Then it was time for Weiwei to have new clothes made. Wang Qiyao picked out some woolen suit material in magenta and asked Madame Yan for a good tailor. The day the tailor came over to take the measurements, he was besieged with vociferous opinions about the design from Wang Qiyao and Zhang Yonghong, as well as Madame Yan, who had brought him over.
Thoroughly exasperated, the tailor demanded, “Excuse me, but who’s the tailor here, you or me?”
They all laughed. “Okay, okay! We’ll keep quiet from now on!”
But before long they were at it again. Weiwei, the only one who remained silent, stood with demure composure as they maneuvered her around — that day she was the star of the show. The lead role had fallen into her lap and she accepted the part in a muddleheaded way. You could say that she had no clue as to what marriage really was, but storybook romances with happy endings always seem to fall into the laps of people like that; the more one pursues the perfect marriage, the more elusive it becomes. This is what they mean when they say, “Follow love, and it will flee; flee love, and it will follow thee.” They also spent a great deal of time trying to figure out what shoes would match the magenta suit. At first it seemed logical that she should wear white shoes, but these made her look top-heavy and somewhat provincial. Black was the next color they tried, but although the proportions seemed right, the somber color had a deadening effect that took away from her gorgeous outfit. After racking their brains and running all over Shanghai, they finally found a pair of leather shoes in a slightly deeper shade of magenta: that did the trick, and they looked perfect on her. Next came the issue of hairstyle. Wang Qiyao had the final say here. She suggested that Weiwei get a permanent wave one month before the wedding, then go back for a trim every other week after that. By the time of the wedding, her hair would look naturally curly and no one would be able to tell that it had been permed, and it would look just right whether put up or hanging down.
By that point Weiwei had already tried on her bridal gown in front of the mirror countless times. Each time Wang Qiyao couldn’t help but be secretly surprised at how even an average-looking girl could be transformed into a glowing beauty as her wedding approached. This was that magic moment when the petals open up and all the beauty in the world steps aside to clear a path for the flower in full bloom. It is the instant at which a woman becomes a real woman; everything leading up to this is preparation for this day, when it all comes to fruit. The beauty and essence of womanhood are concentrated at this turning point.
Next it was time to sew the wedding quilt. Wang Qiyao went over to Madame Yan’s and said to her, “You know, it would be bad luck for a woman like me to embroider a pair of mandarin ducks on Weiwei’s wedding quilt. Madame Yan, you’ve been blessed with both a son and a daughter and have had a life of great fortune. I would be so grateful if Weiwei could enjoy even a fraction of the good fortune you have enjoyed.”
Madame Yan didn’t need any more convincing; she immediately ordered the nanny to come along with her to Wang Qiyao’s apartment. There she had the nanny help her spread out the quilt as she began her needlework. Wang Qiyao watched from a distance, but didn’t lift a finger to help, even when Madame Yan asked her to thread a needle. “Madame Yan, you know I mustn’t touch it. .” she said.
“You finally found yourself an excuse not to help!” exclaimed Madame Yan, who nevertheless felt sorry for her, but refrained from saying anything further in front of the Shaoxing nanny. Instead she simply lowered her head and went hard at sewing. The nanny left around noon and Madame Yan stayed on to dinner. Smelling the aroma from the kitchen, she suddenly felt as if the clock had turned back and she was transported to a scene from many years ago. All kinds of old secrets rushed up, but they were the kinds that could never be broached. Once dinner was on the table and the two women were sitting face to face, Madame Yan cut to the chase. “Weiwei’s getting married. . Don’t you think you should let her father know?”
The blow was cushioned by a lapse of more than twenty years and the question didn’t come across as abrupt.
“Her father’s dead,” Wang Qiyao said with a smile. Then she added, “He died in Siberia.”
The two of them laughed so hard they almost spit out their food.
“You should get yourself a new dress to wear on Weiwei’s wedding day,” Madame Yan said.
“For someone as old as I am, what good is a new dress?” replied Wang Qiyao.
“Then maybe you should take a hint from Weiwei and do something to make yourself into a whole new you!” With that, they both laughed again. Once their giddiness had passed, Madame Yan turned serious. “Actually, I was partly serious about what I said before. Once Weiwei leaves you’ll be lonely. You should find yourself a companion!”
“And where should I look?” Wang Qiyao asked.
Madame Yan finished the embroidery on the quilt, marking the end to yet another day; Weiwei’s wedding was now another day closer. As the Spring Festival drew near, everyone got busy preparing for the New Year, to see off the old and welcome in the new, all of which added to the gaiety surrounding the wedding. Xiao Lin was on winter break, but had signed up for an English class. His father had an old friend in America who had already agreed to act as his sponsor. Xiao Lin was planning to finish out his sophomore year in Shanghai before going on to the United States to complete his studies. Getting married was one step in his plan to go to America — it was much easier to get an entry visa as a married man. The idea made Wang Qiyao nervous. But not Weiwei — she had the opposite reaction, and was even more excited about Xiao Lin going to the States than she was about getting married. Sooner or later, everyone gets married, but not everyone gets to go to America — never mind the prospect of Xiao Lin one day taking her there; just the thought of his going was exciting enough.
Because Xiao Lin was slated to leave, they had a short-term perspective when it came to some of the wedding preparations. Their bridal chamber was set up in a small west-facing room in his parents’ apartment, and none of their furniture was new. But marriage always makes people happy; no matter how often this old ceremony is repeated, it never loses its flair. Whatever time Xiao Lin didn’t spend cramming English he spent with Weiwei — shopping, eating out in Western restaurants, or going to the movies. Knowing that marriage was right around the corner, they couldn’t help crossing the line once in a while, but that was okay. Just how far could they really go standing in dark doorways or in the corner of the public park at night?
They also spent some of their time together at Wang Qiyao’s place. They would talk about America and it was as if their hearts had already flown there. Wang Qiyao, too, was a fan of America — the America she liked was the one she had seen in Hollywood movies. But, fond as she was of the America on the silver screen, she knew that it was all make-believe; her America was a place within sight but far beyond reach. Xiao Lin and Weiwei, however, took their America for real and they had all kinds of plans to carry out there. Wang Qiyao couldn’t get a word in as they talked about their American dreams, but their America was boring to her — it didn’t even come close to her Hollywood movies.
One day Xiao Lin came over while Weiwei was still out.
“Come on in,” Wang Qiyao said. “Weiwei should be back right after lunch.”
Xiao Lin picked up the evening newspaper from the previous day. Wang Qiyao, who went on knitting a sweater, asked where the wedding reception was going to be held and whether he had booked the room. Xiao Lin said that his mother was just about to inquire about how many tables Wang Qiyao’s family wanted for the reception. Wang Qiyao figured that, even if she invited people from her mother’s side of the family, they might not come. Besides them, no one else really mattered, except Madame Yan. Although they didn’t always see eye to eye, they had never fallen out of touch all these years and could be said to be lifelong intimates. She told Xiao Lin that she wouldn’t even need a whole table; it would just be herself and Madame Yan.