meant to bring good readings. He began with me. Heconsidered my birth date. He weighed the possibilities. Then he said, “I need to see thischild with my own eyes.” This was not the usual case, and when my mother fetched meher face was etched with worry. She led me to the diviner. She held me in front of him.Her fingers clutched my shoulders, keeping me in place and frightening me at the sametime, while the diviner performed his examination. “Eyes, yes. Ears, yes. That mouth.” Helooked up at my mother. “This is no ordinary child.”

My mother sucked in her breath through closed teeth. This was the worst announcementthe diviner could have made. “Further consultation is required,” the diviner said. “Ipropose we confer with a matchmaker. Do you agree?” Some might have suspected thatthe diviner was trying to make more money for himself and was in league with the localmatchmaker, but my mother didn’t hesitate for an instant. Such was my mother’s fear— or conviction—that she didn’t even ask my father’s permission to spend the money.

“Please return as soon as you can,” she said. “We will be waiting.” The diviner departed,leaving all of us confused. That night my mother said very little. In fact, she would notlook at me. There were no jokes from Aunt. My grandmother retired early, but I couldhear her praying. Baba and Uncle went for a long walk. Sensing the unease in thehousehold, even my brothers were subdued.

The next day, the women rose early. This time sweet cakes were made, chrysanthemumtea brewed, and special dishes brought out of cupboards. My father stayed home from thefields so he could greet the visitors. All these extravagances showed the seriousness ofthe situation. Then, to make matters worse, the diviner brought with him not MadameGao, the local matchmaker, but Madame Wang, the matchmaker from Tongkou, the bestvillage in the county.

Let me say this: Even the local matchmaker had not been to our house yet. She was notexpected to visit for another year or two, when she would serve as a go-between for ElderBrother as he searched for a wife and for Elder Sister when families were looking forbrides for their sons. So when Madame Wang’s palanquin stopped in front of our house,there was no rejoicing. Looking down from the women’s chamber, I saw nei hbors comeout to gape. My father kowtowed, his forehead touching the dirt again and ag

ggain. I feltsorry for him. Baba was a worrier—typical for someone born in the year of the rabbit. He

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was responsible for everyone in our household, but this was beyond his experience. My uncle hopped from foot to foot, while my aunt—usually so welcoming and jolly—stoodfrozen in place at his side. From my upstairs vantage point, the conclusion was evident on all the faces below me: Something was terribly wrong.

Once they were inside, I went quietly to the top of the stairs so I could eavesdrop.Madame Wang settled herself. The tea and treats were served. My father’s voice couldbarely be heard as he went through the polite rituals. But Madame Wang had not come tospeak trivialities with this humble family. She wanted to see me. Just as on the day before,I was called to the room. I walked downstairs and into the main room as gracefully as someone can who’s only six and whose feet are still clumsy and large. I glanced around atthe elders in my family. Although there are special moments when the distance of time leaves memories in shadows, the images of their faces on that day are very clear to me.My grandmother sat staring at her folded hands. Her skin was so frail and thin that Icould see a blue pulse in her temple. My father, who already had plenty of aggravations,was speechless with anxiety. My aunt and uncle stood together in the main doorway,afraid to be a part of what was about to happen and afraid to miss it too. But what Iremember most is my mother’s face. Of course, as a daughter I believed she was pretty,but I saw her true person for the first time that day. I had always known she had been born in the year of the monkey, but I’d never realized that its traits of deceit and cunning ran so strongly in her. Something raw lurked underneath her high cheekbones.Something conniving lay veiled behind her dark eyes. There was something . . . I still donot quite know how to describe it. I would say that something like male ambition glowedright through her skin.