In March 1975, the water towns of Jiangnan were still steeped in the damp chill of a late cold snap. Dawn had barely broken when the low, cramped house of the Shen family erupted into noise.
“Clang!”
The sharp crash of a coarse porcelain bowl shattering against the mud floor pierced through the morning mist. Wang Xiulan stood in the middle of the main room with her hands on her hips, her voice raised to a shrill pitch.
“I’ve been married into your Shen family for three years, working from dawn till dusk to serve the old and the young. Now that I want to carry on the Shen family line, look at you people, you can’t even afford to marry a wife!”
Shen Zhiyi’s elder brother, Shen Jianguo, squatted on the threshold with his head buried in his knees. The tobacco in his pipe had long gone out, leaving only a stub of gray ash. He said nothing, merely shrinking further into himself.
Shen Zhiyi stepped out from the inner room, holding a faded blue cloth bundle. She did not look at her sister in law, nor at her brother. She walked straight to the stove, wrapped half of last night’s corn cake in oil paper, and tucked it into the outermost layer of her bundle.
“Why are you pretending to be mute!” Wang Xiulan turned on her, her finger nearly poking Shen Zhiyi’s nose. “You were sixteen when your father died, and your mother ran off to remarry. It was the Shen family that raised you! Now your brother needs to marry, the other side only asks for a bride price of three hundred yuan, and they even agreed to let you marry over there and live a good life. A fishing island in the South China Sea, fish at every meal! What do you have to be unhappy about?”
Shen Zhiyi’s hands paused briefly as she tied the bundle. The blue cloth had been washed until it faded pale, its edges worn into frayed threads. It was the only decent thing her mother had left her when she remarried. Slowly, she tightened the knot, her fingers steady.
“Second Sister in law,” she said quietly, yet her voice cut through the shouting and made Wang Xiulan falter. “I heard everything that Matchmaker Li said last night.”
The room fell silent at once. Even Shen Jianguo, crouched at the doorway, lifted his head, a flicker of panic crossing his dark face.
Matchmaker Li had come three days ago, bringing two packets of brown sugar. She said the Zhao family from the neighboring village had sent her to arrange a marriage. Their daughter, Zhao Chunmei, was twenty years old, hardworking and capable, and willing to marry into the Shen family. The bride price was only three hundred yuan. In these times, marrying a wife usually cost no less than five hundred.
But there was a condition.
Shen Zhiyi placed her bundle on the wooden bench and turned around. Morning light filtered through the torn window paper, falling across her face. She was only nineteen, yet the innocence of youth had long vanished from her eyes, leaving behind a depth as still as a well.
“If Zhao Chunmei is to marry into our family, I have to be exchanged for her lame younger brother,” Shen Zhiyi said, enunciating every word. “The Zhao family’s son was injured at sea and lost the use of one leg. He’s twenty five and can’t find a wife. That’s why they’re willing to ‘sell cheap’ their daughter to us. Those three hundred yuan are not a bride price, they are the price for selling me.”
“You’re talking nonsense!” Wang Xiulan’s face flushed red. “That’s… that’s a Marriage Swap. It’s a good thing! When you marry over there, you’ll be a proper wife—”
“A Marriage Swap?” Shen Zhiyi repeated softly. The corner of her lips twitched, but no smile came. “When Father was alive, he always said that no matter how poor the Shen family was, our backbone must never bend.”
She walked up to Shen Jianguo. He did not dare meet her gaze and lowered his head again, pretending to draw on his unlit pipe.
“Big Brother,” Shen Zhiyi’s voice softened, “when Mother left, I was sixteen. You said, ‘Little sister, I’ll raise you.’ I worked as a temporary worker at the textile factory, earning eighteen yuan and fifty a month, and handed fifteen to the family. When your legs hurt and you couldn’t work the fields, I carried the manure. When Second Sister in law was in confinement, I took care of her for forty days. Now you want to marry a wife, I understand.”
She crouched down, meeting his eyes.
“But selling me to a man I’ve never even met, just so you can get married… Brother, is this something you agreed to?”
Shen Jianguo’s lips trembled. After a long while, he forced out a reply, “Matchmaker Li said… that family may live on a fishing island, but the man is good at catching fish, you’ll have enough to eat… if you go there, it’ll be better than staying in our house…”
“You’ll have enough to eat.” Shen Zhiyi repeated, then nodded. She stood up and picked up her bundle again.
“I agree.”
Those three words made Wang Xiulan’s eyes light up, and Shen Jianguo jerked his head up as well.
“But I have three conditions.” Shen Zhiyi raised her fingers. “First, after I marry over, I am still part of the Shen family. I will come back during festivals, and if anything happens at home, Brother, you must acknowledge me as your sister.”
“Second, when Sister in law has a child, if it is a boy, he must be sent to school. If there isn’t enough money, I will contribute.”
“Third…” she paused briefly, “three years. If after three years I truly cannot go on there, Brother, you must help me get a divorce and bring me back.”
Wang Xiulan was about to object, but Shen Jianguo spoke first.
“Alright… all alright!”
Shen Zhiyi looked at his reddened eyes, and suddenly recalled the day their father died. The coffin had been placed in the main room, their mother had cried until she fainted, and at sixteen she had been lost and helpless. It was her nineteen year old brother who had pulled her into his arms and said, “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.”
Now he was still here, yet he was sending her away with his own hands.
She said nothing more, picked up her bundle, and walked out. The sky was not fully bright yet, and the village path was slick with last night’s rain. As Shen Zhiyi stepped into a puddle, her cloth shoes were instantly soaked, icy mud seeping in.
When she reached the old locust tree at the village entrance, hurried footsteps sounded behind her.
“Zhiyi! Zhiyi!”
Shen Jianguo caught up, panting, pulling out a handkerchief bundle from his chest and stuffing it into her hands. “Th this is thirty yuan… you take it…”
The handkerchief had once belonged to their mother, blue with white flowers, now stiff from years of washing. Shen Zhiyi squeezed it lightly, feeling the thin stack of money inside.
“My savings…” Shen Jianguo’s voice choked. “When you get there… buy something good… don’t mistreat yourself…”
Shen Zhiyi looked at him. At only twenty five, his temples were already streaked with white, his face lined from years of labor. She suddenly remembered how, as a child, he had carried her to the market in town and bought her a piece of malt candy worth three cents. She had eaten until her mouth was sticky, while he smiled with eyes narrowed into slits.
“Brother,” she said softly, “live well.”
Then she turned and did not look back.
The ferry dock was in a town ten li away. Shen Zhiyi walked for two hours, arriving when the sun had already risen. The ferry was an old iron vessel, its paint peeling, black smoke billowing from its funnel. Matchmaker Li was waiting at the bow, and hurried over when she saw her.
“Oh, you’re finally here! Hurry, get on, we’re about to depart!”
Shen Zhiyi said nothing and followed her onboard. Matchmaker Li chattered all the way, “Everything has been arranged with the Zhao family. Once you get there, you’ll be a ready made wife. Although the man has difficulty with his leg, he’s very capable, an expert at fishing. Just wait and enjoy your good fortune…”
The ferry let out a long “Wooo” as it slowly pulled away from the shore.
Shen Zhiyi found a seat in the corner of the cabin and sat down, holding her bundle in her arms. Inside the faded blue cloth, aside from two changes of clothes and half a corn cake, there was one more item: the woodworking plane her father had left behind.
It was the last tool he had made before dying from a workplace injury. The body of the plane was crafted from fine jujube wood, worn smooth and warm by his hands. When her mother remarried, she had secretly hidden it away, and all these years, she had kept it with her.