Jewel of the East by Ann Hood

blond hair and bright-blue eyes, Maisie would have thought Pearl seemed out of place here. Yet she was obviously so connected to China and her home that Pearl Sydenstricker seemed as Chinese as Wang Amah and Precious Cloud did.
    “According to Chinese beliefs,” Pearl explained, “there are storm dragons and sea dragons and all kinds of demons and spirits. They live all around us. In the clouds and the trees. Even in the rocks.”
    “That’s—” Maisie began.
    “Romantic,” Felix interrupted. He loved stories of all kinds. And he didn’t want his sister to be rude.
    Wang Amah began to talk again, Pearl nodding as she listened.
    “She’s telling us about daggers that are magical,” Pearl said when the old woman had finished. “A man can make them very small and hide them in his ear or in the corner of his eye. But if a demon attacks him, he can take the dagger out, and it will grow large and fast and sharp enough to slay it.”
    Pearl sighed contentedly. Obviously she loved the myths that Wang Amah told her.
    “I don’t care for fairy tales,” Maisie said.
    “I like them,” Felix said. He looked out at the mist. It was easy to imagine dragons and spirits out there among the bamboo and green hills.
    Pearl leaned toward Maisie. “Wang Amah’s real life is even more exciting than her fairy tales.”
    She spoke in rapid Chinese to Wang Amah, who smiled her toothless smile and began once again to talk. This time Pearl didn’t wait for her to finish the whole story. Instead, she translated as the old woman spoke, their two voices creating a harmony of words.
    “I was once very beautiful. My skin was not always brown and wrinkled like it is now. Rather, it was as white as the clouds. And my hair was as black as the night. I wore it in one long, thick braid that fell down my back to my knees. This was in Yangzhou, far from here. My father was prosperous, and he married me off when I was very young to protect me from the soldiers who preyed on young women.”
    Wang Amah sighed. “That is how lovely I was.”
    She paused as if remembering, and then began again.
    “But then came the rebellion that swept China. They say millions were killed. Maybe as many as ten or twenty million. This I don’t knowfor certain. But I do know that everyone I loved died then. Mother. Father. Husband. I only survived because I hid in a well. When I emerged, our pagoda was on fire with all the monks trapped inside.”
    “You mean they all burned to death?” Felix said in horror.
    Pearl sighed. “Wang Amah’s life could be a novel, don’t you think?”
    Glancing at the old woman’s feet, Maisie whispered, “What happened to her feet?” She imagined the soldiers slicing them with bayonets or Wang Amah running into that burning pagoda to save the monks.
    “They’re bound, of course,” Pearl said, surprised.
    “Like, tied up?” Felix asked. Even though he didn’t like to look at those tiny feet inside the small, cloth shoes, he peeked at them.
    “No, no,” Pearl said, shaking her head. “The Chinese bind their daughters’ feet when they’re very young. Wang Amah was only three when her parents did hers.”
    “But why did they do that?” Maisie asked. Unlike Felix, she couldn’t stop looking at those tiny feet.
    “The goal is to stop the feet from growing,”Pearl explained. “At first, they break the four small toes and force them under the sole. That’s to make them narrow and shorter. Then they wrap them in bandages really, really tightly, and every day they tighten them even more. The whole thing takes about two years.”
    Felix looked at Wang Amah’s kind, old face and thought about all she had endured.
    “But why do they do it?” Maisie asked again.
    “I’ve heard several stories,” Pearl said. “But I like the one that says it began so that women could walk like Princess Yao Niang. It’s said that she walked so gracefully it was as if she skimmed over the top of golden lilies. Every woman in China