29
Hua Xiaoting
1425, Ming dynasty
Outside Nanjing, on the Yangtze River
Xiaoting looked at her younger daughter’s pretty face as it contortedwith fury, and wondered why her mother had never warned her of this. Was it out of revenge for the time Xiaoting had hidden in a chest to avoid the evening meal as a child? To this day, she refused to eat goose, disliking the too-rich taste of its meat, especially after her mother had fished her out from the chest and forced her to eat a full bowl as punishment.
Xiaoting had never done that to her daughters. Did she get praise for it? She did not.
Her elder daughter was sogood. Guilan listened. She understood. Yingtai had been born resentful, and that bitterness had expanded over the years, until it was as if the girl had a small cloud attached to her bracelets that followed wherever she went.
“All of this secrecy is silly,” Yingtai said. “No one wants to hurt us. Anyway, how could they find us in this backwater?”
“You don’t understand.”
“Of course I don’t. How could I when you never include me? You never wanted me as part of this family.” Yingtai’s lovely complexion had turned a spotty red. “You wouldn’t allow me to learn with Guilan when you were teaching her.”
“You were refused once, and it was because you were five years old,” said Xiaoting through gritted teeth. “You weren’t ready.”
“Guilan is only three years older.”
In age but not in attitude, but Xiaoting knew better than to say such a thing to her younger daughter, who even on good days was like a crackling fire, mindlessly burning all around her. Xiaoting sighed in unconcealed exasperation. “You bring that up all the time, but you were a child. You don’t remember!”
“I don’t need to.” Her daughter’s hair ornaments tinkled, and Xiaoting resisted the urge to fix them to make the display more graceful. Yingtai hated anything to match or show the beauty of symmetry. “You show me every day.”
Xiaoting would have straightened her back, but it was already stiff despite the soft cushions of the platform where she sat. “I do no such thing.”
“No? Then why does Guilan get all the attention?”
“She gets different attention because she is the first daughter. Different, not all.” Xiaoting waved to her daughter’s elegant peach robes. “What does she have that you don’t? You have the same tutors and number of maids. You eat from the same dishes, and your clothing is made from fabric that comes from the same storehouse. The curtains on your bed are embroidered by the same women.”
“Guilan has peonies on her curtains,” Yingtai said.
What was the connection Yingtai was making in her own mind? Xiaoting had no idea. “You have wisteria. They are flowers, like your sister has flowers.”
Yingtai glared at her. “They are not peonies! I am a Hua, and yetI’m treated like a servant.”
“A servant?” Xiaoting couldn’t believe her ears. She grabbed her daughter’s hand. “With soft skin like this? What work do you do, you foolish girl?”
Yingtai snatched her hand back and yanked down her sleeves. “Oh, it’s my fault you won’t let me into the workshop. My fault I don’t have the power of my sister.”
“What are you saying? Not let you? You never wanted them. You know you’re always welcome. The lessons I gave Guilan were meant for you as well, but you avoided them like they were cursed.” If her daughter wanted to learn how to make fragrances, she knew all she had to do was come to the workshop. She simply never had, and Xiaoting was too busy to chase after Yingtai and beg her to attend.
“What was the point of me going?” Yingtai’s voice nearly shook the painted paper panels decorating the walls. “Even if I did, my fragrances would always be second-best, the way I am in this family. You made it obvious you saw me as useless. When I marry, I’ll have to leave for my husband’s family, but Guilan will get to stay because you won’t marry her to a man who will make her leave. I don’t understand why I was born if you didn’t want me.”
She flew out of the room, slamming the sliding door so hard the wood splintered.
Xiaoting thought of fetching her back to apologize, but a soft cough from the corner made her turn.
“Let the girl go,” said her mother.
“Such disrespect,” groused Xiaoting. “You would never have put up with such behavior.”
Her mother rose from the pearwood chair where she’d sat through the entire confrontation without saying a word. “Someone needs a dose of her own sister’s moli,” she said. “Envy is eating the girl alive.”
“Yingtai has always wanted what her sister has and never wants toadmit that her own life is easier than anything Guilan will confront.” Xiaoting arranged her silken cushions, but nothing was comfortable. She’d noticed the same thing happening more and more over the last several years. Cold sank through her robes no matter how many layers she wore, while heat made her feel as if she needed to roll in mud like the pigs to cool herself. Occasionally, it seemed as if fire was erupting from her very blood, making her slick with sweat. Her bones ached, and when sleep came, it was brief and fitful.
