woman’s fragrance; amid the fragrance of locust, I detected a trace of rose petals, and amid that fragrance, I detected the subtle fragrance of chrysanthemum blossoms. But what absolutely intoxicated me was the smell of her breasts, even with the slight but disgusting smell of lamb they exuded; I flared my nostrils and breathed in deeply. Now that the handkerchief with which she’d covered her mouth was being employed elsewhere, her mouth was exposed to view. It was a wide mouth, a Shangguan Laidi mouth, with thick, Shangguan Laidi lips. Those thick lips were covered with heavy, red, greasy paint. With its high bridge, hers somewhat resembled the
Shangguan girls’ noses, but there were differences too: the tips of the Shangguan girls’ noses were like little cloves of garlic, making them look foolish and cute at the same time, while the foreign woman’s nose was slightly hooked, which gave her a predatory look. Her short forehead filled with deep wrinkles each time she glowered at something. I knew that everyone’s eyes were fixed on her, but I can say proudly that no one’s observation of her was more meticulous than mine. And no one could know the measure of my reward. My gaze passed through the thickness of her leather wrap, allowing me to witness the sight of her breasts, which were about the same size as Mother’s. Their loveliness nearly made me forget how cold and hungry I was.
“Why are you selling your children?” the youngster asked as he raised his bandaged hand and pointed to my sisters.
Mother didn’t answer him. Did an idiotic question like that even deserve an answer? The youngster turned and muttered something to the foreign woman, whose attention was caught by the purple marten coat in which the daughter of Laidi, who lay in Mother’s arms, was wrapped. She reached out and rubbed the nap. Then she saw the pantherlike, lazily sinister gaze of the baby girl herself. She had to turn away.
I hoped that Mother would hand Laidi’s baby to the foreign woman. She didn’t have to pay us, we’d even give her Laidi’s purple marten coat. I loathed that baby girl. She was given a share of milk that belonged to me, though she didn’t deserve it. Even my twin sister, Shangguan Yunii, didn’t deserve it. So who gave her the right? What about Laidi, what’s wrong with her breasts?
The foreign woman looked at each of my sisters in turn, starting with Fifth Sister and Sixth Sister, who had straw tags sticking up out of their collars. Then she looked at Fourth Sister, Seventh Sister, and Eighth Sister, who did not have tags. They didn’t so much as glance at the little Sima bastard, but were certainly interested in me. I figured that my greatest asset was the downy yellow hair that covered my head. The way they examined my sisters was certainly peculiar. Here is the order of commands the youngster gave my sisters: Lower your head. Bend over. Kick out your leg. Raise your arms. Now wave them, front and back. Open wide, now give me an Ah – Ah! Let’s hear you laugh. Take a few steps. Now run. My sisters did everything he told them to do, while the foreign woman watched, alternating between nodding and shaking her head. Finally, she pointed to Seventh Sister and muttered something to the youngster.
The youngster told Mother – while pointing to the foreign woman – that she was Countess Rostov, a philanthropist who desired to adopt and raise a pretty Chinese girl. She has settled on this girl of yours. You are a very lucky family.
Tears nearly gushed from Mother’s eyes. She handed Laidi’s daughter to Fourth Sister, freed her arms, and wrapped them around Seventh Sister. “Qiudi, my daughter, fortune has smiled on you…” Her tears fell onto the head of Seventh Sister, who sobbed, “I don’t want to go, Mother. She has a funny smell…” “You foolish little girl,” Mother said, “that’s a wonderful smell.”
“All right, worthy sister,” the youngster interrupted impatiently. “Now we need a figure.”
“Sir,” Mother said, “since we’re giving her to this lady to raise, it’s as if my daughter has fallen into the lap of fortune. I don’t want any money… just hope you’ll take good care of her.”
The youngster translated this for the foreign woman. Then, in stiff Chinese, she said, “No, I must pay you.”
Mother said, “Sir, would you ask the lady if she could take one more, so she’ll have a sister with her?”
Again, he translated for the foreign woman. But Countess Rostov shook her head firmly.
The youngster stuffed a dozen or more pink bills into Mother’s hand and waved to the driver, who was standing beside the wagon. The man ran over and bowed to the youngster.
The driver picked up Seventh Sister and carried her over to the wagon. Not until then did she really start crying, as she reached out to us with one of her pencil-thin arms. Her sisters joined her in crying, and even the wretched little Sima boy opened his mouth and shrieked –
The wagon drove onto the road and quickly disappeared beyond the woods. But Seventh Sister’s cries, the
Holding those few pink bills in her hand, Mother stood like a statue, and I became part of that statue.
That night, rather than sleep out in the open, we took a room at an inn. Mother told Fourth Sister to go out and buy ten sesame cakes. She returned instead with forty steaming boiled buns and a large packet of stewed pork. “Little Four,” Mother said angrily, “that was money earned from selling your sister!” “Mother,” Fourth Sister said through her tears, “my sisters deserve to eat at least one decent meal, and so do you.” “Xiangdi,” Mother said tearfully, “how could I possibly eat these buns and this meat?” “If you don’t,” Fourth Sister said, “just think what that means to Jintong.” This comment had the desired effect; although she was still crying, Mother ate the buns and some of the meat, in order to produce milk for me and Shangguan Laidi and Sha Yueliang’s infant daughter.
Mother fell ill.
Her body was hot as steel pulled from a quenching bucket and gave off the same unpleasant steamy smell. We sat around watching her, wide-eyed. Mother’s eyes were closed and blisters covered her lips, through which all sorts of frightful words emerged. She went from loud shouts to soft whispers, and from a joyful tone to a tragic one. God, Holy Mother, angels, demons, Shangguan Shouxi, Pastor Malory, Third Master Fan, Yu the Fourth, Great Aunt, Second Uncle, Grandfather, Grandmother… Chinese goblins and foreign deities, living people and the dead, stories we knew and some we didn’t, all came pouring nonstop out of Mother’s mouth; it swayed, gathered, performed, and was transformed before our eyes… to comprehend Mother’s afflicted ravings was to have an understanding of the universe itself; to commit Mother’s afflicted ravings to memory was to know the entire history of Northeast Gaomi Township.
The slack-skinned innkeeper, whose face was covered with moles, was alarmed by Mother’s shouts and dragged his sagging body to our room in a panic. He reached out to touch Mother’s forehead, but jerked his hand back and said anxiously, “Send for a doctor right away, or you’ll lose her!” He asked Fourth Sister, “Are you the oldest?” She nodded. “Why haven’t you sent for a doctor? Why don’t you say something, girl?” Fourth Sister burst into tears. Falling to her knees in front of the innkeeper, she said, “I beg you, uncle, save our mother.” “Girl,” the innkeeper said, “let me ask you, how much money do you have left?” Fourth Sister took the remaining bills out of Mother’s pocket and handed them to the innkeeper. “Here, uncle, this is the money we got from selling our seventh sister.”
Once the money exchanged for Seventh Sister disappeared, Mother opened her eyes.
“Mother’s eyes are open, her eyes are open!” we cried out joyously with tears in our eyes. Mother lifted a hand and stroked our cheeks, one by one. “Mother… Mother… Mother… Mother… Mother…” we said. “Granny, Granny,” the wretched little Sima heir stammered. “Her, what about her?” Mother asked as she pointed. Fourth Sister picked her up in her purple marten coat and held her out for Mother to touch. Once she was able to touch her, Mother closed her eyes; two tears squeezed out of the corners.
Hearing the sounds from the room, the innkeeper walked in with a long face and said to Fourth Sister, “I don’t want to sound cruel, girl, but F ve got my own family burdens, and the money for the room over the past couple of weeks, and the food, and the candles and oil…”
“Uncle,” Fourth Sister said, “you are this family’s great benefactor. We’ll pay you what we owe, but please don’t throw us out now. Our mother is sick…”
On the morning of February 18, 1941, Xiangdi handed a packet of money to Mother, who had just recovered from her illness. “Mother,” she said, “I’ve paid the innkeeper. This is for you.”
“Xiangdi,” Mother asked nervously, “where did you get this money?”
Fourth Sister laughed mournfully. “Mother, take my brother and sisters away with you. This is not our
