Lisa See - Snow Flower And The Secret Fan

These words came from our contract, and I smiled at the memory.

I thought we would have our whole lives together. I never believed this day would come. It is sad that we came into this life wrong—as girls—but this is our fate. Lily, we have been like a pair of mandarin ducks. Now everything changes. In the coming days you will learn things about me. I have been restless and filled with apprehension. In my heart and in my mouth I have been weeping, thinking you will no longer love me. Please know that whatever you think of me, my opinion of you will never change.

Snow Flower

Can you imagine how I felt? Snow Flower had been very quiet these past weeks, because she’d been concerned that I would no longer love her. But how could that be? In my flower-sitting chair on my way to my husband, I knew nothing would ever change my feelings for Snow Flower. I had a terrible sense of foreboding and wanted to yell to the bearers to take me home so that I could ease my laotong ‘s fears.

But then we arrived at Tongkou’s main gate. Firecrackers spit and popped; the band clanged, tooted, and drummed their instruments. People unloaded my dowry. These things had to be taken straightaway to my new home so my husband could change into the wedding clothes I’d made for him. Then I heard a terrible but familiar sound. It was that of a chicken having its neck cut. Outside my flower-sitting chair, someone spattered the chicken’s blood on the ground to ward off any evil spirits that might have arrived with me.

At last my door opened, and I was helped out by a woman regarded to be the head of the village. The actual head woman was my mother-in-law, but for this purpose it was the woman in Tongkou with the most sons. She led me to my new home, where I stepped over the threshold and was presented to my in-laws. I knelt before them, touching my head to the ground three times. “I will obey you,” I said. “I will work for you.” Then I poured tea for them. After this, I was escorted to the wedding chamber, where I was left alone with the door open. I was now just moments away from meeting my husband. I had been waiting for this since the first time Madame Wang came to my house to see my feet, yet I was totally flustered, agitated, and confused. This man was a total stranger, so I was naturally curious about him. He would be the father of my children, so I was anxious about how that business was going to happen. And I had just received a mysterious letter from my old same and I was consumed with worry for her.

I heard people move a table to bar the door. I tilted my head just so, my tassels parted, and I saw my in-laws stack my wedding quilts on the table and place two cups of wine—one tied with green thread, the other with red thread, then both of them tied together—on top of the pile.

My husband entered the anteroom. Everyone cheered. This time I did not try to peek. I wanted to be as conventional as I could in this first meeting. From his side of the table, he pulled the red thread. From my side, I pulled the green thread. Then he jumped up on the table right onto the quilts and leaped into the room. With that action we were officially married.

What could I tell about my husband in the first instant that we stood side by side? I could smell that he had made a general cleaning of his body. By looking down I could see that the shoes I’d made for him were handsome on his feet and that his red wedding trousers were the exact right length. But the moment passed, and we moved on to Teasing and Getting Loud in the Wedding Chamber. My husband’s friends burst in, unsteady on their feet and feeble in their words from too much drink. They gave us peanuts and dates so we would have many children. They gave us sweets so we would have a sweet life. But they didn’t just hand a dumpling to me like they did to my husband. No! They tied the dumpling with a string and dangled it just above my mouth. They made me jump for it, making sure I never reached my goal. All the while, they made jokes. You know the kind. My husband would be as strong as a bull tonight, or I would be as submissive as a lamb, or my breasts looked like two peaches ready to burst the fabric of my jacket, or my husband would have as many seeds as a pomegranate, or if we used a particular position we would be guaranteed a first son. This is the same everywhere—low-class talk permitted on the first night of any marriage anywhere. And I played along, but inside I was growing more frantic.

I had been in Tongkou for hours. Now it was late at night. Outside on the street, villagers were drinking, eating, dancing, celebrating. A new round of firecrackers was set off, signaling everyone to go home. At long last, Madame Wang closed the door to the wedding chamber and my husband and I were alone.

He said, “Hello.”

I said, “Hello.”

“Have you eaten?”

“I’m not supposed to eat for another two days.”

“You have peanuts and dates,” he said. “I won’t tell anyone if you want to eat them.”

I shook my head and the little balls on my headdress shook and the silver pieces chimed prettily. My tassels parted and I saw that his eyes were cast down. He was looking at my feet. I blushed. I held my breath, hoping to still the tassels so he wouldn’t glimpse the emotions on my cheeks. I didn’t move and neither did he. I was sure he was still examining me. All I could do was wait.

Finally, my husband said, “I’ve been told you’re very pretty. Are you?”

“Help me with my headdress and find out for yourself.”

This came out more tartly than I intended, but my husband just laughed. A few moments later, he set the headdress on a side table. He turned back to face me. We were perhaps a meter apart. He searched my face and I boldly searched his. Everything Madame Wang and Snow Flower had said about him was true. He bore no pockmarks or scars of any kind. He was not as dark-skinned as Baba or Uncle, which told me that his hours in the family fields were few. He had high cheekbones and a chin that was confident but not impudent. An unruly shock of hair fell across his forehead, giving him a carefree look. His eyes sparkled with good humor.

He stepped forward, took my hands in his, and said, “I think we could be happy, you and I.”

Could a Yao nationality girl of seventeen hope for better words? Like my husband, I saw a golden future before us. That night, he followed all the correct traditions, even removing my bridal shoes and putting on my red sleeping slippers. I was so accustomed to Snow Flower’s gentle touch that I can’t really describe how I felt having his hands on my feet, except that this act seemed far more intimate to me than what came next. I didn’t know what I was doing, but neither did he. I just tried to imagine what Snow Flower would have done if she were under that strange man instead of me.

ON THE SECOND day of my marriage, I rose early. I left my husband sleeping and stepped out into the hall. You know that feeling when you are sick with worry? This is how I’d felt from the moment I’d read Snow Flower’s letter, but I couldn’t do anything about it—not during my wedding, last night, or even now. I had to do my best to follow the prescribed course until I saw her again. But it was hard, because I was hungry, exhausted, and my body hurt. My feet were tired and sore from so much walking these last few days. I was uncomfortable in another place too, but I tried to blot out these things as I made my way to the kitchen, where a servant girl about ten years old sat on her haunches, apparently waiting for me. My own servant girl—no one had told me about that. People in Puwei didn’t have servants, but I recognized what she was because her feet had not been bound. Her name was Yonggang, which means brave and strong like iron. (This would prove to be true.) She had already built a fire in the brazier and hauled water to the kitchen. All I had to do was heat the water and take it to my in-laws so they could wash their faces. I also made tea for everyone in the household, and when they came to the kitchen I poured it without spilling a drop.