Ties That Bind, Ties That Break Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  EPILOGUE

  ALSO AVAILABLE IN LAUREL-LEAF BOOKS:

  A Note on the Chinese Tradition of Foot Binding

  Copyright Page

  PROLOGUE

  I found it hard to manage my high-heeled shoes without tripping or twisting my ankle. Wearing them was almost as bad as having bound feet. No, that wasn’t true. Nothing could be as bad as having bound feet.

  I also had to remember to take small steps so as not to enlarge the side slits in my silk cheongsam. After several years of wearing a full skirt, it wasn’t easy getting used to this narrow, slinky dress. The cheongsam, with its high, stiff collar and side buttons, was actually based on the Manchu tunic Chinese women used to wear over their trousers before the Revolution. But this was 1925, and women nowadays wore only long silk stockings under the tunic instead of trousers, and the tunic itself fitted the body much more tightly. Grandmother would have had hysterics if she had seen me in this outfit.

  I was only nineteen, but I chose to wear the cheongsam and the high heels because I was the wife of the proprietor, and I had my dignity to maintain. As usual, I looked around the restaurant, checking to see that everything was running smoothly.

  That was when I saw him.

  The face was familiar, but the figure and the clothing were not. I stared at the young Chinese man dressed in a Western suit who had come into the restaurant and was looking around. There could be no doubt about it. Those raised eyebrows belonged to Liu Hanwei, my former fiancé. A huge bubble of laughter rose in my throat, and I wanted to shout a greeting.

  But I had to restrain myself. Otherwise I might lose the respect of the waiters, who were all older than I was.

  I walked up to Hanwei. ‘‘Would you care to sit down?’’ I asked politely in Mandarin. It had been three years since I had left China, but I still remembered my Chinese.

  Hanwei almost jumped in surprise. He opened and closed his mouth several times. That, too, was familiar. ‘‘Ailin?’’ he whispered. ‘‘Are you really Tao Ailin?’’

  ‘‘I’m now Mrs. Zhao,’’ I said, giving him the Mandarin form of my married name. ‘‘My husband owns this restaurant.’’

  Stunned, Hanwei sank into the nearest chair. ‘‘You’re married?’’ he croaked.

  I nodded. I summoned a waiter, who ran over quickly. I gave him orders in rapid Cantonese. ‘‘We’ll start with some shark fin soup—add some bits of chicken and ham. Then half a roast duck, I think, and some prawns in ginger sauce. Maybe a steamed carp, too.’’

  If the waiter was surprised by the lavish order for just one guest, he refrained from commenting. Even though I was not much older than his daughter, I was still the owner’s wife.

  ‘‘When your employers returned to Nanjing, I went to see if you had returned with them,’’ said Hanwei. ‘‘Imagine my shock when they told me you were staying on in America!’’

  I poured a cup of tea for him. ‘‘The Warners didn’t need me as a nanny anymore. Both children were old enough to attend school in Nanjing.’’

  Hanwei drank his tea silently. ‘‘But you could have found work with another American missionary family,’’ he said finally. ‘‘Lots of them would be glad to have a fluent English speaker to care for their children.’’

  ‘‘Maybe I got tired of being a nanny,’’ I said lightly. Actually, that wasn’t true. I loved children, and enjoyed taking care of them. ‘‘Anyway, tell me about yourself. What are you doing here in America?’’

  He explained that he had been studying at the University of Illinois for more than three years. ‘‘I’m majoring in chemistry, and I’ll graduate the year after next.’’

  ‘‘If you’re still studying in Illinois, what are you doing in San Francisco?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘I was on my way home for a visit,’’ replied Hanwei. ‘‘I heard my mother was very sick.’’

  At the mention of his mother, Mrs. Liu, I felt a touch of bitterness. She was the one who had broken my engagement to Hanwei. But my bitterness didn’t go deep.

  ‘‘I have a few days to kill before my ship sails,’’ explained Hanwei. ‘‘The University of Illinois is in a small college town without a good Chinese restaurant, and I really missed Chinese cooking. So when I was passing through San Francisco, I thought I’d drop into Chinatown for some good food.’’ He paused, and then said softly, ‘‘The last thing I expected was to run into you!’’

  There was a pause. To break the heavy silence, I asked, ‘‘What do you plan to do when you graduate? Will you go back to China and find work?’’

  He nodded. ‘‘Yes, I already have a job waiting for me. There is a great need in China for people with technical knowledge.’’

  The experience had been good for him, I thought. Hanwei was no longer the soft, spoiled son of a wealthy family. He was a young man ready to apply himself to a job. ‘‘Your parents will be really surprised at the change in you,’’ I said.

  The soup arrived, and Hanwei’s eyes brightened when I ladled some into a bowl for him. The other dishes followed quickly, and he became too busy to talk. I had to suppress a smile as I watched him digging in. At times he didn’t even wait for me to serve him but reached into the platters himself. He must have been really starved for Chinese food.

  Eventually Hanwei slowed in his eating and began to pick at the bits of carp near the bones. ‘‘Not only did I change,’’ he said, ‘‘but my parents have changed, too. You’d be surprised at how modern they’ve become in some respects.’’

  ‘‘Modern enough to accept unbound feet?’’ I couldn’t help asking.

  Hanwei carefully put down his chopsticks. He stared for some moments at his teacup before replying. When he finally looked up at me, I saw that his eyes were full of sorrow and regret. ‘‘Why didn’t you wait, Ailin? What made you run away to that American family?’’

  What made me run away? I thought back to the first time I met Hanwei. Yes, that was when it all started. I was almost five years old, and he was seven.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Our family, the Taos, lived in a compound with more than fifty rooms, all surrounded by a wall. Grandfather was head of the family, and he had two sons, Big Uncle and my father. Both of them lived there with their wives and children and their own servants. Each family had a set of rooms grouped around a courtyard. Although I spent most of the time in our own rooms with my parents, my two elder sisters, and my little brother, I often visited other courtyards.

  When I was a baby, my wet nurse had been a sturdy woman from the country who had lost her own baby and had milk to spare. I had a dim memory of sucking at her breast and listening to her croon lullabies. Even after I was too old to nurse, I loved to climb up on her broad lap and listen to her tell stories. I noticed that she spoke differently from the other people in our household. She was sent away when I was four, and there were times when I desperately missed her kindly face, her warm embrace, and her lilting country accent.

  My parents hired an amah, or governess, to replace her. My amah spoke in a soft, ladylike manner, but she had hard eyes that never missed a single thing. I hated her constant teaching and corrections, and I tried to annoy her by talking back, using my old wet nurse’s accent.

  An even better way of annoying my amah was to run and hide when she called me. This was exactly what
I was doing on the day when I first met my fiancé. At the time I was not quite five years old, but because my amah had bound feet, I could run a lot faster and I didn’t have any trouble escaping from her. I skipped through the round gates that led from one courtyard to another.

  I found a fragrant sweet-olive bush to crouch behind, and stifled my giggles as I heard my amah calling, ‘‘San Xiaojie! Little Miss Three!’’ Soon her voice lost its usual oily smoothness and became shrill.

  Then I heard another voice. ‘‘Ailin, we’re having moon cakes,’’ said Second Sister. ‘‘Grandmother is entertaining guests in her room.’’

  Moon cakes! I loved those little, rich, round cakes filled with sweet bean paste, nuts, lotus seeds, and other good things. I poked my head out from the bush. ‘‘Here I am! I bet I could stay here for a month without being found.’’

  Second Sister laughed, but my amah was not amused. She seized my wrist in a grip that hurt, but loosened it when I winced. I knew she would think of some way to punish me later, but not while Second Sister was watching.

  ‘‘Who are Grandmother’s guests?’’ I asked as we hurried through two gates on our way to the courtyard where my grandparents lived.

  ‘‘Young Mrs. Liu and her son,’’ said Second Sister. She stopped and looked at me. ‘‘Your collar is buttoned wrong. You’re supposed to look your best, Grandmother said.’’

  ‘‘Why do I have to look my best?’’ I demanded. My amah undid the top button of my collar and pushed it through its proper loop.

  Second Sister smiled. ‘‘Since Eldest Sister and I are all fixed up, it’s your turn now.’’ She wet a finger and used it to wipe away a smudge on my cheek.

  ‘‘I don’t understand,’’ I said. ‘‘What do you mean by being all fixed up?’’

  ‘‘She means that their marriages have been arranged,’’ my amah said with a smirk. ‘‘So it’s time for Little Miss Three’s marriage to be arranged, too.’’

  ‘‘Mind you, I think you’re still too young,’’ said Second Sister. ‘‘You’re not quite five.’’

  I couldn’t help grinning at Second Sister, who was only thirteen but stood smoothing her hair and trying to look like a grown-up. Maybe she hoped people would mistake her for Grandmother.

  ‘‘It’s never too early to have your marriage settled,’’ said my amah. ‘‘Some babies are engaged before they’re even born.’’

  I laughed. ‘‘They can’t do that! What if the babies turn out to be both girls, or both boys?’’ I wasn’t quite sure what a marriage meant, but I did know that it involved one of each kind, not two boys or two girls.

  ‘‘Don’t be stupid,’’ snapped my amah. She stopped, and said more quietly, ‘‘Of course the families would cancel the engagement if both babies turned out to be of the same sex.’’

  ‘‘Come on, we’d better hurry,’’ said Second Sister, ‘‘or Grandmother will get mad.’’

  Always happy to visit Grandmother, I immediately ran on ahead. Every now and then, I stopped and waited impatiently for my amah and Second Sister. They followed more slowly, swaying gently and taking small, mincing steps because of their bound feet.

  At the entrance to Grandmother’s room, my amah bowed and left as Second Sister and I entered and greeted Grandmother.

  ‘‘Come in, come in,’’ said Grandmother impatiently. ‘‘What took you so long?’’ She turned to the guests. ‘‘These two silly scamps are my granddaughters, and their only aim in life is to make my old age miserable.’’

  I wasn’t fooled by Grandmother’s crusty manner. I knew she would let me get away with almost anything. Grandfather was a little more frightening, but he spent all his time in his study reading dusty books, so I didn’t have to see much of him. The only grown-up who really scared me was Big Uncle, Father’s eldest brother. He and Father spent a lot of time together, and Big Uncle was always criticizing little girls who were too fresh.

  Grandmother wore her usual long satin tunic over trousers, and on her head she wore her black velvet headband decorated with pieces of carved jade. The guests were a lady and a boy who looked somewhat older than I was, maybe seven or eight years old. The lady was elegantly dressed in one of the new fashions that some of my cousins’ wives were wearing. It consisted of a silk hip-length tunic worn over a skirt reaching to the ankles. Grandmother always said that women’s wearing skirts was a scandalous custom adopted from the foreigners.

  I waited to see if Grandmother would criticize our guest, but she showed no sign of disapproval.

  The lady smiled and nodded at us. ‘‘You can’t fool me, Auntie Tao! I already know that Second Sister is an accomplished young lady who plays the flute and embroiders beautifully.’’

  ‘‘Not much wrong with Second Sister,’’ admitted Grandmother. ‘‘It’s this little one who drives me mad. Look at her! Almost five years old, and still running around like a boy.’’

  Mrs. Liu turned and stared at me. She was smiling, but her narrowed eyes seemed to miss very little. ‘‘She looks very healthy. I’m sure she’ll grow up to be a famous beauty, just like her grandmother.’’

  Grandmother snorted. ‘‘What nonsense! She doesn’t stay still long enough to grow up, much less become a beauty.’’

  Mrs. Liu continued to study me carefully until I felt like squirming. When her eyes reached my feet, she gave a start. ‘‘You haven’t had her feet bound yet?’’

  Grandmother seemed embarrassed. ‘‘I’ve been too indulgent, I know. Every time I bring the matter up, my son finds some excuse or another to put it off.’’

  There was a silence. Without knowing the reason for it, I could sense that something was wrong. Finally Mrs. Liu spoke. ‘‘Once the girl’s feet are bound, Auntie Tao, she will stop running around. She will have time for ladylike pursuits such as embroidering.’’

  Embroidering! I couldn’t think of anything worse than sitting on a stool for hours and hours like my sisters, poking a needle through a piece of cloth. As for stopping me from running around . . .

  I forgot about embroidering when two of Grandmother’s maids came in with refreshments. They poured tea into delicate china cups for the grown-ups. Second Sister was counted as one of the grown-ups, and I could tell from her smile that she was very pleased. She picked up her cup in a prim manner and took a dainty swallow. The tea was too hot for her, and she sputtered. I had to smother a giggle.

  ‘‘Delicious tea,’’ murmured Mrs. Liu. ‘‘Everybody knows that nothing but the best Dragon Well tea is served at your house, Auntie Tao.’’

  ‘‘You’re a terrible flatterer, Mrs. Liu,’’ said Grandmother. ‘‘Of course I gave orders to the tea merchant that he is to send us tea made only from leaves picked early in the morning, before dawn.’’

  I was bored by the discussion of tea, and concentrated instead on the big plate of glistening brown moon cakes, which were the size of my mouth if I opened it really, really wide. Once, I had tried to cram a whole cake into my mouth and nearly choked. Now I knew that the only way to eat these rich cakes was to take small bites.

  From just looking at the outside of the cakes, it was hard to tell which ones contained my favorite filling, the one with a duck-egg yolk. But I didn’t get a chance to pick the one I wanted, anyway. Grandmother gave me and the Liu boy each a cake and told us to be quiet and behave.

  While the grown-ups chatted about a moon-viewing party, I nibbled at my cake and looked curiously at the boy. He was chubby and a bit taller than I was. What struck me about his face was that his eyebrows were a little higher up on his forehead than they are for most people. This made him look constantly surprised.

  He wasn’t afraid of choking, and in three large bites he finished his cake. As he licked his fingers he stared back at me.

  I didn’t mind his stare. I could outstare all my male cousins. After a moment I asked, ‘‘What’s your name?’’

  ‘‘Hanwei,’’ he said. ‘‘I’m seven years old, and you’re only five, so I’m two years older.�
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  ‘‘Are you going to school yet?’’ I asked. I was proud of the fact that I had started going to the family school and already knew how to write three Chinese characters.

  ‘‘Of course I’m going to school!’’ retorted Hanwei. ‘‘In fact, I’m going to a public school!’’

  ‘‘What’s a public school?’’ The only school I knew was the one taught at home by teachers Grandfather had hired.

  ‘‘A public school is a place where you have lessons together with boys from other families,’’ said Hanwei.

  I was amazed. ‘‘Other families? Does that mean you meet boys from just about anywhere?’’

  ‘‘Of course not! The boys in my school are only those that can afford to pay the fee.’’

  ‘‘It must be really exciting to go out every day and study together with boys from other families,’’ I said wistfully.

  ‘‘It’s all right,’’ said Hanwei indifferently, but I could tell he was pleased by the impression he was making. ‘‘I even eat lunch at the school with the other students.’’

  ‘‘You mean you all eat the same thing?’’ In our family school, I went back to my parents’ rooms for lunch, since the cook knew my likes and dislikes. My cousins, too, went back to their rooms.

  ‘‘Of course we don’t eat the same thing!’’ said Hanwei. ‘‘My servant brings over my food when it’s lunchtime. The other students have their lunches brought, too. But we all sit at the same table. We can talk as much as we want during lunch—if we’re not too noisy.’’

  ‘‘I’d love to go to a public school,’’ I said.

  ‘‘You can’t,’’ said Hanwei. ‘‘You’re a girl.’’

  ‘‘I don’t see why a girl can’t go to an outside school!’’ I protested. But I did feel a touch of doubt. Already I had learned from Mother and my amah that there were certain things boys could do that girls couldn’t.

  ‘‘Anyway,’’ said Hanwei, ‘‘I can teach you some of the things I study at the school, if you want. We learn science—that’s about how ice melts and becomes water, and things like that.’’