When Rape Flowers Bloom (1)
Swannlee-126 01/12 10715
4.5/163
Summary: One day in 1980, "dianying," the moving picture, has finally arrived in a little town in China. It will change a young girl's life in the most unexpected way.
When Rape Flowers Bloom
by Swann Lee
Small floury feathers begin to fall while we are eating steamed chili corn patties for breakfast. Soon the green wheat seedlings in the fields become rows of cotton-padded dwarfs, scattering sparkly powder when winds blow. The well by the bare apple tree is the only black color in a white world.
“A good snow promises a good harvest next year,” Baba says, puffing on his water pipe and grinning at my big brother. “Very good sign for your upcoming wedding, Datong. Hasn’t snowed in ten years. The Jade Emperor is doing you a favor.”
Baba has built a one-room brick house for my brother in the backyard. Datong’s fiancée, Lifang, a girl from a neighboring village, visited us for the first time yesterday with the hunchback matchmaker. Lifang is a slightly plump girl with two braids swinging around her waist. She carried a bamboo basket on her arm and shoved warm roasted peanuts into our hands with a wide smile but not many words. “Eat, eat,” she kept saying. At seeing my brother, she lowered her head in shyness and played with the tip of her braid. When they were leaving, Mama dragged the matchmaker into the kitchen and squeezed a one yuan bill into her hand.
“Aiya,” the matchmaker said, “the other half isn’t due until the wedding. What’s this for?”
“Get some color threads for your needlework,” Mama whispered. “You found us such a good girl! Look at those wide hips. We’ll get a grandson in no time.” They chuckled like hens that had just laid warm eggs.
“Go slowly, go slowly.” Mama waved when they were stepping down the stone steps to the fields. “Come again. Come often.”
Of course we knew she was just saying that. According to the local custom, Datong and Lifang will not see each other again until we hold the wedding banquets in the coming May. I can almost see the sedan chair draped with red cloths bobbing up and down on the earthy road, brass gongs humming “En-hen, en-hen,” full of humor and cheer.
“When Datong gets married, we’ll have a lot of meat to eat at the banquet,” Mama says, breaking a corn patty and giving us each a piece.
“I want pork cubes braised in brown sauce,” my oldest sister says. “Eat so much of it that I don’t miss meat for a whole year.”
“You’ll have it.” Mama nods with a smile. “We’ll kill the pig Black and Shiny for the wedding.”
“I want a lot of fried pork skin squares mixed in white sugar.” My second sister swallows loudly. We all laugh.
“Sure, we’ll buy five jin of sugar for the occasion.” Mama smiles. “I already got the sugar coupons from Auntie Tang. I wanted to give her five hens, but she would only take three. Said it’s not too hard for her son to get the coupons in the army. Nice person! What do you want, Hua?” Mama turns to me.
“A lot of poached eggs in sugar water, rock sugar,” I say. “And oh, don’t give Little Black Three any candies. Last time when his brother got married, he told his Mama that I rolled on the new bed. She made me return the sorghum candies from the bride. Hmm!”
“You rolled on their new bed?” Baba says with eyes as big as walnuts. “You’re lucky she didn’t chase you out with a broomstick.”
“Little Black Three can’t even add up five plus five!” I put down the chopsticks on the bowl rim with a loud smack. “What’s so special about boys?”
“Hei! Only the ones with ‘teapot spouts’ pass on the family name. Who
can argue with that?” Baba nods at me with narrowed eyes, squeezing shredded tobacco into his water pipe. “Girlie, you are just a ‘debt’ from my last life.”
My eyes begin to feel warm. Mama looks to Baba, but Baba stares back at her.
“You’re always spoiling the girls,” he says. “Don’t forget we’re just feeding them for other households.”
Mama stuffs a chunk of corn patty into her mouth.
“Eat, eat,” she says. I just stare at the patties.
“Hua! Are you ready?” someone cries from outside.
I jump off the pepper wood stool and run to the kitchen doorsill. My best friends Chunyang and Linlin are waiting for me in the courtyard, puffing warm breath onto red fingers. I grab my cloth satchel off a peg on the mud wall and run out of the door. I slip on the icy porch and dive into the thick snow in the yard.
“Like a swimming girl fish!” Chunyang chuckles, pulling me up.
We walk to school on the snow-covered dirt road through the village among bamboo groves and pigsties, then turn onto the earthy banks among water fields. Though we are all eleven years old, I am the shortest and often have to run to catch up with them. The snowflakes caressing our faces and hands fascinate us for a while, but we soon decide that spring is still the best season. We can’t wait to blow mountain melodies with wild pea pod whistles and stain our lips purple with the sweet juice of mulberries. We will chase each other, wearing earrings of rape-bud strands, in rape flower fields blazing like melting gold. Linlin will sing in her sweet and loud voice that we can hear from even one hundred meters away.
Small floury feathers begin to fall while we are eating steamed chili corn patties for breakfast. Soon the green wheat seedlings in the fields become rows of cotton-padded dwarfs, scattering sparkly powder when winds blow. The well by the bare apple tree is the only black color in a white world.
“A good snow promises a good harvest next year,” Baba says, puffing on his water pipe and grinning at my big brother. “Very good sign for your upcoming wedding, Datong. Hasn’t snowed in ten years. The Jade Emperor is doing you a favor.”
Baba has built a one-room brick house for my brother in the backyard. Datong’s fiancée, Lifang, a girl from a neighboring village, visited us for the first time yesterday with the hunchback matchmaker. Lifang is a slightly plump girl with two braids swinging around her waist. She carried a bamboo basket on her arm and shoved warm roasted peanuts into our hands with a wide smile but not many words. “Eat, eat,” she kept saying. At seeing my brother, she lowered her head in shyness and played with the tip of her braid. When they were leaving, Mama dragged the matchmaker into the kitchen and squeezed a one yuan bill into her hand.
“Aiya,” the matchmaker said, “the other half isn’t due until the wedding. What’s this for?”
“Get some color threads for your needlework,” Mama whispered. “You found us such a good girl! Look at those wide hips. We’ll get a grandson in no time.” They chuckled like hens that had just laid warm eggs.
“Go slowly, go slowly.” Mama waved when they were stepping down the stone steps to the fields. “Come again. Come often.”
Of course we knew she was just saying that. According to the local custom, Datong and Lifang will not see each other again until we hold the wedding banquets in the coming May. I can almost see the sedan chair draped with red cloths bobbing up and down on the earthy road, brass gongs humming “En-hen, en-hen,” full of humor and cheer.
“When Datong gets married, we’ll have a lot of meat to eat at the banquet,” Mama says, breaking a corn patty and giving us each a piece.
“I want pork cubes braised in brown sauce,” my oldest sister says. “Eat so much of it that I don’t miss meat for a whole year.”
“You’ll have it.” Mama nods with a smile. “We’ll kill the pig Black and Shiny for the wedding.”
“I want a lot of fried pork skin squares mixed in white sugar.” My second sister swallows loudly. We all laugh.
“Sure, we’ll buy five jin of sugar for the occasion.” Mama smiles. “I already got the sugar coupons from Auntie Tang. I wanted to give her five hens, but she would only take three. Said it’s not too hard for her son to get the coupons in the army. Nice person! What do you want, Hua?” Mama turns to me.
“A lot of poached eggs in sugar water, rock sugar,” I say. “And oh, don’t give Little Black Three any candies. Last time when his brother got married, he told his Mama that I rolled on the new bed. She made me return the sorghum candies from the bride. Hmm!”
“You rolled on their new bed?” Baba says with eyes as big as walnuts. “You’re lucky she didn’t chase you out with a broomstick.”
“Little Black Three can’t even add up five plus five!” I put down the chopsticks on the bowl rim with a loud smack. “What’s so special about boys?”
“Hei! Only the ones with ‘teapot spouts’ pass on the family name. Who
can argue with that?” Baba nods at me with narrowed eyes, squeezing shredded tobacco into his water pipe. “Girlie, you are just a ‘debt’ from my last life.”
My eyes begin to feel warm. Mama looks to Baba, but Baba stares back at her.
“You’re always spoiling the girls,” he says. “Don’t forget we’re just feeding them for other households.”
Mama stuffs a chunk of corn patty into her mouth.
“Eat, eat,” she says. I just stare at the patties.
“Hua! Are you ready?” someone cries from outside.
I jump off the pepper wood stool and run to the kitchen doorsill. My best friends Chunyang and Linlin are waiting for me in the courtyard, puffing warm breath onto red fingers. I grab my cloth satchel off a peg on the mud wall and run out of the door. I slip on the icy porch and dive into the thick snow in the yard.
“Like a swimming girl fish!” Chunyang chuckles, pulling me up.
We walk to school on the snow-covered dirt road through the village among bamboo groves and pigsties, then turn onto the earthy banks among water fields. Though we are all eleven years old, I am the shortest and often have to run to catch up with them. The snowflakes caressing our faces and hands fascinate us for a while, but we soon decide that spring is still the best season. We can’t wait to blow mountain melodies with wild pea pod whistles and stain our lips purple with the sweet juice of mulberries. We will chase each other, wearing earrings of rape-bud strands, in rape flower fields blazing like melting gold. Linlin will sing in her sweet and loud voice that we can hear from even one hundred meters away.
