Madame Wang was far more thorough than the diviner. She pinched my earlobes. She put her forefingers on my lower eyelids and pulled the skin down, then ordered me to look up, down, left, right. She held my cheeks in her hands, turning my face back and forth. Her hands squeezed my arms in rough pulses from my shoulders down to my wrists. Then she put her hands on my hips. I was only six! You can’t tell anything about fertility yet! But she did it just the same, and no one said a word to stop her. Then she did the most amazing thing. She got out of her chair and told me to take her place. To do this would have shown terribly bad manners on my part. I looked from my mother to my father for guidance, but they stood there as dumb as stock animals. My father’s face had gone gray. I could almost hear him thinking, Why didn’t we just throw her in the stream when she was born?
Madame Wang had not become the most important matchmaker in the county by waiting for sheep to make decisions. She simply picked me up and sat me on the chair. Then she knelt before me and peeled off my shoes and socks. Again, utter silence. Like she had with my face, she turned my feet this way and that and then ran her thumbnail up and down my arch.
Madame Wang looked over at the diviner and nodded. She stood again and with an abrupt movement of her forefinger motioned me out of her chair. After she had once again taken her seat, the diviner cleared his throat.
“Your daughter presents us with a special circumstance,” he said. “I saw something in her yesterday, and Madame Wang, who brings additional expertise, agrees. Your daughter’s face is long and slender like a rice seed. Her full earlobes tell us she is generous in spirit. But most important are her feet. Her arch is very high but not yet fully developed. This means, Mother, that you should wait one more year to begin footbinding.” He held up a hand to prevent anyone from interrupting him, as if they would. “Seven is not the custom in our village, I know, but I think if you look at your daughter you will see that . . .”
Diviner Hu hesitated. Grandmother pushed a bowl of tangerines in his direction, so he might have a way to gather his thoughts. He took one, peeled it, and dropped the rind on the floor. With one section poised before his mouth, he resumed.
“At age six, bones are still mostly water and therefore malleable. But your daughter is underdeveloped for her age, even for your village, which has endured difficult years. Perhaps the other girls in this household are, as well. You should not be ashamed.”
Until this time I had not thought there was anything different about my family, nor had I considered that there was anything different about me.
He popped the wedge of tangerine into his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, and went on. “But your daughter has something besides smallness from famine. Her foot has a particularly high arch, which means that if the proper allowances are made now, her feet could be the most perfect produced in our county.”
Some people don’t believe in diviners. Some people think they make only commonsense recommendations. After all, autumn is the best time for footbinding, spring is the best time to give birth, and a pretty hill with a gentle breeze will have the best feng shui for a burial spot. But this diviner saw something in me, and it changed the course of my life. Still, at that moment there was no celebration. The room was eerily quiet. Something continued to be terribly amiss.
Into this silence, Madame Wang spoke. “The girl is indeed very lovely, but golden lilies are far more important in life than a pretty face. A lovely face is a gift from Heaven, but tiny feet can improve social standing. On this we can all agree. What happens beyond that is really for Father to decide.” She looked directly at Baba, but the words that traveled into the air were meant for my mother. “It is not such a bad thing to make a good alliance for a daughter. A high family will bring you better connections, a better bride-price, and long-term political and economic protection. Though I appreciate the hospitality and generosity that you have shown today,” she said, emphasizing the meagerness of our home with a languid movement of her hand, “fate—in the form of your daughter—has brought you an opportunity. If Mother does her job properly, this insignificant girl could marry into a family in Tongkou.”
Tongkou!
“You speak of wonderful things,” my father ventured warily. “But our family is modest. We cannot afford your fee.”
“Old Father,” Madame Wang responded smoothly, “if your daughter’s feet end up as I imagine, I can rely on a generous fee being paid by the groom’s family. You will also be receiving goods from them in the form of a bride-price. As you can see, you and I will both benefit from this arrangement.”
My father said nothing. He never discussed what happened on the land or ever let us know his feelings, but I remembered one winter after a year of drought when we didn’t have much food stored. My father went into the mountains to hunt, but even the animals had died from hunger. Baba could do nothing but come home with bitter roots, which my mother and grandmother stewed into broth. Perhaps in this moment he was remembering the shame of that year and conjuring in his mind how fine my bride-price might be and what it would do for our family.
“Beyond all of this,” the matchmaker went on, “I believe your daughter might also be eligible for a laotong relationship.”
I knew the words and what they meant. A laotong relationship was completely different from a sworn sisterhood. It involved two girls from different villages and lasted their entire lives, while a sworn sisterhood was made up of several girls and dissolved at marriage. Never in my short life had I met a laotong or considered that I might have one. As girls, my mother and aunt had sworn sisters in their home villages. Elder Sister now had sworn sisters, while grandmother had widow friends from her husband’s village as late-life sworn sisters. I had assumed that in the normal course of my life I would have them as well. To have a laotong was very special indeed. I should have been excited, but like everyone else in the room I was aghast. This was not a subject that should be discussed in front of men. So extraordinary was the situation that my father lost himself and blurted out, “None of the women in our family has ever had a laotong.”
“Your family has not had a lot of things—until now,” Madame Wang said, as she rose out of her chair. “Discuss these matters within your household, but remember, opportunity doesn’t step over your threshold every day. I will visit again.”
The matchmaker and the diviner left, both with promises that they would return to check my progress. My mother and I went upstairs. As soon as we entered the women’s room, she turned and looked at me with that same expression I had just seen in the main room. Then, before I could say anything, she slapped me across the face as hard as she could.
“Do you know how much trouble this will bring your father?” Mama asked. Harsh words, but I knew that slap was for good luck and to scare away bad spirits. After all, nothing guaranteed that my feet would turn out like golden lilies. It was equally possible that my mother would make a mistake with my feet as her mother had made with hers. She had done a fairly good job with Elder Sister, but anything could happen. Instead of being prized, I could totter about on ugly stumps, my arms constantly flapping to keep my balance, just like my mother.
Although my face stung, inside I was happy. That slap was the first time Mama had shown me her mother love, and I had to bite my lips to keep from smiling.
Mama did not speak to me for the rest of the day. Instead, she went back downstairs and talked with my aunt, uncle, father, and grandmother. Uncle was kindhearted, but as the second son he had no authority in our home. Aunt knew the benefits that might arise out of this situation, but as a sonless woman married to a second son, she had the lowest rank in the family. Mama also had no position, but having seen the look on her face when the matchmaker was talking, I knew what her thoughts would be. Father and Grandmother made all decisions in the household, though both could be influenced. The matchmaker’s announcement, although a good omen for me, meant that my father would have to work very hard to build a dowry appropriate for a higher marriage. If he didn’t comply with the matchmaker’s decision, he would lose face not only in the village but also in the county.