“Daughters, you need to help. This is the only way you will learn.”
Reluctantly, my two older girls come to the bed. Yuelan is now thirteen. Her betrothal has been arranged, and the match will be beneficial to both families. I’ll have her for two more years. Chunlan, whose name means Spring Orchid, has reached ten years. She carries a lot of her father in her. Her face is round and pale. She has a sweet disposition, but I’m vigilant in my efforts to curb her tendency toward laziness. Her marriage has also been set.
“I see Poppy has assembled everything we’ll need today,” I say, displaying calm when I feel turmoil about what I must do. I wish I could explain to them that while I take pride in what I’ve accomplished with their footbinding, I despise this chore with equal measure. Who among us would wish to inflict agony on her child? We say we want sons to continue the family line, but sometimes I wonder if what we’re really saying is that we’d rather have a son than do this.
I offer a few words of comfort in advance of what is to come. “You have pain but remember footbinding teaches you to tolerate physical distress and trains you for the rigors of childbirth.” I caress Ailan’s cheek. “Are you ready?”
She nods solemnly. Ailan, Love Orchid, turned five this year. I worry about her frailty and vulnerability. She’s my only child not to receive variolation from the smallpox-planting master. The last time he came to town, Ailan was sick, so she couldn’t have the procedure. I tell myself not to worry, because during the time I’ve lived here we haven’t had a single case of smallpox. Similarly, we’ve had no deaths as a result of footbinding, when typically one out of ten girls dies during the two years it takes to complete the process. I will not allow Ailan to become the Yang family’s “one.”
I turn to the table where the things I need have been lined up: scissors, needle, thread, two rolls of clean binding cloth, two ceramic pots, and an earthenware jar. On a shelf behind the table a row of shoes—all embroidered by my own hands—wait to be fitted to Ailan’s feet. I reach for the jar and pour some of the tonic Grandmother taught me to brew into a cup and hold it to Ailan’s lips.
“Take a few sips. As I’ve told you before, it will frighten away your pain.”
The medicine acts swiftly, but even before Ailan’s eyes start to dull, I have Yuelan and Chunlan each unwrap the bindings from one of their little sister’s feet.
“You are both gentle,” I praise them as the long lengths of cloth unspool and pile on the floor. By the time they’re done, the medicine has fully taken effect. Ailan’s naked feet are red, bruised, and swollen, but not so much that I can’t see that they’re taking shape. The big toe remains in its natural position, while the four smaller toes have already been rolled under the foot. The arch is still in the process of bending. It will be a while yet before her toes reach her heel.
“What is the size we want?” I ask.
Yuelan recites the answer. “The length of a mother’s thumb.”
“Your feet will bloom like golden lilies,” Yuelan encourages her little sister.
“This is how Mama shows her love for us,” Chunlan adds.
I set Ailan’s feet in a basin to soak in warm water mixed with mulberry root, white balsam, tannin, and frankincense. I leave the drying to my daughters. “You need to get into every crack and crevice,” I instruct. “You must check the toenails and make sure they’re short enough they can’t break the skin.” When they’re finished, I massage Ailan’s feet. No amount of mind-numbing medicine can fully remove the sensations that sear through my daughter as I press my thumbs as hard as I can between the bones of her feet, stretching the tendons and muscles.
“It will be over soon,” Yuelan soothes her sobbing sister.
“I promise to bring you a plum,” Chunlan coaxes, “if you can endure awhile longer.”
Their kindness pulls at my heart. One day they’ll be good mothers.
After I finish working on Ailan’s arch, I rub alum over her skin to help keep the foot dry and inhibit swelling. Next comes a powder I made from crushed herbs—to soften the bones, minimize pain, and prevent infection. Last, I pull a packet from within my tunic and hold it up for Ailan to see. “I brought you something special today. It’s what I use for my own feet, and I think you’ll like it.” I sprinkle the powder on a roll of binding cloth, releasing a pleasant scent of clove, cinnamon, and flower petals. Then the binding begins. Usually I like to use damp gauze because the cloth will tighten as it dries, but not today. Ailan has earned a tiny reprieve.
I wrap one end of the cloth over the top of her foot, pull to fold the four small toes as tight as I can toward the heel. Ailan whimpers. The cloth comes back up, around the heel, across the top of the foot, and under the arch, both securing the big toe and creating as best I can a pointed shape. On I go, moving the cloth in the design of infinity until all three meters are used. Without being asked, Ailen places an index finger on the end of the cloth to hold it in place, while I thread a needle. I make my stitches small and knot each one so Ailan won’t be able to pull apart the bindings over the next four days.
“We’re done,” I say after I’ve completed the process with her other foot. “Today you’ll wear a pretty new pair of shoes.” I sprinkle more of my special powder on the insides of the shoes and slip them on her feet. I worked especially hard on the design. This pair is made of dark blue silk, and the embroidery was inspired by what I’ve observed from the terrace of the Hermitage. A duckling floats down the side of the shoe toward a water plant that blooms at the tip. Koi swim across the top. Three butterflies dance together on the back of the heel. Ailan can’t help but smile at their beauty.
I dab her wet face with my handkerchief. “You are brave,” I tell her. “We have yet to know the ultimate outcome, but I feel confident about what we’ve accomplished so far. I’ll make sure to place extra offerings for Spinster Aunt for the guidance and care she provides us from the Afterworld.”
I turn to my two older daughters. Their eyes are misty. I sympathize. In my heart I ache for Ailan as I’ve ached for each of my daughters during the hard months of footbinding.
“Instead of going to the inner chambers, let us stay together here awhile,” I suggest.
Yuelan straightens her spine and folds her hands in her lap. “Grandmother Kuo wanted to test us today on the Classic of Filial Piety for Girls.”
I keep my face as calm as the surface of a pond on a wind-free night, but my stomach churns in agitation. I’m their mother. I’ve been teaching them from the classics just as Respectful Lady taught me. Mirroring my oldest daughter, I lengthen my back and allow my hands to find rest on my lap.
“You girls are fortunate to have a grandmother who shows you such love, but let us stay here for a time as I proposed. You can perfect your memorization, and your little sister can have a few minutes to recover.”
Yuelan weighs what I’ve said. Her thoughts are as clear on her face as if she’d spoken them aloud: Obey my mother or obey my grandmother? Yuelan has not yet had her first monthly moon water, and she’s still two years away from going to her husband’s home, but I find the transparency of her emotions worrisome.
Chunlan makes the decision for all of us when she begins reciting. “The husband is heaven. The wife is earth. The husband is the sun, which makes him as constant as that bright sphere. The wife is the moon, waxing and waning, strong but inevitably weak.”
Yuelan chimes in with the next section. “Heaven is honored, residing in the sky above us, while earth is lowly, dirty, and trod upon.”
None of my daughters has shown interest in my medicine beyond learning the basics for how to treat a child with an earache or upset stomach. This has been a disappointment, but maybe it’s understandable. I was inspired by Grandmother Ru. While I’ve taught my daughters what they need to learn to become proper wives and happy mothers, the influence of their grandmother Kuo, head of the household, has been strong.
After a peaceful hour, Poppy appears and gives me a nod.
“I wish we could stay together like this until the evening meal,” I say to my girls, “but this is the day I visit my grandmother, while surely yours awaits your arrival.” I put a hand on one of Ailan’s knees. “You need to walk today,” I remind her. “It will be hard, but you have your sisters to help you.”
Ailan sucks in her lips. She must obey.