About a match, your father might have ideas.”
Junan frowned at Hu Mudan, but the woman sat pulling her thread through the sole of her shoe, mild and uninvolved. From the wash pan, Hu Ran watched and made no sound.
“My father’s connections aren’t what they used to be.” She thought for a moment. “But this box of candy is an insult. It is an insult to us that Deng Xiansheng could have thought we would even tolerate this attachment, even though she’s backward for her age, and not beautiful.”
Junan watched Hu Mudan’s thimble ring push the big needle back through the layers of cloth. “And so much of it is her fault. How could anyone have assumed we cared what she was up to, when she won’t wear any of the new clothes I took the trouble to have made for her? And she won’t take care of her things. They’re all wilted and wrinkled. She looks like a salted lettuce.”
“She doesn’t like to wear starched clothes,” said Hu Mudan.
“She is getting more and more strange.”
“No,” said Hu Mudan evenly, “she’s the same.”
“She won’t wear her new clothes until they’ve been sitting in the drawer for six months. She won’t learn to run a house or do embroidery or behave. All she does is read and write and talk to that pet chicken.” This was not precisely true, but true enough. Yinan snuck the chicken indoors, and sometimes, when she passed by her sister’s room, Junan could hear Yinan confiding in Guagua or asking if she wanted a drink of water. Junan felt a wave of irritation with Yinan, whose behavior had only amused her in the past. She could no longer defend her sister if she was old enough to entertain admirers.
She hurried into Yinan’s room.
“Sooner or later,” she said, “you’re going to be married. In the meantime, you can’t go around accepting miscellaneous gifts from slippery-headed and impoverished men.”
Yinan didn’t answer.
“I’m going to speak to Baba about your marriage. You are almost sixteen years old.”
As she waited for Yinan to speak, Junan observed once again that her sister hadn’t learned the importance of concealing her feelings from the people that she loved. Now she appeared both curious and frightened. “I don’t want to marry,” Yinan said.
Although it was considered proper for girls to feign reluctance, Junan could see that Yinan wasn’t pretending. She didn’t have enough sense to pretend anything. Junan frowned to hide her own confusion. As she looked at her sister’s bent head and glossy braids, she felt that she was trying to hold a conversation with a stranger.
“You need to learn how to be a woman,” she said.
“What does a woman do?”
Junan considered this question. “She is patient,” she explained. “She is canny, and above all, she is careful, xiaoxin . I like to think of what the characters mean: small heart.” Yinan sat very still.
“That means you must be cautious. You must not make inappropriate friendships with men.”
“But how will I find someone?”
“Are you telling me you want to make a love match?”
Yinan did not reply.
“You’ve been watching too many movies.” Junan left the room.
As she went back upstairs, she put the mystery of Deng Xiansheng aside. Xiaoxin . She must have a small heart. Junan had read in the newspaper about young Chinese women reading Marx, joining the Communist underground, and practicing free love. Still others were illiterate, struggling to raise a bleak and ancient living from the earth. In the eye of this storm of change, Junan planned her way. She embarked upon her marriage with a personal agenda: she did not expect to love her husband, nor ever to lean on him for happiness or money.
When seen in this light, her own marriage was promising. Li Ang’s lack of family brought advantages. Since Li Ang was an orphan, she could live with her own family. Unlike other wives, she would not have to kowtow to a demanding mother-in-law. She could create her own, more
Junan frowned at Hu Mudan, but the woman sat pulling her thread through the sole of her shoe, mild and uninvolved. From the wash pan, Hu Ran watched and made no sound.
“My father’s connections aren’t what they used to be.” She thought for a moment. “But this box of candy is an insult. It is an insult to us that Deng Xiansheng could have thought we would even tolerate this attachment, even though she’s backward for her age, and not beautiful.”
Junan watched Hu Mudan’s thimble ring push the big needle back through the layers of cloth. “And so much of it is her fault. How could anyone have assumed we cared what she was up to, when she won’t wear any of the new clothes I took the trouble to have made for her? And she won’t take care of her things. They’re all wilted and wrinkled. She looks like a salted lettuce.”
“She doesn’t like to wear starched clothes,” said Hu Mudan.
“She is getting more and more strange.”
“No,” said Hu Mudan evenly, “she’s the same.”
“She won’t wear her new clothes until they’ve been sitting in the drawer for six months. She won’t learn to run a house or do embroidery or behave. All she does is read and write and talk to that pet chicken.” This was not precisely true, but true enough. Yinan snuck the chicken indoors, and sometimes, when she passed by her sister’s room, Junan could hear Yinan confiding in Guagua or asking if she wanted a drink of water. Junan felt a wave of irritation with Yinan, whose behavior had only amused her in the past. She could no longer defend her sister if she was old enough to entertain admirers.
She hurried into Yinan’s room.
“Sooner or later,” she said, “you’re going to be married. In the meantime, you can’t go around accepting miscellaneous gifts from slippery-headed and impoverished men.”
Yinan didn’t answer.
“I’m going to speak to Baba about your marriage. You are almost sixteen years old.”
As she waited for Yinan to speak, Junan observed once again that her sister hadn’t learned the importance of concealing her feelings from the people that she loved. Now she appeared both curious and frightened. “I don’t want to marry,” Yinan said.
Although it was considered proper for girls to feign reluctance, Junan could see that Yinan wasn’t pretending. She didn’t have enough sense to pretend anything. Junan frowned to hide her own confusion. As she looked at her sister’s bent head and glossy braids, she felt that she was trying to hold a conversation with a stranger.
“You need to learn how to be a woman,” she said.
“What does a woman do?”
Junan considered this question. “She is patient,” she explained. “She is canny, and above all, she is careful, xiaoxin . I like to think of what the characters mean: small heart.” Yinan sat very still.
“That means you must be cautious. You must not make inappropriate friendships with men.”
“But how will I find someone?”
“Are you telling me you want to make a love match?”
Yinan did not reply.
“You’ve been watching too many movies.” Junan left the room.
As she went back upstairs, she put the mystery of Deng Xiansheng aside. Xiaoxin . She must have a small heart. Junan had read in the newspaper about young Chinese women reading Marx, joining the Communist underground, and practicing free love. Still others were illiterate, struggling to raise a bleak and ancient living from the earth. In the eye of this storm of change, Junan planned her way. She embarked upon her marriage with a personal agenda: she did not expect to love her husband, nor ever to lean on him for happiness or money.
When seen in this light, her own marriage was promising. Li Ang’s lack of family brought advantages. Since Li Ang was an orphan, she could live with her own family. Unlike other wives, she would not have to kowtow to a demanding mother-in-law. She could create her own, more
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