by Celeste Lim
“I wonder who the tutelary spirit of this place is,” I asked, but directed the question at no one in particular so Aunt Mei could ignore me if she chose to. To my surprise, our driver spoke.
“Young lady, Xiawan worships one of the most powerful and menacing jing in the region—the White Lady Baigu.”
A baigu jing. I’d heard of those. Baba said they were also known as jing of white bones, risen from…“So that means she’s one of those jing that rose from human bones?”
The driver nodded. “Though nobody I know has ever seen the guardian in the flesh, excuse the pun.” He laughed at his own joke before continuing. “You’d do well not to speak ill of her. No one knows what she’s capable of, but none of us are eager to find out, either.”
As we went farther into the city, the streets grew narrower. Here, smaller shops and private homes lined the sides in neat rows, and down one of these roads, our cart stopped in front of a shop that sold fabrics. Then Aunt Mei grabbed the sides of my shoulders and shook them.
“Now, you be on your best behavior. Don’t speak unless spoken to.” She was clearly unhappy with my behavior on the carriage. Although uncertain why this was necessary for a mere visit to the dressmaker, I lowered my gaze and nodded.
I stepped into the shop and thought we had been swallowed by a rainbow. The walls of the shop were lined with rolls upon rolls of beautiful fabric of every shade, texture, and material. Some had multiple tones of colors, others had intricate brocades or smooth surfaces with sleek sheens; some were gauzy and translucent, and some even had beads that sparkled like stars sewn onto them. I sighed. How lovely it would be to have a dress made from any of these fabrics.
Aunt Mei greeted the old shopkeeper and was led toward the back of the shop, disappearing behind a veil of bead curtains.
I inhaled deeply. The smell of freshly dyed and pressed fabric was unfamiliar—rich, and a little sour. I ran my fingers over the surface of a piece of white silk. It felt so soft under my skin that it could’ve been woven from fluffy clouds. Dared I ask Aunt Mei if I could have this cloth for my new hanfu? I loved white, for it reminded me of beautiful things like snow and fields of cotton, but Grandmama always said no because black and white were colors for the dead.
I was just admiring the intricate beadwork on the next roll of fabric, when someone called my name. I whirled around and stood at attention, facing Aunt Mei as she reappeared from behind the curtains with another woman by her side. Casting a warning glance in my direction, Aunt Mei turned to the woman and spoke in the nicest tone I had ever heard from her.
“Mrs. Guo, may I present to you my niece, Li Jing.”
“Nin hao, Mrs. Guo.” I did a traditional curtsy, then kept my head bowed and eyes averted, for it was considered rude for children to lift their heads and look into the eyes of respectable adults.
Then I heard footsteps, and very soon, a pair of red shoes embroidered with golden threads appeared in my line of vision. My chin was lifted up, and when I beheld what stood in front of me, I almost had to bite my tongue to keep from gasping.
Mrs. Guo had a face practically caked in makeup—pearly white skin that had been powdered down to the neck, upward-slanting eyes enlarged in a ring of black, penciled on with an ash stick, thin lips drawn and colored in bright red, and—one could not help noticing most of all from my angle—a double chin, and hairy nostrils that flared every time she spoke.
Mrs. Guo turned my face this way and that, her small eyes lingering on the red mole between my eyebrows. I had an incredible urge to fidget. Why in all of China was this dressmaker lady looking so closely at me? My face didn’t have anything to do with a new hanfu, did it? She had this look that made me feel like if my face was served to her on a platter she would lap it all up.
When, finally, she straightened up to her full height, the numerous hair ornaments wedged in her elaborate faji tinkled sharply. Swathed in the multiple layers of her flowing hanfu, which was different shades of pink, Mrs. Guo looked like an empress. Or a fat, overripe peach.
“Hmm, rather scrawny, I’d say,” the empressy peach concluded in a baritone almost too deep for a woman. “But quite a pretty thing, especially with that mole on her forehead. It’s a mark of beauty and prosperity.” She spoke as though she were commenting on the condition of livestock.
Prosperity, indeed. Although Baba had always said that the little mole made me look pretty, I wasn’t so sure about it being a bringer of prosperity, for if it was, certainly it would’ve done something for our family before now.
Then Aunt Mei spoke. “Yes, and it signifies intelligence as well.” She sounded suspiciously like an eager saleslady. “Jing has always been a smart girl, very quick to learn.”
Mrs. Guo waved one of her hands dismissively. “I have little use for her intelligence. We’re not producing scholars,” she sneered. “Bring the scales.”
Well then! I might not have liked what Mrs. We’re-Not-Producing-Scholars said, but I knew where that came from, because there was this silly Chinese proverb that said, “Blessed is the woman who is talentless and uneducated.” But really, it didn’t matter how true the saying might be, because I always felt proud whenever Baba told me how smart I was.
The old shopkeeper brought in a large weighing scale, and the grown-ups steered me through one procedure after another that seemed to have little or nothing to do with dressmaking. Aunt Mei produced samples of my needlework and answered numerous questions about me, ranging from family background to temperament and even household abilities. I chewed on the insides of my cheek. This wasn’t a measurement session; this was an interview of some sort.
“Good, and her lunar birth date, if you please. We’ll see if they are compatible,” said Mrs. Guo.
Compatible? Who was the other person being referred to here?
While both women pored over a thick fortune-telling almanac, Aunt Mei ordered me to sit in a corner, where I was free to fidget with my sash all I wanted. I craned my neck and saw the women lifting their heads. Then Mrs. Guo uttered one word along with a series of tinkles from her faji.
“Five.”
And one of the brightest smiles I had ever seen on Aunt Mei’s face appeared as she nodded. It sounded as though a deal had been struck, and at the same time, my innards shuddered, as though someone had also struck a gong inside my stomach.
I stared at my father in disbelief. “Why? Why, Baba? Why are you sending me away? What have I done wrong?”
I had not uttered a single word on the way back from Xiawan. I wanted to save all my questions for Baba. I didn’t dare to believe what I thought might be coming, and I did not trust Aunt Mei. I only wanted to know one thing: Did my baba know about this?
He did.
I was to be wed in a week.
In a week, I’d be going away. I’d have a new family. Begin a new life. Elsewhere.
The woman we’d met today was indeed a dressmaker, but she was also my prospective mother-in-law. And what had taken place in Xiawan was, in fact, a bridal inspection. And I had passed, with flying colors, Aunt Mei said, fetching a bride price of five silver pieces. For once in her life, she sounded proud of me.
Oh, why didn’t I misbehave at the shop? Why do you have to be so hopelessly obedient all the time, Jing? Really, you’d throw yourself under the wheel of a horse cart if a grown-up told you to. But what was the use of lamenting at this point?
I couldn’t even bear to look at her—the woman who had sold me. My own aunt. But what hurt so much more was the look of sorrow and defeat on Baba’s face as he tried to explain his part in this awful affair.
“It’s not like that, Jing…” Baba scratched his chin vigorously as he cast a desperate glance in Grandmama’s direction.
My fate lay in the hands of the senior women in the family, because men were not supposed to concern themselves with petty household affairs. I knew Baba wouldn’t, and couldn’t, save me. But I was still disappointed, not just at Baba. At everyone.
“Jing,” G
randmama began in her raspy voice. “I’m sure you’ll be happy there. The Guo family is respectable and wealthy. They will feed and clothe you well.”
As though I cared! I burst into loud, cracking sobs. “I don’t care if they’re rich or if they’ll feed me well! I don’t care if they treat me like a princess! I don’t want to marry someone I’ve never seen and live with people I never knew!”
At the sudden sharp pain on my left cheek, I realized my aunt had slapped me across the face.
“How dare you speak to your grandmama in that manner?” Aunt Mei shrieked, pointing a quivering finger at me as though she could not believe her niece’s impudence. “No family would ever tolerate such disrespect from a daughter-in-law!” she yelled, and with every word, spit spewed from her mouth onto my face.
This was real. This nightmare. Would I ever wake up from this?
Wei ran over and threw his arms around my neck. “Aunt M-Mei…p-please…don’t send Jie away.”
“You hold your tongue when a grown-up is talking, boy!” Aunt Mei tried to shove Wei aside, but he did not budge. She continued yelling at us.
“We didn’t bring you up to be such an ungrateful and dishonorable child! What is wrong with living with the Guo family? They are nice and generous people! They offered five silver pieces for you!” Suddenly, she reached out and yanked on my left ear. I whimpered as she twisted it at a horrible angle. “Five! Enough to buy two strong bulls! Do you understand how much that is? Surely this is the least you can do for your baba and our family for raising you all these years?”
When she finally released me, I recoiled on the floor, Wei sobbing in my arms. Pan, too, was bawling from his cradle. I swallowed my own sobs in case we agitated her more. And then, finally, Baba stepped in and put a hand on Aunt Mei’s shoulder. “Jie, that’s enough. I think she understands…”
But Aunt Mei whirled around, brushing his hand off her. “No, she doesn’t! Look at her!” she snapped, jabbing at my forehead. “Tao, you’ve spoiled this girl, and now look at the trouble she’s giving us over such a simple matter! Why, did you see me making such a fuss over my wedding?”
“That’s because you were married to someone you knew. Jie, try to understand, Jing is just afraid—”
“What is there to be afraid of? It’s something every girl goes through!” Aunt Mei screeched. “If you’re so against this whole affair, then maybe we should just forget about the wedding and the five silver pieces!”
Silence.
Say yes. Say it, Baba. Save me. Please, tell her I can stay, that your daughter is worth more than five miserable pieces of silver! Worth more than two stupid bulls. Mama would’ve said the same.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Baba, no! How could you!” Wei began to wail.
A peculiar kind of humming began in my ears. Did Baba really say that? My chest felt like it was splitting open and bleeding all over the floor.
Didn’t Baba love me anymore? Didn’t I belong here? If Mama had still been alive, she wouldn’t have stood for this to happen. She would’ve gathered me into her arms and told Aunt Sadist to stick her nose into business where it belonged.
But Mama wasn’t here. Not anymore. And Aunt Mei was in charge of my life and my future. And somehow, all the grown-ups were agreeing with her.
She straightened up like a cobra about to strike, and spoke to Baba. “Well, if that’s not your intention, then you’ll excuse me if I take things into my own hands.” She turned and grabbed my upper arm, lifting it so high that it hurt, then tore Wei away from me and shoved me backward into the bedroom. “In here is where you will stay until you’ve managed to see reason!”
I landed heavily on the earthen ground. The door slammed shut and the bolt slid from the outside. “No one is to let her out until I say so. Is that clear?”
Baba spoke again, and I couldn’t help holding my breath. “Jie, perhaps this could still wait a year or two. I don’t think Jing is ready…”
But Aunt Mei cut him off again. “Tao! Do not be foolish! The Guo family is wealthy. We are lucky they’re even considering a farmer’s daughter for an in-law! Such good fortune will not come easily a second time, if at all.”
Then even Grandmama spoke. “Jing will be ready when we say she is, not when she feels she is,” she sighed. “Li Tao, my son, I’m not trying to send her away. But when there’s a chance for Jing to enter a good family, we must take it. Besides, eleven is as good an age to marry as twelve or thirteen. Why, I myself was married to your father when I was barely twelve!”
I wasn’t sure how much breaking my heart could take, but it couldn’t be a lot more. Baba went silent. He stopped fighting for me. Why wouldn’t he fight harder to save me?
“Do not worry, Tao,” Grandmama continued. “We still have a week. I believe she’ll come around by then.”
“Never!” I screamed my loudest and highest. I screamed till my voice cracked. I had never raised my voice at grown-ups before, but I did it again. “Never!” Yes, I would never change my mind. Not if the sun rose from the west. Not if fire fell from the sky. Not even if my own mother came back from the dead!
I huddled in a corner, crying into my sleeves. I couldn’t think, and over and over in my mind, the same questions kept repeating themselves like mantras: Was this really happening? Was Baba really giving me up? Couldn’t all this be just a bad, horrible nightmare?
I stayed up the entire night, listening to little Zhuzhu’s restless wails in the next room. Wails that told me he hadn’t been tucked in properly.
The following days, I wasn’t allowed to leave the room at all. Not even for the bathroom—Aunt Mei gave me Pan’s urine pot. When I finally came to accept that no amount of screaming, crying, or begging was going to do the slightest good, I stopped speaking, ate very little, and slept even less.
No one was allowed in except Grandmama, who brought my meals twice a day and would sit on my bed, teaching me the ways of a proper daughter-in-law.
Leave me alone.
“Believe me, Jing, I promise you will be happy there.”
I jumped when a hand touched my head and cowered further against the wall. Even its coldness felt better than the warmth of Grandmama’s hand. I continued pulling at a loose straw in the bed mat.
“You are pretty and smart, and if you are good, I’m certain your in-laws will love you as much as we do.”
I pulled at a second straw, twisting it around my finger like how a snake circled around its prey. The straw came off with a yank.
“Love is not something the poor can afford to indulge in, Jing. This is what people of our upbringing deserve. Sometimes, we are not meant to marry for love.”
I looked away when she began to stroke my hair. Stop trying to touch me.
“Forgive me, child. When you grow older, you will understand why Grandmama chose this path for you.”
I pulled at two pieces of straw at once. The twines cut into my fingers. Grandmama got up, leaving a bowl of congee beside me.
“You need to eat more.”
The door closed and the bolt outside slid home.
My fingers stopped. I had made a hole in the mat.
It was on the final night that a voice came to me in one of my restless dreams. It was female, achingly familiar, and spoke in a tone that reminded me of the first gentle breeze of spring.
“Jing, dear one,” it said. “Your desperation has called upon me.”
Who was this? I tried to look but couldn’t see past the shroud around me.
“Take heart, dearest.” The voice rippled like the sound of a running stream. “And follow the path set before you. It is not an easy one, but walk it with courage, faith, and strength. Persevere, for better times will come.”
When I opened my eyes, I sat up and glanced around the empty, windowless room. The voice had been so real, but whatever it was, this was all it could do for me.
I touched my tear-soaked rug, stained from another night of crying.
Sil
ly Huli Jing, your situation is not going to change just because you lie here feeling sorry for yourself. You have to be strong. Because no one else is going to do it for you.
That was the hard, cold truth.
On the day of the wedding, I got up before the rooster even crowed so I could pay my final respects to Mama as a daughter. My eyes blurred as I reached out to feel the surface of Mama’s tablet, running my fingertips over the natural bumps of the bamboo.
I guess…this is goodbye, Mama.
Aunt Mei came out from her room, gave an impatient click, and slapped my hand away. “Stop wasting time and head up to the shrine. We’ve got a lot to do before the bridal procession arrives,” she said before heading out of the hut.
I glared after her. If this was the last time I could do this for Mama, I would take as long as I pleased. I sucked in the mucus in my nose and wiped away my tears. I offered incense, then moved back and touched my forehead to the ground. Once, twice, thrice.
May what I do always bring you honor, Mama. Farewell.
I looked up and saw Wei.
“Jie…” He dashed into my arms. I kissed his forehead, feeling his wispy hair tickle my lips. I hadn’t seen him in a week. I hugged back so hard that it was difficult to make out his next words.
“You could run away, you know. And come back when they’ve changed their minds. I will help you!”
Run away? That was unthinkable! I broke our embrace and gazed at him, and Wei revealed the little bag he’d been holding. “See? I raided the kitchen. There’s food, clothes, and…money!”
I gasped and snatched up the copper pieces. “Where did you get these?”
“I stole them from Baba and Aunt Mei.”
Wei…what have you done? I pulled him fiercely into my arms. “You are so stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!” I sobbed. “Do you know how hard they’re going to beat you for this?” That was a silly question. Of course he knew.