Bi Feiyu - Three Sisters

But Yumi wound up going over to her house anyway. You can’t have children, she said to herself, and that is your weakness. I’ll hit you where it hurts. So, with little Hongbing in her arms, Yumi strolled casually up to Fenxiang’s door, followed by a crowd of women, some with motives, others merely curious. There was tension in the air mixed with excitement. Rather than shut the door and cower inside when she saw Yumi coming, Youqing’s wife strode out confidently. She did not have to try to look calm—she was truly unruffled. The first thing she did was come up and begin talking to some of her visitors. Yumi avoided looking at her, and Fenxiang returned the favor—not even sneaking a glance at the girl. In fact, the first stolen glance came from Yumi. Before Yumi had a chance to say a word, Youqing’s wife was already talking to the other women about Hongbing—mainly about his appearance. She was saying that he had his mother’s mouth and would be better looking if he had his father’s.

It was a provocative move, heaping excessive praise on Wang Lianfang’s mouth. “But he’ll get better looking as he grows up,” she continued. “Boys always take after their mothers when they’re small. Then, after they start to fill out and head toward manhood, they more and more closely resemble their fathers.”

Fenxiang kept talking. “And Hongbing’s ears stick out a little too much.” Yumi did not want to hear any more of that. Actually, if anything, Youqing’s wife’s ears protruded more than the boy’s did, so Yumi turned and said rudely: “Why don’t you go take a look in the mirror.”

It was a comment that would have put another woman to shame, producing an embarrassed look worse than tears. Youqing’s wife acted as if she hadn’t heard. The minute the words were out of her mouth, Yumi knew she’d fallen into the woman’s trap by speaking first.

Youqing’s wife kept talking to the other women and not looking Yumi’s way. “Yumi is such a pretty girl,” she was saying. “Too bad she has such a sharp tongue.”

She hadn’t said that Yumi was a “pretty little thing” or a “pretty youngster.” No, she’d used the slightly more refined “pretty girl,” as if Yumi were a virtual phoenix that had flown out of a chicken coop. She then changed the direction of the conversation by speaking up for Yumi. “If I were Yumi, I’d be the same way.” In the face of such a sincere comment Yumi could say nothing. She already felt like an unmannered shrew. By calling Yumi pretty, Fenxiang settled the matter. Youqing’s wife and one of the other women then turned to an appraisal of Yumi’s sister, Yuxiu, ending with a comment by Youqing’s wife: “Yumi is the graceful sister. Her looks grow on you.” That gave the discussion a note of finality.

Yumi knew that the woman was playing up to her, though Fenxiang’s expression didn’t show it. Not once did she look at Yumi as she spoke, which gave the impression that she was voicing her true feelings. This actually pleased Yumi, but the woman’s tone of voice angered her. She spoke as if she and she alone were the voice of authority, that whatever she said was true and therefore not open to discussion. How could something like that not make Yumi angry? Who did she think she was? She was a rotten plaything, and that was all. With a grunt of disapproval, Yumi asked sarcastically, “Pretty?” She attacked the word with ferocity, investing it with a richness of possibilities yet turning it into a dirty word at the same time and all but exterminating it.

That done, she turned and walked off, leaving a clutch of frustrated women in her wake. This first duel with Youqing’s wife had ended inconclusively with neither emerging as the victor. But, Yumi thought, Time is on my side. You came to the village as a bride, so I’ve got your number. Your pinkie is stuck in the Wang Family Village door, and that is where it’ll stay.

Peng Guoliang had originally planned to return to his ancestral home during the busy summer months. But his grandfather could not wait that long—he stopped breathing shortly after the arrival of spring. As they say, “The road down to Yellow Springs waits for no one.” After receiving a telegram, Peng returned to his village earlier than he’d anticipated. But after he had returned to Peng Family Village, Yumi heard nothing from him. Then, four days after the body had been placed in the coffin and the first seven-day rites were completed, Peng Guoliang removed his mourning garments and sent word that he was coming to meet Yumi. The news threw her into a panic, but it wasn’t Peng’s fault that the visit was unplanned. The problem was, Yumi did not have anything decent to wear. With few choices, she settled on her New Year’s dress. But she’d worn that over a padded jacket, and when she tried it on without the jacket, the dress was much too big and made her look ludicrous and ugly. There was no time to make a new one, for that would require a trip into town to buy fabric. Disconsolate, she was on the verge of tears, but her happiness over the impending visit prevented the tears from flowing—and that depressed her even more.

Yumi was caught off guard when Youqing’s wife stopped her on the street, as if there were no bad blood between them, as if they were meeting for the first time in days and happy to do so.

“You must hate me, Yumi,” she blurted out before Yumi could say a word.

Never expecting the woman to bring it up like that, Yumi was speechless.

What a shameless woman, Yumi said to herself. No one but Fenxiang would say something like that even if they wore their pants over their face to cover their embarrassment.

“How can you dress like that when your aviator is on his way to meet you?” Youqing’s wife asked.

Yumi stared at her, paused, and then said, “I’ll never have to worry about getting married if men find someone like you attractive.” This thoroughly shocked Youqing’s wife. It was such a vicious slap in the face that even Yumi felt she might have gone too far. But how else could she even the score with so shameless a woman?

Youqing’s wife took a cloth bundle out from under her arm and handed it to Yumi. She had, no doubt, prepared a little speech to go with the gift, but Yumi’s comment had so unsettled her she momentarily forgot what she was going to say and she silently thrust the package into Yumi’s hands.

“I wore this when I was with the propaganda troupe,” she said at last. “I don’t have any more use for it.”

This was the last thing Yumi had expected, and it seemed somehow improper. But whatever the woman’s motive, Yumi could not and would not accept the gift. She handed it back unopened. “A woman can be proud, Yumi,” Youqing’s wife said, “but not arrogant. The only opportunity for even the most talented woman lies in marriage. This is yours, so don’t let the opportunity slip through your fingers. You don’t want to wind up like me.”

The reference to marriage as her only opportunity had the desired effect on Yumi. This time Youqing’s wife pressed the bundle into Yumi’s arms and walked off. But she’d only taken four or five steps when she turned and, with tears glistening in her eyes and looking quite heartbroken, smiled sadly. “Don’t wind up like me,” she repeated. This comment surprised Yumi. Suddenly the woman no longer seemed so overbearing. Who’d have thought that she could have such a low opinion of herself? Yumi found it hard to believe that the woman could feel such bitterness, and she nearly softened her attitude toward Fenxiang. The simple act of the woman’s turning back had brought Yumi pain. She had to consider the encounter as a victory, but in a way it was a lackluster one, though she could not have said why. As Yumi stood in the street looking at the bundle in her hands, Youqing’s wife’s words swirled in her head.