From the age of four, the issue of foot binding frequently appeared in Zhenyi’s nightmares as a monstrous beast.
This beast fed on human flesh and bones, its body covered in bloody, sharp blades, and adorned with human faces—the faces of the Third Madam, her eldest sister, and many other women with bound feet whom Zhenyi had seen before.
Whenever this beast appeared, towering walls that seemed to pierce the sky would also materialize, waking Zhenyi in a cold sweat each time.
At the age of four, Zhenyi escaped by climbing out of a window, using her rebellious crying to avoid foot binding.
Afterwards, she fell seriously ill, but thanks to the protection of her father and mother, she received a two- or three-year “temporary reprieve.”
When Zhenyi was seven, her grandfather was exiled, causing chaos in the family. Then, Yang Jinniang became pregnant, suffered a difficult childbirth, and spent a year recovering. Now, Zhenyi was nine, and the foot-binding could no longer be delayed.
In Mama Lu’s words, it was too late. Delaying it would not only cause suffering but also make it difficult to bind her feet “beautifully” enough.
Mama Lu also told Yang Jinniang that children are naturally afraid of pain; it would pass, and they would understand the adults’ good intentions when they grew up.
At this moment, Yang Jinniang sat at the table, and Zhenyi stood in front of her mother.
Yang Jinniang was not yet thirty, but Zhenyi noticed a few gray hairs at her mother’s temples.
Zhenyi thought again of the principles of filial piety repeatedly mentioned in Confucianism.
Now that Zhenyi had learned more, she found it difficult to act impulsively as she had at four years old. She began to consider right and wrong, yet always felt lost. Her grandfather had said that confusion stems from thinking too much and understanding too little.
Zhenyi wanted to know more—the heavens, the earth, and everything in between… From a young age, she disliked questions that ultimately ended with vague divine explanations. She wanted to uncover the true nature of all questions to combat her confusion.
Was foot binding right or wrong?
Shouldn’t human growth follow the natural order of things? Why is the loss of one’s own body considered beautiful?
And why does Confucian filial piety say—”Our bodies, hair, and skin are given to us by our parents; we dare not damage them, this is the beginning of filial piety”—yet also say—”The filial son’s care for his children is to please their hearts and not go against their wishes”?
But Zhenyi now knew that she couldn’t argue or discuss these things with her mother.
She tried to ask her father, who quoted classical texts and explained the teachings of Confucius and Mencius, but still couldn’t give Zhenyi the clear answer she truly wanted.
Now, Zhenyi had to make a choice amidst this uncertainty.
Last year, her mother had a difficult childbirth, and Zhenyi had secretly promised never to upset her mother again.
Ju Zi noticed Zhenyi’s wavering, plopped down on her shoe, looked up at her, its round, chubby face serious, as if frowning, conveying its opposition—No!
Zhenyi looked down at Ju Zi, suddenly feeling a pang of sadness.
She might never be able to run and play with Ju Zi again.
When Zhenyi looked up, her eyelashes were a little wet. She looked at Yang Jinniang again: “Mother…”
“If you don’t want to wrap it, then don’t,” Yang Jinniang said.
Zhenyi suddenly widened her eyes, which were brimming with tears.
Ju Zi also turned around, looking back at the uncharacteristically saddened Yang Jinniang.
“There’s just one thing I can’t let you do,” Yang Jinniang said to her daughter. “You can’t go to Suiyuan. Although Mr. Yuan Mei is a good man, he’s not suitable to be a teacher for women… Your father thinks so, too.”
Zhenyi was still immersed in the immense joy and surprise, nodding vigorously.
A moment later, Zhenyi threw herself into Yang Jinniang’s arms, hugging her mother tightly: “Mother, you’re so good!!”
“Whether it’s good or bad, I don’t know…” Yang Jinniang gently stroked her daughter’s hair, her eyes filled with melancholy: “As long as you don’t blame me when you grow up, that’s enough.”
Many things, Yang Jinniang couldn’t distinguish right from wrong; she was easily swayed by others and easily influenced by her environment.
Recently, with Shuyi’s marriage arranged, Yang Jinniang couldn’t help but think that in her third sister-in-law’s original plan, Shuyi was to become an official’s wife, but now, due to family misfortunes, she was to marry a merchant…
Her third uncle was still an official, and Shuyi’s marriage prospects had been repeatedly downgraded. What about her, Zhenyi?
When Zhenyi finally got married, what kind of family would she marry into?
Yesterday, Zhao Mama went out to buy needles and thread. When she returned, she told Yang Jinniang that the woman selling bamboo baskets at the back alley had died.
No one knew the woman’s surname. It was only said that she had originally been a concubine in a minor official’s household. The official had committed a crime, his property was confiscated, and his wives, concubines, and daughters were all sold. This woman was sold to several different families before finally being bought by a bald-headed man who made a living weaving bamboo baskets.
Yang Jinniang had a strong impression of this woman with bound feet, so she asked Zhao Mama how she had died. “Mother Zhao said she was beaten to death by a drunken, bald-headed man,” said Yang Jinniang.
Yang Jinniang couldn’t believe it.
“That bald-headed man was hunchbacked, short, and lame. Even if he didn’t resist, he could have at least run out to ask the neighbors for help, right? Just let her be beaten to death like that?”
Mother Zhao sighed. “What could she possibly run with? Those bound feet of hers, she can barely walk fast normally, she’d probably trip after a few steps…”
Yang Jinniang suddenly froze.
She hadn’t bound her feet, and even though she’d seen many examples, she’d never experienced it firsthand.
Now she couldn’t help but think—were women with bound feet worse off than lame people?
At that moment, the image of a lady’s dignity suddenly presented such a stark and startling contrast with injury and disability.
Last night, Yang Jinniang barely slept a wink. If one’s feet were bound, yet one couldn’t marry into a high-ranking family and instead had to trudge through the mud, forgetting about dignity, even survival would become a problem.
In the past, Yang Jinniang wouldn’t have had such worries, but given the family’s current situation, she found it difficult not to consider the worst-case scenario.
As dawn approached, Yang Jinniang tentatively inquired about her husband’s opinion.
Although Wang Xichen possessed many characteristics of contemporary scholars, he wasn’t a harsh person at heart. Moreover, he was knowledgeable in medicine and understood the devastating impact of foot binding on women. Seeing his wife’s wavering, he went along with her wishes and nodded.
When Wang Xichen returned home, he saw his daughter, accompanied by her cat, running out of the courtyard, her face beaming with joy. She shared the wonderful news with him: “Father, I don’t have to bind my feet anymore!”
Zhenyi, carrying oranges, ran all the way and met Wang Yuan along the way: “Brother, I don’t have to bind my feet anymore!”
Wang Yuan enthusiastically bowed to Zhenyi: “Congratulations! Remember to throw a feast later!”
Zhenyi continued running, her soft embroidered shoes crunching on the rain-soaked blue bricks. Her willow-yellow dress fluttered in the wind, and the downy hair on her full forehead, damp with sweat, glistened in the sunlight.
“Grandma, Mother said I don’t need to bind my feet anymore!”
Grandma Dong smiled and nodded, “Good, good…”
Zhenyi ran to find her eldest sister, “Elder sister, elder sister! I don’t need to bind my feet anymore!”
Shuyi put down her needlework, took a handkerchief to wipe Zhenyi’s sweat, and said with a loving smile, “You crazy girl…”
In Shuyi’s smiling eyes, there was a hint of unspeakable sympathy and sorrow.
Zhenyi, however, was overjoyed. That evening, sitting on the steps to gaze at the stars, she felt the starry sky was even more brilliant and vast, as if another layer of veil had been lifted.
On the stone steps, Zhenyi looked up at the sky, her hands supporting her at her sides, and leaned back relaxedly, her legs stretched straight out, occasionally swinging her feet.
Ju Zi also imitated Zhenyi, sitting like this, exposing her hairy belly to the breeze.
The evening breeze tickled the cat’s ears. Orange pressed its ears back, suddenly realizing that Zhenyi should now have the courage to celebrate her birthday.
Wouldn’t that mean it would be fretting about Zhenyi’s tenth birthday gift again next year?
Following Zhenyi, Orange, who was good at arithmetic, suddenly realized that Zhenyi would be ten years old next year.
Orange turned to look at the child beside it.
Orange wished time would slow down so it could spend more time with Zhenyi.
But Orange also wished time would speed up; it worried it wouldn’t see Zhenyi grow up.
But fast or slow, it hoped this child would always be as happy as she was today.
Orange, without any modesty, believed that it deserved some credit for Zhenyi’s happiness today—it was it that woke Zhenyi up on that morning when she was four years old and helped her escape through the window! Seeing the happy Zhenyi, Orange, feeling quite proud of herself, silently resolved that she absolutely had to live a little longer—how pitiful Zhenyi would be without her cat!
Thinking this, Orange snuggled closer to Zhenyi, rubbing against her, and finally simply lay down on her lap, wanting to leave as much of her scent as possible.
Before the Grain Rain season ended, taking advantage of the last wisp of east wind, at Qian Yuling’s invitation, Shuyi took Zhenyi to the Qinhuai River to fly a broken kite.
A kite is a type of paper kite. The “broken” in “broken kite” originally meant “to stop,” referring to flying a kite one last time before the spring east wind departed. Later, it evolved into writing auspicious phrases to ward off disasters on the kite, releasing it into the air, and then cutting the kite string—thus the folk custom of “breaking the kite to release disasters.”
When Zhenyi and her companions arrived, it was evening, and they saw many people flying kite lanterns—lights attached to paper kites, similar to sky lanterns.
Zhenyi enjoyed these customs. She didn’t believe in warding off misfortune or praying for blessings, but on such days, she was often allowed to go out and participate in the festivities.
This was true for Zhenyi and for most Han Chinese women; festivals and traditional days were like days of grace.
Kites danced along the banks of the Qinhuai River, and painted boats ply the water, occasionally punctuated by the melodious sounds of zithers and songs.
Zhenyi ran to fly her kite with Orange in her arms, Chun’er chasing after her: “Miss, slow down!”
Qian Yuling and a group of girls laughed and joked, while Shuyi avoided the crowds and launched her own kite.
Shuyi was flying a kite shaped like a beautiful woman, cut from paper into a human figure with a fair face, black hair, and graceful movements in colorful clothes.
However, before the kite could fly high enough to be cut, it became tangled in a treetop.
Shuyi felt this was a bad omen and was starting to panic when a young man’s voice came from behind her: “Shall I… help you get it down?”
Shuyi’s hand tightened around the kite spool, but she didn’t turn around.
The young man in blue walked to her side, hesitated, and was about to speak again when she saw Shuyi gently cut the kite string in her hand, whispering, “No need.”
Shuyi didn’t dare to look up, took two steps back, and turned to leave.
“Wait, I…”
Qian Yuling interrupted Wen Yiheng: “Young Master Wen, since you can’t make your own decisions, why bother provoking her? If rumors spread, it might not affect you, but it will ruin her reputation.”
Wen Yiheng’s expression turned ashamed and dejected. He stopped speaking, watching as Shuyi took Zhenyi’s hand and left.
Ju Zi turned back, glancing at the young man in the distance, then at Shuyi’s reddened eyes. She felt this world was truly cruel, filled with people who couldn’t make their own decisions, utterly unreasonable.
The zither on the branch swayed wildly in the wind, emitting a faint sound.
[The sixth solar term begins.]
Please vote, everyone! I’ll give you all kinds of votes! I hope this little seedling grows strong and healthy~