on her sixteenth birthday , my grandma be betroth by she father to shan bianlang , the son of shan tingxiu , one of northeast gaomi township 's richest man .
as distillery owner , the shans use cheap sorghum to produce a strong , high-quality white wine that be famous throughout the area .
northeast gaomi township be largely swampy land that be flood by autumn rain ; but since the tall sorghum stalk resist waterlogging , it be plant everywhere and invariably produce a bumper crop .
by use cheap grain to make wine , the shan family make a very good living , and marry my grandma off to they be a real feather in great-granddad 's cap .
many local family have dream of marry into the shan family , despite rumour that shan bianlang have leprosy .
he father be a wizened little man who sport a scrawny queue on the back of he head , and even though he cupboard overflow with gold and silver , he wear tattered , dirty clothes , often use a length of rope as a belt .
grandma 's marriage into the shan family be the will of heaven , implement on a day when she and some of she playmate , with they tiny bind foot and long pigtail , be play beside a set of swing .
it be qingming , the day set aside to attend ancestral grave ; peach tree be in full red bloom , willow be green , a fine rain be fall , and the girl ' face look like peach blossom .
it be a day of freedom for they .
that year grandma be five foot four inch tall and weigh about 130 pound .
she be wear a cotton print jacket over green satin trousers , with scarlet band of silk tie around she ankle .
since it be drizzle , she have put on a pair of embroidered slipper soak a dozen time in tong oil , which make a squish sound when she walk .
she long shiny braid shine , and a heavy silver necklace hang around she neck – great-granddad be a silversmith .
great-grandma , the daughter of a landlord who have fall on hard time , know the importance of bind foot to a girl , and have begin bind she daughter 's foot when she be six year old , tighten the binding every day .
a yard in length , the cloth binding be wind around all but the big toe until the bone crack and the toe turn under .
the pain be excruciate .
my mother also have bind foot , and just see they saddened i so much that i feel compel to shout : ' down with feudalism !
long live liberated foot ! '
the result of grandma 's suffering be two three-inch golden lotus , and by the age of sixteen she have grow into a well-developed beauty .
when she walk , swing she arm freely , she body sway like a willow in the wind .
shan tingxiu , the groom 's father , be walk around great-granddad 's village , dung basket in hand , when he spot grandma among the other local flower .
three month later , a bridal sedan chair would come to carry she away .
grandma be lighthead and dizzy inside the stuffy sedan chair , she view block by a red curtain that give off a pungent mildewy odour .
she reach out to lift it a crack – great-granddad have tell she not to remove she red veil .
a heavy bracelet of twisted silver slide down to she wrist , and as she look at the coiled-snake design she thought grow chaotic and disoriented .
a warm wind rustle the emerald-green stalk of sorghum line the narrow dirt path .
dove coo in the field .
the delicate powder of petal float above silvery new ear of wave sorghum .
the curtain , embroider on the inside with a dragon and a phoenix , have fade after year of use , and there be a large stain in the middle .
summer be give way to autumn , and the sunlight outside the sedan chair be brilliant .
the bounce movement of the bearer rock the chair slowly from side to side ; the leather lining of they pole groan and creak , the curtain flutter gently , let in a occasional ray of sunlight and , from time to time , a whisper of cool air .
grandma be sweating profusely and she heart be race as she listen to the rhythmic footstep and heavy breathing of the bearer .
the inside of she skull feel cold one minute , as though fill with shiny pebble , and hot the next , as though fill with coarse pepper .
after shan tingxiu have spot grandma , a stream of people come to congratulate great-granddad and great-grandma .
grandma ponder what it would be like to mount to the jingle of gold and dismount to the tinkle of silver , but what she truly long for be a good husband , handsome and well educate , a man who would treat she gently .
as a young maiden , she have embroider a wedding trousseau and several exquisite picture for the man who would someday become my granddad .
eager to marry , she hear innuendo from she girlfriend that the shan boy be afflict with leprosy , and she dream begin to evaporate .
yet , when she share she anxiety with she parent , great-granddad hem and haw , while great-grandma scold the girlfriend , accuse they of sour grape .
later on , great-granddad tell she that the well-educated shan boy have the fair complexion of a young scholar from stay home all the time .
grandma be confuse , not know if this be true or not .
after all , she think , she own parent would not lie to she .
maybe she girlfriend have make it all up .
once again she look forward to she wedding day .
grandma long to lose she anxiety and loneliness in the arm of a strong and noble young man .
finally , to she relief , she wedding day arrive , and as she be place inside the sedan chair , carry by four bearer , the horn and woodwind fore and aft strike up a melancholy tune that bring tear to she eye .
off they go , float along as though ride the cloud or sailing through a mist .
shortly after leave the village , the lazy musician stop play , while the bearer quicken they pace .
the aroma of sorghum burrow into she heart .
full-voiced strange and rare bird sing to she from the field .
a picture of what she imagine to be the bridegroom slowly take shape from the thread of sunlight filter into the darkness of the sedan chair .
painful needle prick jab she heart .
' old man in heaven , protect i ! '
she silent prayer make she delicate lip tremble .
a light down adorn she upper lip , and she fair skin be damp .
every soft word she utter be swallow up by the rough wall of the carriage and the heavy curtain before she .
she rip the tart-smelling veil away from she face and lay it on she knee .
she be follow local wedding custom , which dictate that a bride wear three layer of new clothes , top and bottom , no matter how hot the day .
the inside of the sedan chair be badly worn and terribly dirty , like a coffin ; it have already embrace countless other bride , now long dead .
the wall be festoon with yellow silk so filthy it ooze grease , and of the five fly catch inside , three buzz above she head while the other two rest on the curtain before she , rub they bright eye with black stick-like leg .
succumb to the oppressiveness in the carriage , grandma ease one of she bamboo-shoot toe under the curtain and lift it a crack to sneak a look outside .
she could make out the shape of the bearer ' statuesque leg poke out from under loose black satin trousers and they big , fleshy foot encase in straw sandal .
they raise cloud of dust as they tramp along .
impatiently try to conjure up a image of they firm , muscular chest , grandma raise the toe of she shoe and lean forward .
she could see the polish purple scholar-tree pole and the bearer ' broad shoulder beneath they .
barrier of sorghum stalk line the path stand erect and solid in unbroken row , tightly pack , together size one another up with the yet unopened clay-green eye of grain ear , one indistinguishable from the next , as far as she could see , like a vast river .
the path be so narrow in place it be barely passable , cause the wormy , sappy leaf to brush noisily against the sedan chair .
the man 's body emit the sour smell of sweat .
infatuate by the masculine odour , grandma breathe in deeply – this ancestor of mine must have be nearly burst with passion .
as the bearer carry they load down the path , they foot leave a series of v imprint know as ' trample ' in the dirt , for which satisfied client usually reward they , and which fortify the bearer ' pride of profession .
it be unseemly to ' trample ' with a uneven cadence or to grip the pole , and the best bearer keep they hand on they hip the whole time , rock the sedan chair in perfect rhythm with the musician ' haunting tune , which remind everyone within earshot of the hidden suffering in whatever pleasure lay ahead .
when the sedan chair reach the plain , the bearer begin to get a little sloppy , both to make up time and to torment they passenger .
some bride be bounce around so violently they vomit from motion sickness , soil they clothing and slipper ; the retch sound from inside the carriage please the bearer as though they be give vent to they own misery .
the sacrifice these strong young man make to carry they cargo into bridal chamber must have embittered they , which be why it seem so natural to torment the bride .
one of the four man bear grandma 's sedan chair that day would eventually become my granddad – it be commander yu zhan ' ao .
at the time he be a beefy twenty-year-old , a pallbearer and sedan bearer at the peak of he trade .
the young man of he generation be as sturdy as northeast gaomi sorghum , which be more than can be say about we weakling who succeed they .
it be a custom back then for sedan bearer to tease the bride while trundle she along : like distillery worker , who drink the wine they make , since it be they due , these man torment all who ride in they sedan chair – even the wife of the lord of heaven if she should be a passenger .
sorghum leave scrape the sedan chair mercilessly when , all of a sudden , the deadening monotony of the trip be break by the plaintive sound of weep – remarkably like the musician ' tune – come from deep in the field .
as grandma listen to the music , try to picture the instrument in the musician ' hand , she raise the curtain with she foot until she could see the sweat-soaked waist of one of the bearer .
she gaze be catch by she own red embroidered slipper , with they tapered slimness and cheerless beauty , ringed by halo of incoming sunlight until they look like lotus blossom , or , even more , like tiny goldfish that have settle to the bottom of a bowl .
two teardrop as transparently pink as immature grain of sorghum wet grandma 's eyelash and slip down she cheek to the corner of she mouth .
as she be grip by sadness , the image of a learn and refine husband , handsome in he high-topped hat and wide sash , like a player on the stage , blur and finally vanish , replace by the horrifying picture of shan bianlang 's face , he leprous mouth cover with rot tumour .
she heart turn to ice .
be these taper golden lotus , a face as fresh as peach and apricot , gentility of a thousand kind , and ten thousand variety of elegance all reserve for the pleasure of a leper ?
better to die and be do with it .
the disconsolate weep in the sorghum field be dot with word , like knot in a piece of wood :
a blue sky yo – a sapphire sky yo – a paint sky yo – a mighty cudgel yo – dear elder brother yo – death have claim you – you have bring down little sister 's sky yo – .
i must tell you that the weep of woman from northeast gaomi township make beautiful music .
during 1912 , the first year of the republic , professional mourner know as ' wailer ' come from qufu , the home of confucius , to study local weep technique .
meet up with a woman lament the death of she husband seem to grandma to be a stroke of bad luck on she wedding day , and she grow even more dejected .
just then one of the bearer speak up : ' you there , little bride in the chair , say something !
the long journey have bore we to tear . '
grandma quickly snatch up she red veil and cover she face , gently draw she foot back from beneath the curtain and return the carriage to darkness .
' sing we a song while we bear you along ! '
the musician , as though snap out of a trance , strike up they instrument .
a trumpet blare from behind the chair :
' too-tah – too-tah – '
' poo-pah – poo-pah – '
one of the bearer up front imitate the trumpet sound , evoke coarse , raucous laughter all around .
grandma be drench with sweat .
back home , as she be be lift into the sedan chair , great-grandma have exhort she not to get draw into any banter with the bearer .
sedan bearer and musician be low-class rowdy capable of anything , no matter how depraved .
they begin rock the chair so violently that poor grandma could not keep she seat without hold on tight .
' no answer ?
okay , rock !
if we can not shake any word loose , we can at least shake the piss out of she ! '
the sedan chair be like a dinghy toss about by the wave , and grandma hold on to the wooden seat for dear life .
the two egg she would eat for breakfast churn in she stomach , the fly buzz around she ear ; she throat tighten , as the taste of egg surge up into she mouth .
she bite she lip .
do not throw up , do not let yourself throw up ! she command herself .
you must not let yourself throw up , fenglian .
they say throw up in the bridal chair mean a lifetime of bad luck . . . .
the bearer ' banter turn coarse .
one of they revile my great-granddad for be a money-grabber , another say something about a pretty flower stick into a pile of cowshit , a third call shan bianlang a scruffy leper who ooze pus and excrete yellow fluid .
he say the stench of rotten flesh drift beyond the shan compound , which swarm with horsefly . . . .
' little bride , if you let shan bianlang touch you , you skin will rot away ! '
as the horn and woodwind blare and toot , the taste of egg grow stronger , force grandma to bite down hard on she lip .
but to no avail .
she open she mouth and spew a stream of filth , soil the curtain , towards which the five fly dash as though shot from a gun .
' puke-ah , puke-ah .
keep rock ! ' one of the bearer roar .
' keep rock .
sooner or later she 'll have to say something . '
' elder brother . . . spare i . . . '
grandma plead desperately between agonising retch .
then she burst into tear .
she feel humiliate ; she could sense the peril of she future , know she would spend the rest of she life drown in a sea of bitterness .
oh , father , oh , mother .
i have be destroy by a miserly father and a heartless mother !
grandma 's piteous wail make the sorghum quake .
the bearer stop rock the chair and calm the rage sea .
the musician lower the instrument from they rousing lip , so that only grandma 's sob could be hear , alone with the mournful strain of a single woodwind , whose weep sound be more enchanting than any woman 's .
grandma stop cry at the sound of the woodwind , as though command from on high .
she face , suddenly old and desiccated , be pearl with tear .
she hear the sound of death in the gentle melancholy of the tune , and smell its breath ; she could see the angel of death , with lip as scarlet as sorghum and a smile face the colour of golden corn .
the bearer fall silent and they footstep grow heavy .
the sacrificial choke sound from inside the chair and the woodwind accompaniment have make they restless and uneasy , have set they soul adrift .
no longer do it seem like a wedding procession as they negotiate the dirt road ; it be more like a funeral procession .
my grandfather , the bearer directly in front of grandma 's foot , feel a strange premonition blaze inside he and illuminate the path he life would take .
the sound of grandma 's weep have awaken seed of affection that have lie dormant deep in he heart .
it be time to rest , so the bearer lower the sedan chair to the ground .
grandma , have cry herself into a daze , do not realise that one of she tiny foot be peek out from beneath the curtain ; the sight of that incomparably delicate , lovely thing nearly drive the soul out of the bearer ' body .
yu zhan ' ao walk up , lean over , and gently – very gently – hold grandma 's foot in he hand , as though it be a fledgling whose feather be not yet dry , then ease it back inside the carriage .
she be so move by the gentleness of the deed she could barely keep from throw back the curtain to see what sort of man this bearer be , with he large , warm , youthful hand .
i have always believe that marriage be make in heaven and that people fate to be together be connect by a invisible thread .
the act of grasp grandma 's foot trigger a powerful drive in yu zhan ' ao to forge a new life for himself , and constitute the turn point in he life – and the turn point in hers as well .
the sedan chair set out again as a trumpet blast rent the air , then drift off into obscurity .
the wind have rise – a northeaster – and cloud be gather in the sky , blot out the sun and throw the carriage into darkness .
grandma could hear the shh-shh of rustling sorghum , one wave close upon another , carry the sound off into the distance .
thunder rumble off to the northeast .
the bearer quicken they pace .
she wonder how much farther it be to the shan household ; like a truss lamb be lead to slaughter , she grow calmer with each step .
at home she have hide a pair of scissors in she bodice , perhaps to use on shan bianlang , perhaps to use on herself .
the holdup of grandma 's sedan chair by a highwayman at toad hollow occupy a important place in the saga of my family .
toad hollow be a large marshy stretch in the vast flatland where the soil be especially fertile , the water especially plentiful , and the sorghum especially dense .
a blood-red bolt of lightning streak across the northeastern sky , and scream fragment of apricot-yellow sunlight tear through the dense cloud above the dirt road , when grandma 's sedan chair reach that point .
the panting bearer be drench with sweat as they enter toad hollow , over which the air hang heavily .
sorghum plant line the road shine like ebony , dense and impenetrable ; weed and wildflower grow in such profusion they seem to block the road .
everywhere you look , narrow stem of cornflower be bosome by clump of rank weed , they purple , blue , pink , and white flower wave proudly .
from deep in the sorghum come the melancholy croak of toad , the dreary chirp of grasshopper , and the plaintive howl of fox .
grandma , still seat in the carriage , feel a sudden breath of cold air that raise tiny goosebump on she skin .
she do not know what be happen , even when she hear the shout up ahead :
' nobody pass without pay a toll ! '
grandma gasp .
what be she feeling ?
sadness ?
joy ?
my god , she think , it be a man who eat fistcake !
northeast gaomi township be aswarm with bandit who operate in the sorghum field like fish in water , form gang to rob , pillage , and kidnap , yet balance they evil deed with charitable one .
if they be hungry , they snatch two people , keep one and send the other into the village to demand flatbread with egg and green onion roll inside .
since they stuff the rolled flatbread into they mouth with both fist , they be call ' fistcake ' .
' nobody pass without pay a toll ! ' the man bellow .
the bearer stop in they track and stare dumbstruck at the highwayman of medium height who stand in the road , he leg akimbo .
he have smear he face black and be wear a conical rain hat weave of sorghum stalk and a broad-shouldered rain cape open in front to reveal a black buttoned jacket and a wide leather belt , in which a protrude object be tuck , bundle in red satin .
he hand rest on it .
the thought flash through grandma 's mind that there be nothing to be afraid of : if death could not frighten she , nothing could .
she raise the curtain to get a glimpse of the man who eat fistcake .
' hand over the toll , or i 'll pop you all ! '
he pat the red bundle .
the musician reach into they belt , take out the string of copper coin great-granddad have give they , and toss these at the man 's foot .
the bearer lower the sedan chair to the ground , take out they copper coin , and do the same .
as he drag the string of coin into a pile with he foot , he eye be fix on grandma .
' get behind the sedan chair , all of you .
i 'll pop if you do not ! '
he thump the object tuck into he belt .
the bearer move slowly behind the sedan chair .
yu zhan ' ao , bring up the rear , spin around and glare .
a change come over the highwayman 's face , and he grip the object at he belt tightly .
' eye straight ahead if you want to keep breathing ! '
with he hand rest on he belt , he shuffle up to the sedan chair , reach out , and pinch grandma 's foot .
a smile crease she face , and the man pull he hand away as though it have be scald .
' climb down and come with i ! ' he order she .
grandma sit without move , the smile freeze on she face .
' climb down , i say ! '
she rise from the seat , step grandly onto the pole , and alit in a tuft of cornflower .
she gaze travelled from the man to the bearer and musician .
' into the sorghum field ! ' the highwayman say , he hand still rest on the red-bundled object at he belt .
grandma stand confidently ; lightning crackle in the cloud overhead and shatter she radiant smile into a million shift shard .
the highwayman begin push she into the sorghum field , he hand never leave the object at he belt .
she stare at yu zhan ' ao with a feverish look in she eye .
yu zhan ' ao approach the highwayman , he thin lip curl resolutely , up at one end and down at the other .
' hold it right there ! ' the highwayman command feebly .
' i 'll shoot if you take another step ! '
yu zhan ' ao walk calmly up to the man , who begin back up .
green flame seem to shoot from he eye , and crystalline bead of sweat scurry down he terrify face .
when yu zhan ' ao have draw to within three pace of he , a shameful sound burst from he mouth , and he turn and run .
yu zhan ' ao be on he tail in a flash , kick he expertly in the rear .
he sail through the air over the cornflower , thrash he arm and leg like a innocent babe , until he land in the sorghum field .
' spare i , gentleman !
i have get a eighty-year-old mother at home , and this be the only way i can make a living . '
the highwayman skilfully plead he case to yu zhan ' ao , who grab he by the scruff of the neck , drag he back to the sedan chair , throw he roughly to the ground , and kick he in he noisy mouth .
the man shriek in pain ; blood trickle from he nose .
yu zhan ' ao reach down , take the thing from the man 's belt , and shake off the red cloth cover , to reveal the gnarled knot of a tree .
the man all gasp in amazement .
the bandit crawl to he knee , knock he head on the ground and plead for he life .
' every highwayman say he be get a eighty-year-old mother at home , ' yu zhan ' ao say as he step aside and glance at he comrade , like the leader of a pack size up the other dog .
with a flurry of shout , the bearer and musician fall upon the highwayman , fist and foot fly .
the initial onslaught be meet by scream and shrill cry , which soon die out .
grandma stand beside the road listen to the dull cacophony of fist and foot on flesh ; she glance at yu zhan ' ao , then look up at the lightning-streaked sky , the radiant , golden , noble smile still freeze on she face .
one of the musician raise he trumpet and bring it down hard on the highwayman 's skull , bury the curved edge so deeply he have to strain to free it .
the highwayman 's stomach gurgle and he body , rack by spasm , grow deathly still ; he lay spread-eagled on the ground , a mixture of white and yellow liquid seep slowly out of the fissure in he skull .
' be he dead ? ' ask the musician , who be examine the bent mouth of he trumpet .
' he be go , the poor bastard .
he do not put up much of a fight ! '
the gloomy face of the bearer and musician reveal they anxiety .
yu zhan ' ao look wordlessly first at the dead , then at the living .
with a handful of leaf from a sorghum stalk , he clean up grandma 's mess in the carriage , then hold up the tree knot , wrap it in the piece of red cloth , and toss the bundle as far as he could ; the gnarled knot break free in flight and separate from the piece of cloth , which flutter to the ground in the field like a big red butterfly .
yu zhan ' ao lift grandma into the sedan chair .
' it be start to rain , ' he say , ' so let 's get go . '
grandma rip the curtain from the front of the carriage and stuff it behind the seat .
as she breathe the free air she study yu zhan ' ao 's broad shoulder and narrow waist .
he be so near she could have touch the pale , taut skin of he shave head with she toe .
the wind be pick up , bend the sorghum stalk in ever deeper wave , those on the roadside stretch out to bow they respects to grandma .
the bearer streak down the road , yet the sedan chair be as steady as a skiff skim across whitecap .
frog and toad croak in loud welcome to the oncoming summer rainstorm .
the low curtain of heaven stare darkly at the silvery face of sorghum , over which streak of blood-red lightning crackle , release ear-splitting explosion of thunder .
with grow excitement , grandma stare fearlessly at the green wave raise by the black wind .
the first truculent raindrop make the plant shudder .
the rain beat a loud tattoo on the sedan chair and fall on grandma 's embroidered slipper ; it fall on yu zhan ' ao 's head , then slant in on grandma 's face .
the bearer run like scared jackrabbit , but could not escape the prenoon deluge .
sorghum crumple under the wild rain .
toads take refuge under the stalk , they white pouch pop in and out noisily ; fox hide in they darkened den to watch tiny drop of water splash down from the sorghum plant .
the rainwater wash yu zhan ' ao 's head so clean and shiny it look to grandma like a new moon .
she clothes , too , be soak .
she could have cover herself with the curtain , but she do not ; she do not want to , for the open front of the sedan chair afford she a glimpse of the outside world in all its turbulence and beauty .