Free Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See Page A

sugar and swirls it around until it is coated. He drops this on a plate and places it on your table, along with a bowl of cold water. You can’t believe how hot the taro is with that melted sugar. It would burn a hole in your mouth if you tried to eat it like that, so you pick up a piece with your chopsticks and dip it in the water.
Crack, crack, crack!
That’s the sound it makes as the sugar goes hard. When you bite into it, you get the crunch of the sugar shell, the crispiness of the fried taro, and then the final soft center. Auntie just
has
to take us, don’t you agree?”
    “Auntie?”
    “You
talk
! I thought maybe all you could do was write beautiful words.”
    “Maybe I don’t talk as much as you,” I responded quietly, my feelings hurt. She was the great-granddaughter of an imperial scholar and far more knowledgeable than the daughter of a common farmer.
    She picked up my hand. Hers was dry and hot, her
chi
burning high. “Don’t worry. I don’t care if you’re quiet. My talking always gets me in trouble because I often don’t think before I speak, while you will be an ideal wife, always choosing your words with great care.”
    You see? Right there on that first day we understood each other, but did that stop us from making mistakes in the future?
    Madame Wang opened the door to the palanquin. “Come along, girls. Everything is arranged. Ten steps will get you to your destination. More than that, and I would break my promise to your mothers.”
    We stood not far from a paper goods stand decorated with red streamers, good luck couplets, red and gold double-happiness symbols, and painted images of the goddess Gupo. A table in front was piled with the most colorful items for sale. Aisles on either end allowed patrons to enter the stand, which was protected from the hubbub of the street by three long tables on the sides. In the middle of the stand, a small table was set with ink, brushes, and two straight-back chairs. Madame Wang told us to select a piece of paper for our contract. Like any child I had made small choices, like which piece of vegetable to pick from the main bowl after Baba, Uncle, Elder Brother, and every other older member of our household had already dipped their chopsticks into the dish. Now I was overwhelmed by the selection, my hands wanting to touch all the merchandise, while Snow Flower, at just seven and a half, was discriminating, showing her better learning.
    Madame Wang said, “Remember, girls, I will pay for everything today. This is only one decision. You have others to make, so don’t dawdle.”
    “Of course, Auntie,” Snow Flower responded for both of us. Then she asked me, “Which do you like?”
    I pointed to a large sheet of paper that by its very size seemed the most appropriate for the importance of the occasion.
    Snow Flower ran her forefinger over the gold border. “The quality of the gold is poor,” she said; then she held the sheet up toward the sky. “The paper is as thin and transparent as an insect wing. See how the sun shines through it?” She set it down on the table and stared into my eyes in that earnest way of hers. “We need something that will show for all time the precious nature and durability of our relationship.”
    I could barely comprehend her words. She spoke a slightly different dialect than I was familiar with in Puwei, but this was not the only reason for my incomprehension. I was coarse and stupid; she was refined, and already her house learning had extended beyond what my mother and even my aunt knew.
    She pulled me deeper into the stand and whispered, “They always keep the better things back here.” In her regular voice, she said, “Old same, how do you find this one?”
    This was the first time that anyone had ever asked me to look—really
look—
at something, and I did. Even to my uneducated eye, I could see the difference between what I had chosen on the street side of the stand and this. It was smaller in size and less gaudy in