I don’t see much of either of my grandparents because they’ve been devoting hours each day to the negotiation of a betrothal for me. I have officially entered the period of the Three Letters and Six Etiquettes that are part of the deal making which will settle whom I’m to marry, the bride price the groom’s family will pay, and what my dowry will be. I’m not allowed to be a part of these conversations, but Inky, who serves tea and sweetmeats to the matchmaker when she calls, is hardly discreet. At night, she comes to visit Poppy in my room, and they pick apart each candidate and consider every detail.
“Your mistress is descended from the highest class of literati,” Inky whispers loud enough for me to hear. Poppy rests her chin on her hands, listening as though the words are of utter importance to her. I suppose they are. She will come with me when I marry out. My good fortune will be her good fortune. “A poor man with an auspicious future can be a good match for a wealthy girl, but that would not be appropriate in this situation,” Inky continues. “Many men in the Tan family have served as officials. They’ve enjoyed hereditary advantages and have been promoted to the loftiest levels of society. Little Miss’s great-grandfather was awarded Gentleman Scholar for those of top rank.”
Poppy nods as though she understands what that means.
“He was Investigating Censor in Nanjing,” Inky goes on. “He spent years away from home, traveling to Hunan, Hubei, Guangdong, and Guangxi. They say he was a good and fair investigator and judge. It is through him that the family was awarded this compound as a gift from the emperor. And have you seen the scroll depicting the dragon in the clouds which hangs in the Greeting Hall? That was given by the emperor upon Master Tan’s retirement from office.”
How is it, I wonder, that she can know so much more about my family than I do? Maybe it’s because, as for Poppy, her life depends on my family’s lineage and prosperity.
Inky speaks about my father’s older brother, Tan Jing. His second son is Lady Huang’s husband. I have yet to meet Uncle Jing, but he must come home enough that his wife has given him five children, while his concubines have produced another seven offspring. He is Secretary and Manager in the Ministry of Revenue—another exalted position. Inky then lists my grandfather’s titles and my father’s accomplishments, adding, “And you know that Little Miss’s father will triumph in the next round of exams and be elevated even higher than he already has.”
“So Little Miss must be matched family to family,” Poppy says in understanding.
“Yes! But that could mean position to position, or position to landholdings, money, or connections to the emperor.”
By the time Lady Huang finishes doing the month, the betrothal negotiations for me have intensified. I learn about some of the offers of marriage, each one coming with a letter that lists a family’s ancestors going back three generations, along with all titles that have been bestowed. Grandmother rejects a literati family in Hangzhou because they live too far away for easy visiting. Grandfather turns down an extremely wealthy family when he learns the son was born in a year not compatible with a Snake. My grandparents are looking for a young man whose birth year is in affinity with mine. Anyone born in the Year of the Boar is dismissed without consideration. Snake is a Fire sign, while Boar is a Water sign. Fire and Water will never get along.
Sometimes when I hear Inky and Poppy gossiping about all this, I curl up in my mother’s bed with my face to the wall. Poppy is loyal to me and brags about my good attributes as a female Snake, since we are known to be good daughters, practical wives, and natural caretakers as mothers. “But our Little Miss will be even better than most,” Poppy claims, “as she will take special skills into her new household.”
Inky, who’s seen more of life, has an opposite view. “She can read, write, and recite from the classics, but no one would say she has exceptional talent in this regard.”
“That’s because she spends her time studying with her grandmother—”
“Medicine is a waste of time for a girl! Tell me how memorizing a formula will increase her abilities to compose poetry to entertain her husband or paint landscapes to add to the amusements in the women’s chambers.”
“But—”
“Her spinning, weaving, and embroidery abilities are uninspired too. These skills show diligence and discipline. They can also bring in money if her future family should fall on hard times.”
Inky’s assessment makes me feel insignificant. I need to try harder to build my woman talents in order to learn all I can to help my sons become scholars, train my daughters so that one day they’ll be marriageable, and please my husband so that he’ll appreciate me, while still studying medicine with my grandparents. I’m also mindful of not being like the parrot Grandmother mentioned. I follow her like a shadow and ask her questions nonstop. Late at night, I often slip out of bed, light a lamp, open a book to a formula, and recite it to myself, searing it into my memory. Slowly, slowly, I’m coming to understand the deeper meanings of what Grandmother is teaching me, and I think I might be catching up to where she was at my age, but sometimes I feel like I’m drowning from the expectations and responsibilities that have been placed on me.
It’s a lot for me to worry about, and I get a stomachache and fever. I don’t want to eat, and I can’t sleep. Grandmother diagnoses my condition as childhood depletion. She orders me to bed for a week and brings special foods and tonics to my room. Miss Zhao also visits every evening to check on me. One night, after she and Poppy think I’ve fallen asleep, they sit beside the brazier and sip tea. They discuss my prospects, of course, but soon their conversation turns away from the topic that has obsessed the household. It turns out they came from the same town.
“When I was five years old, a Tooth Lady came to see my father,” Miss Zhao quietly confides.
Tooth Lady. I remember the other concubines teasing Miss Zhao about that.
“That happened to me too,” Poppy confides, “but I have no memory of it.”
“She brought me to Yangzhou, where I lived in a house with other girls training to become Thin Horses—”
“I wish we could have been in the same house,” Poppy says, her voice quavering.
“It wasn’t so bad for me, and I hope it wasn’t terrible for you either,” Miss Zhao replies.
“I worked hard, but when I turned seven—”
“They decided on a different future for you. You’re pretty, but your feet…”
“They are my failure,” Poppy admits. “Every time the Tooth Lady wrapped them, I peeled off the bindings when no one was looking. My bones never broke.” She glances at her feet in disgust. “Look how big they are!”
“If I’d been there, I would have helped you, encouraged you.”
“Maybe I was destined to be a servant, plain and simple.” Poppy sighs. “My training shifted to childcare and learning to attend to a lady.”
I slow my breathing. I’ve learned more about Poppy in these few minutes than I’ve learned since my birth.
“But you were lucky in the end,” Miss Zhao says comfortingly. “Even though you didn’t become a Thin Horse, you weren’t sold to become a woman who solely lies on her back for men.”
At this, Poppy wraps her hands around her shoulders. “I’m still a plaything for the boys and men here,” she whispers. “If I stop getting my monthly moon water…” She squeezes her shoulders a little tighter as though protecting herself from the world.
I had been following along, but now I’m completely lost.
“Don’t worry about that,” Miss Zhao responds. “There are things you can take to keep from becoming full with child.” After a moment, she says, “Instead, let us do what we can for Yunxian. Without a mother, she must rely on her grandmother, you, me, even Inky, to set her on a good path. We are the circle of good that surrounds her.”
Until tonight, I have never thought about where Poppy came from or even about her feelings, although she knows everything about me, having bathed me, emptied my honeypot, held my forehead when I’ve vomited. I’ve always thought of her as being just my servant—always with me. Now I see she is more than that. As for Miss Zhao… Her words—a circle of good—remain in my mind. I must try to open my heart and sympathies to her too.
* * *
Once I recover, Grandmother stuns everyone in the inner chambers by inviting Midwife Shi and her daughter to visit us in the pharmacy. Meiling and I are told to sit next to each other on two pearwood stools. Both of us fold our hands in our laps. We wear pretty outfits and ribbons in our hair. Mine are of finer quality, of course, but the midwife has taken great care to make Meiling look like a girl of high standing. The two women sit at opposite sides of a teak table, a porcelain teapot and cups between them, with a bronze vase holding a single orchid set to the side.
Grandmother begins the conversation. “I want to propose an idea—a more formal relationship between your daughter and my granddaughter.” Meiling and I exchange glances. This is a totally unexpected announcement. “I realize the two girls are from different classes—”
The midwife, who can’t hide her distrust, interrupts to state the obvious. “My daughter has big feet. Yunxian has bound feet.”