Snow Flower and the Secret Fan (11 page)

Snow Flower and I had often asked how Yuxiu’s mother and sisters had been able to read the secret code, and today Aunt wove her answer into the story.

“Perhaps a sympathetic eunuch slipped out a letter from Yuxiu that explained everything. Or perhaps her sisters didn’t know what the note said, tossed it aside, and in its skewed state they saw and interpreted the italicized characters. Then, over time, the women of that family invented new phonetic characters, which they grew to understand from context, just as you girls are learning to do right now. But these are the kinds of particulars that men would care about.” She delivered this reprimand sternly, reminding us that these questions weren’t our concern. “What we should carry away from Yuxiu’s life is that she found a way to share what was happening beneath her happy surface life and that her gift has been passed down through countless generations to us.”

For a moment we were quiet, thinking of that lonely concubine. Aunt began to sing first and the three of us joined in, while Mama listened. It was a sad song, one reputed to have come straight from Hu Yuxiu’s own mouth. Our voices poured out her sorrow:

“My writing is soaked with the tears of my heart,

An invisible rebellion that no man can see.

Let our life stories become tragic art.

Oh, Mama, oh, sisters, hear me, hear me.”

The last notes floated out the lattice window and down the alley. “Remember, girls,” Aunt said. “Not all men are emperors, but all girls marry out. Yuxiu invented
nu shu
for the women in our county to keep our ties to our natal families.”

We picked up our needles and started embroidering. The next day, Aunt would tell us the story again.

THE YEAR SNOW
Flower and I turned thirteen our learning came at us from every direction, and we were expected to help in all the usual ways. Where Snow Flower’s womenfolk had excelled in teaching her the refined arts, they had failed miserably with the domestic arts, so she shadowed me as I did my chores. We rose at dawn and started the cooking fire. After Snow Flower and I washed the dishes, we mixed the pig’s meal. At midday, we went outside for a few minutes to pick fresh vegetables from the kitchen garden; then we made lunch. Mama and Aunt once did all these tasks. Now they supervised us. Afternoons were spent in the women’s chamber. When evening came, we helped prepare and serve dinner.

Every minute of every day involved lessons. The girls in our household—and I include Snow Flower in this—tried to be good students. Beautiful Moon was best at making thread and yarn, tasks that Snow Flower and I had no patience for. I liked to cook but was less interested in weaving, sewing, and making shoes. None of us liked to clean, but Snow Flower was terrible at it. Mama and Aunt didn’t chastise her as they did my cousin and me if we didn’t sweep the floor well enough or didn’t get all of the dirt out of our fathers’ tunics. I thought they were lenient with Snow Flower because they knew she would have servants one day and would never have to do these things herself. I looked at her failure differently. She would never learn to clean properly, because she seemed to float above and apart from the practicalities of life.

We also learned from the men in my family, though not in the way you might expect. Baba and Uncle would never teach us anything directly. That would have been improper. What I mean is that I learned about men through Snow Flower’s actions and the way Baba and Uncle reacted to them.
Congee
is one of the easiest things to make—just rice, a lot of water, and stirring, stirring, stirring—so we let Snow Flower make this for breakfast. When she saw that Baba liked scallions, she made sure that an extra handful was added to his bowl. At dinner, Mama and Aunt had always silently put the plates on the table and let Baba and Uncle serve themselves; Snow Flower circled the table, keeping her head lowered and offering each dish, first to Baba, then Uncle, then Elder Brother, then Second Brother. She always stood just far enough away not to be too intimate but at the same time to exude graciousness. I learned that through her small attentions to them, they refrained from shoveling food in their mouths, spitting on the floor, or scratching their full stomachs. Instead, they smiled and talked to her.

My desire for knowledge went far beyond what I needed to know in the upstairs women’s chamber, in downstairs areas, or even with the study of
nu shu.
I wanted to know about my future. Fortunately, Snow Flower loved to talk, and she talked a lot about Tongkou. By now she had traveled often between our two villages and had learned the route well. “When you go to your husband,” she told me, “you will pass over the river and through many rice paddies, heading for the low hills that you can see from the edge of Puwei. Tongkou nestles in the arms of those hills. They will never falter and neither will we, at least that’s what my baba says. In Tongkou, we are protected from earthquake, famine, and marauders. It is
feng shui
perfect.”

Listening to Snow Flower, Tongkou grew in my imagination, but this was nothing compared to how I felt when she talked about my husband and my future in-laws. Neither Beautiful Moon nor I were present at the discussion that Madame Wang had with our fathers, but we were familiar with the basics: Everyone who lived in Tongkou was a Lu, and both families were prosperous. These things interested our fathers, but we wanted to know about our husbands, our mothers-in-law, and the other women in our upstairs chambers. Only Snow Flower could give us the answers.

“You are lucky, Lily,” Snow Flower said one day. “I have seen this Lu boy. He is my cousin twice removed. His hair is the blue-black of night. He is kind to girls. He once shared a moon cake with me. He didn’t have to do that.” She told me that my future husband was born in the year of the tiger, a sign that is as spirited as mine, which made us perfectly suited. She told me things I would need to know to fit into the Lu family. “It is a busy household,” she explained. “As the headman, Master Lu receives numerous visitors from inside and outside the village. Beyond this, many people live in the house. There are no daughters, but daughters-in-law will marry in. You will be daughter-in-law number one. Your ranking will be high to start. If you have a son first, your ranking will hold true forever. This does not mean you won’t have the same sorts of problems as Yuxiu, the emperor’s concubine. Even though Master Lu’s wife has given him four sons, he has three concubines. He must have them, because he is the headman. They help show the people his strength.”

I should have worried more about this. After all, if the father took concubines, the son probably would as well. But I was so young and innocent, this didn’t cross my mind. And even if it had, I wouldn’t have known the conflicts that could arise. My world was still just Mama and Baba, Aunt and Uncle—simple, simple.

Snow Flower turned to Beautiful Moon, who, as always, attended to us quietly, waiting for us to include her. Snow Flower said, “Beautiful Moon, I am happy for you. I know this Lu family very well. Your future husband, as you know, was born in the year of the boar. His characteristics are to be sturdy, gallant, and thoughtful, while your sheep nature will cause you to dote on him. This is another perfectly suited match.”

“What about my mother-in-law?” Beautiful Moon inquired tentatively.

“This Madame Lu visits my mother every day. She has a kind heart, kinder than I could ever tell you.”

Tears suddenly welled in Snow Flower’s eyes. It was so strange that Beautiful Moon and I giggled, thinking it was some sort of joke. My
laotong
blinked quickly.

“A ghost got in my eyes!” Snow Flower exclaimed, before joining in our laughter. Then she picked up where she left off. “Beautiful Moon, you will be very content. They will love you wholeheartedly. And the best part is every day you will be able to walk to Lily’s house. That’s how close you will be to each other.”

Snow Flower cast her eyes back to me. “Your mother-in-law is very traditional,” she said. “She follows all the women’s rules. She is careful in what she says. She is well attired. And when guests come, hot tea is always at the ready.” Since Snow Flower had been teaching me to do these things, I was not afraid of making a mistake. “There are more servants in the house than I have had in my family,” Snow Flower continued. “You will not have to cook, except to make special dishes for Lady Lu. You will not have to nurse your baby unless you want to.”

When she told me these things, I thought she was crazy.

I questioned her further about my husband’s father. She thought for a minute and answered, “Master Lu is generous and compassionate, but he is also smart, which is why he is the headman. Everyone respects him. Everyone will respect his son and his wife too.” She looked at me with those penetrating eyes of hers and repeated, “You are so lucky.”

With Snow Flower’s word pictures how could I not imagine myself in Tongkou with my loving husband and perfect sons?

MY KNOWLEDGE BEGAN
to extend well beyond my own village. Snow Flower and I had now gone to the Temple of Gupo in Shexia five times. Each year we climbed the stairs to the temple, placed our offerings on the altar, and lit incense. Then we walked to the marketplace, where we bought embroidery thread and paper. We always ended the day with a visit to Old Man Zou to have his burnt-sugar taro. Going to and fro, we peeked outside the palanquin when Madame Wang slept. We saw little pathways leading off the main road to other villages. We saw rivers and canals. From our bearers we learned that these waters gave our county contact with the rest of the nation. In our upstairs chamber, we saw only four walls, but the men of our county were not so isolated. If they wanted, they could travel almost anywhere by boat.

All during this time, Madame Wang and Madame Gao were in and out of our house like a pair of busy hens. What? Do you think, because our engagements were set, that those two would leave us alone? They had to watch and wait and conspire and cajole, protecting and securing their investments. Anything could go wrong. Obviously they were apprehensive about four marriages in one household and whether Baba would come through with the promised bride-price for Elder Brother’s wife, adequate dowries for the three girls, and, most important, the matchmaking fees. But in my thirteenth summer, the battle between the two matchmakers suddenly escalated.

It started simply enough. We were in the upstairs chamber when Madame Gao began complaining that local families were not paying their fees in a timely manner, implying that our family was one of them.

“A peasant uprising in the hills is making things difficult for all of us,” Madame Gao opined. “No products come in and no products go out. No one has
cash.
I have heard that some girls have had to give up their betrothals because their families can no longer provide dowries. Those girls will now become little daughters-in-law.”

That things had become so difficult in our county was not news, but what Madame Gao said next surprised us all.

“Even Little Miss Snow Flower is not safe. It’s not too late for me to look for someone more appropriate.”

I was glad that Snow Flower was not here to hear this insinuation.

“You are speaking of a family that is among the best in the county,” Madame Wang countered, her voice sounding not like oil but like rocks rubbing together.

“Perhaps, Old Auntie, you mean
was.
That master has seen too much gambling and too many concubines.”

“He has done only what is right for his position. You, on the other hand, must be forgiven your ignorance. High station is foreign to you.”

“Ha! You make me laugh. You tell lies like they are truth. The whole county knows what’s happening to that family. Take trouble in the hills and combine it with bad crops and inattention, and nothing can be expected but that a weak man will take to the pipe—”

My mother rose abruptly. “Madame Gao, I am grateful for the things you have done for my children, but they
are
children and should not hear this. I will see you to the threshold, for you have others to visit, I’m sure.”

Mama practically lifted Madame Gao out of her chair and nearly dragged her to the stairs. As soon as they were gone from sight, my aunt poured tea for Madame Wang, who sat very still, deep in thought, her eyes far away. Then she blinked three times, looked around the room, and called me to her. I was thirteen and still afraid of her. I had learned to call her Auntie to her face, but in my mind she was always the intimidating Madame Wang. When I neared, she yanked me close, held me between her thighs, and grabbed my arms like she did the first time we’d met.

“Never,
never
repeat what you’ve heard here to Snow Flower. She is an innocent girl. She does not need that woman’s filth rotting her mind.”

“Yes, Auntie.”

She shook me once very hard. “Never!”

“I promise.”

At the time I didn’t understand half of what was said. Even if I had, why would I have repeated that evil gossip to Snow Flower? I loved Snow Flower. I would never hurt her by repeating Madame Gao’s venomous remarks.

I will only add this: Mama must have said something to Baba, because Madame Gao was never allowed inside our house again. All further business with her was conducted on stools outside our threshold. That is how much Mama and Baba cared for Snow Flower. She was my
laotong,
but they loved her as much as they loved me.

THE TENTH MONTH
of my thirteenth year arrived. Outside the lattice window the white-hot sky of summer eased into the deep blue of autumn. Only one month remained until Elder Sister’s wedding. The groom’s family delivered the last round of gifts. Elder Sister’s sworn sisters sold one of their twenty-five
jin
of rice, and gifts were bought. The girls came to stay with us for Sitting and Singing in the Upstairs Chamber. Other village women visited to socialize, give advice, and commiserate. For twenty-eight days, we sang songs and told stories. The sworn sisters helped Elder Sister with the last of her quilts and with wrapping the shoes she’d made for the members of her new family. Together we all worked on the third-day wedding books that would be given to Elder Sister. These would introduce her to the women in her new family, and we all struggled with the right words to describe her best attributes and characteristics.