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We believed that the sentiments on that piece of paper would last forever, but we couldnot foresee the turmoil that lay ahead. Still, I remember so many of the words. How couldI not? They became the words of my heart.

We, Miss Snow Flower of Tongkou Village and Miss Lily of Puwei Village, will be true toeach other. We will comfort each other with kind words. We will ease each other’s hearts.We will whisper and embroider together in the women’s chamber. We will practice theThree Obediences and the Four Virtues. We will follow Confucian instruction as found inThe Women’s Classic by behaving as good women. On this day, we, Miss Snow Flower andMiss Lily, have spoken true words. We swear a bond. For ten thousand li, we will be liketwo streams flowing into one river. For ten thousand years, we will be like two flowers inthe same garden. Never a step apart, never a harsh word between us. We will be oldsames until we die. Our hearts are glad.

Madame Wang watched us solemnly as we both signed our names in nu shu at thebottom. “I am happy with this laotong match,” she announced. “Like a marriage between a man and woman, the kind ones go with kind ones, the pretty ones go with pretty ones,and the clever ones go with clever ones. But unlike marriage, this relationship shouldremain exclusive. No”—and here she allowed herself a small cackle—“concubines allowed. You understand my meaning, girls? This is a joining of two hearts that cannot betorn apart by distance, disagreement, loneliness, better marriage position, or by lettingother girls—and later women—come between you.”

We took our ten steps back to the palanquin. For so many months, walking had been agony, but right then I felt like Yao Niang, the first tinyfooted lady. When that woman oflegend danced on a golden lotus, she gave the illusion of floating on a cloud. Every step Itook was cushioned by great happiness.

The bearers carried us to the center of the fair. This time when we stepped out, we were in the heart of the marketplace. On a slight rise I could see the red walls, gilt decorative carvings, and green-tile roof of the temple. Madame Wang slipped us each a piece of cashand told us to buy gifts to celebrate the day. If I had never had the opportunity to make a choice for myself, I certainly had never been given the responsibility of spending money.In one hand I held the coin; in the other I held Snow Flower’s hand. I tried to think ofwhat this girl beside me could want, but with so many wonderful things around me my mind dulled with the possibilities. Thankfully Snow Flower took charge again. “I know just the thing!” she squealed. She took a couple of quick steps as if to run and hobbled to a stop. “Sometimes I still forget my feet,” she said, her face tight with pain. My feet musthave been healing slightly faster than hers, and I felt a shiver of disappointment that we wouldn’t be able to explore as much as we—I—would have liked.

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“We’ll go slow,” I said. “We don’t have to see everything this time—” “—because we’llcome here every year for the rest of our lives.” Snow Flower finished for me, and then shesqueezed my hand.

What a sight we must have been: two old sames on their first excursion, trying to walk onremembered feet with only exhilaration to keep them from falling, and an older womandressed in a gaudy outfit yelling at them, “Stop that bad behavior, or we’ll go home rightnow!” Fortunately, we didn’t have far to go. Snow Flower pulled me into a stall that soldembroidery necessities.

“We are two girls in our daughter days,” Snow Flower said, as her eyes scanned therainbow of threads. “Until we marry out, we will be in the women’s chamber, visitingtogether, embroidering to ether, whispering together. If we buy carefully, we will havememories we can make tog

ggether for many years.”

In the embroidery stall we were of the same mind. We liked the same colors, but we alsochose a few that we agreed did not speak to our hearts but would be good nevertheless tocreate the detail of a leaf or the shadow of a flower. We handed over our cash and wentback to the palanquin with our purchases in hand. Once we were back inside, SnowFlower implored Madame Wang for one more treat. “Auntie, please take us to the taroman. Please, Auntie, please!” Assuming that Snow Flower was using this honorific tosoften Madame Wang’s stern demeanor, and once again emboldened b my laotong’sdaring, I joined in. “Please, Auntie, please!” Madame Wang could not say

yy no with a girl oneither side of her pulling on a sleeve, each begging for another extravagance as only a firstson might do. She finally gave in with warnings that this sort of thing could not happenagain. “I am just a poor widow, and spending my money on two useless branches willlower my esteem in the county. Do you want to send me into poverty? Do you want me todie alone?” She said all of this in her usual abrupt manner, but actually everything wasready for us when we reached the stand. A short table had been set up, with three smallbarrels for seats.

The proprietor brought out a live chicken and held it up. “I always select the best for you,Madame Wang,” Old Man Zuo said. A few minutes later, he carried out a special otheated by coals in a bottom compartment. Broth, ginger, scallions, and the cut-up

pp chickenwe’d seen just moments before bubbled inside the bowl. A dip ing sauce of choppedginger, garlic, scallions, and hot oil was also set on the table. A p

pplatter of fresh pea greenssautéed with whole garlic cloves rounded out the meal. We ate with relish, fishing fordelectable pieces of chicken with our chopsticks, chewing happily, and spitting our boneson the ground. But as wonderful as all this was, I still kept room for the taro dish thatSnow Flower had mentioned earlier. Everything she said about it was true—the way thehot sugar crackled as it hit the water, the irresistible crunch and softness in my mouth. AsI did at home, I picked up the teapot and poured tea for the three of us. When I set the potback down, I heard Snow Flower suck in air reprovingly. I had done something wrongagain, but I didn’t know what. She put her hand over mine and guided it to the teapot, so第 38 页 共 189 页

that together we could turn it so the spout no longer pointed at Madame Wang.

“It’s rude to aim the spout at anyone,” Snow Flower said mildly. I should have feltashamed. Instead, I felt only admiration for my laotong’s upbringing.

The bearers were asleep under the palanquin’s poles when we returned, but Madame Wang’s clapping and her loud voice roused them and soon we were on our way home. For the return trip, Madame Wang let the two of us sit together, even though this upset theweight balance in the palanquin and made it harder for the bearers. I think back and see that we were so young—just two little girls giggling at nothing, sorting our embroidery thread, holding hands, sneaking peeks out the curtain when Madame Wang dozed off, and watching the world go past the window. So involved were we that this time neither of us felt the movement sickness brought about by the bearers jogging and jostling over thebumpy road. This was our first trip to Shexia and the Temple of Gupo. Madame Wang took us back the next year, and we made our first offerings in the temple. She wouldescort us there almost every year until our daughter days were over. Once Snow Flower and I married out, we met in Shexia each year if circumstances allowed, always makingofferings in the temple so that we might have sons, always visiting the thread merchantso we could continue with our projects in similar color schemes, always reliving thedetails of our first visit, and always stopping to have Old Man Zuo’s caramelized taro atthe end of the day.

We reached Puwei at dusk. On that day I had made more than just a friend outside my natal family. I had signed a contract to be old sames with another girl. I didn’t want theday to end, but I knew it would as soon as we reached my house. I imagined myself beingdropped off, then watching as the bearers carried Snow Flower down the alley, with justher fingers daring to sneak under the flapping curtain to wave a final goodbye before shedisappeared around the corner. Then I learned my happiness was not yet over.

We stopped and I got out. Madame Wang told Snow Flower to step out too. “Goodbye,girls. I will be back in a few days to retrieve Snow Flower.”

She leaned out of the palanquin, pinched my old same’s cheeks, and added, “Be good.Don’t complain. Learn through your eyes and ears. Make your mother proud of you.”

How can I explain what I felt with just the two of us standing outside my family’sthreshold? I was beyond happy, but I knew what waited inside. As much as I loved my family and our home, I knew Snow Flower was accustomed to something better. And shehad not brought any clothes or toiletries with her.

Mama came out to greet us. She kissed me; then she put an arm around Snow Flower’sshoulders and guided her over the threshold into our home. While we were gone, Mama,Aunt, and Elder Sister had worked hard to tidy the main room. All trash had been removed, hanging clothes taken down, and dishes put away. Our hard-packed dirt floor had been swept and water sprinkled on it to tamp it down and make it cooler.

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Snow Flower met everyone, even Elder Brother. When dinner was served, Snow Flower dipped her chopsticks first in her cup of tea to clean them, but other than this smallgesture, which showed more refinement than anyone in my family had ever seen, she didher best to hide her feelings. But already my heart knew Snow Flower too well. She was putting a smiling face on a bad situation. To my eyes, she was clearly appalled by the way we lived.

It had been a long day and we were very tired. When it came time to go upstairs I hadanother sinking feeling, but the women in our household had been busy there as well. The bedclothes had been aired and all the clutter associated with our usual activities organized into orderly piles. Mama pointed out a bowl of fresh water for us to wash up,along with two sets of my clothes and one of Elder Sister’s—all freshly cleaned—for Snow Flower to wear while she was our guest. I let Snow Flower use the water bowl first, butshe barely dabbed her fingers into it, suspicious, I think, that it was not pure enough. Sheheld the sleeping garment I gave her away from her body with two fingers, scrutinizing itas though it might be a rotting fish instead of Elder Sister’s newest piece of clothing. Shelooked around, saw our eyes on her, and then, without a word, stripped and put on thegarment. We climbed into bed. Tonight, and for all future nights when Snow Flower came to stay, Elder Sister would sleep with Beautiful Moon. Mama said good night to the two ofus. Then she leaned down, kissed me, and whispered in my ear, “Madame Wang told us what we needed to do. Be happy, little one, be happy.”

So there we were, the two of us side by side with a light cotton quilt over us. We were such little girls, but as tired as we were we couldn’t stop whispering. Snow Flower askedabout my family. I asked about hers. I told her how Third Sister had died. She told me thather third sister had died from a coughing disease. She asked about our village and I toldher that Puwei meant Common Beauty Village in our local dialect. She explained thatTongkou meant Wood Mouth Village, and that when I visited her I would see why thiswas so.

Moonlight came in through the lattice window, illuminating Snow Flower’s face. Elder Sister and Beautiful Moon fell asleep, but still Snow Flower and I talked. As women, we are told never to discuss our bound feet, that it is improper and unladylike, and that suchconversation only inflames the passions of men. But we were girls and still in the process of our footbinding. These things were not memories, like they are for me now, but painand suffering we were living at that time. Snow Flower talked about how she had hidden from her mother and begged her father to have mercy on her. Her father had almost given in, which would have consigned Snow Flower to the life of an old maid in her parents’ home or a servant in someone else’s.

“But when my father started smoking his pipe,” Snow Flower explained, “he forgot hispromise to me. With his mind far away, my mother and aunt took me upstairs and tied me to a chair. This is why I, like you, am a year late in my footbinding.” This didn’t mean— once her fate had been sealed—that she embraced it. No, she struggled against everything第 40 页 共 189 页

in her early months, even tearing off her bindings completely one time. “My mother bound my feet—and me to the chair—even tighter the next time.” “You can’t fight your fate,” I said. “It is predestined.”

“My mother says the same thing,” Snow Flower responded. “She untied me only to walk tobreak my bones and to let me use the chamber pot. All the time, I looked out our lattice window. I watched the birds fly by. I followed the clouds on their travels. I studied themoon as it grew larger, then shrank. So much happened outside my window that I almostforgot what was happening inside that room.”

How these sentiments scared me! Snow Flower had the true independent streak of thehorse sign, only her horse had wings that carried her far above the earth, while mine hada plodding nature. But a feeling in the pit of my stomach—of something naughty, ofpushing against the boundaries of our preordained lives—gave me an internal thrill thatin time would become a deep craving.

Snow Flower snuggled close to me so that we were face-to-face. She put her hand on my cheek and said, “I am happy we are old sames.” Then she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Lying next to her, looking at her face in the moonlight, feeling the delicate weight of her small hand on my cheek, listening to her breathing deepen, I wondered how could I makeher love me the way I longed to be loved.

Love

we women are expected to love our children as soon as they leave our bodies, but whoamong us has not felt disappointment at the sight of a daughter or felt the dark gloom that settles upon the mind even when holding a precious son, if he does nothing but cry and makes your mother-in-law look at you as though your milk were sour? We may love our daughters with all our hearts, but we must train them through pain. We love our sons most of all, but we can never be a part of their world, the outer realm of men. We are expected to love our husbands from the day of Contracting a Kin, though we will not see their faces for another six years. We are told to love our in-laws, but we enter those families as strangers, as the lowest person in the household, just one step on the ladder above a servant. We are ordered to love and honor our husbands’ ancestors, so we perform the proper duties, even if our hearts quietly call out gratitude to our natalancestors. We love our parents because they take care of us, but we are consideredworthless branches on the family tree. We drain the family resources. We are raised byone family for another. As happy as we are in our natal families, we all know that partingis inevitable. So we love our families, but we understand that this love will end in thesadness of departure. All these types of love come out of duty, respect, and gratitude.Most of them, as the women in my county know, are sources of sadness, rupture, andbrutality.