Bi Feiyu - Three Sisters

Daughter and stepmother spent most of every day together in the same rooms, and Qiaoqiao would not speak to her, as if a single sentence would split her lips. She just glared at Yumi as if she were a mortal enemy, refusing to give her a chance, unless, that is, Yumi liked the idea of being cursed. Qiaoqiao’s mouth was typical for a girl born to a mother who did not have the chance to bring her up right. There was nothing she wouldn’t say. Where had she picked up these things? You had to hand it to her. Yumi sometimes felt that her devotion to her “daughter” fared less well than feeding a broom—at least a broom acknowledges the effort with a bit of noise. Yumi could only sigh. She did fine as a second wife, but was a failure as a stepmother.

For some reason, Qiaoqiao and Yumi were natural enemies, like a mouse and a cat or a weasel and a dog.

Yuxiu could not have been happier. She derived considerable, if inexplicable, satisfaction from seeing anyone go after Yumi. Yuxiu’s heart flowered despite her attempts to suppress it, and that always led to smiles of pleasure. In Yumi’s presence she maintained a humble, modest attitude, but it was all an act. What she felt inside was a sense of liberation like that of an emancipated peasant. If Qiaoqiao called to her, instead of answering right away, she would cast a glance at Yumi before walking somewhat reluctantly, almost furtively, up to Guo’s daughter as if she were afraid of offending Yumi. In reality, she was putting her sister on notice, confusing her by digging a hole so deep that Yumi could not see the bottom and would forever be kept in the dark. In this way, Yuxiu created a mysterious relationship with Qiaoqiao, a cleverly concealed alliance in which they worked together with one mind. If Yumi asked about something, Yuxiu would feign ignorance and pretend to rack her brains. “That can’t be,” she’d say. Or “Don’t ask me” or “You don’t think she’d tell me, do you?” Or simply, “I forget.”

Once again, Yuxiu had a backer. Whenever Yumi tried to size up her sister, there was a sense of vigilance in her gaze—exactly what Yuxiu had hoped for. So long as Yumi hated her, saw her as a competitor, and was on her guard against her, then that was proof they were equals. Yuxiu did not want her sister to feel sorry for her. To keep that from happening, she relied upon Qiaoqiao. I don’t mind demeaning myself in front of others, but I cannot yield to Yumi, thought Yuxiu. Why did we have to be sisters in the first place? How strange.

Yuxiu’s job was to wait on Qiaoqiao. In general that meant taking care of the girl’s appearance, and under Yuxiu’s tutelage, Qiaoqiao had a change of attitude: I’m not a boy; I’m a girl, like any other girl. Her expectations in regard to her femininity rose dramatically. But she was too clumsy to improve her appearance on her own. Yuxiu, on the other hand, was an expert.

In light of Yumi’s objections, Yuxiu didn’t dare to pay too much attention to her own appearance, so she applied all her styling techniques to Qiaoqiao’s hair, accessories, buttons, and braided ornaments. She had that special knack and an assertive attitude that gave her a sense of accomplishment that belied a deep-seated sorrow, which was manifest in her attention to detail.

Qiaoqiao was a girl transformed, and if her father had not been a deputy director, people would have criticized her for looking like a vixen. Yuxiu worked especially hard on the girl’s nails. She managed, somehow, to acquire some garden balsam flowers, which she ground into paste, added some alum, and dabbed meticulously on Qiaoqiao’s fingernails, coat after coat; then she turned her attention to the girl’s toenails. When she was finished, she wrapped the nails in broad bean leaves. Several days later, the effects were spectacular: Qiaoqiao’s fingernails and toenails had changed color. They were bright red, beautiful, translucent, and remarkably eye-catching. Light bounced off them whenever she waved her hand or jiggled her feet.

There was something different about Qiaoqiao every day. The changes were visible and fundamental; they could be summed up in the saying “A girl undergoes dramatic changes at eighteen.” The people in the government compound took notice. The most visible and fundamental change in Qiaoqiao was in her eyes and her actions—the way she carried herself. In earlier days, her most notable attribute had been rashness; she had impressed people as a guerrilla warrior, wild and reckless. That image was a thing of the past.

Now there was room for twists and turns in both her expressions and actions. Somewhat affected, to be sure, but feminine. She and Yuxiu were often seen entering or leaving the compound together, walking side by side like best friends, as sweetly paired as devoted sisters. That had been Yuxiu’s fondest desire. Everyone in the compound knew who Yuxiu was. That’s Yuxiu, they’d say. That’s Director Guo’s young sister-in-law. A pretty young thing.

But Yuxiu had a cold edge and a bit of arrogance. She seldom stopped to chat with anyone. When she was alone, she walked with a light step, her head cocked to one side so that half her face was covered by her hair and only one eye was visible. That left the impression that she was sulking for no apparent reason, which invested her with a haunted beauty. If startled by an unexpected encounter, she would sweep her hair behind her ear while a smile spread slowly across her face. That smile, unique to her, became famous in the compound. Rather than explode on her face, it formed in measured stages, from slight to broad, the corners of her mouth slowly retreating—silent and flirtatious, revealing a restrained coquettishness, an almost wanton and yet refined quality.

None of this escaped Yumi’s eye. Yuxiu did not dare to put on her seductive, fox-fairy act in front of her sister, but she had not changed. She was like the dog that can’t stop eating shit. In fact, she was getting worse. Sooner or later, Yumi would sound the alarm. But not yet, given her relationship with Qiaoqiao. But then again, Yumi knew that she must say something because of that relationship. When she did, the results would be less than ideal. They would be back to being sisters, two girls “born to be enemies.”

Qiaoqiao came home early one day, having chosen not to participate in the school’s afternoon of manual labor. She told Yuxiu to bring the photo albums out into the yard, where they looked at the pictures together. Yuxiu took pride in her assumption that she’d become a part of the family, that she’d made her way into its private places, its closely held secrets. It was a privilege denied Yumi. Yuxiu was treated to photos of Guo Jiaxing as a young man, Qiaoqiao’s mother as a young woman, and Qiaoqiao herself as a little girl. She took after neither her father nor her mother, but had inherited the least-fetching features of both. They all came together to produce her homely face. But Yuxiu heaped compliments on every photo, her flattering words filling the air. On one page she spotted a young man who bore some slight resemblance to Guo Jiaxing but was better looking, with softer eyes, moist like a young mare’s. With the refined, cultured look of someone with high ideals, he was dressed in a neatly pressed tunic. Yuxiu knew it could not be Guo Jiaxing—the aura was different. “Is this a picture of Director Guo as a young man?” she asked disingenuously.

“Are you kidding?” Qiaoqiao asked. “That’s my older brother, Guo Zuo. He works in an automobile factory in the provincial capital.” Now Yuxiu knew: Qiaoqiao had an older brother who worked in an automobile factory.

Before Yuxiu could learn any more, Yumi came home and spotted the two girls with their heads together, holding something secretively. They were never that intimate with her. What were they looking at so intently? Her curiosity piqued, she leaned over to get a look. But Qiaoqiao must have had eyes in the back of her head because— bang! —she slammed the photo album shut, stood up, turned, and walked off alone to her room.