Chapter Three
A Fated Meeting
You realize that you’ve reached a certain level of maturity when you witness the harsh realities of life. It’s knowledge that gnaws at you, settling deep within your soul like a heavy stone, exposing the grim and sorrowful truth. When I turned sixteen, I gained another valuable and painful insight into life as someone born into poverty, a commoner. Poverty not only influences the way we live, but also determines our ultimate fate.
Because we are poor, our sick mother never saw a doctor for her prenatal illness and was taken from us at a young age, just thirty years old, while giving birth to her ninth child, our youngest sibling. Father claimed he had buried her deep in the woods, surrounded by her favorite wildflowers. My older brother Er’er and I exchanged doubtful glances upon hearing this, but we were too afraid to question it or our father. I wanted to ask him if he had also burned incense and joss paper – ghost money meant to aid the deceased in the afterlife – with her, so she could finally have all the things she never had in life. But I remained silent, scared of facing the painful reality that I already knew deep down. So, like my siblings, I carried on with my life as though nothing had happened, but inside I felt like losing our mother was the hardest for me to accept.
It was the timing of things. Everything happened so fast that it’s still hard to believe she’s gone. The void she left behind feels like a black hole in the room, a constant reminder of her absence. Her belongings remain untouched, carrying her familiar scent and serving as ghostly reminders of her presence. Sometimes, I catch myself about to call out for her, as if I can still hear her laughter and advice ringing in my ears. Memories of her cling to me, especially when I’m alone; they haunt me with their bittersweet nostalgia. Although I would never admit it to anyone, there are moments when I could swear I see her slender figure standing over a nameless newborn baby, her face etched with sadness. But I shake these wistful thoughts away; I cannot afford the luxury of mourning when there is a household to tend to, dirty laundry to wash, and crying babies to soothe. Our family’s survival depends on my strength and determination.
As I struggle to cope with the loss of my mother, life moves on in its usual rhythm. My father continues his daily labor on the canals, but his drinking has become more frequent and excessive, leaving him in a drunken stupor every night. It’s only been a month since my mother’s passing, but my father seems to have moved on already. Last evening, he stumbled home drenched in canal water, reeking of alcohol and perfume, and I couldn’t help feeling resentful towards him. But my father is not the only one acting out in our household. My younger sister, Meili, who was supposed to assist me with household chores and finding a wet nurse or milk for our newborn sibling, has instead been spending her time with older boys in our village. Rumors about her reckless behavior and how it will bring dishonor upon our family have reached my ears from the other villagers.
As soon as our father leaves for work, I pull Meili aside and warn her about the dangerous path she’s treading. I know that if our father ever found out about her sneaking off with the boys, he would lash out at her with his fists. “You’re playing with fire,” I caution her, sounding eerily similar to our mother. But Meili brushes off my concerns, convinced that as long as I keep my mouth shut, our father will never find out. She admires herself in the silver hand mirror adorned with delicate floral patterns – a memento from our mother’s life before marrying our father. “You’re just jealous because father adores me and not you.” She wrongly accuses me.
My sister’s hurtful words ring in my ears, dripping with haughtiness as she stands before me, spewing insults and claiming that our father loves her more. A love I’ve never experienced. My anger boils within me until I can no longer contain it and I pinch her arm, causing her to yelp in pain. She responds with screams of hate and disgust, standing on her tiptoes to match my height as she curses our family and the way we live. “I despise you and this wretched excuse for a home! I’m going to become a concubine for a rich man like Mr. Mao, owner of the candy shop, and live in a luxurious house in town instead of this dilapidated shack we call ours.” Her finger jabs into my chest as she wishes death upon all of us. “I hope you and everyone here dies!” Before I can think, my hand rises and slaps her across the face as I spew contempt from my lips. “A concubine is the best you’ll ever be because you’re not good enough to be the first wife! Do you know what another word for concubine is? It’s second best, the illegitimate wife – a fate you deserve for being such an ungrateful and spoiled brat.”
My sister’s face is wet with tears, a mixture of anger and pain. I can feel the heat from our argument still radiating off of her skin, matching the redness in her cheeks. Her eyes, like mirrors to my own, reflect the hurt and betrayal we both feel. Our vision is blurry with tears as we stand before each other, unable to look away. Emotions flood our faces – anger, hurt, regret – but this has always been our dynamic, like a cat and dog, always at odds over even the smallest minor things.
Gently, I wipe away her tears and use the edge of my dress to sniffle her nose. Through sobs, my voice trembles and breaks as I whisper, “Jiejie did wrong. It’s my fault. Meimie, I shouldn’t have hit you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.” Tenderly, I hold her face in my hands and make a promise. “I’ll make you a special dinner, your favorite. Roasted chicken. I’ll even catch the fat black rooster and roast it just for you.” Despite how much she drives me crazy, she is still my little sister. Meili came into this world screaming in anger at everything and everyone, including me, but I love her, and seeing her cry hurts me more than she could ever understand. Heartbroken, she runs out the door, and I chase after her until I collide with Father, who has unexpectedly come home in the middle of the day without notice.
I strain to steady my trembling body as I welcome my father, desperately trying to exude composure. My voice quivers and stutters, betraying my inner turmoil, as I search for a plausible explanation for the heated argument Meili and I had. “Oh, you’re home sooner than expected,” I mutter, averting my gaze to conceal the weight of guilt and sadness in my eyes. The hissing sound of the hot kettle on the stove , mingling with the tension that hangs heavy. “Meili and I merely had a minor disagreement. It’s nothing of great importance. I’ll mend the situation, I promise.”
“You’re at that age when things like this happen,” Father comments, dismissing our argument and brushing off Meili’s behavior as just her personality. This surprises me, as it’s unlike him, and I stare up at him in surprise. Suddenly, he hands me five silver coins without hesitation and asks me to go into town to buy some green apples for Meili. I’m taken aback by this sudden change in his demeanor and wonder if he has forgotten about the strict rules we must follow. “Me? You want me to go alone?” I ask incredulously, my face displaying a shocked expression, as if my father had just transformed into a tree before my eyes. “What about the babies or troublemakers in town?” I stumble over my words, unsure of how to interpret his unusual request.
He ignores my question, and with no response from my father, he turns and disappears into the house. Knowing I must act swiftly before he changes his mind, I hastily make my way towards town. I run without looking back, fearing that my father has regained his senses and is chasing after me like a monster. I keep running, each step feeling like a journey towards an unfamiliar realm, which is precisely what it is.
I understand it may seem foolish, but despite the mere hour it takes to reach town from our house, it feels like a completely different world to me. The bustling streets are teeming with people, and the sounds and scents overwhelm my senses. Air full with a cacophony of voices, animals, and market vendors calling out their wares, unfamiliar sounds make me jump. The mixture of sweat, fresh produce, fish from the fishmonger, roasted ducks from the restaurants, medicinal herbs from the apothecary, and the earthy scent of freshly stirred dirt from horses pulling fancy sedans is all a bit too much for me to handle at once. I can’t even recall why I came here.
Suddenly, a robust man with thick eyebrows resembling hairy caterpillars shouts at me to get out of the way as he hurls a bucket of dirty water into the street. Startled, I swiftly move to the side, narrowly avoiding being struck by a passing horse-drawn carriage.
As I make my way to the other side of the road, delightful and enticing aromas drift towards me. “Hey there, Meimei. Come on over and try some of the most delectable dumplings in town. I’ll even give you a few extra because you’re such a lovely girl,” the woman behind the cart warmly invites me. However, her smile vanishes and her tone changes instantly when she notices my worn-out shoes. “Forget it. I don’t want dirty beggars like you hanging around, scaring away my customers,” she says, picking at her teeth with a fingernail and spitting something on the ground. “Scam. Why are you staring at me with that stupid expression on your face? Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?” she sneers at me with disgust. I can’t help but wonder why everyone assumes I’m a beggar. And once again, I let my anger get the best of me. Placing my hands on my hips, I confidently mimic the smug expression that Meili always gives me. “I don’t have lice,” I boldly reply, taking a step closer to her. “I take care of myself and keep my hair clean.” Meeting her glare with my own, I continue, “And I overheard your husband saying that your dumplings are filled with dog poop, and he’s been spreading rumors about how unsatisfying you are in bed! He said he can’t tell if he’s gutting a catfish or being intimate with you. Gross! Ew!” My insults may not make much sense to me, but I’ve heard Dage and his friends saying similar things about different girls before.
Her face crumples like a piece of paper, and I can see her growing red with anger as I gaze at the dumpling seller. “What did you just say to me?!” she shouts, her voice trembling with fury. She turns an even deeper shade of crimson and chases after me, yelling obscenities. However, I am faster and effortlessly outpace her, leaving her panting with her hands on her knees as others chuckle at the absurdity of our encounter. Once I’m certain I’ve created enough distance between us, I turn around and playfully stick my tongue out at her, tauntingly.
“Be cautious, Meimei. One mustn’t provoke a bull unless they’re ready to deal with its horns. ” warns the kind-hearted white-haired man, his friendly smile revealing a charming gap between his teeth. The gentle breeze carries the scent of fresh green apples that adorn the small table before him. Sitting behind it, he watches over his little granddaughter, who giggles while playing with a soft rag doll at his feet. Spotting me, she springs up like a lively cricket, her excitement palpable in the air. With hopeful eyes, she tugs at my dress and pleads, “Jiejie, I want braids like yours!” Her tiny fingers graze the fabric, as she pouts and confides, “Since my mother’s absence, my grandfather fixes my hair. But he’s doesn’t know how to braid, and I want pretty braids too.”
Approaching an elderly fruit seller with politeness, extending my palm to show that I possess enough money to pay for what I desire. Despite my disheveled appearance, I was not a beggar. “Sir, may I have this much worth in apples?” I address him with a gentle tone, causing his face to brighten at being acknowledged with such respect. “May I also braid the hair of this little meimei?” I inquire, squatting down beside her. Her soft, silky baby hair brushes against my fingertips as I comb through it, and she hums a sweet tune with her tiny voice. Tears well up in my eyes, blurring my vision, as they stream down my face. “Aya, you’re too young,” her grandfather sighs sadly, his words laced with understanding. “Much too young to comprehend the tragedy that has burdened your heart so heavy.” Instead of accepting my money, he hands me a generous bag of apples, hoping they will bring some solace to my sorrow.
Random kindness isn’t something I’ve often encountered. With a heart full of gratitude, I humbly lower my head, feeling the warm rays of the sun on my face, before bidding farewell and clutching the weight of the apples as if they were treasures glancing upwards, the golden rays of the setting sun catch my eye, casting a warm glow upon the sky, signaling that it is time to make my way back home.
Suddenly, a wave of commotion ripples through the street, piercing the tranquility of the moment. A voice cries out in urgency, “Stop that thief!” In the distance, I spot a portly gentleman, adorned in lavish attire, sprinting after a young boy. Tempted to turn a blind eye and continue my journey homeward, I resist the urge and hesitate momentarily.
However, fate intervenes without warning. As if summoned by an invisible force, the woman from the dumpling stand materializes before me in a whirlwind of urgency. She seizes my long braid with a firm grip, yanking me backwards with a forceful tug. My heart races, and a surge of fear courses through my veins, as my prized bag of apples slips from my grasp and crashes onto the unforgiving pavement.
Helplessly, I watch in dismay as the apples scatter in all directions, their vibrant hues contrasting against the dull grey of the road. And in a cruel twist of fate, the young boy, relentlessly pursued, stumbles and tumbles upon the chaotic sea of rolling apples, setting off a domino effect of chaos and disorder.
The dumpling vendor’s face contorts with fury as her hands tightly grip my hair. I can feel the pulsing veins in her temples, and I worry she might pull out all my hair. In a panic, I fight back and wriggle out from under her weight, sinking my teeth into her sweaty, plump, exposed arm. “Aya! Now I might get rabies!” she shouts at me, her breath reeking of garlic and onion from the dumplings she sells. The scent mingles with the musty odor of our struggle, but her expression turns to terror when I grab her head and slam it against mine twice, forcing her to release my hair. As we both stumble and fall to the ground, stars appear behind my disheveled hair, and I taste the metallic tang of blood from my cut lip caused by the impact.
Nearby, the man’s triumphant voice echoes through the street as he seizes the boy by his collar and jerks him violently. “Hǎo, hǎo, tǐng hǎo! I caught you now, little thieving weasel!” His words ring with accusation. “Did you think you could steal from Grand Princess with Fourth Prince nearby? Such foolishness! Do you have a death wish?” My head is still spinning from the impact of my head butt, but I am distracted when I notice a pair of dusty black boots standing beside me and feel a body leaning over mine. An emotionless voice speaks, “Aya, what a scene. You would make an excellent bodyguard. It’s such a pity that you’re not a man, but merely a…” His offensive manner of speech stirs up anger inside me before he can even finish his sentence. I snap. “I am not some lowly beggar!” I bark in defiance, ready to defend myself and my honor.
My anger intensifies at his indifferent attitude towards me. Whether it’s a single dry chuckle or a snort, the sound from his lips makes me want to slap this stranger repeatedly. I feel the need to see the face of this impolite individual. Slowly, I lift my eyes and gaze, glaring up to find a young man, not much older than me, with an elaborate golden hair accessory holding his topknot in place. Leaning over me, his gaze lacks interest. I’m no expert, but one could argue he’s handsome. From head to toe, dressed in all black, his small deep almond-shaped eyes narrow even further when he says, “It’s a shame you’re not a man, but merely a girl.” How is it that his aloofness makes me feel smaller and taken aback? I’ve never had a prince speak to me before, and I’ve certainly seen no one dressed like him in such fine clothes. Should I feel flattered or delighted by his royal attention? Possibly, but if it’s possible to dislike someone at first glance, this fellow, yes, I dislike him and his expression.
“Aya! Look, it’s the Grand Princess and the Fourth Prince, Jinghua,” the crowd around us murmurs with a mix of excitement and reverence. Despite being unfamiliar with the customs of the high class, I can’t help but glare at this so-called Prince Jinghua. I know I shouldn’t harbor such disdain, but it seems beyond my control. Everyone else seems to know their place, bowing and averting their gazes in respect. A woman nearby scolds me for my lack of manners and reminds me of the presence of royalty. “Lower your eyes, you disrespectful girl! You’re a commoner, not high born. Even if you were, you should still bow before the royal family,” she reprimands me.
The man, still panting heavily from the chase, speaks with authority. “Your Highness, this petty thief must be handed over to the authorities and have his hand cut off as punishment. It’s the only way to teach these hoodlums a lesson.” With my gaze lowered, I couldn’t see what was happening, but I could hear the rustling of clothes as he shook the crying boy. The young Prince responds, his tone again devoid of emotions is flat. “Bring him here. Let’s settle this now.” However, a gentle voice interjects. It must be the voice of the Grand Princess, and it’s not just her voice that’s pleasing. The Grand Princess exudes the delightful scent of camellia, and her fine silk dress swishes as she walks, creating a murmuring sound akin to leaves being caressed by a gentle breeze. “Jinghua, stop teasing the boy. You’re scaring him. And Wei let him go. No one steals without reason.” Her words and voice are soothing, yet perplexing. How can she not feel outrage towards someone who has stolen from her? “I’m sure you had your reasons for your actions, but next time, you may not be so fortunate to encounter someone like me.” I hear coins falling to the ground. “While you may keep the coins, this purse is irreplaceable to me, so I cannot give it to you,” she explains. “My daughter made it for me, and she would be heartbroken if it were lost. Thankfully, I have it back now, so we are even.”
“Please, Grand Princess, I beg for your forgiveness. My mother is ill and desperately needs medicine,” the boy pleads, his voice trembling as he kneels before royalty, his forehead touching the ground. Overwhelmed and disoriented, I wish I could vanish from this situation. But then I hear a voice. “Gugu, this clever girl saved the day. How will you compensate her for her losses?” He kicks a crushed and bruised apple at his feet, reminding me of my actions. A wave of nausea washes over me as I consider the consequences when my father discovers what I’ve done. ‘You fool, Meihua. Why didn’t you walk away when you had the chance?’ I curse to myself, only to be interrupted by a gentle tap on my shoulder.
“Dear child,” the Grand Princess entreats in a voice soft as silk. “Stand up, that I may look upon my benefactor.” With measured care, I push myself to stand, my hands instinctively moving to shield the threadbare fabric of my dress from her royal gaze. Subtly, I shift my stance, angling my left foot to hide the gaping hole in its right counterpart while gradually raising my eyes to meet hers. Upon seeing the raw canvas of my face – a bruised forehead, a split lip and a wild mane of hair that could rival our Four’s morning tangle but far worse – the Grand Princess recoils slightly, her hand fluttering to her chest in surprise. “My apologies for not having any spare coins on me. Jinghua or Wei,” she turns to address the young Prince and his manservant with a disappointed frown when they both return apologetic shakes of their heads. From within her sleeve, she retrieves an elegant handkerchief and deftly plucks out a gleaming golden hairpin from her immaculately styled coiffure. “Accept this in lieu of gold and we shall consider ourselves square. What do you think?” Her smile radiates warmth as she presents me with her ornate hair adornment as recompense.
Her man servant’s eyes bulge and his cheeks puff out, making him resemble a bullfrog sneering at me disapprovingly, as if I had been the one to suggest such a trade. “Your Highness, that’s too extravagant for her,” he grumbles. “She should be happy just to serve you. How often does a mere beggar assist a member of the royal family?” Irritated after being mistaken for a beggar all day, I respond firmly, perhaps more forcefully than my low station should or warrants. “I am not a beggar,” I declare. “And I did nothing on purpose to deserve a reward.” I bow respectfully and absentmindedly, brushing off the specks of dirt from my clothing. The manservant scoffs at me and what he presumes as my arrogance, but the young Prince in black stands back with his arms crossed over his chest. However, his small eyes widen in surprise when I correct their assumptions. In a clear and confident voice, I state, “Correcting your royal highnesses,” Puffing out my chest, standing taller and directing my proud glare at the grumpy servant, “My name is Wang Meihua, and I am not a beggar. Although I may have unintentionally aided the Grand Princess, that is enough for me.”
Grand Princess claps her hands delighted and the crowd gasps as she extends her hand, takes mine, and places a golden hairpin delicately into my palm. “Miss Wang Meihua,” she says, “let’s make a deal. This hairpin is not just a reward, but a symbol of someone who doesn’t like to owe others. Keep it, and if there is ever anything I can do for you in return, come to my house – the grand mansion of General Bai – and we will settle our debt then.” My mind is racing with a million thoughts as I struggle to determine the best course of action. As someone from a lower social class, I feel out of place and stand there with a blank expression. If only I had known that the Grand Princess was the Emperor’s biological sister and Fourth Prince Jinghua was the Crown Prince’s twin brother, I would have behaved differently. But I didn’t, and in the end, I accepted the hairpin because, above all else, I understand the disdain for being indebted to others.