第 30 页

At the time of my laotong’s lowest moment, I realized how much I needed my husband. Tome, so much of my life with him had been about duty and the roles we were required toplay. I regretted all the occasions when I had not been the wife he deserved. I vowed thatif I made it down from that mountain I would become the kind of woman who mightactually earn the title of Lady Lu and not be just an actor in a pageant. I wished for thisand willed it to come true, but not before I would reveal myself to be far more brutal and cruel than Snow Flower’s husband.

The women under our tree continued to watch over Snow Flower. We tended to her cuts,

第 152 页 共 189 页

using boiled snow to douse away potential infections, wrapping them in cloth torn from our own bodies. The women wanted to make her soup from the marrow of the animalsthe butcher brought to feed us. When I reminded them that Snow Flower was a vegetarian, we took turns walking in groups of two to forage in the forest for bark, weeds,and roots. We made a bitter broth and spoon-fed it to her. We sang songs of comfort.

But our words and deeds did nothing to ease her mind. She would not sleep. She sat bythe fire, her knees drawn up, her arms wrapped around them. Her whole body rockedwith gut-wrenching despair. None of us had clean clothes, but we had tried to remainneat in appearance. Snow Flower no longer cared. She neglected to wash her face withclumps of snow or rub her teeth with the hem of her tunic. Her hair hung loose,reminding me of the night my mother-in-law sank into illness. She became more and more like Third Sister-in-law on that same evening—barely present with us at all, her mind floating, floating, floating away. There came a point every day when Snow Flower wrested herself away from the fire to wander the snowy mountains. She walked as if in a dream, lost, uprooted, untethered. Every day I went with her, unasked, holding on to her arm, the two of us tottering over the icy rocks on our lily feet as she wound her way to theedge of the cliff, where she wailed into the great expanse, the sound flying away on thestrong northern wind.

I was terrified, always thinking back to our terrible escape into the hills and the hideous sounds of the women’s screams as they fell to their deaths so many meters below. Snow Flower did not share my trepidation. She looked out over the cliffs, watching snow hawkssoar on the mountain winds. I thought of all of the times Snow Flower had talked aboutflying. How easy it would have been for her to take one step out and over the cliff. But Inever left her side, never let go of her arm.

I tried to talk to her about things that would tie her to earth. I might say something like,“Would you prefer to approach Madame Wang about our daughters or shall I?” When shedidn’t respond, I would try something else. “You and I live so close. Why should we waitfor the girls to become old sames before they meet? The two of you should come for a long visit. We will bind their feet together. Then they will have those days to remember too.” Or, “Look at that snow flower. Spring is coming and soon we will leave this place.” For ten days she answered only in monosyllables. Then, on the eleventh day, as sheveered to the edge of the cliff, she finally spoke. “I have lost five children, and my husband has blamed me each time. He always takes his frustration and stuffs it in his fists. When those weapons need to find their release, they find me. I used to think he was angry thatI’d been pregnant with girls. But now, with my son . . . Was it grief all along that my husband felt?” She paused and tilted her head as she tried to work things out in her mind.“Either way, he has to put his fists somewhere,” she concluded despairingly.

Which meant that these beatings had been going on since the first year she’d fallen permanently into the butcher’s house. Although her husband’s actions were common and accepted in our county, it hurt that she had hidden this from me so well and for so long. I第 153 页 共 189 页

had thought she would never again lie to me and that we would no longer have secrets,but I wasn’t upset about that. Instead, I felt guilty for having ignored the signs of my laotong’s unhappy life for too long.

“Snow Flower—”

“No, listen. You think my husband has evil in his heart, but he is not an evil man.”

“He treats you as less than human—”

“Lily,” she cautioned, “he is my husband.” Then her thoughts plunged to an even darker place. “I’ve wanted to die for a long time, but someone is always around.”

“Don’t say such things.”

She ignored me. “How often do you think about fate? I think about it nearly every day.What if my mother had not married out to my father’s house? What if my father had nottaken to the pipe? What if my parents had not married me out to the butcher? What if Ihad been born a son? Could I have saved my family? Oh, Lily, I have been so ashamed ofmy circumstances before you. . . .”

“I never—”

“Ever since you first entered my natal home I have seen your pity.” She shook her head toprevent me from speaking. “Don’t deny it. Just hear me.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “You see me and you think I fell so far, but what happened to my mother was far worse. As a girl, I remember her crying all day and all night in sorrow. I’m sure shewanted to die, but she wouldn’t abandon me. Then, after I went to my husbandpermanently, she wouldn’t abandon my father.”

I saw where this was heading, so I said, “Your mother never allowed herself an embittered heart. She never gave up—”

“She went with my father on the road. I’ll never know what happened to them, but I’msure she did not allow herself to die until he was gone first. It’s been twelve years now. Sooften I’ve wondered if I could have helped her. Could she have come to me? I’ll answer this way. I dreamed I’d get married and find happiness away from the sickness of my father and the sadness of my mother. I did not know I would be a beggar in my husband’shome. Then I learned how to get my husband to bring home food I would eat. You see,Lily, there are things they don’t tell us about men. We can make them happy if we show them pleasure. And, you know, it is fun for us too, if we let it be.”

She sounded like one of those old women who are always trying to frighten girls before they marry out with that kind of talk.

“You don’t have to lie. I’m your laotong. You can be truthful.” She pulled her eyes away from the clouds and for the briefest moment looked at me as though she didn’t recognize第 154 页 共 189 页

me. “Lily”—her voice came out sad and sympathetic—“you have everything, and yet you have nothing.” Her words cut me, but I couldn’t think about them now as she confessed.“My husband and I didn’t follow the rules concerning the pollution of a wife after childbirth. We both wanted more sons.”

“Sons are a woman’s worth—”

“But you’ve seen what happens. Too many girls come into my body.”

To this undeniable problem I had a practical response.

“It wasn’t their destiny to live,” I said. “Be thankful, for something was probably wrong with them. We women can only try again—”

“Oh, Lily, when you talk like that my head feels empty. I hear only the wind rushingthrough the trees. Do you feel how the ground wants to give way beneath my feet? You should go back now. Let me be with my mother. . . .”

Many years had passed since Snow Flower lost her first daughter.

Then, I hadn’t been able to understand her grief. But by now I’d experienced more of life’smiseries and saw things very differently. If it is perfectly acceptable for a widow todisfigure herself or commit suicide to save face for her husband’s family, why should amother not be moved to extreme action by the loss of a child or children? We are theircaretakers. We love them. We nurse them when they are sick. In the case of sons, we prepare them to take their first steps into the men’s realm. In the case of daughters, we bind their feet, teach them our secret writing, and train them to be good wives,daughters-in-laws, and mothers, so they will fit into the upstairs chambers of their new homes. But no woman should live longer than her children. It is against the law of nature.If she does, why wouldn’t she wish to leap from a cliff, hang from a branch, or swallow lye? “Every day I come to the same conclusion,” Snow Flower admitted, as she looked outover the deep valley below. “But then your aunt comes into my mind. Lily, think how shesuffered and how little we cared for her suffering.”

I responded with the truth. “She hurt terribly, but I think we were a comfort to her.”

“Remember how sweet Beautiful Moon was? Remember how demure she was even indeath? Remember when your aunt came home and stood over her body? We’d all been concerned about her feelings, so we wrapped Beautiful Moon’s face. Your aunt never saw her daughter again. Why were we so cruel?”

I could have said that Beautiful Moon’s corpse was too horrible a memory to place in a mother’s mind. Instead, I said, “We will visit Aunt at the first chance. She will be happy tosee us.”

“You perhaps,” Snow Flower said, “but not me. I remind her too much of herself. But

第 155 页 共 189 页

know this. She reminds me every ”day to endure.She thrust her chin forward, took one last look out across the misty hills, and said, “I think we should go back. I can see you are cold. And besides, there’s something I want you to help me write.” She reached into her tunic and pulled out our fan. “I brought it with me. I was afraid the rebels might burn my house and it would be lost.” Her eyes stared into mine.

She was fully back now. She let out her breath and shook her head. “I said I’d never againlie to you. The truth is, I thought we’d die up here. I didn’t want us to be without it.”

She pulled on my arm.

“Come away from the edge, Lily. Seeing you stand there like that scares me.”

We walked back to our camp, where we improvised ink and a brush. We took two half-burned logs from the fire and let them cool; then we scraped at the charred parts withrocks, carefully preserving what came off. This we mixed with water in which we boiledsome roots. It wasn’t as black or opaque as ink, but it would work well enough. Then we loosened the edge of a basket, extracted a length of bamboo, and sharpened it as best we could. This we used for our brush. We took turns recording in our secret language our journey here, the loss of Snow Flower’s little boy and unborn baby, the cold nights, and the blessings of friendship. When we were done, Snow Flower gently closed the fan and tucked it back inside her tunic.

That night the butcher did not beat my laotong. Instead he wanted and got bed business.Afterward she came to my side of the fire, slipped under her wedding quilt, curled up beside me, and rested her palm on my face. She was tired from so many sleepless nightsand I felt her body soften quickly. Just before she drifted off, she whispered, “He loves me as best he can. Everything will be better now. You’ll see. He has had a change of heart.” And I thought, Yes, until the next time he throws his grief or his anger into the lovingperson beside me.

the next day we received word it was safe to return to our villages. After three months inthe mountains, I’d like to say we’d seen the last of death. We had not. We had to pass allthose who’d been left behind during our escape. We saw men, women, children, babies— all badly decomposed from exposure to the elements, from animal feasts, and from thenatural decomposition of flesh. White bones flashed at us in the bright sunlight. Garments brought back instant identification, and too often we heard cries of recognition andremorse.

If all this were not enough, many of us were so weak that death was inevitable— now, atthis last stage, when we were almost home. Mostly it was women who died on the way down the mountain. Balancing on our lily feet, we were top-heavy. We were pulledtoward the abyss that fell away to our right. This time, in daylight, we not only heard thescreams but saw the flapping of women’s arms as they futilely fought the air. A day earlier, I would have worried for Snow Flower, but her face was set in concentration as第 156 页 共 189 页

she carefully placed one foot after the other before her.

The butcher carried his mother on his back. Once, when Snow Flower faltered, drawingback uncertainly at the sight of a mother wrapping the decayed remains of a child to takehome for a proper burial, he stop ed, set his mother down, and took Snow Flower’selbow. “Please keep walking,” he p

ppleaded with her softly. “We will be at our cart soon. Youwill ride the rest of the way back to Jintian.” When she refused to tear her eyes away fromthe mother and her child, he added, “I will come back in the spring and bring his boneshome. I promise we will have him nearby.” Snow Flower straightened her shoulders andforced herself to step reluctantly around the woman with her tiny bundle.

The hand-drawn cart was no longer where we’d left it. This and so many things that hadbeen discarded three months ago had been taken, either by the rebels or by the GreatHunan Army. But as the land flattened we were drawn to our homes, forgetting ouraching, bleeding, starving bodies. Jintian was unscathed, as far as I could tell. I helped thebutcher’s mother into the house and went back outside. I wanted to go home. I had comeso far that I knew I could walk the last few li to Tongkou, but the butcher ran to tell myhusband I was back and to come and get me. As soon as he set off, Snow Flower grabbedme. “Come,” she said. “We don’t have much time.” She pulled me into the house, even asmy eyes yearned to watch the butcher as he loped up the road to my village. When we gotupstairs, she said, “Once you did me a great kindness by helping me with my dowry. NowI can repay a small portion of that debt.” She opened a trunk and pulled out a dark bluejacket with a pale blue silk panel woven in a cloud pattern on the front. That silk panel Iremembered from the jacket Snow Flower had worn on the first day we met. She offeredit to me. “I would be honored if you would wear this when you see your husband again.”

I saw how terrible Snow Flower looked, but I hadn’t considered how I might appear to myhusband. I had worn my lavender silk jacket with the chrysanthemum embroidery forthree solid months. Not only was it filthy and torn, but looking at myself in the mirror aswater heated so I could bathe, I saw three months of living in the mud and snow under anunforgiving sun at high altitude upon my face.

I had time to wash only those places that he would see or smell first— my hands, arms,face, neck, armpits, and that place between my legs. Snow Flower did the best she couldwith my hair, pinning the grimy matted mass into a bun and then wrapping it in a cleanheaddress. Just as she helped me step into her dowry pants, we heard a pony’s hoovesand the creaking wheels of a cart coming near. Quickly she buttoned me into the tunic.We stood face-to-face. She placed the palm of her hand on the square of sky-blue silk onmy chest.