White Lily by Ting-Xing Ye Read Free Book Online Page A

hips swung rhythmically while her pointed shoe-tips peeped in and out from under the hem. Yet Nai-nai seemed to know one color and one style only. She had chosen to wear black ever since Grandpa had passed away two years before White Lily was born. Her shapeless pants were wide and loose around the hips but narrow at the legs, wrapped tightly at her ankles with black ribbons.
    But there was one thing that Mother and Nai-nai had in common — their feet. They werealmost as small as White Lily’s. Mother’s and Nai-nai’s richly embroidered silk shoes were even shorter than their own outstretched hands. How could that be possible? White Lily wondered, looking down at her own plump feet, which seemed to grow with every passing breeze.
    Besides, Mother’s and Nai-nai’s tiny feet were always wrapped in heavy cotton strips. The only time White Lily saw them unveiled was during the “feet-bathing” time at the end of each day, after the household hubbub had died down. Mother would carefully unwind the cloth from Nai-nai’s feet, which gave off a sharp and unpleasant odor in warm weather. Nai-nai would then soak her feet in a wooden basin of warm water. She often let out a long and weary sigh, so soft yet anguished that to White Lily she didn’t sound like Grandmother at all. Following the same routine, Mother tended to her own feet, but with one exception. In her basin, the water was scented with blossoms or lily petals that floated around her ankles.

    “My feet are called Three-Inch Golden Lilies,” Nai-nai proudly told White Lily one night. “And I have called them that since I was a little girl.” But White Lily didn’t understand how such smelly, twisted, and wrinkled knobs could be compared to flowers. On another occasion, when Nai-nai was not around, Mother said bitterly, “These horrible, deformed things are no lilies, my dear daughter, nor are they of gold. They are teardrops. They are even shaped like teardrops. They have caused so many tears that no lily pond is large enough to contain them.”
    White Lily thought long and hard about the mystery. How could Nai-nai be proud of her shrunken, knobby feet when Mother seemed to hate her own? Usually she would have asked her brother for help, because he was older and smarter since he was attending school. But how could Fu-gui know the answer if he had never laid eyes on a woman’s bare feet? Everyone knew that it was strictly against tradition for a man to be present during women’s “feet-bathing” time.
    White Lily concluded that she would not find out whether the tiny feet were lilies or teardrops unless she was able to go to school and learn to read and write like her brother.
    But Mother had told her earlier that for girls, schooling was forbidden.

3
    O n the eve of the Chinese New Year, it snowed, a rare occurrence in that part of China. Fat flakes descended from a quiet, black sky, unfolding a thin, white blanket across the village. “This snowfall means good luck,” proclaimed White Lily’s father. “It will surely bring us another year of prosperity, bumper harvests, joy, and happiness.”
    When White Lily looked out her window the next morning, snow as thick and wet as cream capped the curved walls of the courtyard and plopped to the flagstones from the bare branches of the willow tree outside her bedroom. She bounded from her bed, threw on her clothes, and ran outside. Everywhere she went, she left behind a track of melting footprints like those of a giant.

    Since it was New Year, White Lily was a year older. “You are six now,” Mother said to her after breakfast.
    “But Brother Fu-gui said that I was born four years, seven months, and eight days ago, and he also said that I am still a child.” White Lily raised up her fingers: first four, then seven, then eight. “He is wrong, isn’t he?”
    To White Lily’s big disappointment, Mother failed to notice her new counting skill. “Fu-gui is right. But custom says that you turn six