Chapter 2
Edward Quan ·
3.
When I was twelve, Mother hired a matron to teach me proper conduct.
Her surname was Fang. She had supposedly served in the palace, and knew enough rules to crush a person to death.
On the first day, she taught me to walk.
“Head up, chest out, stomach in. Small steps. Tread lightly.”
I took three steps.
“Too heavy.”
I took another three.
“Still too heavy.”
I walked for the time it took an incense stick to burn.
“Are you walking on the ground or stamping on it?”
I looked down at my feet.
“Walking.”
Matron Fang fell silent.
For a long time.
Finally, she said, “Never mind. Stop walking. Sit.”
Then she taught me how to sit.
“Use only the front third of the chair. Back straight, hands on your knees, eyes ahead. No looking about.”
I sat for half an incense stick's burning.
“Why are you moving?”
“My legs have gone numb.”
“Endure it.”
I endured another incense stick.
“Why are you shaking now?”
“My legs are numb. If I don't move them, they shake by themselves.”
Matron Fang fell silent again.
Then she stood and told Mother, “Madam, I lack the ability to teach this young lady.”
Mother said nothing.
Matron Fang left.
Mother looked at me and sighed.
“A-Ning, are you doing this on purpose?”
“No.”
“Why can't you learn?”
“Mother, I've learned it. I just don't want to do it.”
She stared.
“You want me to learn these rules because you're afraid I won't find a husband. But I don't want a husband.”
Mother was speechless. Then, “What?”
“I want to be an official. Like Father.”
The teacup nearly fell from her hand.
That evening, she told Father.
He came to see me the next day.
“Bruiser, you want to be an official?”
“Yes.”
“It's hard work. Early mornings, documents to review, social obligations, other people's moods to watch.”
“Marriage is hard work too. Early mornings, a household to manage, social obligations, my husband's family's moods to watch.”
Father stared.
After a long think, he asked, “When did you start thinking about these things?”
“When I was eight.”
“Eight?”
“When I was eight, I saw Concubine Zhou cry in front of you for two hours over a few lengths of Shu brocade.
“I thought, if that were me, I wouldn't cry.
“I'd buy it myself.
“I'd earn the money myself.”
Father said nothing.
For a very, very long time.
So long I thought he was about to scold me.
Instead, he merely reached out and stroked my head.
“Bruiser,” he said, “you'll go further than I thought.”
When I was fourteen, A-Fu was six.
One day, he ran to me, tears and snot streaming down his face.
“What happened?”
“Someone bullied me.”
“Who?”
“Concubine Zhou's son.”
I stood to go.
A-Fu caught hold of me.
“Sister, what are you going to do?”
“Make him call me Big Brother.”
“No need. I already did.”
I stopped. “What?”
Sniffling, he explained, “He told me to call him Big Brother, so I did. Then he let me go.”
I looked at him, suddenly rather pleased.
“A-Fu, you're growing up.”
He gazed up at me, his face wet with tears.
“Sister, don't you think I'm a coward?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“Really. Knowing when to bend and when to stand firm takes skill. Later, when you're strong enough, make him call you Big Brother. That takes skill too.”
A-Fu thought for a moment and stopped crying.
“Sister, you're the most impressive person I've ever met.”
“How many people have you met?”
“Lots.”
“How many?”
“Lots, anyway.”
I laughed.
I was fourteen that year. A-Fu was six.
Suddenly, having a little brother didn't seem so bad.
4.
When I was fifteen, Grandmother fell ill.
I stayed by her bed, bringing broth and feeding her medicine, caring for her for seven days straight.
On the seventh night, she took my hand.
“A-Ning, you're a good child.”
“Rest, Grandmother. Don't talk too much.”
“Let me speak. If I don't say it now, I may never have another chance.”
I stopped trying to silence her.
“A-Ning, you've been different since you were little.
“When others cried, you didn't. When they laughed, you didn't. When they fought over things, you didn't join in.
“I could never quite understand you.
“Not until recently.”
I looked at her.
“It isn't that you won't fight for things,” she said.