Three Sisters

by Bi Feiyu

  But, as they say, last night's food loses its taste, and the grass behind is no longer fresh. Yuxiu's attempts fell flat with Yumi. Nothing illustrated that better than the act of serving rice. After Qiaoqiao left, Yumi refused to let Yuxiu wait on her, preferring to do everything herself. Most of the time she acted as if Yuxiu weren't even there, which had the desired effect.

  Yuxiu felt as if she'd been kicked out of a production brigade. The difference this time was that she did not blame her sister. There was no way around it—the fault lay with her. She'd stood with the wrong unit, had chosen the wrong orientation, and in the process had caused her sister considerable pain. She could not blame Yumi for being disappointed in her; it was totally deserved. It was now up to Yuxiu to behave differently, to talk less and do more. If she worked hard at reforming herself, she could show her sister that she was a new person. And once her sister saw that new person take shape, her anger would dissolve and she'd be in a forgiving mood. Then she'd let Yuxiu wait on her. Despite all that had happened, they were still sisters, and that gave Yuxiu all the confidence she needed.

  Yuxiu was right to think that way, but she chose the wrong tactic. Yumi was giving Yuxiu the cold shoulder in hopes that she would reflect on her behavior and admit that she'd done wrong. What Yumi needed was an open admission of mistakes. It was all about attitude. And by attitude she meant that Yuxiu should stop thinking about saving face. As long as she adopted the proper attitude, Yumi, who was, after all, her older sister, had no interest in embarrassing her and would be happy to have her continue to live with them. But this was lost on Yuxiu, whose desire to turn over a new leaf was undermined by the frown that seemed permanently fixed on her face. Yumi saw that as a sign of resistance, even of outrage over the treatment of Guo Qiaoqiao. That sort of obstinacy was not what Yumi had hoped for. Well, she said to herself, all right, if that's how you want it. Since you're hell-bent on doing it your way, don't blame me for making things hard for you.

  Yumi wore an unusually stern expression. With Qiaoqiao now out of the house, she would bang her rice bowl and chopsticks down on the table, adding to the heavy atmosphere. Yuxiu was stymied. One day passed, then another and another, driving Yuxiu to the point of distraction. She spoke as little as possible, and her darkening mood increased the impression of defiance. Admitting mistakes is never easy, because you need first to determine what the person you're dealing with is looking for. Only after you know that can your attitude be considered proper.

  The day for Yumi to lay her cards on the table finally arrived, but Yuxiu was still in the dark. Guo Jiaxing had gone to a meeting out of town, leaving the sisters home alone. The house was oppressively still, an outbreak of close combat threatening to erupt at any minute. Right after breakfast Yumi summoned her sister from the kitchen. Yuxiu rushed into the living room, water dripping from her hands. One glance told her that something was wrong. Yumi was sitting with her legs crossed in the rattan chair, a seat normally reserved for her husband. She didn't say anything right away, and Yuxiu's heart sank. She stood in front of Yumi, who ignored her and contemplated her own feet. Then she reached into her purse, took out two yuan, and laid the money on the table. "This is for you, Yuxiu," she said. With her eyes on the money, Yuxiu breathed a sigh of relief.

  This was a welcome development, not what Yuxiu had expected. "I don't want any money," she said. "I don't need to be paid for waiting on my own sister." That was just the right thing to say.

  But it had no effect on Yumi, who then took out a ten-yuan bill and fingered it for a moment before laying it next to the two yuan. "Give this ten yuan to Mama."

  With that, Yumi got up and went into her bedroom, and as she stood alone in the living room, Yuxiu realized what was happening. "Give this ten yuan to Mama." Yumi was telling Yuxiu to go back to Wang Family Village, wasn't she?

  In the grip of panic, Yuxiu followed her sister into the bedroom. "Sister," she said.

  Yumi ignored her.

  "Sister!" Yuxiu called out again.

  With her back to Yuxiu, Yumi crossed her arms and gazed out the window. "Sister," Yuxiu repeated, controlling her emotions. "I can't go back to Wang Family Village. If you force me to go, I'll have to kill myself."

  Clever as always, Yuxiu knew that this was exactly the right thing to say. To begin with, she was telling the truth, but it also represented strength in weakness. That is, while it sounded feeble, almost like begging, hidden in it was the power of coercion when directed at her own sister.

  With a faint smile Yumi turned and said with due politeness, "Go ahead, Yuxiu, kill yourself. I'll find you some nice woolen funeral clothes."

  This shocking comment took Yuxiu's breath away. Her indignation was no match for the crippling shame she felt. She stared with a dazed look at Yumi, who returned her gaze. The length of time that the two sisters stared at each other, unblinking, was protracted and grim; it carried the dual significance of ending the past and creating a new beginning.

  Yuxiu blinked and her gaze began to soften. Softer and softer, weakening even her legs until she fell to her knees in front of Yumi. She knew perfectly well that the effect of kneeling lasted forever. Once you go down on your knees, that's where you will stay, always inferior.

  Still Yumi said nothing. As Yuxiu knelt, tears spilled from her eyes; she kowtowed, touching her head to her sister's feet. Time passed slowly. Then, dropping her arms, Yumi crouched down and began gently stroking Yuxiu's hair, over and over as her eyes also filled with tears, big translucent drops that ran down her cheeks. Cupping Yuxiu's chin in her hand, she said, "How could you lose sight of who we are, Yuxiu? Have you forgotten that we're sisters? I'm your big sister." There wasn't a false note in what she was saying. She wrapped her arms around Yuxiu and held her close.

  Enough had been said by then that Yumi felt it was time to get everything out in the open. And so, she talked in fits and starts, starting with the day of her engagement, all the way up to her plans to bring Yuxiu to town to see if she could make something of her life. Tears of sadness accompanied every word. "Yuxiu," she said, "our brother is just a baby, and of all the girls in our family, you're the only one who has a chance. How can you not know what's in my heart? Why must you act like a seductress? Why do you always fight me?" There was a bleak quality to Yumi's voice. "You have to amount to something, Yuxiu, you just have to. Show the people of Wang Family Village what you're made of. Please don't disappoint me anymore."

  Yuxiu looked up at Yumi, and at that moment she knew she was not her sister's equal; she had let her down terribly and was unworthy of her.

  She burst out crying. "I've been a terrible sister and I'm so sorry."

  "Have you no feelings for family?" Yumi said. "Not this family, our family?"

  Yuxiu sobbed as she let go of her sister's legs and listened carefully. Guilt and remorse told her that this time she'd really and truly grown up and had become an adult. She vowed she'd never again do anything to disappoint her sister, no matter what. She buried her head in Yumi's bosom and said what was in her heart. "Everything, it's all been my fault, and I swear I'll never disappoint you again. If I do I know I'll die a horrible death."

  The sun at noon that Sunday was blazing hot, so Yumi decided to air the winter clothes—which had been stored in a chest during the rainy season—since fastidious homemakers always aired their clothing under the summer sun to prevent mold.

  Yuxiu rummaged through closets and opened chests, adorning the yard with lines of colorful clothing and filling the air with the smell of mothballs, an odor that Yumi had actually liked in years past. But this year was a little different—the smell did not please her, probably as a result of her morning sickness. Almost everything smelled different these days. Sitting in the living room, hands resting on her belly, she felt good about herself, perfectly contented now that she had claimed final victory. By the look of things, she would have the last laugh.

  What she had to concern herself with now was how to get Guo Jiaxing moving in the righ
t direction to find a job for Yuxiu. She sat in his rattan chair all afternoon, half asleep, lazily fanning herself with a dried palm frond and gazing through half-closed eyes at the clothing in the yard. Eventually her eyes closed and the fan dropped to the floor. Yuxiu rushed over, picked it up, and waved it over her sister for a while until she woke up. Life is not perfect, Yumi thought. But everything is going smoothly—like a lovely maiden's features—so why not enjoy my pregnancy? This is my chance to take it easy.

  Yuxiu kept going back out into the blazing heat; the shimmering sunlight was harsh and blinding. She squinted as she turned the pieces of clothing in the yard with light, nimble movements. Standing amid the piles of clothes with the weight of the heat on her, she smelled the powerful odor of mothballs that permeated and spread under the sun. She breathed in deeply as her spirit soared. That feeling came not only from the mothballs, but from something else as well. After years of contending with Yumi, she had fallen to her knees before her sister in the end. Her unconditional surrender had brought happiness, a different kind of bliss.

  When it gains the quality of habit, submission can be addictive and can make a person content with her lot and turn her into someone who is willingly compliant. And it feels better with the passage of time. Qiaoqiao's absence from home, of course, played an important role, and the longer she stayed away, the simpler life became. Yuxiu assumed that Qiaoqiao would not be returning anytime soon, certainly not until the blowup over being sent down to a production unit in the countryside had died down. But even if she did come home, it wouldn't be long before she was off to work in the textile mill. So Yuxiu allowed herself to envision a hopeful future. She began to hum a song she'd heard in a movie and a few tunes from a local opera.

  Shortly after three in the afternoon, a knock at the gate interrupted her reveries. Most of the time the gate was left open, but Yumi had decided it wasn't a good idea for the people who worked in the government offices to see all that nice clothing—expensive woolens, fine silks, khakis, and an array of knitting yarns—displayed out in the open. So she'd closed the gate and bolted it. It's always best to get rich quietly.

  Since the clothes had belonged to Guo Jiaxing's first wife, Yumi had every right to own and wear them. Even if she chose not to wear all of them, she could send some back to Wang Family Village to be altered and handed out as new clothes for her sisters. They would be the beneficiaries of nice things to wear, and Yumi would gain considerable face. The sisters would enjoy the fruits of her magnanimity.

  Yuxiu went up to the gate and opened it. A young man she'd never seen before stood there; a faux leather briefcase with the word SHANGHAI stamped on it was sitting on the step beside him. He was good-looking and obviously cultured; his shirt, with a pen in the pocket, was tucked into his pants. To still be so neat and trim on such a hot day spoke of a rare vitality. Yuxiu and the young man stood on opposite sides of the gate sizing each other up for a long moment.

  "Big sister," Yuxiu called out, "Guo Zuo's home." By the time she'd reached down and picked up the briefcase, the young man was standing beneath the eaves next to Yumi, who stared at him, momentarily at a loss for words.

  "Aiya," she blurted out finally and stepped down into the yard, where she managed another "aiya."

  "You must be Yumi," he said with a smile. He looked to be roughly the same age as she was, which caused her embarrassment. But he treated the situation better than she had imagined he would. She waved her fan in front of him a couple of times. By then Yuxiu had walked up with a washbasin. Yumi dipped a towel in the water, wrung it out, and handed it to him. "You're sweaty. Here, wipe your face."

  Guo Zuo had called Yumi by her name, which she found pleasing. That eliminated the possibility of all sorts of awkwardness and introduced an instant rapport that would make it easier for them to get along. He appeared to be a couple of years older than she, and while their roles in the family were mother and son, they were actually of the same generation. Yumi liked what she saw; he had made a good first impression. There is certainly something to be said for sons, she told herself. Qiaoqiao was a strange, unpleasant girl who did not know what was good for her. This one was much better behaved.

  Once he'd wiped his sweaty face, Guo Zuo looked cool and fresh as he sat in his father's rattan chair, picked up his father's cigarettes, and lit one. He took a deep drag as Yumi told her sister to gather up all the clothes in the yard while she went into the kitchen to make a bowl of light soup with noodles. However one looked at it, Yumi was a mother, so she needed to act like one. By the time Yuxiu had steeped some tea for Guo Zuo, he was quietly reading a thick brick of a book. Yuxiu, who had been in a decent mood to begin with, was now feeling even better. So good, in fact, that the seductress abruptly resurfaced. It had been a long time, and she welcomed the return of her old self. She might not have been able to put these feelings into words, but there was no mistaking the sense of delight they brought.

  She wasn't singing now, but there were songs in her heart, and the arias from the local operas were accompanied by gongs and drums. Her spirits were on the rise, thanks to this happy turn of events. On each of her repeated trips in and out of the room, she cast a glance in Guo Zuo's direction, intentionally or not. It was an impulsive act that she couldn't resist.

  Guo Zuo noticed. He looked up at Yuxiu, who was standing just beyond the door under the blazing sun, wearing a straw hat with a wide brim on which a saying from Chairman Mao was printed: MUCH CAN BE ACCOMPLISHED IN THIS VAST WORLD. When their eyes met, Yuxiu smiled at him for no apparent reason. She was happy and exuberant, and this seemingly vacuous display was a genuine expression of the feelings that flowed from her heart. The sun, which had migrated to the western sky, lit up her teeth and made them sparkle.

  There have been so many changes, Guo Zuo thought. It no longer seems like my house. The place feels so full of life. When his mother died, Guo Zuo ought to have come home for the funeral and stayed for a while, using up his accumulated vacation days. But his father was busy delivering the body to the crematorium the day after she died, and when he returned home, he wrote a long letter to Guo Zuo, filled with serious philosophical issues. Guo placed great importance on expounding upon materialism and the dialectics of life and death. So Guo Zuo did not return home.

  But now he was back, not for a vacation, but to recuperate from a work-related injury. During a training exercise for an outpost team he had suffered a concussion and was sent home to recover.

  When Guo Jiaxing returned from the office, father and son greeted each other with simple nods of the head. Guo asked his son a question or two; Guo Zuo replied in the same perfunctory manner, and that was it—nothing more was said.

  What an intriguing family, Yuxiu said to herself. Blood relations who treat each other as comrades. Even their greetings are in the same hurried manner as if they were making revolution or promoting production. There can't be many fathers and sons like this.

  Guo Zuo stayed close to home, spending his waking hours walking or lying around or sitting in the living room with a book. An enigma like his father, Yuxiu thought. But it took only a few days for her to see that she was wrong. Unlike his father, Guo Zuo had a penchant for conversation and enjoyed a good laugh. On a day when both Guo Jiaxing and Yumi were at work, Guo Zuo sat in his father's chair with a book resting on his knees as he smoked a cigarette, the blue smoke curling into the surrounding silence then fanning out until only a tail was left, which flickered briefly and then disappeared. After a nap, Yuxiu walked into the living room to straighten things up and pour Guo Zuo a cup of tea. He appeared to have just gotten up from a nap himself; marks from the straw mat still creased his cheek like patchwork corduroy. That struck Yuxiu as funny, but she smothered her laugh in the crook of her arm when he looked up.

  "What's so funny?" he asked, puzzled.

  Yuxiu dropped her arm; the smile was gone, replaced by a look of innocence, as if it had been nothing at all. She coughed.

  "I haven't even asked you you
r name," Guo Zuo said, closing his book.

  Yuxiu blinked a couple of times and, with her dark eyes fixed on his face, raised her chin and said, "Guess."

  For the first time Guo Zuo noticed that her eyelids were as wide as leek leaves and deep—utterly bewitching with their double-folds.

  "That's a tough assignment," he said, looking stymied.

  "Well," Yuxiu said to help him, "my sister's name is Yumi, which means I have to be 'Yu' something. The 'mi' in her name means 'rice,' so you wouldn't expect me to be called 'da mi'—big rice—would you?

  Guo Zuo laughed and struck a thoughtful pose. "So, it's 'yu' what?"

  "Xiu," Yuxiu said, "as in 'youxiu,' you know, 'outstanding.'"

  Guo Zuo nodded and went back to his book. She had assumed he was in the mood to talk. But he wasn't.

  How can a book be that engrossing? Yuxiu wondered. She took a corner of the book between her thumb and forefinger, bent over, cocked her head, and read "Spar—ta—cus." She kept staring at it, knowing the Chinese characters, but having no idea what she was reading.

  "Is that a translation from English?" she asked.

  Guo Zuo smiled, but didn't respond.