Lisa See - Snow Flower And The Secret Fan

When Madame Wang first saw what I had done to the fan, she pursed her lips in disapproval. Then, after a long moment, she nodded knowingly. “This is truly a perfect match. These two girls are not just sames in the eight characters, they are alike in their horse spirits as well. This will be . . . interesting.” She said this last word almost as a question, which in turn made me wonder about Snow Flower. “The next step is to complete the official arrangements. I suggest that I escort the two girls to the Temple of Gupo fair in Shexia to write their contract. Mother, I will take care of transportation for both girls. Little walking will be required.”

With that, Madame Wang took the four ends of the cloth, folded them over the fan and shoes, and took them away with her to give to my future laotong.

Snow Flower

OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS, IT WAS HARD FOR ME TO SIT STILL and let my feet heal as I was supposed to when all I could think about was that I would soon meet Snow Flower. Even Mama and Aunt got caught up in the anticipation, making suggestions about what Snow Flower and I should write in our contract even though neither of them had ever seen one. When Madame Wang’s palanquin arrived at our threshold, I was clean and dressed in country-simple clothes. Mama carried me downstairs and outside. Ten years later when I got married I would make a similar journey to a palanquin. On that occasion I was fearful of the new life that lay before me and sad to be leaving all I had known behind, but for this meeting I was giddy with nervous excitement. Would Snow Flower like me?

Madame Wang held the door to the palanquin open, Mama set me down, and I stepped into the small space. Snow Flower was far prettier than I had imagined. Her eyes were perfect almonds. Her skin was pale, showing that she had not spent as much time outdoors as I had during my milk years. A red curtain hung down next to her, and a rosy-hued light glinted in her black hair. She wore a sky-blue silk tunic embroidered with a cloud pattern. Peeking out from beneath her trousers were the shoes I had made her. She did not speak. Perhaps she was as nervous as I was. She smiled and I smiled back.

The palanquin had just one seat, so the three of us had to squeeze together. To keep the palanquin balanced, Madame Wang sat in the middle. The bearers picked us up, and soon they were trotting over the bridge that led out of Puwei. I had never been in a palanquin before. We had four bearers, who tried to run in a manner that would minimize the swaying, but—with the curtains drawn, the heat of the day, my own anxieties, and the strange rhythmic movement—my stomach felt sick. I had never been away from home either, so even if I could have looked out the window I would not have known where I was or how far I still had to travel. I had heard about the Temple of Gupo fair. Who hadn’t? Women went there each year on the tenth day of the fifth month to pray for the birth of sons. It was said that thousands of people went to this fair. That idea was beyond my comprehension. When I began to hear other noises coming through the curtain—bells jingling on horse-drawn carts, the shouted voices of our bearers telling people, “Move out of the way,” and the calls of street vendors beckoning customers to buy their joss sticks, candles, and other offerings that could be placed at the temple—I knew we had reached our destination.

The palanquin came to a stop and the bearers set us down with a hard thump. Madame Wang leaned over me, pushed open the door, told us to stay put, and got out. I closed my eyes, grateful not to be moving and concentrating on calming my stomach, when a voice spoke my thoughts. “I am so happy we’re still again. I felt like I was going to be sick. What would you have thought of me then?”

I opened my eyes and looked at Snow Flower. Her pale skin had turned as green as I imagined mine to be, but her eyes were filled with frank inquiry. She pulled her shoulders up under her ears conspiratorially, smiled in a way that I would soon learn meant that whatever she had in mind was going to get us in trouble, patted the cushion next to her, and said, “Let’s see what’s happening outside.”

Key to the matching of our eight characters was that we had both been born in the year of the horse. This meant that we both should long for adventure. She looked at me again, weighing the depths of my bravery, which, I must admit, were quite shallow. I took a deep breath and scooted to her side of the palanquin; she pulled back the curtain. Now I was able to put faces to the voices I’d heard, but beyond that my eyes filled with amazing images. Yao-nationality people had set up fabric stands decorated with billowing pieces of cloth, all much more colorful than anything Mama or Aunt had ever made. A troupe of musicians in flamboyant costumes passed by, on their way to an opera performance. A man walked along with a pig on a leash. It had never occurred to me that someone would bring his pig to a fair to sell. Every few seconds another palanquin veered around us, each, we assumed, holding a woman who had come to make an offering to Gupo. Many other women walked on the street—sworn sisters who’d married out to new villages and had reunited on this special day—dressed in their best skirts and wearing elaborately embroidered headdresses. Together they swayed down the street on their golden lilies. There were so many beautiful sights to absorb, all of which were heightened by an incredibly sweet smell that wafted into the palanquin, enticing my nose and calming my stomach.

“Have you been here before?” Snow Flower asked. When I shook my head no, she rattled on. “I’ve come with my mother several times. We always have fun. We visit the temple. Do you think we’ll do that today? Probably not. That would mean too much walking, but I hope we can go to the taro stand. Mama always takes me there. Do you smell it? Old Man Zuo—he owns the stand—makes the best treat in the county.” She had been here many times? “Here’s what he does: He fries cubes of taro until they are soft on the inside but firm and crisp on the outside. Then he melts sugar in a big wok over a large fire. Have you had sugar, Lily? It is the best thing in the world. He melts it until it turns brown, then he throws the fried taro into the sugar and swirls it around until it is coated. He drops this on a plate and places it on your table, along with a bowl of cold water. You can’t believe how hot the taro is with that melted sugar. It would burn a hole in your mouth if you tried to eat it like that, so you pick up a piece with your chopsticks and dip it in the water. Crack, crack, crack! That’s the sound it makes as the sugar goes hard. When you bite into it, you get the crunch of the sugar shell, the crispiness of the fried taro, and then the final soft center. Auntie just has to take us, don’t you agree?”

“Auntie?”

“You talk ! I thought maybe all you could do was write beautiful words.”

“Maybe I don’t talk as much as you,” I responded quietly, my feelings hurt. She was the great-granddaughter of an imperial scholar and far more knowledgeable than the daughter of a common farmer.

She picked up my hand. Hers was dry and hot, her chi burning high. “Don’t worry. I don’t care if you’re quiet. My talking always gets me in trouble because I often don’t think before I speak, while you will be an ideal wife, always choosing your words with great care.”

You see? Right there on that first day we understood each other, but did that stop us from making mistakes in the future?

Madame Wang opened the door to the palanquin. “Come along, girls. Everything is arranged. Ten steps will get you to your destination. More than that, and I would break my promise to your mothers.”