me. Of course I knew yuanxiao-the fes tival to celebrate tuanyuan, family reunion. But my father was already dead and my mother a thousand miles away. Four months had gone by and I still hadn't heard a word from her as she'd promised. With no family left, how could I celebrate a family reunion? The same time last year Mother had prepared a delicious dinner, and Baba had hung up our own lanterns in my favorite shapes of a peacock and the moon goddess Chang E. After we ate the sweet, round dumplings symbolizing happy reunion, my parents took me to the old city's Yu Garden. We strolled around the various famous scenic spots and appreciated lanterns, fireworks, acrobats, jugglers, lion dances. When we felt tired from all the walking and excitement, Baba took us to a street stall to enjoy the fragrant jasmine tea.
After that, we went to read the riddles. Baba, well learned in literature and all the classics, could almost always solve the difficult ones, so he'd won lots of prizes. That was why I'd also become very good at solving riddles. Last year the prize he'd won was a fan with a poem:
This was a very popular poem by the Sung dynasty poet Ouyang Xiu. Baba had told me that although the poem appeared sad, its message was in fact happy. "In the past, women and young girls were not allowed to roam outside their household by themselves. This rule was lifted during the yuanxiao festival, so married women would go out and have fun while young girls would meet their lovers, all under the pretext of appreciating lanterns. So the poem encourages freedom to find love." Baba patted my head affection ately. "Xiang Xiang, when you've grown up, I won't hire a matchmaker to choose your husband. You'll be free to look for someone you love."
Now, remembering Baba and this poem made me extremely sad. Maybe it did convey an auspicious message as interpreted by Baba, but he'd also missed the bad omen it contained. This year, the lanterns were still there but both Baba and Mother were gone, leaving only tears to wet my winter garment.
Seeing that I was about to cry, Pearl put on the big, sweet smile which she normally reserved for her big-shot customers. "Cheer up, Xiang Xiang! Let's look at some of the riddles."
I dabbed the corners of my eyes and we began to read in silence. Just when I was about to give the answer, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Pearl, and beside her towered a thirtyish man-eyes large and hungry, forehead high, jaw square, with a long arm wrapped around Pearl's narrow waist.
He leaned his flushed face close to Pearl's made-up one and said as if he had just swallowed a fire ball, "Little Pearl, I know tonight you have to keep Mr. Chan company, but before that, can you ..."
Pearl snatched out her fan, flipped it open, then began to fan furiously while half-nudging the young man away with her hip. "Yor! When does our famous gifted oil painter pay attention to a plain woman like me?"
"No, Pearl, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, the lady of my dreams."
Pearl waved him a dismissive hand. "Then you better go to sleep now and I'll see you later in your dream."
The man had a trapped expression. Pearl cocked an eye at me while motioning to him. "Jiang Mou, let me introduce to you my little sister Xiang Xiang." Then she turned to me and spoke commandingly, "Xiang Xiang, pay respect to Mr. Jiang, the most famous oil portraitist in Shanghai. So if you're lucky and behave, maybe someday he'll be willing to paint you and make you very famows.
"Will you, Mr. Jiang?" I asked, feeling color rising in my cheeks.
"If your sister says so," Jiang Mou said as his eyes kept moving all over Pearl.
Pearl continued to make small talk with Mr. Jiang while throwing him flirtatious glances and brushing his body with her smooth arms and fingers. Finally she whispered something into his ear and made a dismissive wave, at which the famous portraitist sauntered away like an obedient dog.
Pearl turned to me. "Xiang Xiang, now
After that, we went to read the riddles. Baba, well learned in literature and all the classics, could almost always solve the difficult ones, so he'd won lots of prizes. That was why I'd also become very good at solving riddles. Last year the prize he'd won was a fan with a poem:
This was a very popular poem by the Sung dynasty poet Ouyang Xiu. Baba had told me that although the poem appeared sad, its message was in fact happy. "In the past, women and young girls were not allowed to roam outside their household by themselves. This rule was lifted during the yuanxiao festival, so married women would go out and have fun while young girls would meet their lovers, all under the pretext of appreciating lanterns. So the poem encourages freedom to find love." Baba patted my head affection ately. "Xiang Xiang, when you've grown up, I won't hire a matchmaker to choose your husband. You'll be free to look for someone you love."
Now, remembering Baba and this poem made me extremely sad. Maybe it did convey an auspicious message as interpreted by Baba, but he'd also missed the bad omen it contained. This year, the lanterns were still there but both Baba and Mother were gone, leaving only tears to wet my winter garment.
Seeing that I was about to cry, Pearl put on the big, sweet smile which she normally reserved for her big-shot customers. "Cheer up, Xiang Xiang! Let's look at some of the riddles."
I dabbed the corners of my eyes and we began to read in silence. Just when I was about to give the answer, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Pearl, and beside her towered a thirtyish man-eyes large and hungry, forehead high, jaw square, with a long arm wrapped around Pearl's narrow waist.
He leaned his flushed face close to Pearl's made-up one and said as if he had just swallowed a fire ball, "Little Pearl, I know tonight you have to keep Mr. Chan company, but before that, can you ..."
Pearl snatched out her fan, flipped it open, then began to fan furiously while half-nudging the young man away with her hip. "Yor! When does our famous gifted oil painter pay attention to a plain woman like me?"
"No, Pearl, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, the lady of my dreams."
Pearl waved him a dismissive hand. "Then you better go to sleep now and I'll see you later in your dream."
The man had a trapped expression. Pearl cocked an eye at me while motioning to him. "Jiang Mou, let me introduce to you my little sister Xiang Xiang." Then she turned to me and spoke commandingly, "Xiang Xiang, pay respect to Mr. Jiang, the most famous oil portraitist in Shanghai. So if you're lucky and behave, maybe someday he'll be willing to paint you and make you very famows.
"Will you, Mr. Jiang?" I asked, feeling color rising in my cheeks.
"If your sister says so," Jiang Mou said as his eyes kept moving all over Pearl.
Pearl continued to make small talk with Mr. Jiang while throwing him flirtatious glances and brushing his body with her smooth arms and fingers. Finally she whispered something into his ear and made a dismissive wave, at which the famous portraitist sauntered away like an obedient dog.
Pearl turned to me. "Xiang Xiang, now
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