“Respectful Lady.” The concubine gives a polite nod and then quietly slips out of the courtyard.
My mother turns to the afternoon’s teaching session, which Yifeng and I share. We will spend each day learning together until he reaches his seventh year, when the Book of Rites orders that boys and girls should not sit on the same mat or eat at the same table. At that time, Yifeng will leave our company and move to the library to spend his hours with private tutors in preparation to take the imperial exams.
“Harmony should be maintained in a household, but everyone knows how hard this is,” Respectful Lady begins. “After all, the written character for trouble is composed of the character for roof with the characters for two women under it, while the character of one woman under a roof means…”
“Peace,” I answer.
“Good. A pig under a roof means…”
“Prison.”
“There is no written character with a man under a roof. Whether animal or woman, we are a man’s possessions. We women exist to give him heirs and feed, clothe, and amuse him. Never forget that.”
While my brother recites simple poems, I work on my embroidery. I hope I’m successful at hiding my disappointment. I know Miss Zhao wasn’t the only one entertaining my father and his friends. Yifeng was also being shown off. Now, when he forgets a line, Respectful Lady glances at me to complete it for him. In this way, I’m learning what he’s learning too. I’m older, so I’m much better at memorizing. I’m even good at using words and images from poems in my thoughts and when I talk. Today, though, I stumble on a line. Respectful Lady purses her lips. “You will not take the imperial exams or become a scholar like your brother,” she points out, “but one day you will be the mother of sons. To help them in their future studies, you must learn now.” It stings to disappoint her when, on a good day, I can recite poems from the Book of Odes and read aloud from the Classic of Filial Piety for Girls. Today is not one of those days.
In the late afternoon, my mother announces it’s time to move to the studio. Yifeng and I follow Respectful Lady at a proper distance. The folds of her gown billow, and her sleeves are picked up on the breeze—just like in a painting. The air moves enough that we are awash in the odor that comes from her bound feet. A special aroma will eventually come from my own feet, my mother likes to remind me when I cry during my binding, and it will fascinate my husband. Today, the scent from my mother’s feet is far from pleasing. I swallow hard as a wave of nausea washes through me.
I have no memories of ever being outside our compound, and I may not pass through the main gate until I’m in my hair-pinning days and am taken to my husband’s home in marriage, but I don’t care. I love our home, especially the studio, with its whitewashed walls, simple furniture, and shelves filled with books and handscrolls. My mother sits on one side of the table; my brother and I sit across from her. My mother watches as I grind the ink on the inkstone and mix in water to achieve the perfect density and blackness. I hold my brush in one hand and with my other hand pull my sleeve up and back so it won’t get stained. Respectful Lady has said that each calligraphy stroke must be fluid, yet bold. Beside me, Yifeng tries his best, but his characters are wobbly. Checking his work causes me to make my second mistake of the day. Instead of my stroke thinning like the end of an eyebrow, I make a blot on the paper. I lift the brush but keep my face down, staring at the mess I’ve made and waiting for my mother to say something.
The silence continues, and I glance up. She gazes out the window, oblivious to me, my mistake, or Yifeng’s wiggling. When she’s like this, we know she’s thinking about my two older brothers, who died on the same day five years ago from heavenly flowers disease—smallpox. If they’d survived, they would be ten and twelve years old. And if they’d lived, my father might not have brought in Miss Zhao, I wouldn’t have Yifeng as my younger brother, and my mother wouldn’t have a ritual son.
My maid, Poppy, enters, and Respectful Lady gives a small nod. Without inspecting my work, she says, “That’s enough for today. Poppy, please have the children change and then bring them to the library to see their father.”
Poppy takes my brother to Miss Zhao, and then the two of us continue to my room. Father bought Poppy for me on the occasion of my birth. She’s fifteen, with big feet. Her eyes are set wide on her face, and she has an obedient disposition. She sleeps on the floor at the foot of my bed and many times has comforted me when I’ve been awakened by a nightmare. She helps me to dress, wash, and eat. I don’t know where Poppy comes from, but she’ll be part of my dowry, which means we’ll be together until whichever one of us dies first.
Having sat nearly all day, I’m antsy, but Poppy will have none of it.
“Yunxian, you are worse than your brother,” she scolds. “Stand still so I can brush your hair.”
“But—”
She holds up a finger. “No!” She gives me a stern look, but it quickly turns into a grin. She spoils me. It’s true. “So, tell me what you learned today.”
I do my best, reciting the usual things: “When I marry, I will respectfully serve my father-in-law. I will not look at him when he speaks to me. I will not address him, ever. I will listen and obey.”
Poppy noisily sucks her teeth to let me know she approves, but my mind is chewing on something Respectful Lady said earlier today. Always remember your place in the world. I was born into the Tan family. My given name is Yunxian, which means Loyal Virtue. Medicine has been in my family for generations, but my father chose a different path. He’s an imperial scholar of the juren level—a “recommended man,” who has passed the provincial exams. He works as a prefect here in Laizhou, which is close to the ocean but hundreds of li from our family’s ancestral home in Wuxi. For longer than my lifetime, he’s been studying to take the next and highest level of the imperial examinations, which take place every three years. The geomancer has already chosen a date for Father to travel to the capital, where he’ll complete his final studies before the testing begins. If he succeeds, the emperor himself will read my father’s essay, announce that he’s achieved the level of jinshi scholar—a “presented scholar”—and award him his title. I don’t know how our lives will change if that happens, except that our family will have taken another step up the ladder of life.
What else can I say about my place in the world? I am eight years old, young enough that I still wear my black hair in ribboned tufts. Respectful Lady has told me that my complexion is as fine as the flesh of a white peach, but that can’t be true since she has Poppy apply ointments to the three pockmarks—one high on my forehead and two side by side on my right cheek—that are visible reminders that I survived smallpox while my brothers didn’t. My feet make up for these defects. They are perfect. Today I wear a pair of silk slippers embroidered by my mother with flowers and bats for good luck.
Poppy nudges me. “And your relations with your future mother-in-law?”
“Yes, yes,” I say, snapping back to my maid. “When she sits, I will remain standing. I will rise early, but I won’t make any noise that could disturb her sleep. I will prepare and serve tea to her—”
Poppy pats my bottom, satisfied that I’m ready to be presented to my father. “That’s enough. Let’s hurry now. We don’t want to upset the master.”
We retrace our steps, picking up Yifeng from the room he shares with Miss Zhao. The three of us walk hand in hand. The rain has finally started, but we’re protected by the colonnade. The drops hitting the tile roof sound comforting, and already the air feels cleaner, lighter, as the humidity is washed out of it.
In the library, my parents sit next to each other in simply carved chairs. An altar table rests against the white wall behind them. A summer orchid blooms from a bronze pot. Respectful Lady’s hands lie folded in her lap. Her feet are propped on a brocade footrest, and her slippers, as small as my own, peek out from under her gown. Respectful Lady is always pale, but today her skin appears almost translucent. A light sheen of sweat glistens on her forehead and upper lip.