I do not find these words reassuring.
Grandmother motions to Inky and Poppy, who are carrying a chest, which they set on the table. It’s made of red lacquer with an image of elegant ladies sitting in a pavilion limned in gold.
“Some believe that everything in a bride’s dowry becomes the possession of her husband and his family,” Grandmother says. “Others say the dowry belongs to the bride alone. I hope the Yang family follows the latter custom so you might use your dowry as you wish. You could spend it on yourself, but a good woman—a good wife—will be selfless and think of others. If your husband should need better tutors to finish preparing for the imperial exams… If he doesn’t pass the exam and needs to have a title or civil position purchased… If floodwaters come, food becomes scarce, and your husband’s family should be hungry… A good wife will let her husband or her father-in-law sell or pawn her dowry if ever they should fall behind in their taxes or want to build a new pavilion. A selfless heart will help in all these instances.”
“I wish to be as good and kind as you, Grandmother.”
“Thank you, Child, but I’m not finished. Sometimes a woman needs to look after herself. If you should become a widow and your husband’s family decides to sell you or discard you to the street, you’ll be able to provide for yourself.” Her eyes fill with emotion. “I could say that you’ll always have a home here, but your grandfather and I won’t be on this earth forever. And who knows where your father will be at any given time? I’m not suggesting you can’t count on him…”
But that’s exactly what she’s saying.
“If something unforeseen should happen, you need to be prepared,” she goes on. “You might not leave your husband’s home with your bed, clothes, or any other possessions. And even if you did, these things are not always easy to pawn. This is why we give a bride jewelry. This is your cash.” She smiles, adding, “It also makes you look and feel beautiful.” She lifts the lid of the chest. “The Yang family sent some pieces at your betrothal, and your father has provided even more items for your dowry, but what’s in here comes from your mother. Your father put these pieces aside for you after she died.” She cocks her head as she observes, “He could have given all of it to his new Respectful Lady.” She pulls out a gold bracelet with intricate filigree work encircling the band and set with a carved piece of jade. “Your grandfather and I gave this to your mother as part of her bride price. When you wear it, think of her.”
One by one, she brings out hairpins, necklaces, earrings, and bangles in gold, jade, sapphire, and emerald. There are pearls of every color and shape. The pieces made from kingfisher feathers of iridescent blue are my favorites.
* * *
Miss Zhao comes next for a private visit. “Hair-pinning days are the shortest and most precious time in a woman’s life, for a girl is like a camellia—perfect for one moment before it drops from the branch at the height of its beauty,” she says by way of greeting.
Miss Zhao has helped me in many ways these past years. While I still don’t care for embroidering, the quality of my stitches improved under her watchful eyes. I don’t remember a time that she was ever cruel to me, and she’s always doted on Yifeng, who’s eleven now and already devoted to his studies. He’ll never be considered her son, because he belongs to my father’s wife as her ritual son, and she’ll never be my true mother, but we have become close.
After she sits, Miss Zhao begins with an abrupt statement of fact. “I hear that the Yang family’s home is much larger than this one.”
“The family is said to be wealthy,” I agree, “but it’s hard to envision a house grander than the Mansion of Golden Light.”
“When I was a little girl, I couldn’t imagine anywhere bigger or better than my parents’ home.” She falls silent, perhaps remembering the time before the Tooth Lady bought her to become a Thin Horse and how her life changed after that. “When I joined your father in Laizhou, I believed I’d landed in paradise. Then I came here. There is always a place that’s bigger and better… But let me tell you something, Yunxian. Your surroundings will mean nothing if you don’t fit yourself into the rhythms of the household.”
Miss Zhao passes on the gossip she’s heard about those who inhabit the Yang family’s inner quarters. “Don’t worry too much about the concubines,” she counsels. “Even as a new bride you will have higher standing than they do. Your husband’s younger sisters should concern you, though. Their envy will come from the understanding that you’ll remain forever in the home where they were born, while they will marry out. They will leave behind certain comforts, position, and the love of their mother. They may struggle with you for having for the rest of your life what they are losing for the rest of theirs.”
“Thank you, Miss Zhao,” I say. “Thank you for always giving me good advice.”
She puts a hand over mine. “I hope I see you again.”
“I’ll be back three days after my marriage—”
“For the traditional visit, but after that? Who knows?”
“Surely I’ll be allowed to call on you,” I say, alarmed. “You and Grandmother will come see me too, won’t you?”
She hesitates before speaking. “Even if you’re allowed visitors, who says I will be one of them? I’m fortunate that your father has not sold me. He could still summon Yifeng to Nanjing for Respectful Lady to raise.”
I’ll never become accustomed to hearing my father’s wife being called Respectful Lady, but what Miss Zhao says is true. She is many years past the perfection of a camellia. Since my father remarried, he could have sold or traded her. He could also have bought one or more additional concubines. (For all we know, he has done that and keeps them in his official residence in Nanjing. If so, we have heard of no sons coming as a result.) Miss Zhao is still lovely, no question, but beauty fades. The words I offer are not just for comfort but because I believe them to be true.
“I will do my best for you, if I’m able, but you can always rely on Yifeng. He loves you very much. You are the only mother he has known. You are his Respectful Lady.”
* * *
The next morning, my wedding day, I rise early so I can light incense at the family altar and bid farewell and give thanks to my ancestors in the Afterworld, particularly my mother, for always protecting and looking out for me. I visit my grandparents to serve them tea as a matter of respect, to offer a formal goodbye, and to thank them for taking care of this unworthy girl, and they reward me with the traditional responses. When I return to my room, I find a table laid out with dumplings, fruit, and other treats for those who’ll assist me to bathe, put on makeup, comb my hair, and help me dress.
Meiling arrives first. She has grown more beautiful with each passing year. She’s sensitive in the use of powder and pastes to color her cheeks, which only accentuates the fullness of her lips and the elegance of her cheekbones. Although she spends time in the outside world, she’s been able to maintain a pale complexion. Her waist is slender and her shoulders slope in such a way that her gown, which today is the color of water under a cloudless sky, drapes with the fluidity of mercury. She wears satin shoes in a deep apricot color. I remember how long she spent embroidering the white peonies that blossom across the tops and sides of the shoes, trying to create the illusion of smallness. As Grandmother has said on many occasions, if Meiling had been born into a better family and had her feet bound, then she surely would have been matched into a good family. Grandmother’s acceptance of Meiling, it must be said, is what has allowed her to visit me today.
Meiling touches the soft indentation where her collarbones meet. “I wanted to get here before everyone else—”