China by Edward Rutherfurd (historical books to read TXT) 📕

“No,” he answered, “but if they came here…”

She understood. If they came all the way up here, that would be fate. That’s what he was telling her. If the Americans came, he’d go. She could only pray they wouldn’t. After all, if the money was so good, the Americans would find all the men they needed on the coast. And time had passed, and nobody came.

—

It was a sunny autumn day when the handsome young American appeared. He’d remembered the hamlet from the time he’d come with his father years before. He was offering a bag of silver in advance, so long as the men promised to stay three years.

But he remembered Second Son, too. And when her husband offered himself and his son, the handsome young American shook his head. “You changed your mind last time, after only a day,” he told him.

“I won’t do it again,” Second Son said.

“Sorry. Can’t take the chance,” the American replied. “I need men who really want to go.”

Mei-Ling was standing beside her husband when the American said that, and she felt such a rush of joy and relief. They’d get by without the money, she told herself.

“I’ll promise four years instead of three,” said Second Son.

She stared at him in horror. What was he saying? The young American looked at him thoughtfully. “You swear?” he said.

“I promise,” said her husband. “For both of us.” He didn’t look at her.

Afterwards, she asked him, “Why did you say that?”

“Because he wasn’t going to take me otherwise,” he answered. “It was obvious.”

So the American gave her the bag of silver, and her husband and her younger son left straightaway. Second Son promised that the time would soon pass and tried to pretend that everything was all right. Her boy said he’d think of her every day, but he couldn’t help looking a little excited to be going on such an adventure.

That night there was a quarter-moon and a sprinkling of stars. And as she had when he left before, Mei-Ling sent messages of love after her husband. But this time clouds filled the sky, snuffed out the stars, and hid the moon; and she wasn’t sure that the messages reached her husband. She wasn’t even sure they left the valley where the hamlet was.

—

Bright Moon’s father had been away two years when they began to bind her feet.

The autumn season was the time to begin. Summer’s heat and humidity, which caused the feet to sweat and swell, was past. So the pain was less.

They told the little girl she should be grateful.

Even down here in the south, plenty of women in the towns had bound feet. But out in the countryside bound feet were not so common, and in their poor little hamlet Bright Moon was the first girl to be so lucky for years.

She was doubly lucky, because the woman who came from the local town to supervise the procedure was well known throughout the area for her skill. People called her the Binder. “She has bound feet in some of the finest houses in the region,” Mother told them all. “It’s got to be done right, no matter what it costs.”

A propitious date was carefully chosen: the twenty-fourth day of the eighth moon. But before that, there was much to be done. Weeks ago, Mei-Ling had made a journey to the town with a pair of tiny silk-and-cotton shoes that she had made, hardly two inches tall, but embroidered with a prayer, and placed them on the incense burner in the Buddhist Goddess of Mercy’s temple.

On that journey she had also bought some of the items that would be needed in the months and years ahead: dozens of rolls of narrow binding cloth, a small bamboo receptacle for fuming the cloth to make it smell sweet, and several kinds of foot powder. Mother had supplied the money for all this, though Mei-Ling wondered where the money had come from. But when she asked, Mother told her. “I managed to collect some of the rents, but I didn’t tell you. I’ve been saving for years.”

Together she and Mother tried to make a pair of quilted cotton shoes that the child could wear when her feet were initially bound. “I hope we got it right,” said Mother. And the day before the Binder was due, they prepared the kitchen so that they could make balls of sticky rice and red beans. But in spite of all these preparations, Mei-Ling noticed that Mother was quite nervous and ill at ease on the morning the Binder arrived.

Not that the Binder was so impressive to look at. She was just a peasant woman, aged about fifty, quite short and simply dressed. But her feet were bound, and her face, thanks to the application of lotions, was smooth. Mei-Ling thought that the Binder’s eyes were sharp, like a market woman who knows the price of everything.

“You must not think that we are unfamiliar with binding feet,” Mother told her. “My elder son’s wife had bound feet, but sadly she has died.”

“I see you have a big house,” the Binder replied. “Your daughters have no need to work.” She glanced at Mother’s feet.

“My sister’s feet were bound, and my parents could well afford to bind mine, but for some reason they didn’t,” Mother explained. Mei-Ling had never heard Mother say this before. Then the Binder looked at her feet. “Her parents were poor,” said Mother apologetically.

“I have known even the poorest parents who borrow money to bind the feet of their eldest daughter,” said the Binder, “especially if she is beautiful. But it can be hard for them, because such girls are supposed to come to their husbands with at least four pairs of silk shoes, one for each season, and often a dozen or more.”

“The child will have all the shoes she needs,” Mother assured her.

“She is fortunate then,” said the Binder. “May I see her?”

“Of course,” cried Mother.