Mingmei Yip - Petals from the Sky

Mother squinted at me triumphantly. “Ha, don’t know how to do that, eh? Mind you, there’re still a lot of things you don’t know about your own mother. Anyway, let’s have tea.” She paused to pour us full cups. “Remember? It’s the best Meng Ding tea I bought from that tea shop. I’ve also dropped in slices of ginseng to give you more qi to prepare for the wedding. Now, drink your tea. Let’s read the Tong Sheng and pick the day for your marriage.”

On the red cover of this Sure Win was printed the title The Mansion of All Treasures, and the logo “Encompassing Ten Thousand Items.” Under the title was the bulging-forehead Longevity God surrounded by three colorfully clad children holding up the giant peach of long life. Hovering above the old man was the bat of good luck, and behind him, the deer of wealth.

The scalding Meng Ding tea, heightened by the delicately bitter ginseng taste, put me in a more balanced mood. But when I picked up the one-thousand-page almanac it felt like a brick in my hands, its pages crowded with obscure passages and complex diagrams. How to understand it?

I opened the string-bound book and found this:

Nov. 11. Do’s: Make offering to ancestors, enter school, make friends, get engaged, get a haircut, sew clothes, see a doctor, move house, repair the ceiling, fix the door, clean the stove, buy a house, herd animals.

Don’ts: Brew wine, take off clothes, plough land.

Dec. 6. Do’s: Make offerings, pray for fortune, go for a trip, get married, move house, start a business, plough land, fix the stove, take off clothes, bury.

Don’ts: Style hair, open a pool, go through a well.

I caressed the teacup in my palms, feeling its heat. “Ma, how are we going to read all these strange expressions? What does it mean by going through a well? What is it to open a pool? And how come a day is suitable for marriage but not for styling one’s hair?”

“Ah, foreign-produced doctor.” Mother replaced the lid on her teacup, then squinted at me with a chiding expression. “When it comes to ancient wisdom, you’re but a child. Be patient, Meng Ning. Let’s first turn to the page for the month you plan to get married, and then look for a suitable day. Of course you don’t have to read through the whole book; in that case you can write a thesis and get another Ph.D. Besides, if this Tong Sheng can’t help, then we’ll look up another one. That’s why I bought four versions. Smart, eh?”

Suddenly Mother chortled, jabbing her sturdy finger on one passage while emphatically spitting out a string of perfect husks. “Ha, ha, look at this! The day is suitable to get married, but not to roast food. How can newlyweds not prepare roast pig for their wedding?”

“But why not?” I asked, popping several peanuts into my mouth.

“Because roasted pig, especially baby pig, is proof of the bride’s virginity!”

“Are you kidding?” I stopped chewing.

Straightening her lavender cotton pajamas, Mother picked up a pig-fat sweet cake and put on an authoritative air. “On the wedding night, only after the groom has verified his wife is a virgin, will his parents send roast pig to the guests the following day. Otherwise, everybody will know the bride was a wanton girl.”

“That’s stupid! The parents can still send out roasted pig, even if the bride is not a virgin. Who would know?” I said, washing down the peanut dregs with my tea and scorching my throat.

I grimaced and Mother scolded, “Watch out, Meng Ning! I’ve told you a hundred times not to drink scalding tea and you never listen.” Then she nibbled at her pig-fat cake with great affection and went on. “Yes, the guests might not, but the gods do, because the newlyweds also have to offer the pig to them…”

Mother eyed me suspiciously, dropped her cake, and blurted out, “Meng Ning, did you follow my advice to put the cup of water between you and your Mic Ko?”

“Ma! Please stop your nonsense and concentrate on planning for my wedding.”

“All right, all right,” she sighed, now picking up an egg tart. “Hai! But for me, neither the guests nor the gods knew, for I didn’t even have a…ah, forget it.”

I knew she meant the wedding she’d never had. I reached to pat her hand.

“But it doesn’t matter anymore, for now my daughter is going to have a really big and fancy one.”

“No, Ma, I don’t want anything fancy, only something gracious, simple, and cozy.”

Mother’s eyes began to shoot out daggers. “No, Meng Ning, listen to me. You’re going to have a big, fancy wedding. And you’d better get that French classical court-style wedding gown worn by Sally Yeh we saw the other day.”

We kept arguing until finally I blurted out, “Ma, it’s my wedding, not yours, so can’t you just let me decide what to wear?”

Mother shut up right away. Suddenly I realized the reason she wanted something fancy was not for me, but for herself.

Feeling terribly guilty, I refreshed her tea. “Ma, I’m very sorry.”

There was a long silence before she said, “I forgive you.” She drained her tea to acknowledge my apology. “All right, now let’s pick the day.”

After Mother had consulted the four almanacs for quite some time, with a thick felt pen she circled the auspicious day on each of them as well as on the calendar propped up by the radio.

“But, Ma, it’s too close. I don’t think we have enough time to prepare.”

Mother looked at me sharply. “This is the best day. Otherwise you have to wait a long time. Silly girl. Quick battle, quick victory. So never make a man wait till he changes his mind-you understand?” Then she squinted at me. “And don’t ever discard ancient wisdom like you do old calendars.”

I knew she said this because in the past, whenever she’d looked up the Tong Sheng, I’d sneer. “Ma, the only way to a sure win, according to ancient Daoist wisdom, is by losing. Less is more; we lose in order to win.”

She’d shut me up by saying, “Tst, tst, lose to win? What kind of crazy logic is this? You lose your mind to win your mother’s argument just to make her lose face?”

But now I felt happy to pick my wedding date as recommended by the Sure Win, for, like my mother, I couldn’t afford to be careless, not at thirty, and not for such a big thing in my life.

I wanted to steer my marriage ship with Michael safely for ten thousand years.

“Excellent,” Mother said. “This is the best day to get married, and you’ll have a good, happy, and long-lasting marriage. With five almanacs arriving at the same lucky day, believe me, Meng Ning, there won’t be any chance for mistakes.” She cautiously sipped her imperial tea with a matching imposing air before she continued. “You see, Meng Ning, I really don’t understand how some people are so foolish as to pick their wedding date at random without consulting our ancestors’ wisdom.”

Instead of responding to her unique logic, I sucked hard at a piece of ginseng, relishing its stimulating flavor.

“But too bad-” Mother suddenly caught herself in midsentence.

“Too bad what?”

“No, nothing.”

“What is it, Ma?”

“Too bad-” she blurted out again, “that I didn’t need to look up the Tong Sheng for my wedding, for…I didn’t have one.”

“Ma, I’m sorry.”

A beat or two passed before she suddenly asked, changing the subject, “You remember No Name who became a nun?”

“Of course, Ma. What about her?”

“She did have a name.”

“That’s not surprising; what was it?”

“Li Yuan.”

“Beautiful Cloud?”

“Yes.” Mother’s eyes darted around as she went on. “Besides, I’ve been lying to you…she was not the daughter of your great-great-grandfather.”