Chapter 2
Her body still ravaged by childbirth, my mother held me—my eyes not yet open—and knelt beneath the scorching sun outside Madam Song’s courtyard for an entire day, begging her to spare our lives.
Madam Song treasured her reputation. Naturally, she would not sell my mother off immediately after she had given birth. But the sight of us offended her, so she had us thrown into the servants’ quarters. That was how my mother and I survived.
The household servants, eager to please Madam Song, gave my mother every filthy, backbreaking chore they could find. Life was hard, but my mother remained cheerful, and somehow we managed.
Every morning, she rose between five and seven to wash the clothes of all the servants in the estate. She got no chance to eat even a single steamed bun until after seven, and she often worked at those heavy chores until nearly eleven at night.
When she should have been sleeping, she sat beside an oil lamp embroidering handkerchiefs. Those hours were when she was happiest, because she could quietly sell the handkerchiefs outside the estate. They earned little, but the money was hers.
Whenever she returned after selling them, she took two coins from her meager earnings and bought a sesame cake for scrawny little me. Then she watched me eat it with a smile.
I always tried to share with her, but she would take only the tiniest bite.
She said those were her happiest moments. Back then, I thought sesame cake was the most delicious thing in the world.
She often told me, “Your mother isn’t capable of much. All I can do is save a little dowry for you. When you marry, you’ll need money of your own if you don’t want your husband’s family to mistreat you…”
It was a beautiful hope. Had our days gone on that way, I would have asked for nothing more. But heaven seemed to delight in tormenting the poor, snatching away even our humblest scraps of happiness.
On my tenth birthday, I suddenly craved a longevity bun. Mother agreed with a smile. At noon, while the gate boy was napping, she slipped out to buy one for me. She also took the handkerchiefs she had spent the past month embroidering, intending to sell them and buy me a birthday gift.
I waited eagerly by the back gate. Noon passed. The sun sank beyond the western hills. My mother did not return.
Anxious, I was about to sneak out and search for her when a commotion erupted in the rear courtyard, threaded with angry curses.
A nameless dread seized me. I hurried toward the noise.
When I reached the rear courtyard, a crowd had gathered around the room where Mother and I lived. At their head stood Nanny Sun, Madam Song’s chief attendant.
My dread swelled into terror. I rushed forward and shoved through the crowd. My mother lay on the ground, drenched in blood and utterly still.
I flung myself at her and gathered her into my arms. Her body was already cold and rigid. One hand remained clenched around a filthy longevity bun.
At the sight of that bun, grief without end crashed over me. My throat closed. No sound would come. Tears poured from my eyes beyond all control.
“This wretch secretly sold property from the estate and disgraced this household. This is what she deserved! Look closely, all of you. Anyone who dares do the same will also be beaten to death!”
The shrill voice belonged to Nanny Sun, who stood beside us.
She was Madam Song’s chief attendant, and no one dared challenge her. Every head in the courtyard remained bowed.