I loved this story. It was fun to chant with Mama and the others, but since my grandmother’s and sister’s deaths I better understood its messages. The story showed me how the value of a girl—or woman—could shift from person to person. It also offered practical instruction on how to care for a loved one after death—how a body should be handled, what constituted proper eternity garments, where someone should be buried. My family had tried their best to follow these rules, and I would too, once I became a wife and mother.
THE DAY AFTER Bull Fighting Day, Madame Wang returned. I had grown to hate her visits, because they always meant more anxiety for our household. Of course, everyone was pleased with the prospect of Elder Sister’s good marriage. Of course, everyone was delighted that Elder Brother would also be married and that our home would have its first daughter-in-law. But we had also had two funerals in our family recently. If you put emotions aside, these sad and happy occasions meant the expense of two burials and two upcoming weddings. The pressure on me to make a good marriage took on added meaning. It meant our survival.
Madame Wang came upstairs to the women’s chamber, politely checked Elder Sister’s embroidery, and praised her for its pleasing qualities. Then she sat on a stool with her back to the lattice window. She did not look in my direction. Mama, who was just beginning to understand her new position as the highest-ranking woman in the household, waved to Aunt to bring tea. Until it came, Madame Wang spoke of the weather, of plans for upcoming temple fairs, of a shipment of goods that had arrived by river from Guilin. Once the tea was poured, Madame Wang got down to business.
“Cherished Mother,” she began, “we have discussed before some of the possibilities open to your daughter. A marriage to a good family in Tongkou Village seems assured.” She leaned forward and confided, “I have already had some interest there. In just a few more years I will visit you and your husband for Contracting a Kin.” She pulled herself back to an upright position and cleared her throat. “But today I have come to suggest a match of a different sort. As you may recall from the first day we met, I saw in Lily the chance for her to become a laotong.” Madame Wang waited for this to sink in before she went on. “Tongkou Village is forty-five minutes away by men’s walking. Most families there are from the Lu clan. There is a potential laotong match for Lily in this clan. The girl’s name is Snow Flower.”
Mama’s first question showed me and everyone else in the room not only that she had not forgotten what Madame Wang had suggested on her first visit but that she had been scheming and thinking about this possibility ever since.
“What of the eight characters?” Mama asked, the sweetness of her voice doing little to cover her determination. “I see no reason for a match unless the eight characters are in full agreement.”
“Mother, I would not have come to you today unless the eight characters aligned well,” Madame Wang responded evenly. “Lily and Snow Flower were born in the year of the horse, in the same month, and, if what both mothers have told me is true, on the same day and in the same hour as well. Lily and Snow Flower have the same number of brothers and sisters, and they are each the third child—”
“But—”
Madame Wang held up a hand to stop my mother from continuing. “To answer your question before you ask it: Yes, the third daughter in the Lu family is also with her ancestors. The circumstances of these tragedies do not matter, for no one likes to think of the loss of a child, not even a daughter.” She stared at Mama with hard eyes, practically daring her to speak. When Mama looked away, Madame Wang went on. “Lily and Snow Flower are of identical height, of equal beauty, and, most important, their feet were bound on the same day. Snow Flower’s great-grandfather was a jinshi scholar, so social and economic standing are not matched.” Madame Wang did not have to explain that if this family had an imperial scholar of the highest grade among its ancestors, it must indeed be well connected and well off. “Snow Flower’s mother does not seem to mind these discrepancies, since the two girls share so many other sames.”
Mama nodded calmly, the monkey in her absorbing all this, but I wanted to fly from my chair, run down to the riverbank, and scream my excitement. I glanced at Aunt. I expected to see that big smiling cave of a mouth, but instead she had clamped it shut as she tried to hide her delight. Her whole body was a picture of stillness and well-bred decorum, except for her fingers, which swam nervously among themselves like a bowlful of baby eels. She, more than the rest of us, understood the importance of this meeting. Without being obvious, I sneaked peeks at Beautiful Moon and Elder Sister. Their eyes glittered with happiness for me. Oh, the things we would talk about tonight after the rest of the household went to sleep!
“Although I usually make this approach during the Mid-Autumn Festival when the girls are eight or nine,” Madame Wang remarked, “I felt in this instance that an immediate match would be especially beneficial for your daughter. She is ideal in many ways, but her house learning could improve and she needs much refinement to be able to fit into a higher household.”
“My daughter is not what she should be,” Mama agreed indifferently. “She is stubborn and disobedient. I am not so sure this is a good idea. Better to be one imperfect grape among many sworn sisters than to disappoint one girl of high standing.”
My joy of moments before plunged into a black chasm. Even though I knew my mother well, I was not old enough to understand that her sour words about me were part of the negotiation, just as many similar sentiments would be spoken when my father and the matchmaker sat down to discuss my marriage. Making me seem unworthy protected my parents from any complaints that either my husband’s or my laotong‘s families might have about me in the future. It might also lower any hidden costs they would have to pay the matchmaker and lessen what they would have to provide for my dowry.
The matchmaker was unfazed. “Naturally you would feel this way. I too have many of the same concerns. But enough talk for today.” She paused for a moment as if deliberating, though it was quite clear to all of us that every word she spoke and every action she carried out had long been planned and practiced. She reached into her sleeve, pulled out a fan, and called me over. As she handed it to me, Madame Wang spoke over my head to my mother. “You need time to consider your daughter’s fate.”
I clicked open the fan and stared at the words that ran down one of the folds and at the garland of leaves that adorned the upper edge.
Mama spoke sternly to the matchmaker. “You give this to my daughter though you and I have not discussed your fee?”
Madame Wang waved away the suggestion as if it were a bad smell. “Same as with her marriage. No fee to the Yi family. The other girl’s family can pay me. And if I raise your daughter’s value now as a laotong, my bride-price payment from the groom’s family will be further enriched. I am satisfied with this arrangement.”
She rose and took a few steps toward the stairs. Then she turned, rested a hand on Aunt’s shoulder, and announced to the room, “One more thing you should all consider. This woman has done a good job with her daughter, and I can see that Beautiful Moon and Lily are close. If we can agree to this laotong relationship for Lily, which will help solidify her chance of marriage into Tongkou, then I think it would be a good thing to consider looking for a match for Beautiful Moon there as well.”