Lisa See - Snow Flower And The Secret Fan

As for Snow Flower’s last question—was I happy?—I wasn’t sure how to respond. Should I write about the women in my new home? My new upstairs chamber housed too many women who did not like one another. I was the first daughter-in-law, but not long after I arrived in Tongkou the second son’s wife came to live in the house. She had gotten pregnant right away. She was barely eighteen and cried nonstop for her family. She gave birth to a daughter, which upset my mother-in-law and made matters worse. I tried to befriend Second Sister-in-law, but she kept to a corner with her paper, ink, and brush, constantly writing to her mother and sworn sisters, still in her home village. I could have told Snow Flower about the unseemly ways Second Sister-in-law tried to impress Lady Lu by constantly kowtowing, whispering obsequious words, and maneuvering for position, while Master Lu’s three concubines bickered among themselves, their petty jealousies pinching their faces and turning their stomachs sour, but I dared not put these sentiments on paper.

Could I have written to Snow Flower about my husband? I suppose I could have, but I didn’t know what to say. I rarely saw him, and when I did he was usually talking to someone else or engaged in important tasks. During daylight hours, he went out to survey the fields and oversee projects on the land, while I embroidered or did other chores in the upstairs room. I served him at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, remembering to be as demure and quiet as Snow Flower had been at my family’s table. He did not speak to me on those occasions. He sometimes came to our room early to visit our son or to do bed business. I assumed we were like any other married couple—even Snow Flower and her husband—so there was nothing of interest to write.

How could I answer Snow Flower’s question about my happiness when the main conflict I had in my life had to do with her?

“I admit you have learned well from Snow Flower,” my mother-in-law said one day, when she caught me writing to my laotong, “and we are grateful for that. But she is no longer a member of our village, nor is she under Master Lu’s protection. He cannot and should not try to change her fate. As you know, we have codes governing wives that have to do with war and other border disagreements. As female guests, wives are not to be harmed during feuds, raids, or wars, because we are seen as belonging to both our husbands’ villages and our natal villages. You see, Lily, as wives we have protection and loyalty from both places. But if something happened to you in Snow Flower’s village, anything we might do could lead to retaliation and possibly even an ongoing fight.”

I listened to Lady Lu’s excuses, but I knew her reasons were far more base. Snow Flower’s natal family was disgraced and she’d married a polluted man. My in-laws simply didn’t want me to associate with her.

“Snow Flower’s fate was preordained,” my mother-in-law went on, venturing closer to the truth, “and it does not meet yours in any way. Master Lu and I would look favorably on a daughter-in-law who decided to break contract with someone who is no longer a true old same. If you need companionship, I will remind you of the young married women in Tongkou to whom I introduced you.”

“I remember them. Thank you,” I mumbled haplessly, while inside I was screaming in terror. Never, never, never!

“They would like you to join a post-marriage sworn sisterhood.”

“Again, thank you—”

“You should consider their invitation an honor.”

“I do.”

“I’m just saying that you need to discharge Snow Flower from your thoughts,” my mother-in-law said, and finished with a variation of her usual admonition. “I don’t want memories of that unfortunate girl influencing my grandson.”

The concubines snickered behind their fingers. They enjoyed seeing me suffer. In moments like these, their status rose and mine fell. But other than this continued criticism, which the others relished and which frightened me deeply, my mother-in-law was kinder to me than my own mother had been. She followed all the rules, just as Snow Flower had said. “When a girl, obey your father; when a wife, obey your husband; when a widow, obey your son.” I had heard this my entire life, so I was not intimidated. But my mother-in-law taught me another axiom one day, when she was aggravated with her husband: “Obey, obey, obey, then do what you want.” For now, my in-laws could prevent me from seeing Snow Flower, but they could never stop me from loving her.

bq. Snow Flower,

My husband treats me well.

I don’t even know where all our family fields are.

I also work hard.

My mother-in-law watches everything I do.

The women in my household are well educated in nu shu.

My mother-in-law has taught me new characters.

I will show them to you when we next meet.

I do embroidery, weaving, and shoemaking.

I spin cloth and prepare meals.

I have a son.

I pray to the Goddess that one day I’ll have another son.

You should too.

Please listen to me.

You must obey your husband.

You must listen to your mother-in-law.

I ask you not to worry so much.

Instead, remember when we embroidered together and whispered at night.

We are two mandarin ducks.

We are two phoenixes flying across the sky.

Lily

In her next letter, Snow Flower mentioned nothing about her new family other than that her son had learned to sit. When she came to the end, she inquired again about my life:

Tell me about your meals and what is discussed.

Do they recite the classics when they eat?

Does your mother-in-law entertain the men with stories?

Does she sing to them to aid in their digestion?

I tried to answer truthfully. The men in my household discussed finances: what extra piece of land they could lease, who would till it, how much they should seek in rents, the cost of taxes. They had a desire to “get higher,” to “get to the top of the mountain.” Every family says these things at New Year, incorporating special dishes that invoke these wishes—knowing that this is exactly what they are. But my in-laws worked very hard to make them happen. It made for boring conversation that I did not understand, nor did I care to understand. They already had more than anyone in Tongkou. I could not imagine what else they could desire, yet their eyes never wavered from the top of the mountain.

I hoped that Snow Flower was happier now, conforming—as all wives must—to circumstances completely different from anything she had known before. Then, one dark afternoon as I nursed my son, I heard Madame Wang’s palanquin stop outside our threshold. I expected to see her come up the stairs. Instead, my mother-in-law entered the room and with a disapproving frown dropped a letter on the table beside me. As soon as my son was asleep, I pulled the oil lamp closer and opened it. I noticed right away that the format was different. With a feeling of trepidation I began to read.

bq. Lily,

I sit upstairs and cry. Outside I hear my husband killing a pig. He compounds his violation of the pollution laws.

When I first married in, my mother-in-law made me stand on the platform outside the house and watch as a pig was killed so I could see where our livelihood comes from. My husband and father-in-law brought the pig to our threshold. He was carried upside down on a pole strung between my father-in-law’s and my husband’s shoulders. The pig was between them, crying, crying, crying. He knew what was coming. I have heard this many times now, because they all know what is about to happen and their cries echo through our village much too often.

My father-in-law held the pig down next to a large wok filled with boiling water. (Do you remember that wok outside my house? The one embedded in the platform? Below that is a place to burn coal.) My husband slit the pig’s throat. First, he collected the blood for blood custard, then he shoved the body in the wok. The pig was boiled to soften its skin. My husband asked me to scrape the hairs off the hide. I cried and cried, but not as noisily as the pig had done. I told them I would never watch or be a part of this pollution again. My mother-in-law condemned me for being so weak.