“ ‘That is the auspicious day of your foot-binding. Eighth Day of the Tenth Moon, Year of the Ox.’
“I couldn’t wait, but finally the day arrived. Niang got up early and woke Nai Ma and me. This was highly unusual because normally she slept until lunchtime. Niang seemed happy and excited as she ordered Nai Ma to bring jugs of hot water. In her hands she held a basin in which were two rolls of bandages, a large towel, a pair of scissors, some needles and thread. She and Nai Ma bathed me and cut my toenails. Then they soaked my feet in the basin of water before massaging them.
“I could see that Nai Ma wasn’t sure what to do next without instructions from Niang. I couldn’t understand why she looked so nervous. Her hands were trembling and she avoided my eyes.
“I wanted to reassure Nai Ma that I was feeling marvellous. It was truly relaxing to have my toes rubbed and my feet massaged, especially by my Niang. The two of them went on for so long that I almost fell asleep.
“Then Niang pulled out a long, narrow bandage. She ordered Nai Ma to hold on to my right foot and not let go even if I should try to free myself.
“This made me laugh. I wanted to reassure them. ‘Don’t worry!’ I said. ‘I promise I won’t move. Why should I free myself? I want to have my feet bound. I want small, beautiful feet just like yours, Niang.’
“Neither of them said anything, but Nai Ma was now looking at me with an expression I’ve never seen before.
“Slowly and carefully, Niang wound the narrow piece of cloth round my four smaller toes, leaving my big toe bare. Next, she pulled the bandage tightly around my instep, heel and ankle. Then she looped the cloth back over my toes, wrapping it around my foot and ankle five times. My foot felt tight and hot, but it was not unbearable. Niang eyed the bandage in her hand as she paused.
“ ‘Is it all over?’ I asked hopefully. ‘I told you I wouldn’t move!’
“Neither of them answered. Nai Ma held my leg more firmly. Niang looked her in the eye.
“ ‘One. Two. Three. Now!’ Niang commanded in a firm voice. With both of Niang’s hands pushing my four smaller toes down towards the sole of my foot, Nai Ma began pulling the bandage as tightly as possible. The worst pain I had ever experienced shot from my toes throughout my entire body. I realized with sudden shock that Niang was trying to bend my toes under my sole, no matter what. Even if it meant breaking my bones.
“Despite my promise to be good, I screamed. Niang went on pushing. I felt a jolt of excruciating agony as my toes fractured under their combined assault. I heard them snap and I could not believe that anyone could do this. I kicked and struggled, but they went on relentlessly pulling the bandages tighter and tighter. It hurt so much that I wet myself and vomited. I simply couldn’t help myself. Darts of pain shot up my leg into my chest. Surely death could not be worse than this.
“At that moment I saw with absolute clarity that the cause of Niang’s long-standing illness was connected somehow to her small, bound feet. She must have gone through the same torture she was inflicting on me at this moment. She knew what it was like, and she didn’t protect me. If the result of enduring all this was to lie in bed like her for the rest of my life, I wanted no part of it. No matter how beautiful it made me!
“I bit my lower lip until it bled and made up my mind to fight. I punched and scratched and kicked at Niang with my left foot as hard as I could. I pulled Nai Ma’s hair as she bent down to speak to me.
“ ‘Stop it!’ I screamed. ‘I don’t want my feet bound! You’re hurting me!’
“ ‘I’m sorry,’ Nai Ma said. ‘Your Niang is doing this for your future.’ As she spoke, she loosened her hold on my leg just for a second and I wriggled free.
“I sprang from the bed, pushed Niang to the floor and scrambled frantically out of my room. I ran, regardless of the pain, with the bandage trailing behind me like a twisting, twirling snake. Down the hall, through the threshold of the main doorway and into the courtyard where there were people … lots of people … and safety … and freedom.
“Baba was standing by his sedan chair, talking to the bearers and Gege about a broken shoulder-pole. On the far side, two gardeners were emptying buckets of water into spraying cans. How could everything be so normal when I was being tortured?
“ ‘Save me! Baba! Save my life! She’s trying to kill me!’ I hollered at the top of my lungs. Tears streamed down my face as I threw myself into Baba’s arms.
“Everyone stopped to stare at me.
“ ‘Who is trying to kill you?’ Baba asked
“ ‘Niang!’
“ ‘Don’t be ridiculous! She’s your mother.’
“ ‘No! She’s not my mother. She’s my stepmother! Look what she’s done!’
“I ripped off my bandage and raised my foot to show him. My foot began to swell before our very eyes. It changed color from white to yellow to red to purple. My toes were hanging at a grotesque angle, all the bones having been cracked and broken. The only toe that appeared normal was my big toe, pointing straight out and reminding me of how my foot used to look a short while ago.
“Baba was horrified! Everyone rushed over to look. A murmur went through the crowd. I heard someone say, ‘How could she have run when four of her toes are fractured like this?’
“Gege knelt beside me and took my throbbing foot in his hands. I knew he felt bad for me because I saw tears in his eyes. Gently, he stroked my little toe and tried to straighten it. The pain was so excruciating that I screamed again.”
“My relationship with Niang never recovered after this. Nor did the toes in my foot. The fractures healed, but my toes remained crooked, summoning up my ordeal each time I put on my shoes. A few months later, Baba spoke to me vaguely about hiring a professional foot-binder to bind my feet. I told him I would stop eating and drinking if he forced me to submit to this torture again. The whole matter of my foot-binding became a contest of wills between the three of us. Eventually, Baba must have sided with me, because my feet remained unbound. But Niang never forgave me, and from that time on she deliberately made my life as difficult as possible—but only if we were alone. When my father was around, she was as sweet as honey, but the memory of what happened on that ‘auspicious’ day lingered on between us like a stinky fart.
“I tried to talk to Nai Ma, but she refused to discuss it. For once, she was unsympathetic and stubborn. Since there was nobody to talk to, I described the incident to myself in my notebook. I felt much better afterwards. From then on, I began writing whenever I had a spare moment.
“So now you know everything. Niang broke my toes, but I got away. That’s why I have big, ugly feet,” I said defiantly.
“Your feet are not ugly,” said Ah Zhao, looking into my eyes. “They’re beautiful, just like the rest of you. Is it permissible for a servant to tell his master’s daughter that she’s beautiful?”
A pang goes through me when I hear him, and I start to tremble. “Don’t say such things!”
“You’re right! I should not have said that to you … but, surely, even a servant has eyes? Seeing is knowledge. What we see remains with us. One day, I’ll paint the images I’m carrying in my mind. That way, even though I have no home, I’ll create one wherever I go.”
I think of our “playroom” and know in my heart that neither Gege nor I could have built it without him. What he says is true. He’ll be able to effect his sanctuary wherever he goes; establish an oasis where things come together; install a tranquil retreat at will. But we, the ones left behind, will be lost without him.…
At that moment, a curious, pounding noise suddenly starts up as if from nowhere. Muted, rhythmic and insistent, the ominous beat grows louder and louder: Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom! Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom!
“What’s that?” I ask in alarm.
“Remember the Bell and Drum Tower in the guardhouse above the city gates? They’re beating the drums to warn us that the gates are about to close for the evening.”
“Sundown already?”
“I’m afra
id so. Time to go.”
We make our way back to the plateau above the riverbank and gaze at the peaceful city of Bian Liang spread out below. Around the entire length of the shore, as far as the eye can see, mile after mile of cultivated fields, hamlets, orchards, markets, roads, bridges, canals and boats are laid out like toys in a playland, under the setting sun. The expanse of blue river, flowing from west to east, seems almost endless. A line of red stretches like a gentle brushstroke across the darkening sky.
Ah Zhao and I wave to Gege. He leaves his cu ju friends and runs toward us, the personification of life and hope. My heart vibrates with the magic of youth and I’m suddenly infused with a wonderful feeling that everything is possible. On an impulse, I turn to Ah Zhao and say, “Today is the happiest day of my life. I’m going to write it in my notebook and remember it forever.”
Prime Minister’s Son
After the Qing Ming Festival, everything seems to change. With the help of Baba’s influential friends, Gege is admitted to the prestigious National University of Bian Liang. He spends his time attending classes, studying for the Imperial Examination and advancing his career.
At the university, he makes a new friend. Cai You is eight years older than Gege and gifted in music. He teaches Gege to sing, compose songs and play the qin, a zither consisting of a wood frame and seven strings of twisted silk. Gege asks me for help in writing the lyrics. I do so gladly because a song is really a poem set to music, and I love writing poetry. I’m thrilled to hear my words being sung loudly, by my brother, for everyone to hear.
Gege shows Cai You my lyrics and he’s delighted. Cai’s father, the newly appointed Prime Minister Cai Jing , persuades Emperor Huizong to create a special Da Cheng Yue Fu (Bureau of Music of Great Brilliance). It includes a Wan Qin Lo (Pavilion of Ten Thousand Zithers) and is staffed by one Da Si Yue (Musician-in-Chief), two Dian Yue (Music Managers), one Da Yue Ling (Music Officer), four Xie Lu Lang (Composers) and two hundred performers and dancers.
Huizong announces that Confucius and He both believe that Ya Yue (Proper Music) is beneficial and nurturing, whereas Yin Yue (Improper and Licentious Music) is corrupting and destructive. When asked the definition of Proper Music, His Majesty replies that Ya Yue consists of two kinds of music written and produced at the Bureau of Music of Great Brilliance: heavy and solemn music, or light and entertaining music. The former is to be performed at sacrificial rites and other official Confucian ceremonies, whereas the latter may be played during dinner parties, banquets and other informal gatherings.
Some time later, Huizong receives an unexpected fan letter from a distant land. Apparently, Emperor Yejong of the Korean Court of Goryeo has heard of the Chinese Emperor’s growing reputation as a patron of the arts. After expressing his admiration, the Korean Emperor begs Huizong for guidance in the purchase of musical instruments from China. Filled with pride and gratification, Huizong immediately orders dozens of zithers, horns, flutes, cymbals, chimes and bells to be sent to Yejong as a goodwill gesture. Not long afterward, Huizong follows with an even larger gift of four hundred and twenty-eight musical instruments.
Since Gege is increasingly preoccupied with his studies and classmates from the university, Ah Zhao and I are left more and more to our own devices. We talk for hours about nothing and everything—painting, sculptures, rocks, ghosts, history, family intrigue, court gossip or Ah Wang’s bossiness. But mostly we talk about the meaning of art.
Ah Zhao believes that the goal of a great artist is to strive for artistic Truth, not just to make things look realistic. He thinks loving art will improve a person’s quality of life—any person’s life.
“An artist,” he says, “is in touch with Heaven. In fact, he’s an instrument of Heaven. Look at the trees, flowers, shrubs and rocks around us. How orderly Nature is! I feel that the source of our sense of beauty comes from Nature. A true artist is engaged in a spiritual quest. He’s searching for his private Heaven.”
One afternoon, Gege returns home from classes earlier than usual and comes into the playroom carrying a thick roll of silk. He plonks it down on the table and says to Ah Zhao, “There you are!”
“That’s a long piece of silk!” I exclaim.
“Just over one and a half zhang long.”
“It looks narrow,” Ah Zhao says. “What’s its width?”
“You told me to get as long and narrow a piece of silk as possible for our painting. This is only seven and a half cun wide.”
“Length and width are perfect!” Ah Zhao replies. “The color is great too. Not too yellow. Not too white. Somewhere in between.”
“What are you going to do with it?” I ask, full of curiosity.
“Remember the day the three of us were together on the bank of the river at Qing Ming?” Gege says. “Ah Zhao promised to help me paint the view of the capital from the Longevity Gardens.”
“It’s going to be a magnificent picture!” Ah Zhao’s eyes are shining. “Unlike any painting before. I have a vision of the Bian River meandering down the entire length of this long, narrow scroll. We’ll sketch the boats and bridges on the water …”
“Will you include the Hong Qiao (Rainbow Bridge) with everyone watching the boat that almost capsized?” I ask.
“Of course we will! We’ll also put in the farms, country roads, trees, people, animals and buildings along the shore. Exactly the way it was that day,” says Gege.
“In the market I saw shops selling wine, grain, vegetables, cookware, lanterns, musical instruments, jewellery and all sorts of other goods. Don’t forget to draw all the different people milling around: the farmhands, camel-drivers, goatherds, pig-farmers, as well as city folk such as peddlers, jugglers, beggars, monks, carpenters, scribes and fortune-tellers.” I feel more and more excited at the idea of the picture.
“The main thing is to capture everything the way it was that day. How everyone dressed and walked must be faithfully portrayed. We’ll draw the people, animals, buildings and boats accurately and represent every image in the correct proportion,” Ah Zhao proclaims.
“What about the wheelbarrows, sedan chairs and carriages?” Gege asks.
“Put them all in!” Ah Zhao answers grandly.
“Won’t the painting take months, if not years, to finish?”
“Probably, but so what? A great work of art is worth any amount of effort and time. Done properly, this painting may even live on after we’re all dead and gone.” He looks at Gege’s expression and reassures him, “No worries, my friend. I’ll help you finish it if it’s the last thing I do … I promise!”
“Let’s start now!” Gege cries.
“There’s no better time than now,” Ah Zhao agrees.
“How do we begin?”
“I’ve got it all planned out. I have a stack of paper here. Each sheet is ten cun long and ten cun wide. And here’s a pair of scissors. Let’s begin by cutting the papers down to the same width as our roll of silk. Seven and a half cun. Now we unroll the silk and find out how many pieces of paper we need to represent the entire painting. Will you help us, Little Sister?”
We unroll the silk scroll, place the paper on top and count the number of sheets that cover its length. The answer is sixteen. Or, to be exact, fifteen and four-fifths, just shy of sixteen.
Ah Zhao rolls up the scroll and puts it away in his big wooden storage box by the wall. The boys begin to work in earnest. After various rough drafts on numerous sheets of paper, they decide to make the arched bridge the central focus of their picture. Next, they sketch the river meandering down the entire length from right to left.
“Think back on that day,” Ah Zhao urges. “What did we first see when we came out of our gate?”
“A rural scene of crop fields, tall trees, narrow muddy lanes with donkeys, camels and oxcarts plodding along, and peasants plowing their farms with the help of water buffaloes,” Gege answers.
“Very good,” Ah Zhao says. “Let’s depict the first part of our journey on this sheet of paper and labe
l it ‘One.’ Remember, everything in proportion! Meanwhile, Little Sister, you can help us by writing down in your notebook everything you saw that day. Start from the moment we passed through our gate at home, and continue on as we approached the city.…”
We are so absorbed in our tasks that we don’t hear Nai Ma coming into the playroom until she’s standing immediately inside the door and calling loudly: “Little Sister! Your niang is looking for you! She wants to see you in her room right now.”
Reluctantly, I put away my ink brush and notebook. Nai Ma is clearly anxious, and she whispers that Niang is in a very bad mood.
I must have done something wrong, but for once I can’t think what it might be. The boys wish me luck.
I tidy myself hastily before knocking on Niang’s door.
“Good evening, Niang.”
Niang’s eyes wander over me with open disdain, and I know she doesn’t like what she sees.
“How unkempt you look!” she begins. “I think you’re getting uglier and uglier as you grow older and taller.”
Her unkind remarks make me wince. I try to answer, but I suspect a trap—one wrong answer and she’ll strike. So I say nothing.
“Where were you just now?”
“I was in the playroom, helping Gege with his painting.”
She sits down, and I can’t help noticing that the turquoise silk of her robe goes perfectly with the pink cushions on her chair. Nothing is allowed to clash in Niang’s rooms. The only thing out of place is me.
“Was Ah Zhao there also?”
“Yes.”
“Did your father tell you we’re on the verge of signing a marriage contract for you?”
I’m shocked and don’t know what to say. Surely Baba would have told me if there was anyone seriously asking to marry me?
“No, Niang,” I reply.
“He probably doesn’t want to bring bad luck and ruin it by mentioning it to you—it has taken long enough to get to this point,” Niang says. “This is what I want to speak to you about. You’re growing up. While marriage negotiations are under way, you’re not to spend too much time in servants’ quarters or talking to them in a familiar way.”
Along the River: A Chinese Cinderella Novel Page 8